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Author's Notes: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. This story was written for eliminate for LiveJournal's hpvalensmut fic exchange. Her prompts that I used were: YES. I like dark art (& fic, if it applies). Bloodplay, violence, scary-ness, haha. "not romantic" Betas: ![[info]](http://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) weasleywench, who went beyond the call of duty, thank you so much. eynhashofet for the final polish and oldenuf2nb for the boost of confidence I needed at the end. Thank you minisinoo for the wonderful suggestions. Word Count: approx. 12,000 Additional Warnings: Suicide Themes and Bloodplay
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Eternal Glory
February 8, 2003
It had been a long time since Harry Potter had spent the night at Hogwarts. He wasn’t sure why he was doing it this night, but the thought of taking the Floo home, seemed to make him feel even more ill. No one was there to watch over him just in case he took a turn for the worse. In the Gryffindor guest quarters, the house-elves would make sure that whatever was bothering him didn’t progress. Harry was somewhat pleased that he had begged off from going to the Infirmary. No, that would have been too much to handle.
The tower room was more sophisticated than his old dorm rooms had been, but once he closed the bed curtains, it felt the same. A small laugh of triumph came out of his mouth as he fluffed up the pillows one more time and then Noxed the candle on the bedside table. He realised that this would be his first time sleeping at the castle since fourth year that he wouldn’t be afraid of his dreams. Upset stomach, dizzy spells, and so on, couldn’t touch that feeling of having survived. It was all behind him now: five years behind him. When he thought back, he felt sorry for the boy he had been. He wanted to go back and tell him it would be hell, but that he’d survive and he would be - would be what? Harry pondered.
Harry sighed as he clutched his stomach. The cramps were subsiding, but he still felt uncomfortable. The scent of the clean sheets was in stark contrast to the musty odour of the drapes, but the mixture was soothing; he lessened the grip around his abdomen. Soon his eyelids lowered, and his breathing became deep and regular.
The squeak of the chains as he twisted the swing around in circles was the only sound he heard. Harry looked around at the landscape; he knew this place. He hadn’t been back to Little Whinging since he had been sixteen. It was mid-winter; he could tell by the dead grass and non-existent flowers.
“Hey, Potter! Mind if I join you?”
Harry turned the swing to his right to see who had taken a seat next to him. The person — the wizard — was only partially visible, and it put Harry in shock. “Ce-Cedric?” he gasped out.
Cedric Diggory smiled wide and Harry’s heart broke. “You doing okay?” Cedric asked as he stretched out his legs and pumped them underneath the swing. Within seconds he was swinging higher than Harry knew was physically possible.
Harry was flummoxed as he stared at the vision of Cedric Diggory. He looked the same, still handsome as ever. “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine.”
“Then what am I doing here?”
Harry shook his head. “Just a dream, Cedric. You’re just a dream.”
A puff of dust rose as Cedric’s trainers dragged through the dirt, and the swing came to a sudden standstill.
Harry looked at the semi-transparent hand: the same hand that had touched the Triwizard Cup the exact instant his had, and it reached up to his face to sweep back a strand of hair behind his ear. The hair didn’t move as the fingers ghosted through it, but Harry was amazed that he could feel Cedric’s touch; it tingled, and it was warm, not cold as a ghost’s, but warm. “Potter, whose dream are you living?” Cedric asked and vanished.
Harry woke up shivering, drenched in his own sweat. “Fever,” he mumbled and pulled back the curtains to grab a potion from the bedside table. He headed to the shower, even though it was in the middle of the night. As the spray of water washed away the stickiness, he remembered his dream. He hadn’t thought about Cedric for a few years, only when Cho’s name came up, or Mr and Mrs Diggory’s, then he would briefly let his mind wander. But he didn’t dwell on Cedric, just like he didn’t dwell on his parents, Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Hedwig, or, “D-D-Dobby,” he sputtered out. Somewhere deep in the core of his body, he felt the rawness of pain, of loss, of grief. “Fuck!” he shouted and turned off the water. He took a few deep breaths as he towelled himself off. “No, Potter, no. You’re not going down that road,” he muttered to himself.
February 9th
“Feeling better, Harry?” Neville asked as Harry sat down next to him at the High Table.
“A little. It was a rough night, though,” Harry replied as he lifted his cup of tea. He breathed in the swirl of steam rising from it. It warmed his insides; the castle this time of year was always cold.
“You going to stay? The DADA students would love a second day with you.”
“No, I’ve got to get back to the Ministry. I’m supposed to be getting my first case soon. I’m hoping it will be today. It’s getting old being treated with kid gloves.”
Neville laughed. “What, the ol’ guard harassing you?”
Harry rolled his eyes. “Shite, Neville, they’re treating me fine, but I can tell that there are some that aren’t too sure I deserve to be there, and they don’t want to say anything because I’m Harry Potter. At least with my own case, I have a chance of proving myself to them and well…to myself, too.”
“Of course you belong there. You’ve always wanted to be an Auror,” Neville replied, “I mean after all…”
“After all, what?” Harry said lowering his cup of tea. He stared at Neville and then looked down at his plate of eggs and toast. His fork pierced the yolks of the eggs. “I know I wanted this, but they expect so much. For every Ministry decision, someone will ask me what I think. Fuck, Neville, I don’t know what I think. Even after the last five years, I’m still learning about this world, and now they want me to speak about and enforce laws I’m not sure I understand the repercussions of.”
“God, Harry, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Harry set down his fork. “Look, I don’t mean to whinge. Everyone treats me great.”
Neville’s hand came down on Harry’s wrist and gave it a squeeze. “Harry, it’s me, Longbottom. You don’t have to pretend. Remember I’m the king of insecurity.”
Harry laughed. “Not since you killed the snake, Longbottom.”
“Phht, yes, and that moment has now defined my life. I’m supposed to be this big, brave Gryffindor.”
“Exactly,” Harry said, pouncing on the words Neville spoke.
“But you are brave.”
Harry began playing with his food again. “Yes, but I’m also a smart arse and lazy—or so I’ve been told.”
Neville chuckled. “So how’re the plans for the big day going?”
Harry grinned but groaned as he did so. “I’m just going to show up on the day. Molly’s frantic, and Ginny’s still busy with the Harpies. She sends me missives about what’s going on.”
A large hand clapped him on the back. “At least you didn’t have my gran insisting upon the proper etiquette for everything. I’m still surprised Susan didn’t dump me during our engagement.”
Harry stared at Neville and then brought his hand to his forehead, rubbing it roughly. “Neville, there are over five hundred people invited to the wedding. Ministers for Magic from every continent and Headmasters from at least five different schools are coming. I’m already nervous about what I should say and do.”
Neville gave him a weak smile. “It’s always been tough being Harry Potter, hasn’t it?”
Harry shrugged his shoulders. “Beats me, Professor. I hardly know the guy.”
The view from the top of the Astronomy Tower was spectacular on the bright cold day. Harry sat on the ledge, his legs dangling off: the Forbidden Forest, the lake, the Quidditch pitch were all for the taking.
“You’re not thinking of jumping, are you?”
Harry stared at the legs longer than his banging against the ancient rocks. The jeans were blue and trainers white with only a hint of translucency to them.
“No,” Harry said defiantly. “I would never do that.”
“Are you depressed?”
Harry glanced over at the previous Prefect from Hufflepuff; his cheeks were filled with colour. “No, Cedric, I’m not depressed.”
“Melancholy?”
“No.”
“Then, what?”
“What, what? I’m just thinking in my dreams, obviously.”
“Potter, there’s a reason why I’m here, and I want to know what it is.”
