Less Thinking, More Kissing

Part 1: She Knows

Fifth year. It'll be great, they said. You'll finally be an upperclassman, they said. You'll get the recognition you deserve! This would be true for anyone else in my year, anyone that hasn't already had to deal with four years of 'recognition'. A perfect example happens to be sitting at the Slytherin table surrounded by his ever-growing gang of scum: Draco Malfoy. Another year only means another wave of younger kids to rope into his anti-Harry Potter fan club, and he loves it.

Too late, I realize that I'm staring at Malfoy and he catches my gaze, causing my cheeks to redden. Malfoy's expression changes from its usual sneer to a blank stare back at me. Crabbe or Goyle- honestly, I still have trouble telling a difference between them because they're both so big and stupid and usually referred to within the same sentence- jostles Malfoy in the side. Malfoy breaks eye contact with me to hiss some snide remark at the one responsible for bumping him. I avert my eyes down to my food, just so that my unruly hair will offer some coverage.

I only partially hear Ron and Hermione arguing about something Snape did that was "disgustingly gruesome" and "completely, unnecessarily rude to Neville" in class. I haven't been paying much attention in that class lately, if I'm completely honest. Potions with Slytherin for the 5th year in a row is a testament to Dumbledore's dry sense of humor.

"-Isn't that right, Harry?" I lift my head to see Hermione and Ron both looking in my direction. Something hits my knee- probably Ron kicking me under the table. Why he's kicking me, I have no idea.

"Er - come again?" I ask, not having heard a word of what they were arguing about. I glance from Ron whose eyebrows are raised and whose eyes are wide open as if to say please-take-my-side, to Hermione who looks like she knows she's right and probably is. She sighs, bored of arguing with the adamant ginger.

"Well, never mind that," Ron eagerly changes the subject. He must have realized that she was right, whatever they were arguing about. "You alright, Harry? You've been kind of..."

"Distant lately," Hermione finishes.

"Well.." Ron and Hermione are my best friends. They knew I was gay before I even decided to tell them (that's a story for later) and we've all nearly died for each other at least once or twice before. But, could I really tell them the single deepest thought running through my mind?

"You can tell us you know," Hermione says, smiling ever so slightly. Why was she acting like she knew? Everyone knew Hermione knew everything, but there's no way she could possibly know this. Could she? I can feel my heart climb into my throat.

"Wait, what are you talking about 'Mione? What does he need to tell us?" Ron looks skeptically from Hermione to me, sounding upset at being left out... again.

"I- er- I like..."

"Mhmm?" Hermione urges and tilts her head. I feel something hit my leg and assume that Ron's kicking my shin, again. I'll be sure to complain about the bruise tomorrow.

"I like- er- to watch people... sleep," I stutter and immediately regret doing so. Hermione face-palms and Ron's face scrunches up in a mixture of shock and disgust.

"Come again, mate?" he says, the corners of his mouth turned down. Immediately, I know I have to leave before Ron realizes that I'm lying or Hermione tries to physically force the words from my mouth.

"Well, I think I better hit the library. Exams are coming up, y'know?" I say quickly and stand from the table, a little too quickly. My hip collides with the very pointed, very solid edge of the table and I grimace at the burst of pain as it turns into a dull throb.

"They're in three months, Harry," Hermione says, rolling her eyes and huffing. She has definitely caught onto my escape plan.

"Of all people, Hermione, I thought you'd be happy that I'm actually going to get a head start on my studies," I say, swinging my legs over the bench. She scoffs again, but says nothing else. When I turn to walk away, I can hear Ron whispering.

"He's a bit of an odd one lately, don't you think Hermione? He seems to be acting sort of funny, doesn't he?" states Ron in a concerned voice. Before I can hear Hermione's answer, I walk through the door of the Great Hall and turn a corner. She wouldn't tell Ron... right?