Fic: Missing Pages, 6/?
Title: Missing Pages, Chapter 6/?
Pairing: Harry/Cedric
Rating: R to be safe; PG this chapter
Warning: AU in which Cedric replaces the epilogue
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends don't belong to me
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts Report has been released and social tensions are on the rise, but Cedric is faced with more personal tensions when he is enlisted to find a missing friend.
A/N: So, I know it's been a while, and I know this is a pretty short chapter, but it's also rather pivotal. I hope that makes up for it. :) Although I still don't know how many chapters the story will be, this is about the halfway point. Thanks as always to my ever-helpful beta, b00kaddict!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Missing Pages
Chapter 6
Cedric lifted a hand to Hermione’s door, then paused. Merlin, it had to be late. What time did that concert end? Eleven o’clock? Later? It was probably near midnight by now. But then Cedric remembered why he was there, and he knocked anyway.
He heard muffled noises within the flat, and a minute or two later, Hermione eased open the door.
“Cedric?” she asked, squinting into the dark hallway. She was wearing a light blue robe that she tightened around her waist.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Er, no. No. Won’t you come in?”
She stepped aside, and Cedric strode into the living room. He was still jittery with newly acquired knowledge and leftover nerves from his failed date. He hoped he had made the right decision in leaving Natasha at her doorstep and coming here instead, but there were no immediate regrets. He still felt the urgency of his news, and it far outweighed the urgency of hooking up with someone who wasn’t a part of his life.
Hermione, no doubt attempting to be polite, hid a yawn against her sleeve. “Would you like some tea?” she asked, the gracious host at any hour.
“No, I’m fine. I won’t be long.” He rubbed his arm and finally spied a clock on the mantle: 12:14 AM. “There’s something I just found out and I wanted to tell you right away.”
Her eyes widened. “Is this about Ron?”
Cedric nodded.
Hermione lifted a hand to her mouth, then turned the palm to Cedric to stop him from continuing. “Wait. Let me get Harry before you say anything.”
Cedric was sure he cringed at the request, though he should have seen it coming. He didn’t want to hide information from Harry. He was just hoping he wouldn’t have to share it face to face. Cedric was still sore from their last conversation, and didn’t like the idea of aiding someone who refused to return the favor. Worse than that, Harry was a reminder of the sex he could be having at that very moment. And associating Harry with sex was troubling enough on its own.
Still, he didn’t protest when Hermione took her wand in hand, and concentrated as a silvery-was that an otter?-emerged from the tip. She whispered in its ear before sending it out the window with its message. They were both silent as they waited. Hermione paced the room, avoiding Cedric’s face and any hints it might provide, while Cedric tapped his fingers against the sofa’s worn armrest. He wondered how Hermione would take the news. Ron was her ex, after all, and her close friend besides. Would she be upset to learn what he’d been keeping from her? Did she have her suspicions already? Hermione was a clever witch, and very little escaped her.
“Did you find anything in Diagon Alley?” he asked to break the silence.
Hermione stopped pacing and shook her head. “Not really. Asking if two people who could look like anyone were seen over a week ago didn’t jog any memories.” She looked to the door, and as if on cue, the knob began to turn.
Harry entered without even bothering to knock. He spotted Cedric and walked towards him. “Hermione says you found something. What is it?” he asked. No greeting, not even an awkward acknowledgment. Unlike Hermione, he looked as awake and alert as an Auror on duty.
Cedric looked back and forth between the two of them. They were both bracing themselves in their own way: Hermione with her shoulders forward and arms protectively crossed; Harry with his feet firmly planted and chin raised. Cedric took a deep breath. “I was talking to someone who works the floo boards,” he said. “And she seemed to think that…well, she told me that Ron was seeing someone.” He paused, then added, “A girlfriend.”
The effect was immediate. Hermione’s eyes went wider than before, her mouth hanging open in shock. Harry’s brow furrowed and his entire body went stiff. “Are you sure?” he asked. It was the tone of an Auror verifying information, but also the voice of a concerned friend. Cedric nodded.
Harry looked at Hermione, and his guard seemed to melt away. His posture changed; lines of emotion appeared on his face. It was as though he’d discarded his hard exterior like a cloak, revealing a layer of very real pain. Cedric had been so concerned this whole time about Hermione’s reaction, yet Harry was the one who looked as though he’d been slapped. Cedric’s heart unwillingly went out to him.