“Fuck if I know, Diggory,” Harry replied as he stood up and began walking along the ledge. He felt no fear of falling, and even if he had, this was a dream, and if it wasn’t, he had his wand.
Soon Cedric was standing within the tower walls.
“Scared?” Harry snickered.
“Actually, yes, I am.”
Harry burst out laughing. “You’re dead, Cedric. You’re a figment of my dreams. I bet I could imagine you flying. Did you know Voldemort could fly? I’m still trying to figure out how he did that.”
“Why? Why would you want to fly? Do you want to escape from something?”
Harry stopped in mid-step and jumped off the ledge, landing directly in front of Cedric. The warm grey eyes entranced him. His hand reached up, touched Cedric’s face, and his fingers stroked down the soft cheek. He felt so real.
Cedric smiled, tilted his head, and kissed Harry’s wrist. He felt Cedric’s lips. “What are you doing here?” Harry whispered.
“I don’t know, Harry,” Cedric replied and his hand reached up to stroke the side of Harry’s face in return. Harry stared into the bright eyes, so full of life, so sure, so full of promise, and then leant forward, brushing his lips against Cedric’s.
Harry reached for his wand on the bedside table and lit the candle next to it. The flame highlighted the picture of him and Ginny taken at Ron and Hermione’s wedding last summer. His fingertip slid down the glass as the couple in the picture kissed. He closed his eyes trying to remember her lips on his; they were tingling, and it wasn’t because of her. Far off in the distance, he heard the sound of a siren going off in Muggle London. He had hated the sounds of the city when he first moved back to Grimmauld Place; he had felt split between the two worlds, but now it was comforting.
He Summoned a glass of water and gulped it down before extinguishing the candle flame. He pulled the sheet and red duvet over his shoulders. Why Cedric? he thought as he shut his eyes again.
February 10th
“Harry, I’m sorry, but you can’t have your own case until you return from your honeymoon,” the Minister for Magic said with regret.
“Damn it, Kingsley, why not?” Harry bellowed as he jumped up from his chair. He paced in front of the broad desk Kingsley sat behind and continued voicing his frustrations. “If I was any other Auror, you wouldn’t be doing this. I’ve worked damn hard these last five years despite what others may say and think.”
“Harry,” Kingsley said, “but you’re not any other Auror. Do you know what would happen if you were injured on your first case? Or if you did something that caused someone else to get hurt?”
Harry stopped and spun around to face his friend and sighed. “I know. I’m just tired of this. I wanted some aspect of my life to be normal. It’ll certainly never happen outside of my job. I know you don’t mean to be harsh, but you do realise that what you’re saying is that I’m not allowed to make a mistake, or Merlin forbid, fail.”
Kingsley nodded. “I’m sorry, Harry. I can’t even imagine the pressures that all this puts on you.”
“It’s just that I can’t have a normal courtship, wedding, job, life.” Harry sighed.
A pot of tea, two mugs and a plate of biscuits appeared on a side table. Kingsley stood and poured the tea and offered a biscuit to the young Auror. Harry took a chocolate one and dunked it in his cup of tea and Kingsley couldn’t help but grimace.
“You know, Harry, I remember during your fourth year at Hogwarts, the Order had a special assignment to watch out for the contestants for the Triwizard Tournament. I happened to be in the Great Hall, Disillusioned, when Dumbledore gave his opening speech about the Cup. I remember him specifically saying whoever won would have Eternal Glory, and I thought then, ‘what a terrible thing to have’. And that is what you have, Harry. Eternal Glory.”
Harry choked on the wet biscuit. Cedric was all he could think of.
“Where exactly is this?”
Harry continued walking a path in the sand that didn’t exist, ignoring the wizard next to him. Two sets of footprints emerged side by side.
“Are you going to answer me?”
“Shell Cottage is right up there,” Harry said as he pointed to the small house on the cliff. “It’s where Bill Weasley and Fleur used to live. You do remember Fleur, don’t you?”
Cedric smiled. “Yes, Potter, no one could forget Fleur. They have a child now, don’t they?”
Harry nodded. “I’m getting married on Valentine’s Day to Ginny Weasley.”
“And is something wrong with that?”
Harry stopped and faced the cold ocean waves that crashed on the shore and then crept up inches from his trainers. The wind picked up, and he pulled the hood of his jacket over his head and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“No, Ginny’s wonderful.”
Harry didn’t flinch as Cedric placed his arm around his shoulder. The added warmth felt good.
“Shall we go up to the cottage?”
“Yeah, I think we should.”
Harry started a fire in the fireplace and sat on the couch facing the flames. Cedric placed himself next to Harry.
“So have you figured out why I’m here?”
Harry stretched out his legs and leant towards Cedric, his head resting on the other’s shoulder. “Yes, I think so.”
“Are you going to share this knowledge with me?” Cedric asked with a brief chuckle. Harry could feel Cedric’s body reverberate. He leant in closer as Cedric’s arm once again wrapped around his shoulder. It was warm, and it was solid.
Harry turned slightly and glanced up. Soft grey eyes met his. “It’s okay, Harry,” Cedric said, and then kissed Harry. The warm lips pressed onto his. He felt the physical feeling of kissing but there was more; it transcended beyond what he had ever felt before. There was a tingle, but there was also a sense of purity, strength, and most of all, comfort.
“Eternal Glory,” Harry said after the brief kiss. “You chose to have it. I didn’t.”
“Hmm,” Cedric mumbled and kissed Harry again.
“What do you want, Harry Potter?”
“Not to be Harry Potter.”
February, 11th
“It’s good to see you, Harry,” Hermione said as she wiped the Floo soot from his jacket.
Harry gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for having me over. I know you’ve been busy since your promotion.”
“Stop it! You know I always have time for you. What’s wrong? Are you upset that Ron is spending so much time at the shop?”
“No,” Harry replied as he sat down in the overstuffed chair by the fire. He loved Ron and Hermione’s flat. It was small and comfortable and filled with both magical and Muggle items. “I’m having some strange dreams—” He stopped as he saw the look of horror cross her face. “No, not about Voldemort. They’re about Cedric.”
“Cedric Diggory?” Hermione said as she sat down on the sofa and curled her legs next her. “That’s strange. You want a Butterbeer?”
“Er, no, thanks. I thought it was strange, too, but I think I have part of it figured out. It has to do with Eternal Glory. You remember that’s what Dumbledore said would be the prize for winning the Triwizard Tournament.”
“Yes… but, I don’t…”
“Kingsley’s the one who brought it up. He said he wouldn’t want it, and, Hermione, I don’t want it either.”
Hermione pulled the soft knitted throw from the back of the couch and placed it over her legs. “But, Harry, it was just a saying. There really isn’t such a thing.”
Harry snorted and shook his head. “I know it’s not a real physical thing, but what the words encompass is — at least for me. I can’t move without someone asking me for my opinion on Ministry laws they’re enacting. They won’t give me my own case because they’re afraid I might make a mistake. The Prophet would jump all over it. And—and then there’s the wedding. I was just at the fitting for my robes. Good God, Hermione, they’re robes for royalty. I’m not fucking royalty,” he said with disdain.
Eyelashes fluttered trying to restrain the tears from falling. “I’m so sorry. It seems victory has a big price. I don’t think there is much you can do about the wedding, but can’t you talk to Kingsley about your career? Are you sure you still want to be an Auror?”
Harry scratched his chin. “Yes, but I don’t want to be Auror Harry Potter. I just want to be an Auror.”
A cup of tea floated into the sitting room and into Hermione’s hands. “Maybe it will dissipate after you have your own cases, and if not, then maybe you should think about changing careers. I don’t know, maybe open a Quidditch shop.”
