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After three hours in the prefects’ absurdly-fancy bathtub, soaking in relaxing soaps and scents, Harry was clean and pruny but as tense as he’d ever been. He’d made some progress—opening the egg underwater had been obvious-in-retrospect, and Moaning Myrtle’s suggestion had proven a good one—but the riddle itself was racing through his head.
We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss. It set Harry’s teeth on edge. Circumstances and people had been taking things from Harry all his life. From his earliest memories, Dudley had taken what little food and toys he’d scrounged up. Voldemort had taken his parents, and Pettigrew had taken his godfather. The blasted Triwizard Tournament had taken any chance of a normal school year, turning his own friendships awkward with mistrust and envy.
Rather than numbing him, each loss only made the others sting more acutely, each feeling like a strand pulled from his increasingly-threadbare life. Harry sighed into the bubbles with his head on his hands, more alone than ever. He ignored the knocking on the door.
After three rounds of knocking, Cedric’s exasperated voice floated through the door. “It’s easy to fall asleep in there when you’re not used to it, but better to sleep in your dorm. I need to wash too before curfew.”
“Go use the other one,” Harry growled. He barely raised his head.
Cedric groaned from outside the door. “Penelope’s in that one, and she hasn’t been in nearly as long as you. It’s only fair,” he said apologetically.
Harry sighed. There was an inarguable logic to it. Cedric was kind, he knew, but Cedric was also fair. Resolute. There was no talking him out of a fair decision.
However. . . “Come in and join me then,” Harry offered, a hint of challenge in his voice. Cedric wouldn’t trouble him if there was another way. And no Quidditch player was a stranger to sharing the showers.
Cedric hesitated, but he did come in, in the end. He demurely faced the wall to undress, then slipped in under the bubbles at the other end of the tub, making hardly a splash. Only then did he turn to face Harry.
An awkward silence settled over them. “So,” Cedric said brightly. “Figured anything out?”
Harry snorted. “Why didn’t you just tell me yourself?”
Cedric frowned. “That would be against the rules, wouldn’t it?”
“You practically gave me the answer.”
“I did no such thing! I just suggested a relaxing bath to get your thoughts flowing.”
“In this room, with a tub deep enough to swim in.” But even then, he hadn’t thought of it right away. Harry had a sudden realization. “Where you knew Moaning Myrtle would be, who couldn’t keep a secret to save her life!” he said accusingly.
Cedric shrugged. “You did save my life in the first round. It wouldn’t be right to leave you in the dark now,” he explained.
Harry let his head thump back against the tub. “That sounds like a lot to worry about,” he huffed. “I’m just trying to stay alive.”
“But you did tell me,” Cedric protested. “You’re overwhelmed, but you’re fair-minded too. So I wouldn’t mind if you won.”
Harry turned to look at Cedric. He’d moved closer as they talked, and now he was watching Harry earnestly. Inexplicably, Harry felt his cheeks flush.
“You wouldn’t?” he found himself asking. “You would’ve been the star of Hogwarts if my name hadn’t turned up. Aren’t you upset that, oh I don’t know, here’s the chosen one stealing the spotlight yet again? You don’t think I sneaked my name into the goblet somehow?” Harry cringed at the words, but there was no taking them back, nor any hiding from the bitterness he’d tried to shove down. He closed his eyes. “Don’t you resent me?” he finished in a whisper.
He startled when Cedric’s fingertips touched his face, thumb grazing against a half-healed scrape where he’d been grazed by the Hungarian Horntail. “No, and only a fool would think so,” Cedric said firmly. “Here, focus on your breathing, and forget the tournament.”
Those warm fingertips began to move in slow circles, starting at his temples and then working over his scalp. Harry breathed in-and-out, in-and-out while Cedric moved on to massaging his neck. Then, further down, thumbs pressing against his shoulderblades, until Harry was boneless and very nearly asleep.
At last, Cedric stood and swished a fluffy towel around himself. “Feel better now?” he asked.
Harry nodded.
“Good. Filch comes down this corridor at midnight. Don’t get caught.”
With that, he was gone, leaving Harry feeling oddly much lighter. He’d known that Hermione and Ron believed him, and a few of his best friends, but the rest of the school. . . surely they would look upon him with doubt in their narrowed eyes and suspicion in their hearts. He’d been a competitor without an audience.
As he slung on the cloak and crept back to his dorm, he found himself smiling at the thought of one more Hogwarts student, the least likely of them all, rooting for him.
After that, they weren’t exactly friends—they were still rivals, in more ways than one—but they weren’t exactly competitors either. For Harry, who hadn’t intended to join, much less win, saving Cedric from the imperiused Krum was an easy decision, as was joining forces and wands to fight the acromantula. For Cedric, who’d long dreamed of glory for Hufflepuff House, it was a greater struggle to turn away from the cup and victory.
Cedric stood before the shining cup for several long seconds, the light reflecting off the longing in his eyes, and then he turned and came to Harry instead. He offered Harry his hand, and helped him stand and limp toward the cup. As they reached for it together, Harry found himself smiling. They’d helped each other since the first task, and it was only fitting that they stood there together at the end, Cedric’s steady warmth at Harry’s side.
“Kill the spare.”
“Avada kedavra.”
Everything changed in seconds. Harry tried to shoot off expelliarmus in a panic, and got half the word and a flash of red out, before blinding green light filled his entire vision. A crashing bang echoed around them, and when he could see again, Cedric was sprawled out before him, eyes glazed and empty.
The rest of the night passed in a blur: the ritual, the resurrection, the ghosts. All Harry could think of was that they’d taken one more thing from him. The Death Eaters had. Cedric’s glassy gaze stared at him from his mind’s eye: one more loss atop the towering heap, one more loss than he could bear.
