#cedric lives

Harry smiled through the flashes of the Prophet’s camera. Even after fourteen years in the wizarding world he had to remind himself to keep his mask up for a few moments after the flash so that the image of him wouldn’t immediately frown. His manager hated that he never seemed comfortable in front of the press but publicity hadn’t been why he joined. The Wasps had been appealing after he quit the Auror Department; it let him get away from the stress of life or death situations. It had been an easy enough decision to accept their offer but he never felt comfortable talking to the reporters or smiling for the cameras, the publicity driven relationships he was put in when things in his love life stalled hadn’t helped either.

Stalled was a kind way of putting it. His love life had crashed and burned. First with Ginny -who had wanted to stay close to her family after the war; it made sense but Harry hadn’t been able to sit still long enough for them to salvage their relationship. Then there’d been a few flings with random men in clubs as he started to accept that there was more to learn about himself. The next serious relationship had been Cassius Warrington but he’d been ready to settle into something permanent and Harry had opted to sneak out the bedroom window. He’d gone back to flings after that, which always ended with the man or woman signing a disclosure agreement his manager made him give out and then he never saw them again. Except…

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. None of the other flings had. But something about Cedric stuck to Harry’s mind like glue. It didn’t help that his picture was everywhere, that he had never shied away from talking to press about his love for the game, or that every time Harry closed his eyes he could see the moment -the split second as bright grey eyes had started to close while he had leaned in. The image was a recurring dream for Harry. He usually startled himself awake before the dream could become anything more. 

“Are you excited to be working with the new team, Harry? Or is it awful having to create a new team dynamic so quickly?” The reporter shouted but Harry was hardly paying enough attention to give the question a proper answer.

“I’m looking forward to working with the National team,” was the best he could supply as his new teammates finally filed out of the locker room onto the pitch.

He’d seen the roster, he knew that he was going to be working with his ex whatever -fling or boyfriend- Harry didn’t know what to call Cedric. It wasn’t like they had ever got around to labeling what they had been. If anything he figured they had hardly been anything at all. Harry stared past the reporters and watched the team as they took off into the air one by one. They had an impressive line-up and he was sure they would take the World Cup easily enough, but as he watched the team fly he was really only searching for one person.  It wasn’t hard to spot him, he was still slender from his Seeker days, back before he’d made the switch to Chaser and there was a presence that he had that made it impossible not to look at him when he flew on a broom. Harry had known it back in school and he knew it now, but it was harder to admit now after everything that had happened between them.

“Sorry, warm ups so I gotta-” Harry gestured towards the team rather than finishing his sentence and practically ran away from the press.

His manager would be annoyed that he’d blown off the end of the interview but the reporter had spent ten minutes asking about the newest woman his team had set him up on after his last PR boyfriend failed. In Harry’s mind that meant that they’d wasted their own time and he was perfectly within his right to walk away. As he got closer to the team it was harder to breathe. His mouth seemed like he’d poured the entire desert into it, and his palms started to sweat. It was ridiculous, he’d been with men before that had meant more but he couldn’t seem to contain himself. It had been nearly a year since they last met up in one of the hotels on the road when their teams played each other. But now they weren’t rivals, they were meant to work together and Harry wasn’t sure how he was supposed to focus on finding the snitch with Cedric so close.

The captain called the team down to the field after the warm ups to do their first team talk. It was a nice tradition to start and Harry meant to pay attention, he really did, but he’d ended up in the line right next to him and his focus had slipped entirely. Their pinkies brushed together as Harry shifted slightly in place and he would have sworn electricity ran through him. His body stayed facing the coach but slowly Harry turned his head and stared over at Cedric -who happened to be looking back at him. His heart raced as he recognized the slightly manic look behind Cedric’s eyes -he’d seen it before, sometimes on the Quidditch pitch but mostly in the times they had spent together in bed. His pupils were blown and Harry couldn’t help but wonder if sometimes Cedric thought about them too. If his mind wondered about the nights they’d spent in each other’s arms, if he questioned why they hadn’t been able to make it work, or if maybe Cedric never thought of him at all. Harry wasn’t sure he wanted the answer.