Harry laughed. “That actually sounds like a good idea, but it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.”
“Why not? And since when did you care about doing the right thing — besides… you know?”
“It’s the same thing, Hermione. I did it then to rid the world of Voldemort, and now I have to do the right thing so people won’t be disillusioned with the victory. Every day in the Ministry I see it. I know you see it, too. We’re still walking a fine line; people are waiting for things to go back to the old days, and many are waiting for me to fail.”
“Oh, Merlin, Harry, you make it sound like the persona of Harry Potter is more important than the real Harry Potter.”
Harry stared at her without saying another word. He could tell she understood when the two tears slid down her cheek and made ripples in her tea.
“It’ll get better, Harry,” she said as she kissed him goodbye.
A lesion opened in his heart. It was the first time he knew Hermione was lying to him and worse than that, to herself.
“Potter, I must say you pick interesting places. Whose home is this? Isn’t rather Dark?”
Harry gave Cedric a small grin. “It’s my home, and this is my bedroom.”
Cedric sat on the large four-poster bed. The mattress indented next to Harry. Harry surveyed Cedric’s appearance; he was dressed only in pyjama bottoms, just like him. There was still an ethereal look about him, but his skin looked almost tan, and he could see the fine hair under his arms.
Cedric stared at Harry in return. “You don’t look so good. Are you sick?”
“No. I’m just tired. Between work and preparing for the wedding, I haven’t had much time to myself.”
“I saw Ginny last night,” Cedric said. “She’s quite the beauty now, isn’t she? I think it’s great she’s playing Quidditch.”
Harry stared at Cedric. “How did you see her? Did you visit her? Are you a ghost?”
Cedric laughed aloud. “No, I was in her dreams. She dreamed of me.”
Harry wasn’t sure he wanted to know what type of dream it was.
“It was a Quidditch dream.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, well, she flies pretty well, too,” Cedric said. Harry chuckled when he saw the raised brow and quirk of a smile.
“It’s good to hear you laugh, Harry. I always loved your laugh.”
“You did? I-I mean, why?”
Cedric leant down; the tip of his straight nose touched the tip of Harry’s.
“Because it was so rare, Potter, just like you,” he whispered, before his lips brushed over Harry’s. Harry once again felt the lightness, and this time, almost a merging — a merging of their magic, Harry thought.
He closed his eyes as his hands grasped Cedric’s muscled arms bracing him. The kiss became stronger, and Harry relished in the heat, the tingle of Cedric’s magic as it met his. He didn’t hesitate in sliding over as Cedric slipped under the covers and lay down next to him. The warmth of the strong hold filled an emptiness he was only aware of in the periphery of his mind.
“What’re we doing?” Harry muttered as Cedric’s lips moved away from his and made over his jaw and down his neck.
“Making love,” Cedric whispered as his tongue licked along the ridge of Harry’s collarbone and his knee forced itself between Harry’s legs
The words startled Harry. “But — but you’re male, and I’m not…”
Cedric lifted Harry’s head, and with his hand made small strokes on his cheek. “Harry, I’m not male or female; this is my soul, my spirit, and it has no gender. Yours doesn’t either.”
The quizzical look Harry gave made Cedric smile once again. Cedric rolled over on his back and pulled Harry with him so the dark head lay on his chest. Harry realised there was no heartbeat, but there was a sound, a rhythm. He couldn’t place the origin, but it was calming to hear.
“Talk to me, Harry. What is it you’re looking for? I can feel that you have so much love to give, and that you want to be loved in return.”
Harry snorted. “Yeah, I’ve heard before that love is the answer.”
Cedric snickered and squeezed Harry tighter.
Harry tilted his head up and looked at Cedric. “What did you want before, before…”
“Before I died?”
“Yeah,” Harry said and then kissed the chest beneath him.
Cedric placed his hand on Harry’s back and gave random strokes up and down. “Oh, I had big plans. Originally, they were my father’s, but I wanted them, too. Like you, I wanted to be an Auror, but first I was going to travel for a year.” Harry grinned, remembering that Dumbledore had wanted to do the same. “And, eventually, I wanted to get into politics.”
Harry lifted his head again. “You liked politics?” he asked in disbelief.
“Yes,” Cedric said with a grin. “I even took special tutoring classes in how to debate and how to speak in front of a crowd.”
“Shite, they have those?”
“Yes,” Cedric replied and gave Harry a pinch on his pyjama-clad rear.
“What else?” Harry asked eagerly. His eyes sparkled with interest in learning things about Cedric he had never known.
“Oh, the usual: marry, have some kids.”
“Cho?” Harry said spontaneously and then felt a hint of guilt after he remembered their kiss and his feelings for her.
Cedric’s finger flicked the tip of Harry’s nose. “Don’t worry about that, Potter. She was hot, but I doubt we would have married. She was the perfect witch for a school time romance.”
“Why not?”
Cedric rolled his eyes. “Because you dolt, I wasn’t in love with her. I liked her, but I was too young to think of marriage. My guess is that I would have travelled the world and probably married a foreign diplomat’s daughter. There were so few witches at Hogwarts that had the traits I valued.”
The words he heard made him shudder. All he could think of us was ‘pure-blood supremacy’. He yelped when another swat landed across his arse.
“No fucking way is that what I’m talking about. I’m talking about a witch who is intelligent, funny, challenging, and courageous. It’s quite a tall order.”
“Ginny has them,” Harry said with pride.
Cedric nodded. “I noticed.”
Harry scowled at him. Cedric returned the look. Both laughed at each other until Cedric rolled Harry over and lay on top of him. Harry became lost in the warmth and strength that surrounded him like a blanket.
February 12th
“Harry, what’s with you? You’re acting as if you’re half here. Are you still ill?” Ginny asked as she pushed Harry down onto the couch in the Burrow’s family room.
He was tempted to tell her all, but he knew the conversation would just sadden her. He also knew there was no way he could explain Cedric to her and what they did in his dreams. He wasn't sure he could explain it to himself. Cedric was right, it had nothing to do with gender, it went beyond gender, it was their souls interacting with each other. The kissing and preludes to sex was just the physical manifestation of the meeting. Whatever it was, it brought him peace and comfort, none of which he could adequately explain. “No, Gin, I’m fine, really. I’ve just been thinking about things,” he said as he pulled her down to sit on his lap.
“What kind of things? Don’t tell me you’ve been talking with George. He’s been hinting about doing something at the wedding.”
Harry laughed. “Oh, Merlin, no, but I do want to know what he’s up to. That would be awesome if he could get some of the fireworks like he and Fred had when they ousted Umbridge.”
“Harry Potter! Don’t even tempt him,” Ginny said, but was soon laughing with him.
The room became too quiet once the laughter dissipated.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Ginny whispered as she laid her head on his shoulder.
Harry took a deep breath. “Are you ready for all of this? I mean after Sunday, Gin, your life will be even more in the spotlight than it already is.”
“Is that what this is about? You’re worried about me? I’ll be fine. I know that there’ll be situations that’ll call for proper social decorum. I can imagine that someday you’ll be Head of the Auror Division, and then you’ll tire of that and want to do something else, something that will ensure the laws will stop another Voldemort from happening.”
Harry’s blood ran cold. “No, actually, Gin, I was imagining that we might travel, and then I would open a Quidditch Shop.”
Ginny laughed. “Yeah, right. I’m sure you’d be brilliant at it, but I can’t imagine you actually doing it.”
Harry looked at her crossly. “Why not? Haven’t I given enough?”
