Drarry Oneshots!

Coming Out by Reiko Katsura

A/N~ Plot minorly changed.

Harry Potter watched his two best friends walking down the hall above him, hands locked together and shoulders not-so-subtly brushing, and he sighed.

It wasn't that Harry wasn't happy for the two of them- no, he was ecstatic that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had finally stopped being stubborn head-cases and admitted that they liked one another, even though it had taken six years for it to happen. There couldn't have been a more perfect pair, in his opinion. Well, aside from him and his own lover.

Yes, you heard right. Seventeen year old Harry Potter, the most sought out after boy at Hogwarts, had a lover.

A lover that he loved very much.

A lover that no one knew about.

A secret lover.

"Harry, mate?"

Harry was pulled out his thoughts by that familiar voice, and he looked up, startled, to see Ron and Hermione looking back at him, hands still clasped, and staring at him oddly.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, her head slightly tilted, "you just stopped walking."

Harry momentarily wondered how they even noticed that, since they had been so clearly occupied with one another, but thought better of saying it aloud. Instead he forced a smile, nodded, and continued to move forward.

As soon as he caught up with the two, Hermione and Ron resumed walking, only sparing Harry one last curious glance. Harry ignored it, naturally; he was always on the receiving end of such glances.

The trio- or couple and an extra third wheel, as Harry deemed fit to call them- entered the great hall leisurely, not even paying attention to where they were going as they headed towards the Gryffindor table.

The Great Hall during the evening was packed as usual, the Gryffindor table especially so, but as soon as the three students made their way towards their usual seats, a space opened up for them just big enough for the trio to squeeze in.

"Aren't you guys a bit late?" Neville Longbottom, a plump boy with sandy brown hair and large ears, asked.

"Well, we all know why Ron and Hermione are late," Seamus Finnegan, the Irish pervert, smirked mischievously, and wiggled his eyes at the couple.

"I hope you guys weren't getting it on on the couch again," Dean Thomas, a tall black boy, inputted, his nose wrinkled.

"Hey!" Hermione snapped, her face scarlet, "we've done no such thing!"

"That's right!" Ron insisted, "we're much more subtle than that!"

Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at Ron amusedly. Hermione slapped her hand over her face and sighed.

"What?" Ron demanded, insecure.

"Ron," Ginny, his younger sister said, and placed her hand over his shoulder, "just shut up."

"Please," Hermione muttered, but nevertheless smiled comfortably at her disgruntled boyfriend.

Ron huffed, and chose to ignore everybody by grabbing a fork from beside his empty plate and beginning to fill it up.