#and britain was like 'hey guys great idea. what if i just scooted these people over'

[ganymedecatamitus]

I'm not going to pretend to know what I'm talking about. My family has lived in America since 1952. I've never been to Israel, I've never been to Palestine. I'm not a diplomat or an aid worker. But I do know that people in the same position as me like to pretend that they know more. I ask only in the coming days that you do not take anyone at face value, that you give the time for at least a cursory Google search to make sure what they say is even true. That you question everything, from every side. That you not rely on black and white moralism, that you care about people as people, and that you form your own deeply held beliefs.

Because people in my position will be regurgitating the opinions of others, either of those in the same positions as us, or of random authority figures (which is arguably worse than unvetted opinions of other people, as they have elections to win and public opinions to sway). People are dying, people have been dying. The only thing we can do is accept the truth, not what we think is the truth, not what makes us feel better, not what empowers us, but the truth.

But I will say an obligatory "this is the British empire's fault" because, well, that's the truth.

[etymolo-drarry-ig]

Clueless

Draco has been dropping hints. Harry has yet to pick up on any of them.

---Harry’s POV---

In hindsight, the first hint was probably from the end of my third year.

"I have to tell you something," Draco had waved me over after the end-of-year feast. "But not here."

So we walked across the school grounds together, for the last time that school year. "I've been doing some thinking," Draco fidgeted with the cuffs of his shirt. "And I'll understand if you don't want to be friends anymore—"

"Draco, just tell me," I interrupted him, and he took a deep breath.

"I'm gay," he said finally.

"Oh," I replied. I wasn't sure what the correct response was—my only experience thus far was from Seamus and Dean, but even I knew they fancied each other, and I'm oblivious. Neither of them were very subtle, after all.

Draco turned to me. "Do you—do you hate me?"

Now I was confused. "I don't hate Dean or Seamus, do I?" I pointed out. "I mean, sure, seeing them make out every single night does get kind of annoying," I laughed. "No, of course I don't hate you. You're still my best friend.”

Draco smiled gratefully, facing forward again. "I haven't told anyone else," he clenched his jaw.

Draco nodded tightly.

"I'm the first one you've told?" A warmth filled my chest. People didn't usually trust me with their secrets.

"How do—how do wizards feel about—er, gay people?" The words left my mouth rather clumsily.

"It depends, I guess," Draco shrugged, "we mostly don't care, but same-sex marriage is still illegal. I know that father expects me to produce an heir, regardless. I don't think mum will care."

I wrinkled my nose at the word produce, and Draco laughed.

"I think I'll tell mum this summer," he continued, "we're pretty good at keeping secrets from father," he smiled.

"I'm glad you told me," I responded, "thank you for trusting me."

---

The second hint came about halfway through fourth year. Draco had only come out to a few people: his mum, Pansy Parkinson, and me. My perception of gay people was totally flipped on its head when Draco came out—before, I assumed every gay person was just as flamboyant as Dean and Seamus, but Draco was definitely not flamboyant. He'd made me realize that gay people come in all shapes and sizes, too.

Therefore, I wasn't completely bewildered when I started noticing people in a brand new way. I knew something was up when Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang came strolling down the hallway, hand and hand, and I couldn't even tell which of them I was more jealous of.

"I have something to tell you," I approached Draco during lunch, and he scooted over to make room for me at the Slytherin table. None of his housemates batted an eye—I usually sat with Draco a few times a week, although it was usually for study purposes.

He raised an eyebrow when I subtly cast a muffling charm. "Remember what you told me about at the end of last year?" I asked, "the thing you had never told anyone else before?" I added, to make sure Draco understood.

He nodded cautiously. "What are you getting at?"

I swallowed. "Me too, I think. Well, kind of. I mean, I like girls, but—well, I'm like you, too."

"Really?" Draco seemed to perk up a little bit. "So you're bi? Or pan?"

I nodded. "I guess so."

“Well,” he cleared his throat and sat up straight. "In that case, would you—um," his face flushed.

I tilted my head to the side, wondering why he was so flustered.

"Well, since we're both, you know," Draco continued, "maybe you would want to experiment?"

"Oh," I blinked. I hadn't really thought of actually being with anyone. Okay, I may have considered what dating Cho or Cedric would be like—but I hadn't taken it seriously . "I—I don't know," I admitted, "I don't know if I'm—what's the word?" I scratched my head, trying to remember the phrase Hermione had used. "Emotionally stable, I think? I don't think I could with anyone right now."

It was the truth, after all. Even if Cho or Cedric approached me, I don't think I'd be ready to be in a relationship.

"Oh," Draco returned to his mashed potatoes. "I just thought I'd ask. Hey," he nudged me with his elbow. "Now we can check out guys together, huh?"

I laughed and lowered my voice. "Have you seen Cedric Diggory? Merlin."

Draco laughed. "I'm more of a Victor Krum kind of guy, myself."

I chuckled. "Too bad for you, he's completely smitten with Hermione."