Ginny sighed. She saw that he was serious and knew he was worried about the future. She grasped his face in her two small, but strong, hands. “Harry, whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
“Thank you,” he whispered. Their brief kiss was interrupted when Mr Weasley entered the room.
“Ah, Harry, my boy, so glad you could make it tonight. I know you’re both busy with the wedding plans, but I need to discuss a situation that has arisen. Something that will need your personal attention after you and Ginny return from your honeymoon.”
“I’ll be helping Mum with dinner,” Ginny said as she kissed Harry on the cheek and then removed herself from his lap.
“What is it, Mr Weasley?” Harry asked and grabbed the Butterbeer that floated by him.
“Arthur, Harry. Call me Arthur. You only have two more days to get used to it,” he said with a chuckle and sat down in a chair next to Harry.
“Okay, Arthur, what is it?” Harry asked. He found it so awkward to say the man’s first name. He opened the bottle and took a long drink.
“Well, Kingsley wanted me to tell you — uh, but, I think he believes you’re a bit upset with him.”
“What is it?” Harry said sounding more intolerant then he wanted to.
“The Muggle Prime Minister wants to meet you,” Arthur said in one quick breath.
Harry spurted out the Butterbeer. “What?” he bellowed. “Absolutely not!”
“But, Harry, it would ease the relationship we’re trying to build between the two worlds. The Prime Minister likes the idea of you being raised in their world and well, um, the Dursleys would be invited, too.”
Harry loved Arthur Weasley, almost as if he was his birth father, but at this moment, the word “Crucio” seemed appropriate. “No!” Harry spouted out. He jumped up from the couch and Disapparated.
“M-Mum? Dad? Sirius? Remus? What’s going on?” Harry asked. He looked around the room he was sitting in. It somehow seemed familiar, but he didn’t recognise it. A large, grey striped cat padded across the wood floor and hopped onto his lap. His parents were sitting casually together on the sofa, Remus and Sirius in chairs on either side of him. He watched his mother glance to a spot above the fireplace. He followed her lead. His heart stopped at the sight of the pictures on the mantle. So many of them were copies of ones he had in the book Hagrid had given him, but there were others. Pictures of him as a baby, of older people resembling his parents, his grandparents. This place, this was his home as an infant in Godric’s Hollow.
A flicker of light from an adjoining room’s candelabra caught his eye. It was a dining room. Sitting around a long pine wood table were the same people in the photographs and others. They were lighter; they were almost invisible, but he could see definite features, yet he couldn’t make them all out. All turned to face him, save one, and waved. He gave a hesitant smile of acknowledgement back.
“Your family, Harry. They’re your family and those that have cared for you,” his father said.
Harry’s attention moved back to those sitting around him.
“Why? And, um, where’s Cedric?”
Sirius’s hand reached over and placed it atop of Harry’s. Harry wanted to cry with the simple touch. He missed Sirius so much. “He thought it would be best if you spoke with us first. Depending on what happens here, he’ll come by soon,” Sirius said and gave Harry’s hand a squeeze.
“I-I don’t understand.”
His father leant forward and arranged his glasses. Harry felt as if he were staring into a mirror. “You called us, son. Just like you called for Cedric. Your soul is drifting, drifting between two worlds.”
Harry sighed. The words pained him to hear, but they rang true.
“Tell us, love, what’s troubling you so much that you can’t face it in the physical world,” his mother asked while leaning forward, joining his father. Her green eyes were filled with concern.
“Oh, God,” Harry sobbed as the reality of what he was truly feeling hit him. “I don’t want my life; I don’t want to live it. I-I mean I love everyone there, close to me, but it goes beyond just them.”
“Harry,” the soft warm voice said next to him. “You are brave. You can live it, and it would bring you great joy.”
Harry turned to the man he adored, whose son he saw every spare moment he could find. “I know and I am, but they want so much. No — no, they need so much. The whole magical community seems to need me; they need me to succeed.”
“And you can!” James said abruptly.
Harry jumped at the authoritarian tone. He gave a small grin, knowing it was a father’s tone. It felt wonderful to have it directed at him. “Yes, but the price is too high.”
“You can’t end it,” Sirius added using the same tone as his father had. Harry chuckled to himself because it hadn’t come across quite as stern.
“No, I would never do that. It would destroy all of the good things that have happened since Voldemort’s downfall. But no one’s that good, that smart, that honourable, that hard-working, that perfect, that brave.”
Both rooms became silent. Eyes from those he loved stared at him, as did those from ethereal figures sitting around the dining room table.
“You’re that good and brave, Harry,” came a voice from behind him. Strong hands rested on his shoulder and squeezed them tight. Harry turned and kissed the wrist next to his cheek and then grabbed it with his hand. His heart skipped a beat; he felt a pulse.
“I won’t diminish what I’ve done in the past,” Harry whispered as he glanced at his parents. “What I accomplished was beyond my expectations, but the rest of this, I’m pants at.”
Lily giggled and Sirius and Remus joined in. Cedric ruffled his hair. “I’m serious, and then there’s Ginny. We both want kids, but, my God, can you imagine being a child of Harry Potter?”
“They would be proud,” James said firmly.
Harry sighed. “Of course they would, Dad, but they would need someone stronger than me. Hell, I would probably tell them to give the two finger salute to anyone that crossed them.”
Sirius and Remus both started laughing in earnest. Harry shook his head. “Mum, I mean no disrespect to the sacrifice you made, but living with the Dursleys was not exactly training for living in the wizarding world.”
James cleared his throat. “Harry, everyone has fears about the type of parent they might be. And, we’re sorry, but there is no way to change your life. What you seem to be saying is that you have created a persona that goes beyond what any person, no matter how gifted, can live up to.”
Harry’s attention was riveted by his father’s words. He knew he resembled him, but just seeing him speak, the way his mouth formed the words and the deepness of his voice was mesmerising. “But they need Harry Potter, Dad. There’s too much at stake, and I don’t want it all to be for naught.”
For the first time, James’s face softened. “I know, son. I know. So tell me — tell us — what you do want. Don’t limit yourself. What’re your wildest dreams, your favourite daydreams?”
Harry leant back in his chair; his father’s calm voice and Cedric’s hands gliding down his chest before returning to his shoulders relaxed him. He felt the strength he was drawing from the man standing behind him. He stared at the pictures on the mantle. “I want that,” he whispered. “I want to have parents and friends. I mean I have great friends, wonderful friends, but I want what I’ve lost. There’s a part of me that knows what I’ve lost has been too great. I want Sirius and Remus, I want Dumbledore and Dobby and Hedwig, and I want you and Mum. It’s — it’s been too much.”
An old man stood up from the dining room table and approached the sitting room. Harry gasped as he saw the figure solidify as he came closer.
“Headmaster,” Harry mumbled.
“Ah, yes, well that was in the past, Harry,” Dumbledore said as he sat in a chair that suddenly appeared; it made their sitting arrangement almost into a circle. “The obvious question needs to be answered, and that would be, why is the man standing behind you here?”
Harry couldn’t help but smile at Dumbledore. The former Headmaster was once again asking a question of Harry when he already knew the answer. “Eternal Glory, Headmaster. Cedric strove for it; I didn’t. What should have rightfully been his was taken away and given to me.”
Remus coughed. “Excuse me, but it wasn’t given, Harry. You earned it.”
Harry groaned and then yelped when he received a pinch to his cheek.
“Yes, that makes sense. Cedric did enter his name into the cup freely while yours was tricked into being added. However, I don’t see that Cedric would have been capable of doing what you had to do. I mean no disrespect, my loyal, hard-working friend,” Dumbledore added with a glint to eyes as they looked up to Cedric.