“Harry,” Cedric’s voice was a low groan when the team finally kicked off to start the first real drills of their practice as a team.

maybe it shouldn’t have been like this.

but ever since the first task, when Fleur pulled out the Welsh Green, a newly realized fear set in around them. eyes darted over, hearts pounded as one as tiny figurines representing very real threats were cupped in too-young palms.

the cannon had sounded and Cedric was shaken, just standing at the exit with trembling hands, the roaring crowd and the roaring dragon beyond.

then, a hand wound through his, small and cool and trembling just as much. Fleur.

another hand landed on his shoulder, heavy, warm, a tremble in the palm. Viktor.

a third at his elbow, smaller, clutching, certain without any tremors.

Cedric looked over at Harry and wondered how awful the last three years had really been for the boy to give him that grave awareness in his eyes, eyes that were far older than any fourteen year old had a right to have.

three hands squeezed, and an equilibrium wove through Cedric’s gut.

he walked out of the tent and into the dragon's lair. 

Cedric was never certain, and yet he was certain that the others had the same kind of experience going to face the dragons. hands supporting, giving ease. 

all but harry, who had to face it all alone.

then the second task came around, and the four of them were standing on the platform above the black lake, looking for people who weren’t there, standing under the watchful eyes of adults who were using them to play out old feuds.

the look on Harry’s face threatened to kill Cedric. like none of this surprised him. like he was used to the threat of death and ruin, of the threat of a crowd turning against him at the slightest provocation.

Viktor had the same sort of look.

Cedric had to wonder if he was the only one who saw it, but then he looked at Fleur and knew she saw it too.

the adults had to back off as the four of them got ready to go up to their marks.

instead, the four of them drew in close together. Fleur reached for Cedric’s hand first, then Viktor’s. Viktor took Harry’s hand, and without even hesitating, Harry took Cedric’s.

for a few heartbeats, everything else fell away. the crowd, the onlooking school and ministry officials, the freezing weather, the lapping of the lake pushing closer and closer onto the dock in sickly beckoning waves.

for a few heartbeats, they all breathed as one in the silence between them. hands shook, knowing now what was at stake, the danger they were in. 

for a few heartbeats, they were fine. safe. whole.

then it was over when Karkarov ripped Viktor away, hissing something in Bulgarian that made him flinch.

the four of them took their marks and dove into the water.

Cedric was there second, only just after Harry, who was looking between Ron and Hermione with a panicked expression like this wasn’t a choice he wanted to make. Harry reached for Ron first only because he was closer, and then reached for Hermione as well and the merfolk charged

Cedric readied his wand, speeding forward towards them and ready to strike when suddenly Viktor charged through and chased them off, grabbing Hermione without a second thought.

and wasn't that horrible, that among three schools Hermione Granger was the one person he cared most about. people Viktor had known his entire life didn’t hold the trust and love that a girl he’d known five and a half months.

Cedric freed Cho and tapped his watch at Harry, who nodded in understanding. Viktor spared a moment to look Harry over, checking he was alive and relatively well, and then the two of them started speeding off towards the surface. 

quietly, Cedric was impressed with Viktor and Harry. the shark head charm was short-lived, and Viktor was lucky it’d lasted this long. and whatever Harry had done was, frankly, simply, impressive.

Cedric and Viktor raced to the top, something like relief and playful competition between them as the water got brighter, lighter.

neither of them looked behind them. 

why would they?

Harry was Harry Potter. and he was right behind them.

Fleur had proved she was capable, she wouldn’t be long behind them either.

Cedric reached the surface just before Viktor, Viktor’s charm expiring just in time for the Seeker to give Cedric a bright, playfully mock-angry laugh.

Hermione and Cho came to on the docks, coughing up lake water and a gag of herbs from their throats.

