#fleurdelacoir

Cedric Diggory, a boy he'd met at a party of all places. A boy who smiled and lit up the entire room. A boy with golden curls and straight teeth and clothes that actually fit.

A boy who was everything Harry wasn't.

What am I doing? Harry asked himself for the umpteenth time. Except this time was different because Harry was doing something about it. He was going to ask the Dursleys.

Not permission to go on the date. Harry wasn't sodding insane, thanks. No, he was going to ask to stay over at Ron's after school. And he would. But after they hung out Harry was going to sneak over to the cinema where Cedric would be.

Cedric. A boy. A real boy.

What am I doing? he asked himself one more time as if hoping to drag himself out of this insanity but it wasn't working because despite the complete insanity of this plan it was the sanest Harry had ever felt.

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked upon entering the kitchen. True to form, his uncle didn't bother to look up from the paper. It was better than if he had glared at Harry. That was always a sign of a foul mood. Then again, Harry’s presence in general seemed to cause his uncle’s temper to rise a few notches.

Taking a deep breath, he said the next line very carefully.

“Can I go study at Ron’s this Friday after school?” Tense silence. Uncle Vernon didn’t look up from his paper but his eyes had frozen on the page, no longer reading. There was a miniature war going on in those eyes. A fight between his instinct to get Harry as far away from this house and keep him away versus the instinct to keep him as close and as under control as possible.

It felt like hours before Uncle Vernon responded. It felt like days. Harry kept himself perfectly still, already bracing for a slap or harsh words or both. Instead, all his uncle did was hurump discontentedly and nod.

Harry quickly scrambled out of the kitchen and back up the stairs before his uncle could change his mind. Because Harry, of course, wouldn’t be going to Ron’s to study. He’d be going to Ron’s to get ready for his date. His date with a boy. His date with Cedric Diggory.

--

Getting ready for school on Friday felt like a chore, like it almost always did, but with the knowledge of what he was going to do tonight almost made it worse. Anxiety knotted in his stomach and waged war with his common sense.

Even his best second hand clothes were ugly. But Cedric liked him anyways.

He wasn't cool, wasn't smart, wasn't handsome. But Cedric had asked him out anyways.

Harry was a no name orphan with nothing to his name. But Cedric smiled at him like he was something worth smiling at.

It didn't make any sense. Harry had nothing to offer except, apparently, enough insecurities to make his already small room become even more suffocating.

But school wasn't going to wait. So he put on his uniform, shoved the nice shirt and jeans he owned into his backpack, and rushed off to the bus without even stopping for breakfast.

He met Ron on their seats towards the back of the bus.

“Tell me I'm not crazy,” Harry said as he sit down. His red headed, freckled best friend gave him a commiserating clap on the back.

“Can't do that, mate. You're certifiable. Then again we knew that years ago when you tried to fight a giant snake on the playground so… at least this one isn't a snake? The dude isn't part snake right?”

Ron turned to look at him with mock concern and Harry couldn't help the vein that tugged at his lips. He shoved Ron’s shoulder playfully.

“He's not a snake. He's gorgeous.”

“Then it'll be fine. Him being a snake in disguise trying to kill you is really the biggest thing you have to worry about.”

And as silly as it was, Ron's words and the way he steadily kept talking helped convince the nerves making a home in Harry's stomach to settle down.

--

Cedric was standing outside of the cinema as Harry climbed the stairs from the underground. Butterflies sprang to life and squirmed in Harry’s stomach as Cedric turned his brilliant, sunny smile towards him. Harry smiled back, a shy tentative thing.

“Harry,” Cedric said, like he was actually happy to see Harry too.

“Hi Cedric.” Harry felt like rubber, or jelly, his knees going weak just standing near this beautiful boy.

“I already snagged our tickets from the front if you’re ready to go,” Cedric said and Harry just nodded, following him inside as they headed to cinema twelve. They were seeing a movie Harry wasn’t familiar with, but seemed interesting enough. Tom Cruise was front and center on the movie poster so it couldn’t be all bad.

The cinema’s lightening hadn’t quite dimmed yet when they took their seats towards the back of the cinema. Cedric reached into his backpack and pulled out two bottles of soda along with a box of candy, smiling sheepishly.

“Thought we could share, if you'd like,” Cedric said, like Harry was the one doing him a favor and not vice versa.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Harry replied.

They worked their way through stilted small talk until Cedric started talking about his last football match. It was easy for Harry to focus in on the sport and could only imagine what Cedric could do on the field. Harry was fast, but Cedric had bulk and height in spades. You wouldn't be able to tell by the way Cedric talked about how amazing the rest of his team was, but Harry would bet Cedric was the star.

It wasn't long until the lights finally dimmed and they settled in for the next two hours.

The movie wasn't bad. It wasn't exactly stellar, but the special effects were good and the acting wasn't horrible. However, at about the hour mark, one of the bad guys jumped from behind a dark corner to attack the brave and chivalrous hero.

Harry knew it was nothing to be scared of, really. He was just startled, is all. That's totally the only reason Harry reached for Cedric's hand.

Cedric squeezed Harry's hand gently, intertwining their fingers over the armrests, and didn't remove it until the movie was over.

The heroes had saved the day, but right there, holding Cedric's hand, Harry felt like he was the lucky one.

--

They exited the theater together, finally unlatching hands as the stood. Harry let Cedric talk about his favorite parts of the movie while Harry tried not to think about how warm his palm was where their hands had met.

“I had a great time tonight,” Harry said as they left out the side entrance. There was less of a crowd there. He wasn't surprised to find he was telling he truth, but he was a bit shocked by the steadiness of his voice. He was just Harry. He wasn't brave, he wasn't reckless, he wasn't a hero, or even a decent football player.

But standing right there, with warm hands for the first time in his life, Harry thought that maybe… Just maybe… He could be.

“I'm glad,” Cedric said, stepping slightly closer to Harry. They could part right there and then, with memories of warm hands and shared chocolate. Or, Harry thought, I could be brave.

And he was. Instead of stepping away Harry leaned in closer and closer until their lips were brushing together softly. Harry was slightly on his tippy toes, and Cedric’s nose was mashing awkwardly against Harry's, but it was perfect. Soft and warm and everything Harry wanted it to be.

They pulled away after a moment, hands brushing each other's.

“I'll text you, yeah?” Cedric said warmly, a soft pink coloring his cheeks in sharp contrast to Harry's darker skin. Harry couldn't help but smile.

“Yeah,” he said.

“And Harry?” Cedric said before walking away, “I had a great time too.”

Harry walked home with a warm feeling in his chest and the memory of Cedric’s sunshine smile until the city lights and the memory of their lips meeting. It was the best memory Harry could remember, just then, and he'd give anything to feel it again.

As Harry walked into the house on Privet Drive, he felt that feeling drain away until all that was left was dread. Harry was late, he knew. The Dursleys could've found out about his lie. They could've found out about Cedric.

About their gay nephew who was nothing that they ever wanted.

There could be hell to pay.

“You're late,” his uncle said gruffly as Harry walked past the living room. Harry couldn't help his flinch at that rough voice. But if Vernon didn't even look up from the evening paper or waste any more words on Harry, so the boy nearly ran to his room.