“None taken, sir. I agree. I don’t think I would have sacrificed myself with the complete resolution Harry had to.”
“God, help us,” a snarly voice yelled from the other room. “Are you all so daft that you can’t see the answer?”
“Shut it, Snivellus!” Sirius snapped back.
February 13th
The rain was pelting against the windows. Harry was relieved that it was the storm he heard and not the sound of his heart beating like a hummingbird’s. He glanced at his gold watch on the bedside table: seven in the morning. He had to be at Hogwarts by two for the dress rehearsal. Of all places to have a wedding, the irony of getting married in the Great Hall where he had defeated Voldemort was not lost on him. He felt sorry for the students that had to be confined to their common rooms for the weekend.
The last sharp voice he had heard before Sirius’s, consumed his blurry thoughts. Snape…Snape had the answer, and he was sure Dumbledore did, too. He rubbed his eyes and smirked. He was still in awe of the old man. He’d been afraid that he was going to ask Harry why he hadn’t returned the Elder Wand to his tomb. Harry was glad the question hadn’t been asked because he really didn’t have a good answer, besides not wanting to see Dumbledore’s physical body again. He had seen too much death, even in his current job; it still made him queasy. He closed his eyes again and tried to remember every detail of his parents’ faces.
“Master Potter, your lunch is in the dining room.”
Harry shook his head, startled at Kreacher’s announcement that he had slept all morning. “Yeah, okay, be down in a few.”
******************************
His bum rested on the edge of the High Table until McGonagall frowned at him. He quickly retreated to a chair at the end of the table, even though he knew the two large, ornately carved chairs in the middle of the High Table was where he would be sitting with Ginny tomorrow afternoon. He felt like he was in a daze, in a dream, as he watched the crowds of people he knew milling about. Some were giving orders, others being consulted on protocol. It was horrendous.
A silver flask was handed to him by the eldest Weasley brother. Harry snickered, grabbed it, and took a few quick swallows before slipping it into his robe pocket where it clinked against two wands. He had made the decision to return the Elder Wand to Dumbledore’s tomb tomorrow before the wedding. Maybe he would do it tonight after Ginny fell asleep. They were both staying the night, different rooms of course. A house-elf came by with a tray of sandwiches; Harry took one without looking to see what it was. Eating would give him an excuse for not talking.
Harry nodded and gave appropriate smiles; he even managed to ask a few smart questions and make inoffensive comments. He remembered fondly that in his dorm room, his dry sense of humour had been appreciated, unfortunately, as an adult, it was often perceived as him being rude. He guessed it had been rude back then, too, but then again most teen-aged boys were. He surveyed the room one last time before he stood up to leave. The rehearsal went well, better than he had expected. If only tomorrow George would set off some fireworks, then it would be brilliant.
“Ah, Harry, tell me what you think about the latest news on the house-elves here at Hogwarts,” a familiar witch asked. Her name escaped him, but he knew he’d seen Hermione with her. He guessed she worked in the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.
“Um, er, I’m sorry, but I guess I haven’t heard the news.”
The witch glared at him. “How couldn’t you? It was in the Prophet this morning. Surely you must have read it?”
Harry sighed. “No, ma’am, I didn’t get a chance to read the paper yet. What’s the news?”
“Oh, Harry, I didn’t want to bother you with it last night,” Hermione said as she grasped his robe sleeve. “It was discovered that Helga Hufflepuff was the one who brought the house-elves to Hogwarts.”
Harry shook his head. “And — and the significance being?”
The witch stamped her booted foot. “The significance being that the one who professed to accept everyone magical helped to enslave the elves. I would think…”
“Hey, Harry! Mum needs you,” Ron yelled from across the hall.
“Good day,” Harry said briskly and grabbed Hermione’s hand as he made his way across the room.
“Oh, there you are, Harry darling. Now you just need to write down the names of your parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents on this document.”
“What? Why would I need to do that?”
“Oh, love, it’s just a formality. This is registered at the Ministry. Here, love, take the quill; Ginny’s already filled hers in. See?”
Harry stared at the parchment with spaces left for him to fill in names. “Mrs. Wea—Molly,” he whispered. “I don’t know their names.” There was no reply; he looked up and saw that Molly was engaged in a conversation with Neville’s grandmother. Harry cringed as he heard the protocols listed by Augusta Longbottom that, apparently, were being broken.
Hermione squeezed his hand. “I’ll get it for you, Harry,” she said so only he could hear. “Your mother and father’s records should be on file at the Ministry. I’ll just run down to Hogsmeade and then pop over there. I’m sorry; I should’ve remembered that from my wedding.”
Harry wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “Thank you,” he whispered as he watched her briskly make her way to doorway.
“Harry Potter, it’s been ages.” Harry took a deep breath and turned. “Now tell me why you haven’t accepted any of my invitations for a personal interview? You know my readers are still questioning what your true relationship with Dumbledore was.”
Harry brought his hand to his mouth as he coughed. He stared down at the woman who had caused so much pain with her words; he had none to give back to her. He removed his hand from his face and lifted two fingers before walking away.
“Cedric!” Harry cried out in terror. He knew it was a dream and he tried waking himself to no avail. He could feel his heart pounding as the adrenaline rushed through his body. He staggered along the path, breathing hard, afraid of what was around each corner of the hedge maze.
“Over here, Potter!” Cedric yelled. “I’m here! Just follow my voice.”
Harry stopped dead in his tracks after he peeked around the corner and saw a Blast-Ended Skrewt in the distance. “Cedric!” he cried out again.
“Use your wand, Harry. You know how. You’ve done it before.”
“No,” Harry yelled, and then mumbled to himself, “I had help.”
“Harry, just remember. You know the path; you’ve always known the path.”
Slowly, Harry withdrew the wand from his robes. The feel was different; he took a quick glance down at the stick in his hand: the Elder Wand. He began to laugh, and soon it was uncontrollable.
“Potter, what the hell is so damn funny?” Cedric yelled. Harry sobered as he heard the concern in the strained voice.
“Fuck this,” he mumbled and lifted the wand pointing it at the inside wall of the hedge. “Defodio.” The intertwined branches and leaves blasted away, leaving a hole for him to walk through. “Keep talking, Cedric,” Harry said and then repeated the spell as he progressed to the centre of the labyrinth. Creatures and spells meant to dissuade him withered away as if they recognised the power that he held in his hand.
“Hello,” Harry said as he walked through the final hedge opening.
Cedric was sitting on a raised platform. The Triwizard Cup was in the centre on a pedestal. Harry put forth his hand; Cedric grasped it and rose up to his feet. “Well that’s an interesting way of getting through.”
Harry nodded. “Yeah, it would have been nice to have done it back then. So, why do you think we are here?”
“Don’t know, Potter.”
“Shall we touch it and find out where it takes us?”
“Okay, but this time you get to play the spare,” Cedric said as he punched Harry on the arm. Harry groaned with the impact.
With hands joined, they touched the cup that promised Eternal Glory. Harry felt the pull in his stomach and wanted to close his eyes as the world spun around him, but he kept them wide open, with the words ‘Constant Vigilance’ ringing in his ears.
“You okay?” Cedric asked.
“Yeah,” Harry replied looking around the room. He shook his head. “My bedroom? My bedroom is where Eternal Glory is?”
Cedric laughed and pulled Harry next to him as they had landed on the centre of the bed. “Guess so, Potter.”
