CEDRIC
XL
Without a doubt, that would be a night he would never forget.
From the moment it started, he knew it.
As much as he suspected he didn't want it to end, even when Harry nearly fell asleep on the couch around two in the morning. He rested his cheek against the back of it, his eyes almost closed. An image that inspired Cedric to follow his example.
Harry didn't exactly look comfortable.
Cedric decided to wake him up to say goodbye before leaving, so he could go to bed.
“I'm not sleepy.”
It was funny that Harry was trying to talk him out of it.
Although it was an easily refutable statement, to his surprise, Harry woke up enough to chat for a while longer and this time it was Cedric who leaned back, repressing a yawn.
Against his will, he decided it was time and got up.
XLI
He couldn't tell who hugged whom first.
Standing in front of the fireplace, they melted into each other in a way he hadn't known possible. That unfamiliar feeling carved a path inside Cedric that he knew he would take frequently from now on. A mixture of peace and storm at the same time, one of those that devastates you in its path and nothing is the same ever again.
The order did not matter, because after that prior conversation so…
Intimate and not at all reassuring, it was all Cedric wanted to do.
Unable to move away, he held on tightly and closed his eyes, letting himself be carried away by the lightness that filled him when feeling Harry's hands behind his back, encircling Cedric with his head in the crook of his neck. It seemed acceptable to say goodbye like that: the limits of their friendship had expanded, as if they had leveled up.
Acceptable for one minute.
The side game where Cedric had his heart in his mouth and so many trapped emotions was another matter.
Two and he stopped counting.
The pounding in his chest was all he could make out as Harry stepped back a few inches. With his face so close to his and his big green eyes watching him with an intensity he could only think must match his own, he heard him murmur his name.
“ Cedric. ”
Like a whisper.
A warning.
And maybe it was because all summer he had Harry in his head.
Because he couldn't escape that bubbly feeling all night.
Because he would have sworn that Harry Potter was about to kiss him, Cedric leaned in an instant, breaking the short distance between them. Harry’s lips were so soft against his, warm and the pressure of his hand on the fabric of his shirt, as if Harry was holding on to him…
Cedric had never felt like this in his entire life.
Trembling, alert and lost at the same time.
Each movement ignited a sensation that grew more compelling. That was the way Cedric would have ever imagined his first kiss. The need that came with each one caught him off guard and it might as well have been ten minutes or ten seconds before Harry pulled away for air.
Then they looked at each other.
What had they just done?
XLII
Any kind of trance he'd been in faded as they both looked as if they hadn't expected that to happen. Cedric had been willing to go back to his house, but now he couldn't move.
"Your broom," Harry murmured, remembering suddenly, and moved to the wall next to the stairs, where he grabbed it to hand it over to Cedric. “Don't forget it.”
He took it, unsure if he should say something. "Uh, thanks, I…”
The awkwardness was the worst part.
Harry was barely looking back at him.
Cedric thought that Harry had been about to kiss him... Had he been wrong?
Had he misread the whole situation?
"I think I should go,” was not what he wanted to express, but Cedric couldn't find the right words. He needed to think and not feel like a paralyzed nervous wreck in the middle of the living room, too scared that he'd made a mistake.
One he couldn't apologize for right then, because…
He didn't regret it one bit.
"Good night, Harry," he mumbled before disappearing down the chimney, taking in the restrained expression on Harry’s face that he would remember.
Cedric caught a glimpse of his reply: Good ni…
HARRY
XXXVII
He stood in the middle of the living room for at least five minutes.
If everything hadn't felt so alive and real, he would’ve claimed it was a dream. A good one, until he couldn't think of what to say or what to do.
Cedric had kissed him, right?
Or had he done it himself?
He might have thought so, but had he gotten so close with that intent?
Harry didn't even know.
Doing something about his feelings had never been a part of his plans, and here he was, at three in the morning, lying on his bed with the memory of Cedric's lips against his. A very, very true memory that played in his mind endlessly.
XXXVIII
The next morning he had to confirm to himself that this did happen.
He didn't understand how a kiss could be so incredible.
What he previously thought as a meaningless practice, now he wanted to repeat it.
He tried to write to Cedric, but all he could say was that it had been great and some kind of painful declaration of love that he was afraid to put down on a parchment.
CEDRIC
XLIII
His father woke him up very early to have breakfast together.
Amos had been working everyday for the last week like never before, not being able to communicate with Cedric as much as he usually did on summer break. He had missed a couple of suppers and sharing mornings was the next best thing. Cedric got up from the bed, even though he was exhausted and had his head focused on…
The boy he had kissed last night.
In broad daylight, Cedric wondered why he had done it.
Apart from the obvious reason that, well, he did want to (and how much).
"I read the note you left me," Amos was speaking as he deposited a cup of tea in front of Cedric and his own cup of the best father in the wizarding world , a present he gave him when he was little, full of coffee. “I didn't know you were friends with the Weasleys.”
Perhaps he wouldn't put it in such terms yet, but he hoped he would soon.
"And Harry," Cedric added, mentioning that he was staying with them.
“Be careful, Ced, with such a renowned friend.”