---

The next hint came at the end of fourth year. It was the last week before term ended, and for the first time in my life, I was excited for the summer. For the first time, I wasn't returning to the Dursley’s over the summer.

You see, fourth year had been kind of crazy for me. Aside from the Triwizard Tournament, (which Cedric won, of course, because he's amazing) I found out that I had a godfather—the reason no one bothered to tell me was because he was in prison.

Now that I was fourteen, I was allowed full access to my parents' Gringotts vault. I'd always thought there was something fishy about my parents' death—not the Voldemort part, but the fact that the only thing left of Peter Pettigrew was a finger. I mean, come on , there was a fully intact finger, but no bone fragments from the rest of the body?

So with the help of Ron, Hermione, and Draco, we tracked down my parents' will and discovered that not only had they changed Secret Keepers, but Peter Pettigrew was an unregistered animagus. A rat animagus.

And Ron's pet rat was missing a finger.

All it took was a quick trip to McGonagall's classroom to force Scabbers into his human form, and then… well, I didn't get very involved in the politics, but long story short, Sirius Black was a free man.

And I would be staying with him this summer.

Even better, in my opinion, was that Remus Lupin, another friend of my parents, would be staying with us, too. He and Sirius had started dating during school, apparently, and even thirteen years of Azkaban wasn't enough to drive them apart.

I was finally going to live with my family.

The Sunday before the end of term, Draco appeared at the Gryffindor table during breakfast. " Potter," he tapped me on the shoulder impatiently, and I turned to look at him. "Have you seen the Prophet?" He asked.

I shook my head. I never read the Prophet anymore—I had gotten tired of reading the rumors about me and my friends.

Draco shoved aside my plate to make room for his. "Well, you should read it."

I looked over to Hermione, who helpfully handed over her copy without a word. "Where should I be looking?" I asked.

"Page two, column three," Draco answered.

"Holy shit," I gasped, reading the headline. "’Same-sex marriage legalized in Wizarding Britain.' Hermione, Ron, look at this," I grinned.

I still remember the date. June 26th, 1991.

Even though most of them were straight, we were still crying by the end of breakfast. Seamus and Dean vanished for a celebratory makeout session, and Draco pulled me aside when I was done eating.

"This is fantastic," I told him, "Sirius and Remus can get married now, if they want."

"It's brilliant," Draco agreed. "Listen, since today's a special day and all, I thought I'd ask—" he paused, fidgeting with one of his rings.

I raised an eyebrow. "Ask me what?"

"Um, well, would you want to maybe be my boyfriend?"

My eyes widened. "Oh, I, um—" I stuttered. It didn't seem like a serious inquiry—he was only asking because of the legalization, right? "I don't—I don't  think I can handle that sort of thing right now," I confessed.

"Okay," Draco said easily, "you have a lot going on, after all. I just figured I'd ask." Then he left, leaving me alone and confused.

It was just a friendly question, right? Obviously he didn't actually like me—it was just a thing of convenience. He likes guys, I like guys, we're friends, so it was convenient.

Maybe if I'd felt more comfortable with the idea of dating someone, I would've said yes. He was my best friend, after all, and a great person. And he was quite attractive—not that I'd ever tell him that.

I sighed, putting the situation out of my mind for the time being. I wanted to write a letter to Sirius and Remus, after all.

---

Every year on Valentine’s Day, the professors collect valentines and distribute them to their intended recipients—thankfully, after the Lockhart incident in second year, the valentines no longer sang. Originally, valentines were sent like normal mail, but the horrifying number of valentines sent to me during first year had created an owl-jam, so the professors had to come up with an alternative.

For reasons you can probably guess, I'm not a fan of Valentine’s Day. I still read all the messages, though, but that's mostly because Fred and George always make sure to send me dozens of valentines, each one being more elaborate than the last.

During my fifth year, there was something a little different—one of the notes wasn't signed with a name. The valentines I got were never anonymous, so to have one signed "your secret admirer" was odd.

Dear Harry,

I apologize for adding to the torrent of messages sent to you this year, but I have something to get off my chest. I don't think you'll ever consider me as more than a friend, but I have a huge crush on you. Happy Valentine's Day.

-Your secret admirer

Something was bothering me about the handwriting, too. It looked oddly familiar.

"You okay, Harry?" Hermione watched me frown at the note in my hand.

"Yeah," I said, "I just don't know who this is from," I handed her the slip of parchment, and she shrugged.

"It says that you're friends, right?" She tilted her head. "Maybe that's a hint."

After breakfast was over, and I had vanished most of the valentines, I brought the note over to Draco. "Do you recognize this handwriting?" I asked, "I don't know who sent it."

"Probably because they didn't put their name," Draco said sarcastically, staring at the note in my hand. "Do you—do you recognize the handwriting?"

I studied the curvy script. "It could maybe be a girl's handwriting," I suggested

"It's not that feminine," Draco replied, "besides, you wouldn't know decent handwriting if it slapped you in the face."

"Oh, shut up."

---

Two weeks later, I still hadn't figured out who'd sent me the note. "Maybe you should see if the handwriting matches one of your friends," Draco suggested.