Cedric and Viktor were laughing, relieved and lightheaded. and then that ended when Fleur dropped down to her knees next to them with desperate eyes and no Gabrielle in sight.

Fleur never laid eyes on her sister before the Grindylows got her. Hermione’s eyes were wide and wet with tears as Cho tried to shush her, Ginny climbing down from above to join them.

Fleur and Viktor and Cedric huddled together at the very edge of the docks, hands winding together, hearts pounding as one, searching searching searching as Fleur keened in French.

Dumbledore wouldn’t let them die at the bottom of the black lake...right?

the clock had almost run out, the seconds ticking by closer and closer to the finish, and with three minutes to go Ron and Gabrielle breached the surface.

alone.

Fleur nearly dove right back into the water to get her sister, only held back by Viktor and Cedric’s hands and shushing words.

Gabrielle was wrapped in three towels as she reached the platform, teeth chattering in the wind and frigid water, and she was immediately sent to the medic tent when Viktor’s hand came away wet with blood and Cedric ripped back Gabrielle’s sleeve to reveal a nasty Grindylow bite.

and yet, even though her sister was lead away, Fleur fell right back in between Viktor and Cedric, hands finding each other and shoulders pushing together as they watched the water for Harry.

Hermione and Ron were muttering under their breath, things that made Cedric’s head spin.

“he survived Voldemort down in the dungeons first year”

“he survived the basilisk”

“he survived Tom Riddle and the diary”

“he survived rogue bludgers and falling from ten thousand feet”

“he survived a werewolf on the full moon”

“he survived the dementors at the black lake”

“he survived a dragon”

“he survived”

“he's fine”

“he's fine”

“he's fine”

one minute to go, the water surface broke sharply up and suddenly Harry landed, heavily, gasping, coughing, bleeding, on the deck.

as one, the three of them snatched towels and bandages from the people around them, wrapping them around Harry and shushing him when he could not bite back the pain any longer.

Fleur’s hands were white-knuckled, her fair skin almost blue from the chill, and she pressed her thanks into Harry’s temple, tears falling down her cheeks while Cedric shielded them from Rita Skeeter’s wretched camera and wicked tongue as Viktor barked an order at the Durmstrang students to shut her out.

Cedric grinned at her squawking as they complied.

Harry barely had his breath back when he asked, “Ron. Mione. Cho. Gabrielle.”

“Fine,” Viktor said beneath the roar of the crowd and the arguing of the judges, rubbing circles over Harry’s back to warm him, head dipped low so no one saw his mouth move. “All fine. Safe.”

“Thanks to you,” Cedric said, and Harry met his gaze.

Cedric’s throat went dry at the cautious hope in his eyes, the sheer exhaustion, the pressure to do everything, everything, the pressure of the Boy Who Lived living in those eyes and Cedric wondered how no one else had ever seen it.

and then Ron and Hermione pushed in beside them, their hands running over Harry, checking his body for injuries like they didn’t trust Harry to tell them about them, like maybe he would hide them from them, Ron and Hermione muttering darkly about the tournament and trading insults for the occupants of the black lake even as their voices softened when they spoke to Harry.

maybe it wasn’t just Cedric who saw those things weighing on Harry, dragging him into the dark like Grindylows into the muck at the bottom of a scottish lake.

the third task came around. 

the stands shook with the noise of the cheering crowd, the band, the happy scream of cannon fire.

and yet the four of them shook in fear.

Harry had warned them something was coming, something awful, something dark.

maybe if they hadn’t looked at him in these last few months they wouldn’t have believed him. maybe if they hadn’t seen him, really looked and seen him, seen in his eyes what had been done to him, what he had been forced to endure without breaking or bending or complaining, they might not have believed him.

but they had.

and they did.

and so they stood together, alone in the roaring crowd.

breathing.

shaking.

fearing.

Harry reached out first, and the rest of them followed through soon after, pulling in close enough they rested their heads together. 

