HARRY
VII
He didn't notice he was letting himself be led wherever Cedric was going. It turned out to be a corridor with wide windows that let the sunlight through and an incredible view of the green meadows and the Quidditch pitch he knew so well. Harry was lost in his mind and started talking without stopping to think too hard. It wasn't a good idea to mention to someone that you had heard things about them, and yet, that's what he had said.
Of course Cedric would want to know. And of course Harry couldn't answer him. He managed not to reveal anything compromising. But the question he asked him... There was no escaping it. What did boys think about Cedric?
What did Harry think of him?
It was possible that those were very different answers.
His face boiled at that realisation.
"My best friend doesn't like you," Harry blurted out the first thing he thought might make sense. "It's probably because Hermione keeps saying..."
And that was how he had said more things he shouldn't. Again. Was he losing his common sense? He felt quite nervous, as if he was on the verge of telling him that he was beautiful. Cedric's staring didn't help. The glare from outside made his eyes a light grey. It was hard for Harry to keep looking at him when he was staring back with such intensity.
Cedric smiled at him, but that didn't calm Harry down. He thought about what he would say if he insisted that he finish the sentence.
Would he tell Cedric how beautiful he believed that he was?
That he felt intimidated to be in front of him?
Would he confess that something was different for him now, and he knew it was Cedric who had opened that door?
VIII
"I guess your best friend won't be rooting for me, then," Cedric tried to tease, lightening the atmosphere. "What about your other friend? Will they both go tomorrow to support you?"
It was nice that he was respecting Harry's silence and giving him an easy way out. The possibility of choosing another course.
The thing was, he wasn't used to taking the fast lanes.
"They don't... They don't have a problem with Hufflepuff. Or with you."
Cedric's expression turned serious all of a sudden.
"I think I understand what you mean. I know there are people who don't like me, even if they don't even know me. And people talk. Most of the time not upfront."
"You must hate that. And it's exactly what I'm doing. I am sorry."
Harry wanted to break their eye contact -he needed to.
It had become too much, but he couldn't do it.
Better than anyone, he understood how it felt to have people talk behind your back. Rumours. Critics. Having them believing in things that may not even be true. Apologising was the least Harry could do for putting Cedric in this position. And look him in the eye.
"It's okay. I get that you don't want to repeat what other people say." Cedric looked towards the window before saying, "I hope you don't think the same way."
Harry's heart pounded in his chest.
"I don't," was all that the air in his lungs reached to answer in a low voice, almost a whisper.
IX
Cedric didn't ask Harry what he thought of him, which relieved him because he wasn't sure of his answer. He also did not demand him to explain what he had heard from his person, what his friends or his sources said. Cedric seemed to accept that Harry wouldn't tell him, not alarmed to learn that Harry had heard something. Harry suddenly realised that Cedric also knew things about him -probably a lot more. And he was sure they couldn't be half as nice. Harry couldn't imagine many people speaking highly of him, especially since he felt that sometimes he didn't even know if the other students liked him.
Questions, doubts and unspoken information floated between them. Harry couldn't ignore it in the silence they were surrounded by. He was not fond of it, but he certainly preferred to get to know Cedric for himself. Not the image others drew, but his own.
Cedric sat down on the floor under the window, inviting him with the movement to do the same, and asked "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"
Harry leaned forward, embarrassed.
"I wasn't. Now I am."
"Is it because we play against each other?"
There was not an ounce of judgment in his words.
"I've never played against someone I knew," he tried to explain despite the fact that it didn't sound right. Harry knew it was because he liked him. He had never played against someone he somehow got along the way he did with Cedric. Harry knew some of the names of the other team's players (clearly not all) and could recognize some of them. "With whom I had ever spoken to. Except for Malfoy, but we don't get along. Winning was personal."
Cedric listened carefully, even nodding as if he could make sense of it.
"I haven't been on the team very long. I only played against Malfoy once and he tried to throw me off my broom," he recounted, stretching out his legs. "He didn't accomplish it but he was close. I don't understand how he can get away with cheating."
Though he looked outraged, Harry smiled at him.
None of them was a fan of Draco. They had that in common.
"That's his strategy. Try to throw people off their brooms, something he has never been able to do."
Cedric's laugh was soft.
"Malfoy hasn't beaten you once. He must be so upset about it."
The fact that he knew that, as if he was keeping track of his victories, cheered Harry up. How many times had he seen him play? Cedric himself confirmed that he supported Gryffindor when the opponent was Slytherin. That meant that he had backed Harry, which shouldn't matter to him the way it did. He tried not to pay attention to who was advocating for him. The numbers, the signs and the comments changed every time, with the weather or the circumstances. Instead, he tried to focus on his friends who always had his back no matter what.
How many times had Harry seen Cedric play and not noticed?
He thought back to the match Cedric had mentioned.
"You won," Harry told him suddenly. Flashes of the Hufflepuff results came to his mind. A few months ago, he and his friends had been pleased because that meant Draco would be quiet for weeks. "That match against him. I remember it."