Hermione was slow to return Harry’s gaze. When she did, her mouth closed to a thin line and her eyes began to brim. The emotion they held was different from Harry’s, but Cedric couldn’t put his finger on it. That is, not until Harry spoke.
“You knew, didn’t you?”
Hermione’s face crumpled under the accusation. Realization crashed, and Cedric put a name to her emotion: it was guilt. Not shock, not grief, but guilt and apology. Harry was right. But how could Hermione have known this without mentioning it? How did she find out, but not Harry?
“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Sorry for what?” he exclaimed. His eyes pressed shut for a moment, as though it were too much to process, but then he fixed Hermione with a stare that burned with anger. Hermione, to her credit, held her ground.
“Are you sorry that you lied to me,” he asked, “or sorry that Ron could be dead because of you?”
Hermione flinched. “Don’t say that,” she pleaded. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t…”
“Why the hell not?”
“You have to understand; it wasn’t for me to tell.”
“Wasn’t for you to tell? Ron wasn’t about to step in and do it for you!” Harry waved his arm toward the door as proof. He was furious, seething, and, frankly, a bit frightening. Cedric made a move to intervene, but Hermione stopped him with a glance.
Not noticing their exchange, Harry took a step forward and asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because Ron begged me not to!” she shouted. It punctured through their argument, leaving a lull of silence.
Harry shook his head. “Why would he do that?” Compared to the shouting, it sounded like a whisper.
“Why haven’t you told Ron you’re gay?” Hermione shot back. Cedric looked sharply at Harry, but he made no indication that he heard the question. He didn’t even seem aware that Cedric was still in the room. Hermione looked away and said, “He didn’t think you’d understand.”
Harry took another step closer. “I’m his best mate,” he said, emphasizing those last two words as though they explained everything. “What wouldn’t I understand? I mean, was his girlfriend, what…a Death Eater or something?”
“No, not a Death Eater,” she replied. Her voice cracked, and it took a few moments before she could continue with composure. When she spoke her quiet words filled the room. “The daughter of one.”
Harry took a step back. He studied Hermione closely, trying to comprehend her statement, or perhaps checking its veracity. The weight of it seemed to fall on his shoulders all at once. He looked around the room, blinking as though disoriented. Then he moved to the sofa, sitting with a heavy weight and rested his temples against the heels of his hands, both elbows on his thighs. “Fuck,” he said.
Cedric felt rooted to the spot; he couldn’t leave, couldn’t intervene. All he could do was stand there and watch these cryptic events unfold like a play to which he’d arrived late. Why hadn’t Hermione shared any of this before now? Why hadn’t Ron? What kind of friendship could contain so many secrets? And why, Cedric couldn’t help but wonder, did Harry come out to him when he hadn’t even come out to his best friend?
Cedric’s fingers were still on the armrest of the sofa, now mere centimeters from where Harry sat looking small and trampled. Their proximity gave him the sudden urge to reach out and touch Harry’s arm for comfort. But no, that could be construed as all kinds of inappropriate. His hand twitched, then lifted just high enough to drop back to his side. Harry still didn’t seem to notice.
The seconds ticked away before anyone moved. Hermione was gripping the back of a chair, her face still streaked with guilt, but also with the concern that mirrored what Cedric felt. Eventually, Harry lifted his head and asked, “Who is she?”
Hermione bit her lip. “Her name is Eleanor Macnair.”
Cedric sucked in air. He recognized the name, and knew Harry would as well. Macnair was among the first to announce his allegiance when the Death Eaters went public, he’d fought at the Battle of Hogwarts, and he was now serving a life sentence. Cedric didn’t even know he had a daughter.
Harry closed his eyes. “How long?”
“It’s been almost a year.”
Harry looked up again in disbelief. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to think of any words. Cedric didn’t have any to offer, either. But he did manage to work up his courage, and gingerly placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry flinched as though being attacked, whipped his head around, and looked astonished to see Cedric standing next to him. Cedric tried to make his sympathy visible, expecting Harry to ask that he leave, or lash out in someway. What he saw instead made him catch his breath. Harry’s expression relaxed. His lines of worry began to smooth, and the warm shoulder below Cedric’s palm sagged. Harry was looking at him with gratitude. The fact that Cedric could calm him with merely a touch and a sympathetic look was a heady experience. He decided to leave his hand where it was.
“Have you talked to this woman recently?” Harry asked, returning to the conversation but sounding a bit less broken.