“whatever happens,” Harry said solemnly, “don’t let your guard down. be ready to Apparate if necessary. just be ready.”

Viktor nodded, slow and steady. “be safe,” he growled as each of them met his eyes.

Fleur blew out a shaky breath, her veela eyes blinking rapidly to clear away the threatening tears. she pressed firm kisses to each of their temples and ordered them not to die.

Cedric held on tighter for a moment. “some game.”

Harry laughed bitterly, sending Dumbledore a look that Cedric didn’t even begin to understand. “some game.”

they were pulled away from each other then, and barely given a moment to breathe before the cannon sounded and Cedric and Harry were shoved inside.

Cedric encountered everything from acromantuals and redcaps to a sphinx and rapidly changing hedge pathways.

but nothing compared to when he turned a corner and stumbled on Harry and Viktor and Viktor turned to him with fogged over eyes and a deadweight stance and hurled a curse in a voice that didn’t sound like his.

Cedric managed to hit him with a stunning charm, and Viktor dropped to the ground.

Harry turned Viktor over to check his pulse and eyes and breathing, calling to Cedric as he approached, “he was bewitched”

“i know” Cedric said, panting, watching the hedge for threat and movement. “Fleur?”

"here” she panted, emerging from the other corner, blood dripping down her left cheek, eyes wild and fierce. 

Cedric swallowed, looking at the two of them. “how do you want to play this?” 

Harry looked up at him in confusion, head tilted oddly.

he didn’t get to ask whatever he was about to when all of a sudden the hedge around them came to life and tried to swallow Viktor whole. the three of them made noises of protests, reaching out and picking Viktor’s bulky body up, but they had no time before they were forced into action, running ahead of the hedge nipping at their running heels. 

they dodged newly forming corners and turns that suddenly closed off as they approached.

formulaic.

“it’s leading us somewhere!” Harry yelled.

that was what concerned Cedric.

Fleur spat something in French, her wand lighting up, and Viktor came gasping back to reality, falling into running step with them like it was second nature.

then, suddenly, they turned a new corner and the maze went silent and still.

they stood there, panting, eyes darting over one another critically, looking for injuries and the sources of the blood on their clothes.

“you” Fleur gasped, “were bewitched”

Viktor spat out blood. “Karkarov.”

Harry and Fleur snarled in fury, reaching for him to steady him when he wavered slightly.

Viktor wiped more blood from his mouth, meeting Cedric’s eyes. “you have a mean stunning hex.”

Cedric grinned wide.

they were nearly done now. they’d found one another, as planned. they just had to find the cup and get the fuck out.

that was when Cedric finally noticed an odd blue glimmer in the corner of his eye.

“Harry”

it was the cup. 

they ran for it as one, and Cedric had no doubt it was because they all wanted this to be over as soon as possible.

they skid to a stop in front of the cup, looking at each other.

“together,” they said as one. just like they planned.

“one,” Fleur said

“two,” Viktor said

“three,” they all said as they reached for the cup at the same time.

Cedric didn’t know what he was expecting, but the hook sinking into his gut and wrenching him back, his hand welding to the surface of the cup as the four of them were sent spinning into the air was not it. they landed hard, the cup falling away.

Cedric expected the cheering of the crowd or the trumpeting of the band.

nothing.

he looked up, freezing in place.

they were in a graveyard.

a very dark, creepy graveyard.

a ramshackle building and a large cold cauldron were the only things other than graves in sight.

something was waiting for them here.

“it’s a portkey,” Viktor said from where he was studying the cup, not touching it.

Fleur studied her surroundings very carefully, her head swiveling in an eerie way.

Cedric stood, motioning Viktor closer, something terrible in his gut. “keep close.”

“fuck,” Harry cursed.

Cedric looked over, and to his horror, Harry was shaking.

Harry, who didn’t tremble under threat of death or dragons, was shaking as he looked at a grave.