Harry felt as if time switched to fast forward: one moment they were clothed and laying down next to each other smiling with relief at where they had ended up, and the next, they were naked under the covers. He found himself moaning as Cedric’s hand moved between them and palmed his shaft. Cedric’s mouth covered his and captured each noise. Harry parted his lips without resistance.
“Want you,” Cedric whispered as the kiss broke for a moment of relief.
“Have me,” Harry answered back. His hips flexed forward, relishing in the grasp Cedric had around his cock. A thumb stroke across his glans stopped any further coherency.
Time switched again: where everything had been rushed, now, the moments were in slow motion. Briefly, he thought he had been drugged as colours, auras, built around them. Movements became exaggerated and words drawn out. For the first time in all of their meetings, he could suddenly smell Cedric, and the scent was of the earth, sweet, and green.
“What’s-going-on?” Harry asked, the words echoed as they tumbled out.
“Souls, our-souls-are-meeting-each-other’s-bodies.”
Harry watched the colours mix as Cedric penetrated him with fingers; he felt no pain. Maybe that was part of the dream. He lay supine with his knees bent and feet flat on the bed, his bum raised with a pillow. “Damn,” Harry sighed when light kisses fell upon his knee and the insides of his thighs. What had once felt like a tingle was now electrifying; small sparks jolted him. “Take-me, Cedric, take-me,” Harry pleaded. His hands pulled his knees to his shoulders.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Cedric repeated like a mantra.
Harry cried when Cedric entered him, not with pain, but with ecstasy. “Love, me, Cedric. Love, me.”
Cedric pushed in further, the auras strengthened in hue and whirled about them. “I do, Harry. I do love you.” He stopped when fully encased and leant over; their eyes stared into each other’s. “Our souls are meeting, Harry. Can you feel it?”
“Oh, Fuck,” Harry blurted out. “This, this is what I want. This is what I’ve been missing.”
Small drops fell onto Harry’s cheeks as Cedric nodded. “I know.”
The climax was quick in coming; there was no way or reason to delay the release. Harry panted on the warm chest his head lay on. Strong arms held him, and he wasn’t surprised when he heard the rhythmic heartbeat.
The room darkened, and he was sure the dream was over. A single pinpoint of light glistened from the corner of his room. He focused on it and blinked as it expanded. A small grin formed as his mentor materialised and sat down next to him.
“Headmaster,” Harry mumbled, trying to find his voice. Cedric’s warm body pulled him closer. Dumbledore did not look phased by the intimate situation that Harry found himself in.
“Have you made a decision, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.
Clarity hit him full force. Harry nodded. “Yes, I want to get on the train.”
Dumbledore chuckled. “Ah, but in your case there will be a roundtrip ticket. You will need to come back before your body dies.”
“That would be acceptable.”
Dumbledore snickered. “There is no choice. It is what it is. You still have two of the Hallows; you will have to Summon the third. You are the Master of Death, Harry, but death will come someday, and you will need to be there.”
“But until then?” Harry asked with anticipation.
“Until then, Harry, your soul will be free. You will be with us or whomever you wish to be with.”
“How? I mean, how can it happen? I won’t go if it will damage…”
The gnarled but healthy hand reached out to Harry and touched his own. “Cedric’s soul will fill your body. He will take on the next part of the journey. He heard your soul call out and has chosen to continue on. You, my lovely boy, have done enough.”
“And Ginny?”
“Ah, still trying to take care of everyone. Well, no worries. Your soul and feelings have left an imprint in your body. Cedric will marry Ginny, and he will become an Auror in your place.”
Harry bit his lower lip.
“What is it? What is troubling you?” Dumbledore asked.
“No one — no one will notice, will they?”
Dumbledore’s thumb stroked the back of Harry’s hand. The engraved scars still remained. “The most likely one would be Hermione.”
Harry grinned. “Yeah, I could see that. But, then she wouldn’t believe it, would she?”
“No, and since there will be no clues left behind, she will dismiss her questioning thoughts.”
Harry sighed.
The moment lingered. Harry had a hundred questions he wanted to ask the old wizard, but then he realised he would have time to do so once…“How?”
Dumbledore’s thumb ceased its movement. “You will have to come close to death, Harry. Your body will have to be weakened and opened for Cedric’s soul to enter.”
“Dark Magic?” Harry asked with hesitation.
Gently, Dumbledore squeezed his hand. “No, Harry, but it will involve blood.”
Harry grimaced. “I thought you said using blood was cheap.”
“So I did,” Dumbledore lamented, “but as you well know, there are always exceptions.”
Harry blinked his eyes again, as another point of light appeared behind Dumbledore. He groaned as another wizard materialised.
“Yes, Mr Potter should be well aware of exceptions,” Severus Snape said. His disdain for Harry was still prevalent.
Dumbledore’s shoulder shook as he chuckled quietly. He turned his head slowly and glanced over his shoulder. “Even in death, Severus?”
One dark eyebrow shot up. “Especially in death.”
Harry groaned. “Excuse me, Professor, but why are you here?”
Snape rolled his eyes. “Lily sent me,” he replied with a sneer.
Harry’s eyes widened. “And why would my mum send you and not come herself?”
Dumbledore eyed Severus. “Yes, Severus, what are you doing here?”
“The spell… my spell,” he spat out and disappeared in a flash of sparks.
February, 14th
Harry could hear the wind howling as it tried to force its way through a crack in the tower wall. Magic was the only impediment that kept it from blowing through. A lone candle on the bedside table was flickering, he watched the light patterns, even with his poor vision, they were clear. For the first time since those first few days after Voldemort’s demise, he felt at peace. Dumbledore and Snape's words played through his mind: blood, spell, near death, transfer of souls. He smiled, there was a path to take, a way out, and the reward of accomplishing the task, beckoned him.
The overnight trunk, filled with clothes and supplies for his honeymoon was soon emptied as Harry looked for the items he would need. At the bottom was the Cloak and the Elder Wand. He laid them on the bed. Two of the three, he thought. “And the third to be Summoned,” he said aloud as he entered the loo. He contemplated trying to Summon it from his room, but the thought that it might break in two, or hit something on the way, caused him to hesitate. No, he decided, it was too important, and he would take the path once again to Aragog’s old home.
It was two in the morning: Valentine’s Day; the day he was to be married to Ginny, his lover and best friend. There was no way he could say goodbye, he reflected as he brushed his teeth and then shaved. No, once again, there was a path to go down, and he would pass her by without saying farewell. She wouldn’t understand. The warm water felt refreshing, and he wondered what it would be like on the train, especially once he reached his destination. This time, though, he knew that even though he was getting on the train, he would be coming back. He snorted as he dried himself. “Master of Death. What a fucking crazy thing for wizards to come up with,” he said laughingly.
Quietly, he shut the heavy wooden door as he stepped into the barren hallway and locked it. The Cloak, that once covered three, then two, barely covered him. He carefully made his way down to the Entrance Hall door, only stopping once when a Ravenclaw prefect crossed his path. He glanced over to the Great Hall door, tempted to look inside. He knew that Hogwarts’ house-elves were probably busy in preparation. Instead, he opened the massive doors and departed the castle.
Despite the cold wind, the walk to the Forbidden Forest didn’t seem nearly as long as it had the first time, and it was certainly not as dour. He wished, just for a moment, he had the Snitch to rise to his lips and tell the world that he was ready. Hagrid’s hut was dark, and Harry laughed to himself as he heard loud rumblings coming from that direction. There was no mystery to why his friend never married; other then being a half-giant, not even an Imperturbable Charm could have blocked his snoring.