“I sent her a letter explaining what had happened, but she never responded. Harry-” Hermione came around to the other side of the chair and sat down so she was facing him directly-“I only met her once, but…she’s not like her father. He came from wealth, but she grew up with nothing. And she never subscribed to his bigotry. I-I kept wishing you two could have met. I think you would have liked her.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll be getting that wish now,” Harry said. “We need to talk with her immediately.” He stood as though prepared to leave at that very moment, knocking Cedric’s hand away as a result. Cedric tried not to feel disappointed as he stepped back.
“Now? In the middle of the night?” asked Hermione, standing as well.
This seemed to bring Harry back to reality. He looked at the clock on the mantle and sighed. “No. Not tonight. But tomorrow, after work. You know where she lives?”
Hermione nodded, and a shadow passed over Harry’s face. It was one more thing she knew and he didn’t. He pulled his cloak tighter around him and asked, “Will you be there?”
Hermione nodded again, but it wasn’t until Harry looked up at him that Cedric realized he was included in the question.
“Yes,” he said. He didn’t even leave himself a moment to consider. There was no more denying that he had become a part of this mystery. He was invested, for better or for worse.
“After work, then. We’ll meet in the lobby tomorrow at six so Hermione can take us.” Harry rubbed at his eyes and his posture sagged. “I’m going to go get whatever sleep I can.” Without a goodbye, he left.
Cedric watched him go, thinking that he’d been seeing Harry exit a lot of rooms without goodbyes lately. He turned to Hermione, who’d slumped low in her chair. She looked exhausted. He knew she needed time to herself, but he couldn’t leave without some answers. “I don’t understand,” he said to her after a pause. “Why did you not mention this before?”
“I couldn’t,” she said softly, staring straight ahead at the empty sofa and the wall behind it. “Ron had me promise not to. And breaking that promise meant…” She trailed off, but Cedric understood. Telling Harry about Ron’s girlfriend made the threat real. It meant he might not be coming back. Hermione had been keeping Ron’s confidence in the same place she kept her hope, and now both had been compromised.
Cedric was almost sorry he said anything at all. Between Hermione’s remorse and Harry’s grief, he wasn’t sure he had accomplished much besides heartache.
He looked to the closed door, thinking of Harry’s pained expression, but also remembering the soothing affect he’d had on it. “Do you think Harry will be all right?” he asked.
When he turned around, Hermione looked a bit less drained, and a bit more alert. She had also fixed him with a bemused frown. “Harry’s survived much worse than this,” she reminded him. Then she narrowed her eyes, and all too late Cedric realized his folly. “What’s going on between you two, anyway?”
“What?” The heat rushed to Cedric’s cheeks, and the air went cold. For a moment, he thought he might lose his balance. He cursed himself for reacting so strongly, but the question was just so unexpected, and so unwanted. He waited until he had regained his composure before stating, “Nothing. What do you mean?”
Could it be what he assumed she meant? Where had the question come from? Was it so blatantly obvious what had passed between them? How could it be, when Cedric himself couldn’t even define it?
“I don’t mean to pry,” she said, even though that was exactly what she was doing. She cast her eyes back down at her lap. “I’m just looking out for Harry. I don’t want him getting hurt, especially not now. The last thing he needs is an unhealthy relationship, or-or someone leading him on.”
“Leading him on? I would never do that,” he said, upset by the accusation. He had absolutely no interest in attracting a bloke. And even if he did, he could never imagine treating Harry with such careless malice. Of course, there was another implication to Hermione’s statement that Cedric tried not to examine: the idea that Harry could be easily led.
“I know you never would intentionally,” said Hermione. “But Cedric…you flirt as easily as breathing. Half the time you don’t even realize you’re doing it.”
“Not this again,” Cedric muttered. They had joked often enough about Cedric’s unsought popularity with women, but it wasn’t quite so funny now. Charm and charisma might come to him naturally, but he didn’t abuse it. He wasn’t some tease who enjoyed the attention. Especially not with those he wasn’t attracted to. Especially not with Harry.
And yet an insistent voice reminded him that he’d gone far past flirtation already. He’d snogged Harry in a heated moment, then said nothing as Harry returned his advances tenfold, pinning him to his seat, touching him everywhere. Since then, Cedric had thought only of the implications to himself. What did it say about his sexuality? His loneliness? His state of inebriation? No thought had been spared for Harry’s reaction, or how he might be feeling in the aftermath. It was selfish, but deep down Cedric knew there was a reason for this. He was protecting himself from what now hovered on the edge of their conversation, from the idea that Harry might actually…
“Look, Hermione.” He took a deep breath to clear his thoughts. “I don’t know what Harry told you, but there is nothing happening between us. Last I checked, I’m still straight, and Harry’s still a stubborn git.”