Hermione nodded. "Maybe you can check old notes you've passed in class."

"Merlin, are we still talking about this?" Ron rolled his eyes, "rook to D-8," he added, and the chess board adjusted accordingly.

"I think it's cute," Hermione mused, "you're invested."

"I'm not cute, 'Mione," I grumbled.

"Oh, but your secret admirer begs to differ," Draco teased.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," I grumbled, but I was grinning.

---

Draco sat against the tree trunk, the sunlight causing his hair to glow. "Have you still not figured it out?" For some reason, Draco was exasperated. "You compared handwritings and everything?"

I nodded. "I did everything you guys suggested." I laid back on the ground. I honestly didn't care who it was at this point, because the sender definitely wasn't who I hoped it was.

Yeah, that's right. Draco had asked me out last year, and it seemed to have gone to my head, because now I fancied him. Which sucked, because there was no way he liked me back—we were just friends.

"You're an idiot, Harry."

"Tell me something I don't know," I responded, avoiding his gaze. I was not going to blush, I wasn't, I—

"Look at me, Harry."

I blushed.

"Do you want to know who it is?" Draco raised his eyebrows, and I nodded quickly. "It's me."

"I—" what? "You? But that means—you have a crush on me? Wait, but— really?"

Draco waited for me to finish spluttering. "I've fancied you since third year," he deadpanned.

I sat up quickly. "Oh," I said. Think fast. "Er—then," I scratched the back of my neck, "do you want to watch the quidditch match with me this weekend?"

He frowned. "We're already going to watch toget— oh, you mean as a date?" I nodded quickly, and he rolled his eyes. "You know, if the roles were reversed," he gestured between us, "you would not have picked up on that."

I buried my face into my hands. "Oh, shut up."

---

The quidditch match was Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff, which meant my loyalty was divided on account of the two seekers, Cho and Cedric.

"Who do you think will catch the snitch?" I asked Draco.

"Cedric, definitely," he scoffed, "he has the better broom."

"Cho makes sharper turns, though," I pointed out.

"Technique can only get you so far."

I narrowed my eyes. "Is that a challenge?"

Draco tilted his head. "Perhaps."

I huffed. "Fine. Seeker's game later?"

"You're on."

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Ron and Hermione waving frantically to Draco from a few rows away. When I turned, though, they abruptly stopped. "What was that?" I asked him.

"Nothing," he said quickly, "I don't know."

I eyed him. "It's nothing, or you don't know?"

"I don't know," he repeated.

I sighed and turned back to the game, but Ron started waving again. "What are you doing?" I called to him, but he only shrugged, as if to say I don't know what you're talking about.

"Seriously, what's going on?" I asked Draco, who laughed at me.

"Why, what are you thinking?"

"I don't know, because you won't tell me, " I sighed in exasperation and turned back to the game, just in time for Cho to spot the snitch

She dove for it, and Cedric followed close behind. The snitch made a sharp turn, though, and Cedric wasn't able to change direction fast enough. "Told you," I elbowed Draco, who nudged me back.

"Told you," he replied as Cedric quickly gained on Cho until they were neck-and-neck. I grabbed his hand in anticipation as they got closer… and closer… and Cedric reached forward and snatched the snitch out of the air.

"YES!" we jumped from our seats, cheering loudly. Hufflepuff won, 220 to 80 points.

"I told you," Draco gloated, and I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," I couldn't stop grinning, but it didn't have to do with who caught the snitch. My stomach fluttered—I was holding his hand.

The pitch emptied quickly, with Ron and Hermione helpfully leaving us behind. We grabbed our brooms and headed for the center of the field, not bothering to change into quidditch robes.

"Er, listen, Harry—" Draco said before I could release the snitch.

"Yeah?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just wanted to say sorry, for, um—"

I furrowed my brow. "For what?"

"I dunno, for being too forward?" His eyes darted around the pitch.

"What? You didn't even do anything—" unfortunately.

"I feel like I did, though," he ran his fingers through his hair, and my heart fluttered. "What?" He watched me bite my lip.

"I—I have butterflies," I answered shyly.

"Well, you shouldn't have eaten so many butterflies, then," he replied cheekily, and I shoved his shoulder, laughing. "Why do you have butterflies?"

My face reddened. "Because I—because I fancy you," I answered, and his eyes widened.

"You do? But I thought—"

"I mean, you asked me out in June, and I know you meant it as a friend thing," I said, "but I guess it went to my head, because now—"

"Hold on," Draco interrupted me, "who in their right mind asks someone out as a friend?"

I paused. "You?"

He bit his lip. "You really are an idiot," he said softly.

I was silent for a moment, staring at his lips. "Can I—um," I heard myself say, "can I kiss you?"

Draco didn't answer; instead, he pulled me towards him, swiftly planting a kiss on my lips.

My brain seemed to short circuit, but at some point, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, standing on my tip-toes to easily reach him. We stayed like that for Merlin-knows-how-long, standing in the middle of the quidditch pitch with our arms wrapped around each other.

We never did play that seeker's game.

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