Harry stopped at the tree line, took a deep breath, and lit the Elder Wand. He focused on the way into the woods he had travelled that morning with his resurrected loved ones, and once before with his two best friends. It was ingrained in his memories, and his feet, of their own volition, moved him forward. He reached the clearing deep in the dark forest. The webs were gone, and he thanked Merlin that the spiders were, too. He kicked a fallen branch as he walked the site, reliving memories of almost being eaten by spiders, and then worse, seeing the gathering of Death Eaters with Voldemort.
He surveyed the area and estimated where he had fallen when he had been hit with the Killing Curse. He withdrew his other wand, the one that so many wizards before him had lost their lives to claim, and the irony that he was using it to end his own, for a while, was not lost on him. The words “Accio Resurrection Stone,” cut across the night. He feared for a moment that it wouldn’t come to him, but before he spent another thought on failure, he heard the leaves rustle nearby. He directed the Elder Wand’s light down towards the direction of the sound. He watched as five years of forest compost built into a small dome: branches, leaves, and dirt were cast to the wayside as a small dark object erupted from the mound. Harry held out his hand out and captured the rock. A gust of wind broke through the dark forest and stirred the winter-bare branches as he opened his hand and saw the split stone.
The walk back to the castle, back to his room, was filled with thoughts of those he would be leaving. The images and memories were not sequential, but in random bursts. It was the first time he felt a pang of regret over his decision. But, without hesitation, he lay the wand atop his trunk along with the clothes he quickly removed. Donning a set of clean flannel pyjamas, he lit another candle as the other one had flickered out.
He stood next to the bed, picked up the stone, and turned it three times in his palm. A hand clamped down on his shoulder from behind. Harry had a moment of fear as he held the stone in his fisted hand; what if it wasn’t Cedric, what if…. He couldn’t turn around to face the visitor he had resurrected.
“Potter,” the voice whispered in his ear before enveloping Harry in his grasp.
Harry leant back and a small grin emerged. He was leaning into strength, someone was going to help him, and someone was going to finish the mission he no longer wanted. “Cedric.”
“Yes.”
A soft brushing of lips across his hair and ear made the smile grow.
“Are you sure, Harry?” Cedric asked.
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Thank you.”
Harry laughed and turned around. The soft grey eyes were bright even in the low light of the candles. There was colour, a ruddiness to his cheeks. “I should be thanking you. I’m still confused about why you would do this. I mean, you will be living as me: no choice in your career, or marriage, or…”
“Shhh,” Cedric said softly as he kissed Harry’s cheek.
“It will be a life worth living. I couldn’t ask for more.”
Harry began to speak, but fingers gently crossed his mouth. “We will share this life, Harry; you’ve done so much already. I will return it to you in a manner that you will enjoy.”
Harry’s lips thinned to restrain the cry that wanted to make its way out.
Cedric pulled him in closer and held him tight. The tears never came, instead, the knowledge of where he was going, whom he would be seeing, urged him forward. “Let’s do this,” Harry said with conviction and pushed away from Cedric.
“You know what has to be done?”
The corner of Harry’s mouth turned up. “Yes, your soul will enter my body when I’m close to death. Dumbledore mentioned blood, and Snape mentioned a spell.”
Slowly, Cedric’s thumb stroked Harry’s cheek.
Harry looked at him questioningly. “Why can I feel you? The last time I used the stone,” he said and raised his clutched hand, “my parents, Sirius, and Remus were not this real.”
Cedric tilted his head down and kissed Harry briefly. Harry was surprised at the difference from his dreams; Cedric’s lips were chapped. He wondered if Cedric had died that way: with chapped lips. The thought briefly haunted him as he remembered the moment of Cedric’s death.
“It’s your doing, Harry. You’re making me more real.”
Harry fell onto the bed. Cedric looked around the room. “Very Gryffindorish. I suppose I’ll have to get used to it,” he said as he sat down next to Harry.
Harry rubbed his forehead. “Do you know the spell to heal the cuts?”
Cedric nodded, but a look of sorrow filled his eyes.
Harry reached over and picked up the Elder Wand. His other hand kept the Resurrection Stone tightly held. “What do you think? My wrist?”
Cedric groaned. “No, Potter — in case there’s scarring — we don’t want people thinking you tried to kill yourself.”
Harry chuckled. “Yeah, suppose you’re right. Then where?”
Cedric bit his lower lip. Harry stared at the candle. Somewhere in the back of his brain, he was registering how ridiculous their conversation was. The silence was becoming awkward.
“Potions. Do you have any potions?” Cedric asked.
Harry rose to his feet. “Yeah, I brought my Auror emergency supply kit. Once you cast the spell, you can pour the dittany over the wounds, drink the Blood Replenishing Potion and the pain relieving potion. You’ll have to cast some healing spells to help reduce the scarring.”
Harry retrieved the kit and set it next to the remaining Hallow.
“So, where should I slice myself open?” Harry asked as he sat back on the bed, this time his back against the headboard.
Cedric turned, Harry’s insides flipped when he saw the grin on his face. “What do you say we don’t off you yet?”
Harry laughed. “Okay, then, what?”
Cedric crawled up the bed next to Harry. He saw a look in the grey eyes that startled him and thrilled him. There was lust mixed with excitement. “I’ve got an idea,” Cedric whispered.
**************
“Mr Potter, what are doing up at this time of night prowling the halls? Remembering your youth?”
Harry jumped and caught himself before he fell down the stairwell leading down from Gryffindor Tower. He had forgot to put his Cloak back on. He slipped the Elder Wand into his robe pocket. “No ma’am, just having problems sleeping. Thought I would take a bath.”
Minerva’s eyebrow arched.
“Prefects’ bathroom, if that’s okay?”
“Very well, but I would recommend you try and get some sleep afterwards. You have a big day tomorrow. I will have an elf bring you up some hot chocolate and biscuits.”
“Yes, ma’am. Goodnight,” he said as he stepped by McGonagall.
“Harry,” she said softly.
“Yes?” he responded and turned back around.
“I wish you the best.”
He smiled and approached her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”
The blushing Headmistress brushed the fringe away from his eyes. “I’m very proud of you, Harry,” she mumbled. He saw her eyes glisten as she turned and walked away. He glanced over at Cedric leaning against a tapestry. His breath hitched; Cedric looked so young and then it hit him: Cedric had died at the age of seventeen. Harry had once looked up to the Triwizard champion in his youth and now — and now Harry was the was the one older.
“You okay, Potter?”
Harry sighed. “Yeah, just remembering old times.”
Cedric grinned and stepped forward next to Harry and put his arm around him. “It’s not too late, you know?”
Harry wrapped his arm around Cedric’s waist. “No, I’m not questioning my resolve.”
Together they walked down to the fifth floor, to the statue of Boris the Bewildered, and then four doors down on the left. Harry eyed the door, lifted his wand, tapped the door, and then rested his palm against the wood panel. “Sweetheart,” he said and chuckled. He glanced over to Cedric who look startled. “Valentine’s Day, and I’m an Auror,” he said with a sly grin.
The room was dark only for a moment, and then the chandelier’s candles lit, lending a soft glow to the white marbled room. Harry locked the door behind them. “Will you be able to feel the water?” Harry asked.
“I don’t know,” Cedric responded as he looked around the room. Harry saw a hint of sadness in the grey eyes.
“What’s it like? I mean, do you know what’s going on here?”
A strong push almost knocked Harry over. “Those are some big questions, Potter. I can tell you that time has no meaning. It seems like I was just here yesterday, and at the same time, it seems like thousands of years could have passed. There is awareness, especially when those close call upon you or are exceptionally troubled. There is nothing we can do but come closer to them. There are some people who seem to recognise when deceased loved ones are present.”
