new H/R, well, it's a start.
Title: From Dreams of Love (not final title)
Chapter: Prolouge
Author: Booneda
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Hints of Harry/Cedric and Harry/Ron
Beta: The Lovely and Talented matildabishop and the Fabulous nefyr
DISCLAIMER:I do not own the world of Harry Potter, nor any of the characters, locations, or terms associted with that world. It (they) belongs to J. K. Rowling. and while I'm sure she appreciates that her books have become popular enough to spawn massive amounts of fan fiction, I doubt that she would favor any of the following slash fiction.
Harry was standing on Stoateshead hill. The sun hadn't yet risen, but still everyone was poking around in the dark.
"You sure you don't know what the portkey is, Dad?"
"I already told you, Fred, I haven't a clue."
Harry looked around blindly. He could just make out the shapes of Hermione and Ginny, crouched low on the side of the hill.
"Arthur, over here. We've found it!"
Everyone stood back up and turned to look in the direction that the voice had come from as a pair of heads and shoulders rose above the crest of the hill. Harry's stomach tightened when he recognized Cedric Diggory climbing, along with his father.
"Hello, Amos," said Mr. Weasley, "Kids, this is Amos Diggory. I work with him in the Ministry."
Harry could only stare at Cedric as everything else played out. He couldn't help it. Cedric was handsome, and funny, and, well, hot. But that isn't the only reason that Harry couldn't tear his gaze away from Cedric. Cedric was...dead.
"Harry?" someone said. "C'mon Harry. Take the portkey."
Harry looked up to see Fred and George pointing down the hill. Harry's eyes followed where they were pointing to see the Triwizard Cup sitting a few feet away. Harry's stomach tightened again, making him feel very sick. "No," he whispered.
"It's alright, Harry," Cedric said, "I'll get it. We can take it together." He turned and started to walk toward the Cup.
"No, Cedric, Don't!" Harry yelled as he jumped to stop Cedric, but both boys got to the Cup at the same time, and in a flash, they were in a graveyard. The graveyard. Harry heard the hiss, the words, "Kill the spare!" A flash of green light, and again his friend, his lover, is dead.
"Cedric!" Harry yelled. "Cedric, No!" Harry fought against invisible arms that held him back. “Let go of me! Stop!” he yelled. From Harry’s hair. A voice wispered, "Harry, shhh. It's okay. It's alright, Harry. Calm down. It’s me, it’s Ron."
Harry felt warm tears streaming down his own cheeks as he turned to bury his face into Ron's chest, feeling his friend embrace him.
"It's my fault, Ron! It's my fault he's dead!" Harry sobbed.
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, holding his best mate's shuddering body tightly.
"I should have stopped him, Ron! I shouldn't have let him get the cup."
Ron shook his head, "Harry, you're not making any sense!"
Harry took a few deep gulps of air as he tried to make sense of the waking world. The dream was wrong. That wasn't how it had happened at all. But Harry was still sure of one thing. "It was my fault, Ron," he said more calmly, "I was the one who suggested that we both take the Cup. It was me."
Ron understood again. Harry had been having these same nightmares all summer, and they always involved the same people. Cedric, Dumbledore, and even sometimes, Ron, though they were getting stranger and more confusing. Harry seemed intent on torturing himself, especially about Cedric. The only thing Ron could do was hold his friend, knowing that as soon as Harry was all cried out, he would get up and shy away from Ron, as if nothing had happened between them. It broke Ron's heart every morning to know that Harry wouldn't let him get close.
(to Chapter 2)
Chapter: Prolouge
Author: Booneda
Rating: PG-13
Pairings: Hints of Harry/Cedric and Harry/Ron
Beta: The Lovely and Talented matildabishop and the Fabulous nefyr
DISCLAIMER:I do not own the world of Harry Potter, nor any of the characters, locations, or terms associted with that world. It (they) belongs to J. K. Rowling. and while I'm sure she appreciates that her books have become popular enough to spawn massive amounts of fan fiction, I doubt that she would favor any of the following slash fiction.
Harry was standing on Stoateshead hill. The sun hadn't yet risen, but still everyone was poking around in the dark.
"You sure you don't know what the portkey is, Dad?"
"I already told you, Fred, I haven't a clue."
Harry looked around blindly. He could just make out the shapes of Hermione and Ginny, crouched low on the side of the hill.
"Arthur, over here. We've found it!"
Everyone stood back up and turned to look in the direction that the voice had come from as a pair of heads and shoulders rose above the crest of the hill. Harry's stomach tightened when he recognized Cedric Diggory climbing, along with his father.
"Hello, Amos," said Mr. Weasley, "Kids, this is Amos Diggory. I work with him in the Ministry."
Harry could only stare at Cedric as everything else played out. He couldn't help it. Cedric was handsome, and funny, and, well, hot. But that isn't the only reason that Harry couldn't tear his gaze away from Cedric. Cedric was...dead.
"Harry?" someone said. "C'mon Harry. Take the portkey."
Harry looked up to see Fred and George pointing down the hill. Harry's eyes followed where they were pointing to see the Triwizard Cup sitting a few feet away. Harry's stomach tightened again, making him feel very sick. "No," he whispered.
"It's alright, Harry," Cedric said, "I'll get it. We can take it together." He turned and started to walk toward the Cup.
"No, Cedric, Don't!" Harry yelled as he jumped to stop Cedric, but both boys got to the Cup at the same time, and in a flash, they were in a graveyard. The graveyard. Harry heard the hiss, the words, "Kill the spare!" A flash of green light, and again his friend, his lover, is dead.
"Cedric!" Harry yelled. "Cedric, No!" Harry fought against invisible arms that held him back. “Let go of me! Stop!” he yelled. From Harry’s hair. A voice wispered, "Harry, shhh. It's okay. It's alright, Harry. Calm down. It’s me, it’s Ron."
Harry felt warm tears streaming down his own cheeks as he turned to bury his face into Ron's chest, feeling his friend embrace him.
"It's my fault, Ron! It's my fault he's dead!" Harry sobbed.
"What are you talking about?" Ron asked, holding his best mate's shuddering body tightly.
"I should have stopped him, Ron! I shouldn't have let him get the cup."
Ron shook his head, "Harry, you're not making any sense!"
Harry took a few deep gulps of air as he tried to make sense of the waking world. The dream was wrong. That wasn't how it had happened at all. But Harry was still sure of one thing. "It was my fault, Ron," he said more calmly, "I was the one who suggested that we both take the Cup. It was me."
Ron understood again. Harry had been having these same nightmares all summer, and they always involved the same people. Cedric, Dumbledore, and even sometimes, Ron, though they were getting stranger and more confusing. Harry seemed intent on torturing himself, especially about Cedric. The only thing Ron could do was hold his friend, knowing that as soon as Harry was all cried out, he would get up and shy away from Ron, as if nothing had happened between them. It broke Ron's heart every morning to know that Harry wouldn't let him get close.
(to Chapter 2)