“Tom Riddle” he gasped, and the rest of them drew their wands, closing ranks.

a man melted out of the shadows, carrying a bundle.

the bundle in the man’s arms stirred as the cauldron suddenly came to life, fire flaring beneath its base.

“capture the spares,” a raspy voice called, although the man in front of them’s mouth did not move.

“no!” Harry screamed, leaping in front of them all, but he was tossed away by a curse from the man. 

three more men melted out of the shadows behind them, their eyes fogged over like Viktor’s had been, and all too quickly Viktor and Fleur and Cedric were on the ground without their wands, a strange man’s foot pressing heavily on each of their throats.

Harry was captured up against the largest grave, the one with the Reaper that the cauldron was positioned in front of. 

the first man unwrapped the bundle in his arms, revealing a horrid, unrecognizable, pale creature which muttered, “do it now, Wormtail!”

and the creature was put into the boiling cauldron.

The man, Wormtail, approached Harry.

“get away from him!” Cedric screamed, Fleur and Viktor also renewing their struggling against their captors.

Wormtail only gave them a glare before flicking his wand at them, and their voices went silent.

Wormtail began an incantation.

“Bone of the father unwillingly given.” a bone was lifted from the grave with the Grim Reaper, dropping into the cauldron.

“Flesh of the servant willingly sacrificed.” Wormtail drew a silver knife and cut off his right hand. he screamed in pain as his severed hand fell into the now roiling water.

then, Wormtail turned back to Harry with that same bloody silver knife. 

they all started to struggle, but could not throw off their captors.

“Blood of the enemy forcibly taken.” Wormtail cut open Harry’s sleeve, then dragged his knife deep along the veins in his forearm, the blood spilling free as Harry thrashed, unable to move away, screaming, the scent of burning flesh carrying over to them as Wormtail flicked the blood into the cauldron.

“The Dark Lord will rise again.”

the cauldron exploded, transforming into a dark fog that curled wickedly in on itself, something forming from within.

the mist settled, revealing...

Voldemort.

He Who Must Not Be Named.

The Dark Lord.

You Know Who.

the creature who stalked Harry’s every step, haunted his dreams.

Voldemort reached out and took Wormtail’s last whole arm, pressed his wand to the same forearm that Wormtail had mutilated on Harry, and called out a curse Cedric didn’t know.

the same symbol that had appeared at the world cup twisted into the sky, the maw of the skull opening as the snake writhed. from the open jaws came nine black trailing shadows that shot like comets towards the graveyard, and where they landed, revealed a Death Eater.

one by one, Voldemort named, berated, and unmasked them, cursing them and their line, twisting their bodies with his magic, laughing.

and then he caught sight of Harry.

at Voldemort’s mere touch, Harry screamed in pain, thrashing as violently as possible in his captured position, blood still dripping down his body and soaking the ground and grave beneath.

the spell Wormtail cast was too strong, though, and as much as they struggled, Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor could not get free.

Voldemort released Harry, forced him into a dueling position, hissing, serpent-like, that he would take back the fame and glory and power Harry had stolen.

Harry was tortured, toyed with, tossed between Voldemort and the Death Eaters, still fighting back.

he was shaking, bleeding, twitching from the last of Lucius Malfoy’s Crutiatus. 

then Voldemort caught sight of Fleur. 

“ah,” he sneered, floating like a wraith over to her, pressing death white, grimy, too long fingers to her blood-stained hair. “a little tarnished, perhaps, but still a good example. shall i show you, Harry, how i killed your filthy muggle mother?”

he lifted his wand to strike but Harry reacted first and Voldemort was forced back into the fight.

a silent pop echoed in Cedric’s ears and he looked over to meet Fleur and Viktor’s eyes in the glow of the duel.

“do nothing!” Voldemort screamed at his followers, and they froze in their steps, unable to move. “he is mine to finish!”

“one,” Fleur whispered.

“two,” Viktor hissed.

“three,” Cedric finished. 

as one they threw off their captors and took back their wands.

