#identity realization

Harry Potter realized he was gay on a Tuesday.

This was unfortunate.

Primarily because it happened during breakfast.

In the Great Hall.

In front of several hundred people.

It started when Draco Malfoy walked into the room.

Which, admittedly, should have been Harry's first warning.

Malfoy entered the Great Hall with the confidence of someone who had never once worried about looking ridiculous.

His tie was perfect.

His hair was perfect.

His stupid face was perfect.

And for some reason Harry's brain stopped functioning.

Oh.

Harry stared.

Malfoy sat down at the Slytherin table.

Harry continued staring.

Malfoy laughed at something Blaise said.

Harry continued staring.

Malfoy rolled his eyes dramatically.

Harry continued staring.

Oh no.

No.

Absolutely not.

There was no way.

Harry looked down at his breakfast.

Then looked back at Malfoy.

Then back at his breakfast.

Then back at Malfoy.

Oh.

That was definitely a problem.

Because Harry Potter had spent years insisting Draco Malfoy was annoying.

Arrogant.

Infuriating.

A menace to society.

Now his brain helpfully supplied:

Pretty.

Harry dropped his fork.

"No."

Ron looked up.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Okay."

Harry stared into the distance.

Ron slowly backed away.

By lunch Harry had reached several conclusions.

Number one:

He was gay.

Number two:

Malfoy was pretty.

Number three:

This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

By dinner he had reached another conclusion.

This was Helena's problem.

Because Helena was his cousin.

Which meant she was legally obligated to help.

Harry was fairly certain that was how cousins worked.

He burst into the library.

"HELENA."

The response was immediate.

"Why are you yelling?"

The familiar voice drifted from behind a bookshelf.

Harry followed it.

Helena Potter sat curled up in an armchair.

A book rested in her lap.

Her cane leaned against the side of the chair.

She looked peaceful.

Content.

Happy.

Harry immediately ruined that.

"Helena."

"What."

"I have a problem."

Helena sighed.

The long suffering sigh of someone who had known Harry Potter her entire life.

"How serious?"

Harry considered.

"Potentially catastrophic."

Helena closed her book.

That got her attention.

"Are you dying?"

"No."

"Did you accidentally blow something up?"

"No."

"Is Voldemort back?"

"No."

A pause.

"Then I don't care."

Harry looked offended.

"You haven't even heard the problem."

"Statistically speaking, your problems are self-inflicted."

Harry hated that she had a point.

"I think I'm gay."

Silence.

"Oh."

Helena blinked.

Then blinked again.

Then smiled.

Slowly.

Dangerously.

Harry recognized that smile.

That smile never meant anything good.

"You're smiling."

"I am."

"Don't."

"I'm going to."

Harry groaned.

"Oh this is wonderful."

"It isn't."

"It absolutely is."

"My life is falling apart."

"Your life is improving."

Harry dropped into the chair across from her.

Helena was still smiling.

Traitor.

"Who is it?"

"What?"

"Who is the boy?"

"There isn't a boy."

"There is definitely a boy."

"There isn't."

"There is."

"There isn't."

"There is."

Helena tilted her head.

"Is it Cedric?"

"No."

"Wood?"

"No."

"Justin Finch-Fletchley?"

"No."

"No."

"H E L E N A."

She laughed.

Out loud.

No shame whatsoever.

Harry regretted coming here.

Then Helena stopped laughing.

Thought for a moment.

And asked—

"...Malfoy?"

Harry froze.

Immediately.

Completely.

Catastrophically.

"Oh my god."

Harry buried his face in his hands.

"Oh my god."

Helena looked delighted.

Actually delighted.

"It's Malfoy."

Harry made a noise usually associated with dying animals.

"It's Malfoy."

"Stop saying it."

"Harry."

"No."

"Harry James Potter."

"Don't use my government name."

Helena laughed harder.

"YOU FANCY DRACO MALFOY."

The worst part?

The absolute worst part?

She sounded happy.

Like this was the greatest thing that had ever happened to her.

"My life is over."

"It isn't."

"It is."

"It really isn't."

"It is."

Helena leaned forward.

"Harry."

"What."

"Have you considered simply talking to him?"

Harry stared.

Then laughed.

And laughed.

And laughed.

Because clearly Helena had lost her mind.

"Talk to Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"Voluntarily?"

"Yes."

"Are you insane?"

Helena pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Harry."

"What?"

"You fought a basilisk."

"Yes."

"You fought a dark wizard."

"Yes."

"You regularly ignore basic self-preservation."

"Yes."

She pointed dramatically.

"And yet Draco Malfoy is where you draw the line?"

"...Yes."

Helena sighed.

"You're hopeless."

Harry pointed.

"See?"

"See what?"

"I came here for help and now you're insulting me."

"Because you deserve it."

The betrayal.

The audacity.

The complete lack of support.

Harry was surrounded by terrible people.

Especially Helena.

"You're supposed to be my favorite cousin."

"I am your only cousin."

"That's not the point."

Helena laughed again.

Soft this time.

Fond.

Then she reached across the table and squeezed his hand.

"Hey."

Harry looked up.

"It's okay."

The teasing disappeared.

The jokes faded.

And suddenly Helena sounded serious.

"There's nothing wrong with being gay."

Harry swallowed.

"I know."

"You don't seem convinced."

Harry looked down.

"I just..."

He hesitated.

"It's different when it's you."

Helena's expression softened immediately.

"Oh, Harry."

"You know?"

"Yeah."

Harry stared at the floor.

Then finally admitted it.

"I'm scared."

Helena squeezed his hand again.

"I know."

A pause.

Then:

"For what it's worth?"

"What?"

"I think Draco Malfoy is going to be thrilled."

Harry choked.

"HELENA."

The laughter echoed through the library.

And for the first time all day, Harry laughed too.

Because maybe being gay wasn't the crisis.

Maybe the crisis was that he had somehow managed to fall for Draco bloody Malfoy.