When he finally got the fleeting chance to escape, he nonetheless paused to accio Cedric’s body. He clutched Cedric’s arm to his chest as the portkey spun them away. At least they wouldn’t take this from him.
Hogwarts materialized around him, and everyone descended at once: the teachers, the officials, the wailing parents. In the confusion and chaos, Harry lost sight of Cedric’s body as he was ushered away.
In the days that followed, Harry lay awake and miserable in the hospital wing, refusing visitors and replaying the fateful moment again and again in his head. Kill the spare. One second, two seconds, three—if he’d reacted faster, if he’d realized sooner—
He swallowed a bottle of dreamless sleep, an escape for a few hours. Soon enough, morning would come. He’d wake up, and Cedric’s startled, empty face would be waiting for him.
Something was different today, Harry noted as he sluggishly awoke. The sky was dark outside. He’d woken earlier than usual, the dreamless sleep still fading out of his body. A moment later, he because aware of the commotion outside his door. “I’m going to see him,” an improbable voice said. Harry closed his eyes. To hear that voice—he was definitely still asleep.
The door swung open, and Cedric himself came in, as cautiously as when he’d come into the prefects’ bath. “Harry?” he said.
Harry blinked up at the figure outlined in moonlight. If he was dreaming of Cedric, he might as well talk to him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I should have been faster— I should have understood.” Tears were pooling in his eyes. He scrubbed a sleeve over his face. “I didn’t get to say bye or sorry in person, so I’m at least grateful to say it in a dream,” he finished miserably.
Instead of saying I understand or I’ll never forgive you , Cedric only looked puzzled. “Harry, that’s dreamless sleep,” he said, pointing to the potion on the nightstand. “You’re not dreaming. I’m really here.”
“A ghost, then, come to haunt me for my failures,” Harry sighed.
For a ghost, Cedric’s features were remarkably lifelike, a hint of impatience showing through on his handsome face. “I’m not a ghost either,” he said. “Here, check for yourself!” He sat on the bed next to Harry, the bed dipping with his weight. He took Harry’s hand and pressed it against his chest. “There, do you believe me now? I’m as solid as you are.”
Harry sat up. “How?” he asked. “You were hit by—I saw your body!”
“The healers at St. Mungo’s wondered too,” Cedric explained. “I was knocked out by an explosion. It seems the avada kedavra didn’t reach me.”
Only then did Harry remember his half-cast spell and the bang. “I tried to cast expelliarmus . I tried to stop it,” he babbled. “I didn’t think enough of it got out to make a difference.”
“Then it seems you saved me after all,” Cedric said solemnly.
They sat there staring at each other, Harry’s hand still against Cedric’s chest. Slowly, cautiously, Harry allowed his hands to wander over Cedric’s arms, his shoulders, his legs, reassuring himself that he was real and solid, and marveling at the heat spreading through his own body, as if some of Cedric’s heat were flowing into him.
Abruptly, he noticed the heat pooling in his gut and tenting the sheets. He froze, his hand coming to a stop on Cedric’s face. He glanced up at Cedric in alarm, wondering if he’d noticed.
He had. Cedric was gazing at him with bright, determined eyes, and then he turned his head, cheek nuzzling into Harry’s hand. Gently, he kissed Harry’s palm. “I want to if you do,” he said simply.
It took three tries for Harry to unstick his throat. “Will you give me a hint, as you did with the egg? Or will you tell me yourself, this time?”
A smile broke out on Cedric’s face. “I’ll do one better,” he said. “This time, I’ll show you.”
Harry watched with eagerness and awe as Cedric disrobed and prepared, narrating all the while. “Both the illubrious and hydrallia spells work, as long as you cast them with precision,” he explained. Harry nodded, half-listening, too focused on the skin of Cedric’s chest under his hand and Cedric’s heartbeat racing beneath.
Gently, Cedric guided him onto his back and slipped into the bed with him, hands caressing his face and tangling into his hair. His lips found Harry’s, tentatively at first, soft barely-there kisses, an invitation. Eagerly, Harry opened his mouth, trying out the shapes of their lips and how they fit together.
And at the same time, Cedric’s fingers pressed just as gently against Harry’s entrance, massaging it open just as he’d massaged Harry’s shoulders what felt like a lifetime ago. Harry sighed deeply and felt himself relaxing for Cedric, just as he had then. Cedric shifted in the bed, his cock taking the place of his fingers. Harry gasped as the tip pushed in.
“Doing alright?” Cedric murmured in his ear.
“Cedric,” Harry breathed, the only word he could summon.
Cedric groaned, wrapping his arms around Harry and pushing in further, as slowly as he could bring himself to. And Harry—Harry lay back, hands roaming everywhere that he could touch. Surrounded by Cedric's strength and Cedric's warmth, around him and in him, every thrust a reassurance that he was here, alive and real.
Tears welled up Harry's eyes when Cedric came, filling Harry with impossible warmth: days of pent-up grief and now relief all pouring out of him at once. As Cedric shuddered in his arms, real and heavy, Harry began to hope that this time, this one time in his life, he might hold on to something beautiful.
"Oh no," Cedric exclaimed in alarm upon seeing the tears. "Was it too much? Harry, I'm so sorry—"
"No," Harry interrupted, and Cedric fell silent. "I'm just so. . . ."
He trailed off, casting around for a word. Happy? Relieved? In love? All of those were close, yet nothing could quite capture the warmth welling up within him.
But Cedric nodded, as if he'd understood. He leaned in to kiss Harry again. "Then I'll do everything to keep it so," he said fervently. "That's a promise."