Hermione snorted and rested her cheek on her palm as she regarded him. “Don’t worry, Harry doesn’t tell me anything. Never has. But I think I know him well enough by now to recognize when he fancies someone.”
And there it was. Put into words and spoken out loud. All of a sudden, Hermione’s flat was too crowded, and the air was too thin. “You’re wrong,” said Cedric, his voice sounding dangerous to his own ears. He turned to the door, eager to end the interrogation, while Hermione’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I should go.”
“Cedric, wait.” He paused with one foot out the door. Hermione rose from her seat wearing a look of concern. “What if I’m not?”
Cedric stared out onto the landing. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
Chapter 7
Pairing: Harry/Cedric
Rating: R to be safe; PG this chapter
Warning: AU in which Cedric replaces the epilogue
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends don't belong to me
Summary: The Battle of Hogwarts Report has been released and social tensions are on the rise, but Cedric is faced with more personal tensions when he is enlisted to find a missing friend.
A/N: So, I know it's been a while, and I know this is a pretty short chapter, but it's also rather pivotal. I hope that makes up for it. :) Although I still don't know how many chapters the story will be, this is about the halfway point. Thanks as always to my ever-helpful beta, b00kaddict!
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Missing Pages
Chapter 6
Cedric lifted a hand to Hermione’s door, then paused. Merlin, it had to be late. What time did that concert end? Eleven o’clock? Later? It was probably near midnight by now. But then Cedric remembered why he was there, and he knocked anyway.
He heard muffled noises within the flat, and a minute or two later, Hermione eased open the door.
“Cedric?” she asked, squinting into the dark hallway. She was wearing a light blue robe that she tightened around her waist.
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Er, no. No. Won’t you come in?”
She stepped aside, and Cedric strode into the living room. He was still jittery with newly acquired knowledge and leftover nerves from his failed date. He hoped he had made the right decision in leaving Natasha at her doorstep and coming here instead, but there were no immediate regrets. He still felt the urgency of his news, and it far outweighed the urgency of hooking up with someone who wasn’t a part of his life.
Hermione, no doubt attempting to be polite, hid a yawn against her sleeve. “Would you like some tea?” she asked, the gracious host at any hour.
“No, I’m fine. I won’t be long.” He rubbed his arm and finally spied a clock on the mantle: 12:14 AM. “There’s something I just found out and I wanted to tell you right away.”
Her eyes widened. “Is this about Ron?”
Cedric nodded.
Hermione lifted a hand to her mouth, then turned the palm to Cedric to stop him from continuing. “Wait. Let me get Harry before you say anything.”
Cedric was sure he cringed at the request, though he should have seen it coming. He didn’t want to hide information from Harry. He was just hoping he wouldn’t have to share it face to face. Cedric was still sore from their last conversation, and didn’t like the idea of aiding someone who refused to return the favor. Worse than that, Harry was a reminder of the sex he could be having at that very moment. And associating Harry with sex was troubling enough on its own.
Still, he didn’t protest when Hermione took her wand in hand, and concentrated as a silvery-was that an otter?-emerged from the tip. She whispered in its ear before sending it out the window with its message. They were both silent as they waited. Hermione paced the room, avoiding Cedric’s face and any hints it might provide, while Cedric tapped his fingers against the sofa’s worn armrest. He wondered how Hermione would take the news. Ron was her ex, after all, and her close friend besides. Would she be upset to learn what he’d been keeping from her? Did she have her suspicions already? Hermione was a clever witch, and very little escaped her.
“Did you find anything in Diagon Alley?” he asked to break the silence.
Hermione stopped pacing and shook her head. “Not really. Asking if two people who could look like anyone were seen over a week ago didn’t jog any memories.” She looked to the door, and as if on cue, the knob began to turn.
Harry entered without even bothering to knock. He spotted Cedric and walked towards him. “Hermione says you found something. What is it?” he asked. No greeting, not even an awkward acknowledgment. Unlike Hermione, he looked as awake and alert as an Auror on duty.