What did he mean by that?
He couldn't control his reaction. "He's a person like everyone else.”
Maybe a little different , for reasons unrelated to a last name.
"I don't doubt it," Amos answered softly, "and I'm glad you two get along well. I'm just saying be careful. Fame brings a lot of drawbacks, especially in times like these.”
Cedric would be right in the middle of any of those if it meant being a part of Harry’s life —as his friend or whatever they were now. He wouldn't stand aside no matter how troublesome his fame might become or how hard times got.
XLIV
Two letters arrived that afternoon.
One from Malcolm, who notified Cedric that his mother had agreed to inviting him for the weekend. And another from Cho, who was replying to his previous letter, saying that she was fine and that it had been really scary for her mother and her. She was concerned about the fact she hadn't heard from his father for several weeks. Letters without answers, some that her owl took too much time to deliver. Cho didn't think it implied that he was in any kind of danger.
It just pained her that he had barely communicated with her after moving out.
Cedric wished he could do something.
He had no words to cheer her up, and he couldn't understand how a father would cut off communication with his daughter after splitting up.
Lastly, Cho inquired about the welfare of all the others.
What about Harry? And Luna and the rest? Are they alright?
XLV
His best friend's house looked like something out of a muggle property brochure. Two floors, a bright light color with columns and a dark wooden door. Garden gnomes and a functional doorbell. Mrs. Preece was a woman who seemed too young to have a teenage son, with long hair just as curly as Malcolm, who greeted Cedric with her characteristic warmth.
"How long has it been?” she said, squeezing him into a loving hug.
She pulled back instantly, watching Cedric as if to see how much he'd grown in the last year.
Quite a bit, in fact.
"Mom, don't embarrass him,” Malcolm hurried down the stairs.
"It's been a while, it's true," Cedric conceded, all smiles.
Nodding airily, she blurted out, “My son has preferred to spend all of his time at your house this summer.”
A half scold that Malcolm ignored and they both went up to his room.
Cedric was surprised to see that Mrs. Preece was still standing in the same place when he closed the door behind.
XLVI
He would tell Malcolm about what had happened with Harry if it weren't for the fact that he knew he would have a whole bunch of questions and he wouldn't let it go for the rest of the year. He would try, sure, but he wasn't someone who could resist his own curiosity. Not that Cedric thought it would be easy to have feelings for Harry, who he considered his friend —okay, maybe he did. Not that it would be exactly easy, but he didn't expect it to be a catastrophe.
He thought he could keep it under control.
It felt comfortable to be around Harry.
Even if this was the first time Cedric had really liked someone, he didn't think it had to be such a conflict for their friendship. And now there was some kind of mess inside of him, because he liked Harry more than he anticipated. Cedric couldn't stop remembering that kiss or wondering what it meant for them.
XLVII
When he went to the kitchen next morning, Mrs. Preece was sitting at the table, reading a muggle newspaper, judging by the lack of movement and direct criticism of the organization of the Ministry in the front page.
She looked up from the paper, pushing it aside. “Cedric, sweetheart. Come and sit. Tell me. How are you?”
That was not a question he was often asked, especially by adults.
“All right?” The answer didn't seem to convince her, as if she expected him to say something else. “Why? Has Malcolm told you anything?” he dared to question, since there was nothing to tell, except for… Was she referring to what happened at the World Cup? Had Malcolm informed her about it? In the magical world they still talked about it, with an approach that he considered wrong. “Have you talked to my father?”
“We’ve talked, yes. Funnily enough, I was having coffee when a voice called me from the living room... and I saw your father on fire in the fireplace! I didn't even know it worked, and there he was. He looked terrifying, but he’s a very kind man.”
It turned out that his father had personally asked Mrs. Preece if she could host Cedric for a few days, considering he was working long hours and didn't want to leave him alone. No mention of tragic events that could put the entire wizarding community at risk at some point in the not too distant future.
Cedric assured her that he was fine.
Even so, she still didn't look convinced. "If you ever need anything, someone to talk to… about anything, I'm here, okay?"
Cedric believed that her kindness and interest were due to matters related to her profession —wasn't that part of her job? To care about people? To be available? He thanked her for her offer before returning to the room, where Malcolm was still sleeping.
XLVIII
If that hadn't happened with Harry, Cedric was sure he would’ve written him a letter by now. He didn't know what to say to Harry. Unhappy as he was with how the situation had ended with that silence, he preferred to talk about the matter in person. So he sat down at Malcolm's desk, picked up a pen and wrote the letter he would have sent anyway, saying he had a good time and thanking Harry for the invitation without making any reference to how much he couldn't get him out of his head.
When Cedric returned home days later, he had two letters from Harry in his mailbox. The first one seemed to have been there longer, in which Harry asked if he had gotten into trouble with his father for returning so late at night. The second mentioned that he had forgotten that he would be at Malcolm's.
He was partly glad that they resumed communication almost as before.
Almost as if nothing had happened, because he was afraid that he had made things awkward…
But it wasn’t the same and Cedric knew it.
It wouldn't be remotely easy to keep his friendship with Harry intact.