Fleur opened her mouth, her wand pointed at her own throat, and sang, something so terrible and dark the Death Eaters fell screaming to the ground, clutching at suddenly bloody ears.

Viktor pounded against the barrier between them and Harry, eyes furious and desperate.

blue ghostly figures stood beside Harry, their mouths moving with words they could not hear, Fleur still screaming as she backed up to join them, but Cedric could feel it would not last.

Harry met their eyes.

‘together’ he mouthed, and they nodded, ready.

Harry gave a decisive nod and the dueling lights, green and red, ceased, the blue wisps darting forward and swallowing Voldemort.

it took less than three seconds.

Fleur stopped screaming. Viktor and Cedric and Fleur caught Harry as he came towards them, their hands weaving together.

“accio!” Cedric called for the cup. 

it met his fingers and engulfed them all just as the blue wisps disappeared.

they landed even harder than they had landed in the graveyard, gasping, bleeding, shaking.

the fanfare of the band started up immediately, the roaring crowd soon after.

Fleur was the first to straighten up, her hands shoving at Viktor and Cedric’s.

“off off off” she called desperately, and they obeyed, panic bubbling in their chests when they realized Harry was not breathing.

Cedric’s knee accidentally came too close and he realized with a sickening sinking feeling that that sharp thing poking his knee was one of Harry’s ribs.

“POMFREY!” Cedric screamed as Viktor gently cradled Harry’s head in his lap and Fleur kept checking him for other injuries.

the crowd quickly went silent as the head nurse came forth from the crowd that had been descending on them.

“everyone stay back!” McGonagall called, but even she didn’t dare try to stop Ron and Hermione when they pushed through the crowd to fall next to Harry, sobbing, shaking, gasping.

Madame Pomfrey knelt down beside Cedric, reaching out to Harry.

as one, Viktor, Fleur, and Cedric covered his body with their own, and Fleur snarled, her face shifting features, going angular and cruel like her ancestor’s other forms. blood stained her chin and mouth, running down in rivulets over her throat, and Cedric wondered how horribly she’d ripped her vocal cords to give them time.

Madam Pomfrey met their gazes. “i need to see him,” she said softly.

they still didn’t move.

a soft hand fell on Cedric’s shoulder. “come on,” Hermione gasped wetly. “she can heal him.”

Ron was murmuring to Fleur, too low for Cedric to hear, though he could tell Viktor was listening as well.

but it was enough.

by inches, the three of them backed off, though only enough that she could work, pulling potions and bandages and splints from her bag and Harry didn’t respond once.

he didn’t respond when she relocated his left shoulder, or when she poured essence of dittany onto the deep cruel wound in his left forearm to seal it before he bled out, or when she pulled shards of glass and metal and bone from the cauldron and the graveyard from his body, one shard in his side so large it was a big as Cedric’s fist.

he still didn’t stir.

until she got to the broken rib poking through Harry’s side and raised her wand. “episkey.”

Harry came awake screaming, his hands clutching.

but they were there to catch him.

Fleur wiped blood from Harry’s cheek, Viktor rumbled words soothingly in Bulgarian, and Cedric clutched at Harry’s hand.

Harry’s eyes were wild. “he’s back”

the crowd was silent.

tears spilled over Harry’s cheeks. “he’s back. Voldemort’s back.”

then, Harry looked over them wildly. “you, are you...are you?”

Cedric watched Viktor and Fleur’s hands curl tight into Harry’s body. 

“fine.” Viktor said softly. “we’re alive.”

“Mione, Ron-”

“here,” Ron said, his hand wrapped tight over the sticky bloodslick skin of Harry’s left forearm, his palm covering the worst of the resulting scars from the cursed knife. “safe.”

Harry nodded, relief flooding his eyes before they rolled back into his head and he passed out.

“it’s nothing,” Madame Pomfrey said before anyone panicked. “this is normal. i have to get him to the hospital wing.”

but she didn’t move, not until Ron and Hermione, their hands dug deep into Cedric, Fleur, and Viktor’s clothing, pulled them all back from hovering over Harry.