He had supported Cedric without knowing him.
"It was the first one I won. And you're right when you say that Malfoy makes it personal. I've never wanted to win as much as that day. I thought it would be unfair if he won by cheating."
Nothing seemed fairer to Harry than Hufflepuff's victory at the hands of Cedric, and it got him thinking about the next match. In a brief silence, Harry realised that he was enjoying talking to Cedric and just being there, with the sun against the back of his hair. He watched their shadows on the wall and wondered what would happen the next day.
"Who's going to win tomorrow?"
It was one of those questions that did not seek an answer and came out of his mouth without restraint.
"Is winning important to you?"
Of all Cedric could have said, that baffled him.
"Who doesn't want to win?" he answered without hesitation. "The team relies on their players to do their best. Students bet. I do like winning, but what I like most about Quidditch is not the victories. It's fun, and I'm good at it. I'm good at something for once."
Harry wasn't looking at his face, embarrassed because he had never told anyone how he believed that playing was the only thing he knew how to do. The only activity that made him happy. How much he loved the wind against his face, the sun in his hands. How light and good he felt when flying -just as much as he did at that moment.
With Cedric.
CEDRIC
XI
Harry Potter believing that Quidditch was the only thing he was good at was an irony. Everyone knew the boy had talent -even those who didn't believe such a thing existed. And not just for sports. Harry was not the best student of all, but it didn't matter. Stories of his adventures and his bravery circulated throughout the entire school. Cedric, who had perfect grades, didn't consider himself talented.
Nor brave.
He was just good at a few things.
"And is winning important to you?"
The question he had asked bounced back as Harry returned it curiously. Cedric wanted to tell him that Quidditch wasn't the only thing he was good at, but Harry had changed the subject.
"No," he said under his breath, and stopped. "I don't know. I know it's important for the team. And for many in our house."
Winning or losing seemed so relative to him. Chance. Luck. Practice and skill. Teamwork. So many factors played into it and Cedric didn't think that made someone better or worse. It was a binary situation he hadn't believed he would ever find himself involved in. And there he was, the captain of the team and wins and losses mattered. The name of their house was at stake. Prizes. Bets, as Harry had said. A legacy. Hufflepuff was considered the weakest house. People didn't think they had a chance.
If they won, people would be surprised.
If they lost, it was to be expected.
Cedric felt that somehow the weight of expectations fell on him. The team and his housemates were happy to have him as captain. A new captain and seeker that would improve the score and lead them to win that year's Hogwarts Quidditch Cup.
"I'm worried I might disappoint them," he snapped, looking down at his hands in his lap. Although he felt strange expressing out loud something he hadn't shared with anyone else, Cedric couldn't help but continue, "And my father. He was so proud when I became a seeker. And Hufflepuff's team captain, which makes everything a little more...demanding. I can't blame anyone but myself if we lose."
Harry was watching him silently.
Perhaps Cedric had said too much. Maybe he shouldn't have...
"I'm sorry," he hastened to say, afraid of receiving some kind of pity. "I wasn't saying any of this to make you feel bad tomorrow if you win."
"You shouldn't be so hard on yourself." Harry bumped his shoulder against his. "Surely you are better than you think. As captain and seeker. You care about the team. I don't think you could let them down even if you tried to. You seem like the type of person who will do anything in their power and who would do their very best."
Cedric smiled at him.
"I still have a chance tomorrow."
"I'm tempted to let you win," Harry teased, still with his arm against Cedric's. "Seems like you need a win more than me."
"I think I do need a few of those."
The shadows drawn on the opposite wall faded between laughs and comments about the training sessions and the challenges that their playing positions implied. Funny locker room scenes, the first matches and how they got along with their teammates. Although from the outside they looked like two people with opposite interests, at that moment they were nothing more than two boys chatting as if they knew each other.
Or as if they wanted to.
HARRY
X
It seemed like moments stolen from fate. Moments out of all maps and time. Cedric was unexpected to Harry, in every way. He had appeared like a breath of fresh air. Like a lost gaze that was found somewhere. Unique. Harry sensed it somehow, but did not want to acknowledge it. They were two boys from different worlds. It wasn't just about the teams, about the different courses. Their houses. their tables and friends.
They were two unlikely people who had met by chance.
Paths without crossroads that took a break in the middle.
Cedric was a special occasion he would be waiting for. When the hallway began to grow dark and cold and they both got to their feet, Harry just knew it. Because they hadn't moved away yet and he longed to talk like this with him again.
Before parting, they swore:
"For a friendly game."
Harry stretched out his hand to Cedric, just like he had done the day they met. An infrequent gesture that somehow seemed right when it came to him. While Cedric had managed to make it look casual, Harry hadn't even anticipated that it would involve touching him.
Cedric held his hand in a firm grip that made Harry feel light.
When he released him, he didn't know what to do with his arms.
"And fair," Cedric added.
"I wouldn't imagine it any other way."
They still had tomorrow.