Cedric looked back and forth between the two of them. They were both bracing themselves in their own way: Hermione with her shoulders forward and arms protectively crossed; Harry with his feet firmly planted and chin raised. Cedric took a deep breath. “I was talking to someone who works the floo boards,” he said. “And she seemed to think that…well, she told me that Ron was seeing someone.” He paused, then added, “A girlfriend.”
The effect was immediate. Hermione’s eyes went wider than before, her mouth hanging open in shock. Harry’s brow furrowed and his entire body went stiff. “Are you sure?” he asked. It was the tone of an Auror verifying information, but also the voice of a concerned friend. Cedric nodded.
Harry looked at Hermione, and his guard seemed to melt away. His posture changed; lines of emotion appeared on his face. It was as though he’d discarded his hard exterior like a cloak, revealing a layer of very real pain. Cedric had been so concerned this whole time about Hermione’s reaction, yet Harry was the one who looked as though he’d been slapped. Cedric’s heart unwillingly went out to him.
Hermione was slow to return Harry’s gaze. When she did, her mouth closed to a thin line and her eyes began to brim. The emotion they held was different from Harry’s, but Cedric couldn’t put his finger on it. That is, not until Harry spoke.
“You knew, didn’t you?”
Hermione’s face crumpled under the accusation. Realization crashed, and Cedric put a name to her emotion: it was guilt. Not shock, not grief, but guilt and apology. Harry was right. But how could Hermione have known this without mentioning it? How did she find out, but not Harry?
“Harry, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Sorry for what?” he exclaimed. His eyes pressed shut for a moment, as though it were too much to process, but then he fixed Hermione with a stare that burned with anger. Hermione, to her credit, held her ground.
“Are you sorry that you lied to me,” he asked, “or sorry that Ron could be dead because of you?”
Hermione flinched. “Don’t say that,” she pleaded. “I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t…”
“Why the hell not?”
“You have to understand; it wasn’t for me to tell.”
“Wasn’t for you to tell? Ron wasn’t about to step in and do it for you!” Harry waved his arm toward the door as proof. He was furious, seething, and, frankly, a bit frightening. Cedric made a move to intervene, but Hermione stopped him with a glance.
Not noticing their exchange, Harry took a step forward and asked, “Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because Ron begged me not to!” she shouted. It punctured through their argument, leaving a lull of silence.
Harry shook his head. “Why would he do that?” Compared to the shouting, it sounded like a whisper.
“Why haven’t you told Ron you’re gay?” Hermione shot back. Cedric looked sharply at Harry, but he made no indication that he heard the question. He didn’t even seem aware that Cedric was still in the room. Hermione looked away and said, “He didn’t think you’d understand.”
Harry took another step closer. “I’m his best mate,” he said, emphasizing those last two words as though they explained everything. “What wouldn’t I understand? I mean, was his girlfriend, what…a Death Eater or something?”
“No, not a Death Eater,” she replied. Her voice cracked, and it took a few moments before she could continue with composure. When she spoke her quiet words filled the room. “The daughter of one.”
Harry took a step back. He studied Hermione closely, trying to comprehend her statement, or perhaps checking its veracity. The weight of it seemed to fall on his shoulders all at once. He looked around the room, blinking as though disoriented. Then he moved to the sofa, sitting with a heavy weight and rested his temples against the heels of his hands, both elbows on his thighs. “Fuck,” he said.
Cedric felt rooted to the spot; he couldn’t leave, couldn’t intervene. All he could do was stand there and watch these cryptic events unfold like a play to which he’d arrived late. Why hadn’t Hermione shared any of this before now? Why hadn’t Ron? What kind of friendship could contain so many secrets? And why, Cedric couldn’t help but wonder, did Harry come out to him when he hadn’t even come out to his best friend?
Cedric’s fingers were still on the armrest of the sofa, now mere centimeters from where Harry sat looking small and trampled. Their proximity gave him the sudden urge to reach out and touch Harry’s arm for comfort. But no, that could be construed as all kinds of inappropriate. His hand twitched, then lifted just high enough to drop back to his side. Harry still didn’t seem to notice.
The seconds ticked away before anyone moved. Hermione was gripping the back of a chair, her face still streaked with guilt, but also with the concern that mirrored what Cedric felt. Eventually, Harry lifted his head and asked, “Who is she?”
Hermione bit her lip. “Her name is Eleanor Macnair.”
Cedric sucked in air. He recognized the name, and knew Harry would as well. Macnair was among the first to announce his allegiance when the Death Eaters went public, he’d fought at the Battle of Hogwarts, and he was now serving a life sentence. Cedric didn’t even know he had a daughter.