Madame Pomfrey gently levitated Harry, and when his ripped, blood-soaked form rose into the view of the crowd there were gasps and screams and the flash of a camera.

Cedric’s blood boiled.

he stood, feeling Fleur and Viktor behind him as he stalked over to Rita Skeeter and ripped the camera out of her stupid photographer’s hands.

he threw it to the ground, and Viktor spat, “bombarda!” at it, making it explode in a shower of sparks.

Cedric met Rita Skeeter’s beetle-like gaze. “you stay away from Harry Potter,” Cedric snarled, “or so help me God I’ll kill you.”

Rita sputtered, mad as a hornet, until Dumbledore very calmly said, “i think the Daily Prophet has enough information on what has transpired for the moment. do feel free to retire to your rooms at hogsmeade.”

Rita Skeeter looked over the crowd, but found no one to support her. she jabbed a finger at Cedric. “you don’t know what an enemy you’ve made.”

Cedric felt a bloody smile curl over his teeth, relishing the way Rita paled. “oh yeah? try me.”

she scurried away, her photographer following.

silence reigned for a moment, and then a heavy hand fell on Viktor’s shoulder.

“you-”

Cedric and Fleur had spun around and shoved between Viktor and Karkarov at the same time, that same shift coming over Fleur’s face.

“you bewitched him,” Cedric spat, ignoring the look of genuine shock on Karkarov’s face. “you don’t get to touch him.”

“or what?” Karkarov sneered. “i do not fear you, boy.”

“no?” Cedric felt that same smile curl over his face. “do you fear her?”

Fleur snarled, an echo of that same energy she had when she’d screamed at the graveyard thrumming in the sound.

Karkarov went white and stumbled back, right into Alastor Moody, who’s grin was just as lethal as Cedric’s felt. “well now, Karkarov, what’s this i hear about a bewitching?”

“i will tell you later,” Viktor said, voice perfectly level, his hands twining through Fleur’s and Cedric’s. “tomorrow.”

Cedric grinned as Moody hauled Karkarov off.

suddenly, his father was in front of him, and most of the fight left Cedric. “hey, dad.”

his father was crying, looking at the blood, but he pulled him into a fierce hug regardless of it.

over his father’s shoulder, Cedric watched his mother approach Fleur, looking over her and Viktor. “you saved my son?”

“no” they answered together, voiced severe.

“Harry saved us all.” Fleur’s voice was raw, and new blood spilled over her lips as she spoke. 

Cedric thought it was a little funny how everyone but he, Viktor, Ron, Hermione, and his mother flinched as it did.

Viktor met his mother’s eyes. “Harry saved us all, and we saved Harry.”

there was a bit of a blur after that, movement and color and voices, time passing rapidly, but one constant was their hands finding each other’s over and over. 

until they were in the hospital wing, and Fleur was glaring at Ron for already stealing the spot on the small hospital bed next to Harry. Hermione and Viktor were speaking in low tones from their chairs next to Harry’s head, and Cedric was sitting on the other side, his chest draped over Ron and Harry’s legs.

one of his hands held Viktor’s and the other held Fleur’s. Fleur’s other hand held Ron’s, who in turn held Harry, whose other hand was in Hermione’s whose other hand held Viktor’s.

“honestly,” Ron murmured sleepily from his undoubtedly awkward position curled around Harry’s slightly snoring form. “just want one quiet year at hogwarts.”

Cedric chuckled, exhaustion pulling his eyes low.

there would be a reckoning.

he’d pissed off Rita Skeeter, who held the Daily Prophet in the palm of her hand.

Karkarov was at innocent, apparently, because Alastor Moody wasn’t Alastor Moody.

and Voldemort was alive.

but so were they.

so Cedric closed his eyes, focusing on the hands holding his, the heartbeats he could imagine beating in time with his own, and slept.

safe.

sound.