Hairy sighed as he watched the Hogwarts girls mud wrestling, wet t-shirt fighting and foxy boxing teams practicing on the quidditch field. What seventeen-year-old boy would be able to watch the practices without having to hide the party in his pants? Hairy knew exactly what kind of boy: his kind. Coming to Hogwarts had opened Hairy’s mind to exciting new possibilities and taught him valuable lessons, not only in magic, but also in life. At Hogwarts he learned that not all boys like girls. Some boys prefer other boys, and that’s okay, too. But, at Hogwarts as among the muggles, not everyone accepted homosexuality. Hairy had many classmates who used terms like “gay” and “fag” as insults. So he hid his true feelings. As a younger teen, that hadn’t been much of a problem. Twelve-year-old boys were not assumed to like girls anyway, so Hairy didn’t really have a problem. But as he got older, most of the guys he knew started talking about “hot babes” and “chicks”, and Hairy learned to hide his sexual orientation with some proficiency. It was easy, once he got the hang of it. But now, on his 17th birthday, Hairy Potter decided to come out of the closet.
The only two people Hairy could trust completely were Hermione and Ron, so he left the quidditch field and went to their room. Hermione had a class, but Ron didn’t, giving Hairy a chance to talk to his friend alone.
“Ron,” Hairy began, “there’s something I need to tell you. I’m not like other boys.”
“What?!” Ron screamed. “You’re not like other boys?! Hairy, are you a cross-dresser?!”
“NO!” Hairy responded. “I’m gay.”
There was a moment of silence. Hairy worried that Ron would disown him. Then, to Hairy’s surprise, Ron leaned over and kissed him gently.
“Wow,” Ron whispered as their lips parted. “I never knew.”
Hairy smiled. It felt really good to have someone understand.
The next person Hairy had to tell was Hermione. At first Hairy worried about how she would react, but with Ron’s support, he felt a lot better. When she entered the room after her class, Hairy told her to sit down. Then he took a deep breath and said simply, “Hermione, I’m gay.”
For a moment, no one spoke or even moved. At last, Hermione stood up, walked to where Hairy was sitting, and slapped his face, hard. Then she ran out of the room. Hairy was too stunned to move, but Ron, who had been watching silently, came over, and rubbed Hairy’s cheek, and held his friend while he cried.
That night, the three teens lay in their beds in awkward silence. None were asleep, but no one knew what to say. Finally Hairy broke the spell.
“Hermione, why did you slap me? You really hurt my feelings, not to mention my face.”
“I’m sorry. I guess you really caught me by surprise. You see, I have a confession to make to. I’m not who you think I am.”
“Really? Are you a lesbian?”
“No. Definitely not. I’m the girl of your dreams, masquerading as your best friend. For five years I’ve loved you, but I never knew how to tell you. I guess I figured that it would come out when the time was right. Well, now there’s never going to be a good time. I love you with all my heart, with all my soul, with every inch of my being. I dream about you at night, I fantasize about you during the day. I even write erotic stories about us in my spare time. And then you go and tell me that you’re gay!? Is it any wonder that I slapped you? You broke my heart, you rat-bastard!”
She rolled out of bed, and left the room, pausing at the doorway only to shout, “I never want to see you again, fag! There’s no place in my life for faeries like you!”
The next morning, Ron and Hermione both had classes, but Hairy didn’t, so he sat alone in their room and contemplated. His thoughts were interrupted, however, by a persistent knocking on the door. When he opened it, he was surprised to see Hagrid on the other side. The large man came in and sat down.
“Hairy,” he said, “Hermione came to talk to me last night. She’s feeling a little emotional right now, and she said some things she regrets. It doesn’t help that it’s that time of the month for her. I think you should lay her a little slack when she comes to apologize. She’s worried that you’ll never talk to her again. She’s truly sorry, and she feels really bad about calling you a fag and a faerie.”
“No. She doesn’t know I’m here, and I’d appreciate it stay that way. But I know what it’s like to come out of the closet, and sometimes people react in ways they regret later. Coming out isn’t worth it if you lose all your friends because of it.”
“How do you know what it’s like coming out of the closet?”
“Because it was the same way for me when I came out. Why do you think I live in a shed away from the school? Certain homophobic headmasters are utterly convinced that I enjoy young boys. The only reason that I’m allowed to stay here at all is because Nearly Headless Nick convinced Dumbledore to let me stay.”
“Wow, Nick did that for you? I never knew you two were close!”
“We’re not. He did it in exchange for sexual favors. He doesn’t get a whole lot of action, so he’s pretty desperate.”
“Wow. Thanks for talking to me like this. It means a lot to me.”
“Think about it, okay?”
“For sure.”
That night, Hermione came into their room and talked to Hairy. She begged his forgiveness, and, heeding the wise words of Hagrid, he granted it. They then sat and talked about guys for the rest of the night.
