Harry Potter: Raised by Wolves.

Come on, Potter, he told himself. Gryffindor courage. "And… George?"

"Yeah, Harry?"

"I… I like boys. I'm gay."

There. He'd done it. George's eyes went wide. Harry realised his hands were trembling. "First time you've said that out loud, innit?"

Harry nodded, wondering why his heart felt like it was about to hammer right through his ribcage. It was just two little words! George quickly moved across the gap, sitting beside Harry, and drew him into a tight hug. "I'm proud of you, kid," he murmured. "It's gonna be alright, you'll see." George held him for a long moment. Harry focused on remembering to breathe. "You've got loads of people on your side, whether you choose to tell people or not. Because you don't have to, if you don't want to. I won't even tell Fred."

"No, it's okay," Harry assured. "I don't mind family knowing. I just… don't want the whole world to know, yet." As much as he liked to pretend it wouldn't be a big deal, he knew better. He was Harry Potter. He couldn't sneeze without making the front page of the Prophet.

"Don't blame you, mate." George had his chin propped on Harry's head, and he pat him on the back gently. "I'm gonna let go now. That alright?" Harry nodded, and they separated, George offering him a grin. "Thanks for trusting me, Harry."

"It'd be dumb not to when you'd already figured it out," Harry pointed out.

"I didn't know for sure," George insisted. "I just… had a feeling. And regardless, even if you weren't gay, it's good to offer all sorts of information. The spells in that book should be taught alongside the usual contraception charms. Well, maybe not all of them," he added, turning pink beneath his freckles. "But the important ones. People need to know the information is there."

Harry remembered the excruciatingly painful assembly last year, in which the entire third year class had spent an hour listening to Madam Pomfrey talk about hormones and birth control and 'the changes of the body'. Not one word had been said about relationships that weren't between a man and a woman.

"So, while we're in a sharing mood," George perked up, smirking once more. "Do you have a thing for my big brother, Harrikins? Any of them. Well, not Percy. Please, Merlin, not Percy." Harry made a face at the prospect. "I don't fancy your brother!" he insisted. "Any of them. I told you! And I don't fancy Cedric Diggory either," he added hastily, when George made to open his mouth again.

"Really? I do a little bit," George admitted shamelessly. "He's proper fit. A bit too nice, though. And straight. Mad for that Ravenclaw girl, what's her name, the seeker. Chang." He shook his head mock-sadly. "Can't win 'em all. So is there anyone? What sort of wizard gets your wand going?" He cackled at the mortified expression on Harry's face. "Come on, Harrikins! If the other boys can talk about which girl's boobs they want to touch, I'm pretty sure you and I can talk about blokes. No? Too soon?" "Draco Malfoy," Harry blurted, eyes shut. He couldn't help himself. It was the truth, he could finally own up to that. He had feelings for Draco Malfoy.

George stared at him. "So, like, you hate him but he's pretty so you want to snog him, or…?"

"We've been friends since last year, in secret." If he was trusting George with all his other secrets, he could trust him with this. "I… I really like him, George. Genuinely." A lot more than he probably should. He didn't dare look at George, wondering if that was a step too far. Liking boys was one thing; liking Slytherins was another.

"I mean, I don't really see it, personally," George said eventually. "But I guess you have always been a bit obsessed with him. And he is quite pretty, objectively. Too pretty for my tastes, but to each their own. Blimey, Harry, you're not making it easy on yourself, are you? Does he know?" He shook his head. "Of course he doesn't, you said you've not told anyone but me. I think you're in luck, though, mate — no boy who cares that much about his appearance is completely straight."

Harry blinked, sure he was imagining things. George grinned at him. "What, you think I haven't had my fair share of crushes on snakes? Not all of them are evil. And sometimes even the evil ones are frustratingly attractive. I'm more surprised by you two being secretly friends than the fact that you fancy him." He shuffled around until he was lying on his stomach on the bed, head propped in his hands and feet kicking in the air, fluttering his eyelashes over-dramatically. "Tell me everything, Harry," he gushed, as if they were at a pre-teen sleepover or something. Harry laughed.

And he did.

.-.-.-.

The biggest surprise of his fourth year so far was quite possibly how much he enjoyed his Potions class, now that Snape didn't actively hate him. Sure, he had to play his part, but much like arguing with Draco, it was far easier to deal with when Harry knew the other party didn't mean it. He graded Harry (mostly) fairly, and Harry knew that whatever was going on outside the dungeons, Severus Snape would never give one single flying fuck about it. He didn't care about Harry's fame, or the Triwizard Tournament, or anything. Even the other teachers were treating him differently — Professor Sprout took five points off him for 'misting incorrectly' the other day. In the dungeons, he was Just Harry.

That meant Harry was actually somewhat looking forward to Potions on Friday afternoon, Hermione walking with him down to the dungeons, chattering on about Summoning charms. Harry indulged her — well, ignored her having perfected the Summoning charm over the summer with Remus. When they arrived outside the Potions classroom, Harry realised all the Slytherins were wearing some kind of badge — and seemed to be waiting for him to notice. Seeing the smirk on Draco's face, Harry looked closer.

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"That isn't all they do," Draco said loudly. "Look." He pressed the centre of his badge, and the red lettering changed, turning green and forming the words 'Potter Stinks'. Unable to help himself, Harry snickered.

"Oh, really funny," Hermione spat, pulling Harry away by the arm. "Very witty."

"Want one, Granger?" Draco drawled, holding out a badge. "I've got plenty. Only, don't touch my hand, I've just washed it."

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