Harry turned on a faucet and warm clear water emerged; it was scented lightly with pine. He sat down on the diving board. “So how come you came to me? I mean, we weren’t close friends.”
“I don’t know how it all works, Potter. I’m not sure Dumbledore even does, but somehow what you were feeling reached me.”
“And you came?”
Cedric rolled up the flannel pyjama bottoms and sat on the edge of the pool. His toes touched the filling water. He seemed entranced by the liquid. “Yeah, I came. I guess somehow our destinies are intertwined with each other…” Cedric stopped moving his feet and looked up to Harry. “There were no deep thoughts about it, Harry; it was instinctual, just like our lovemaking.”
Harry knew he was blushing. “That was in my dream.”
Cedric arched a brow. “Really, and am I just part of another dream right now?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Harry responded and moved from the board towards Cedric. He removed his dressing gown, sat down beside Cedric, and carefully rolled up his pyjamas, too; the stone was still in his hand. Cedric leant over and kissed Harry on the cheek. Harry turned his head quickly and captured Cedric’s lips with his own. His tongue flicked over the chapped lips, moistening them. Cedric’s tongue met his, and they darted briefly against each other until Harry felt the familiar tingle run through his body and opened his mouth wider; Cedric took advantage.
The position became awkward. Cedric stopped the kiss and removed his bottoms and slid into the pool; it was a shallow end. He stood before Harry, without hesitation spread his legs, and moved between them. One hand grasped Harry’s neck and pulled him forward to kiss again. The other hand stroked the soft cloth against Harry’s leg. Each movement advancing towards the rise of Harry’s cock. Harry groaned with anticipation, and moaned loudly when the first touch was made. The contact was hesitant and then fingers spread and grasped him tight. “Fuck,” Harry mouthed as best he could with Cedric’s tongue curled around his.
Clumsily, Harry removed his pyjamas with help; they were thrown to the side. Kisses moved from his mouth down his neck and chest. A strong hand grasped his upper arm while the other went back to his cock. He flexed into the hand and gasped as Cedric’s thumb played across the crown. Cedric tilted his head up. Harry saw the look of knowing in his eyes. “Just a little at first,” Cedric said and went back to kissing Harry’s chest.
Teasing flicks across one nipple and a particular strong twist of his prick made him flinch. A rough nip made him curse. He reached over to his dressing gown and brought the tip of the Elder Wand to his thigh. “Diffindo,” Harry whispered. He grimaced as he saw the thin slice in his skin, which soon filled with blood.
Cedric stopped his ministrations on Harry’s chest. He bent down and ran his lips over the cut as his tongue licked up the red liquid. Far from being horrified, Harry felt something enter him, it was warm and it spread, but disappeared too soon. He bent over to watch, and soon red lips met his. Oh, God, he wanted to scream as his mouth encountered the taste of his own blood; it was sweet and warm.
He broke the kiss and whispered the spell again to his other thigh. Fingers moved from his cock to the cut, which was much deeper and longer than the first. Soon he felt wetness on his chest as fingertips raked up and down, leaving streaks. The blood began to be more than Cedric could capture and dripped down his leg and into the water. Harry watched the tint of pink disappear. His attention was captured when the warmth was back, radiating from the latest cut. Cedric’s fingers reached for Harry’s face and marks were made across his nose. Harry smiled. With wand in hand, he managed to swipe across the blood-filled opening with two fingers. He lifted them to paint Cedric’s face in kind; Cedric took the fingers into his mouth and sucked them.
With a pop, Harry extracted his fingers and brought the wand back to the original cut. “Diffindo,” he said again. The blood began to pour out. Cedric placed his mouth to the edge and took in a much as he could. Harry groaned as if in ecstasy as his body heated from that point and spread. It was stronger this time, and he wanted more; he wanted this heat. He yelled as Cedric moved and captured the head of his cock in his mouth. “Fuck,” Harry screamed again, as Cedric began to suck.
He forced himself to look down. Cedric’s mouth was taking his cock further in as his hands slid through the blood on his legs. His breath quickened as Cedric began to stroke the length of his cock with his tongue and then suck the crown again. His hands reached back and braced himself as he lifted his bum and flexed into the mouth giving him fierce pleasure. He knew it would be soon; he lowered himself back down and froze as he felt the building and knew there was no return. Cedric’s hands felt as if they were inside his legs stroking his muscles, his bones. It was too much; his body jerked, and Harry screamed as the orgasm ripped through his whole body. He lifted the wand to his chest. “Sectumsempra.”
With a whoosh, he felt himself rise above the scene; he was floating, he was drifting over his body. There was no pain. There was no sound, but he could see his body screaming in agony. He watched as one hand grabbed a bottle and poured liquid over his chest, and then other, and another. The body then lay there motionless, but he could sense there was laboured breathing; the water was a beautiful shade of pink.
And then he floated higher, and he heard a voice calling him. It was a sweet sound, and memories came back to him of being rocked to sleep every night. “Harry, it’s time to come home.”
October 2044
A grey-haired wizard polished the high glossed wooden counter top. He took his time as if enjoying every stroke. The shop smelled of wood polish and dried grass. Shelves displayed the newest brooms available, along with those from the past. Quidditch balls were held securely in their cases, and uniforms casually displayed. He glanced out the large front window and smiled at the lettering: Potter’s Pitch. Yesterday had been a busy day. The opening attracted more gawkers than buyers, but he knew that would change over time. He went back to polishing the counter.
The bell over the door tinkled as an older witch entered the store. Her hair was grey and somehow had become even frizzier over the years. She had not been at the opening, and he had been disappointed.
“Hermione,” the wizard said and came out from behind the counter to welcome her. He couldn’t help but embrace her tight.
She kissed him on the cheek, and then squeezed him back even tighter. “Harry,” she said, her voice raspy.
Harry looked down at her. Yes, she was plump, and had lines on her face, but he thought she was beautiful. “I’ve missed you,” he said and couldn’t stop his voice from cracking.
She looked up at him. Her brown eyes were misting. “I’ve missed you, too, Harry. Don’t you dare leave again without saying goodbye.”
Harry looked at her quizzically. “Hermione, I said goodbye last year before Ginny and I went travelling.”
Hermione gave him a scowl and he tried not to laugh because it truly did frighten him. “Harry Potter, did you really think you could fool me?” she asked and handed him four framed news headlines from the Daily Prophet
February 14, 2003
Marriage Agrees with Harry Potter
by Rita Skeeter
Well, lovely readers of mine, have I got a surprise for you. Yesterday, those of us lucky enough to attend the marriage of Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley were treated to a wedding ceremony and reception beyond even anything my quill can conjure up.
I will not disappoint you, and I will give you a detailed description, but first, I must say is that Harry Potter was in top form yesterday. He followed every protocol, and his manners were something to behold. I can only guess that Mrs Potter had something to do with this welcome change. Continued on page 4.
January 1, 2008
Harry Potter, Head of the Magical Law Enforcement
September 2018
Harry Potter, Minister for Magic
October 2043
Our Beloved Harry Potter Retires from the Ministry for the Quiet Life
Harry read the headlines quickly and then stared down at her. She met his glare unflinchingly. “Um, er, well, Dumbledore said you might guess, but that you wouldn’t really know.”
Hermione sighed. “Well, he was right in one respect. I did guess. However, I eventually did know. I never told anyone.” And then she punched him on the arm.
Harry grabbed his upper arm with his hand. “Hey, that hurt.”
“Good,” she said. “That is for being such an idiot.”
Harry laughed. “That I may be, but I’m a happy one.”
finis
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