Harry closed his eyes. “How long?”
“It’s been almost a year.”
Harry looked up again in disbelief. He opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to think of any words. Cedric didn’t have any to offer, either. But he did manage to work up his courage, and gingerly placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. Harry flinched as though being attacked, whipped his head around, and looked astonished to see Cedric standing next to him. Cedric tried to make his sympathy visible, expecting Harry to ask that he leave, or lash out in someway. What he saw instead made him catch his breath. Harry’s expression relaxed. His lines of worry began to smooth, and the warm shoulder below Cedric’s palm sagged. Harry was looking at him with gratitude. The fact that Cedric could calm him with merely a touch and a sympathetic look was a heady experience. He decided to leave his hand where it was.
“Have you talked to this woman recently?” Harry asked, returning to the conversation but sounding a bit less broken.
“I sent her a letter explaining what had happened, but she never responded. Harry-” Hermione came around to the other side of the chair and sat down so she was facing him directly-“I only met her once, but…she’s not like her father. He came from wealth, but she grew up with nothing. And she never subscribed to his bigotry. I-I kept wishing you two could have met. I think you would have liked her.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll be getting that wish now,” Harry said. “We need to talk with her immediately.” He stood as though prepared to leave at that very moment, knocking Cedric’s hand away as a result. Cedric tried not to feel disappointed as he stepped back.
“Now? In the middle of the night?” asked Hermione, standing as well.
This seemed to bring Harry back to reality. He looked at the clock on the mantle and sighed. “No. Not tonight. But tomorrow, after work. You know where she lives?”
Hermione nodded, and a shadow passed over Harry’s face. It was one more thing she knew and he didn’t. He pulled his cloak tighter around him and asked, “Will you be there?”
Hermione nodded again, but it wasn’t until Harry looked up at him that Cedric realized he was included in the question.
“Yes,” he said. He didn’t even leave himself a moment to consider. There was no more denying that he had become a part of this mystery. He was invested, for better or for worse.
“After work, then. We’ll meet in the lobby tomorrow at six so Hermione can take us.” Harry rubbed at his eyes and his posture sagged. “I’m going to go get whatever sleep I can.” Without a goodbye, he left.
Cedric watched him go, thinking that he’d been seeing Harry exit a lot of rooms without goodbyes lately. He turned to Hermione, who’d slumped low in her chair. She looked exhausted. He knew she needed time to herself, but he couldn’t leave without some answers. “I don’t understand,” he said to her after a pause. “Why did you not mention this before?”
“I couldn’t,” she said softly, staring straight ahead at the empty sofa and the wall behind it. “Ron had me promise not to. And breaking that promise meant…” She trailed off, but Cedric understood. Telling Harry about Ron’s girlfriend made the threat real. It meant he might not be coming back. Hermione had been keeping Ron’s confidence in the same place she kept her hope, and now both had been compromised.
Cedric was almost sorry he said anything at all. Between Hermione’s remorse and Harry’s grief, he wasn’t sure he had accomplished much besides heartache.
He looked to the closed door, thinking of Harry’s pained expression, but also remembering the soothing affect he’d had on it. “Do you think Harry will be all right?” he asked.
When he turned around, Hermione looked a bit less drained, and a bit more alert. She had also fixed him with a bemused frown. “Harry’s survived much worse than this,” she reminded him. Then she narrowed her eyes, and all too late Cedric realized his folly. “What’s going on between you two, anyway?”
“What?” The heat rushed to Cedric’s cheeks, and the air went cold. For a moment, he thought he might lose his balance. He cursed himself for reacting so strongly, but the question was just so unexpected, and so unwanted. He waited until he had regained his composure before stating, “Nothing. What do you mean?”
Could it be what he assumed she meant? Where had the question come from? Was it so blatantly obvious what had passed between them? How could it be, when Cedric himself couldn’t even define it?
“I don’t mean to pry,” she said, even though that was exactly what she was doing. She cast her eyes back down at her lap. “I’m just looking out for Harry. I don’t want him getting hurt, especially not now. The last thing he needs is an unhealthy relationship, or-or someone leading him on.”
“Leading him on? I would never do that,” he said, upset by the accusation. He had absolutely no interest in attracting a bloke. And even if he did, he could never imagine treating Harry with such careless malice. Of course, there was another implication to Hermione’s statement that Cedric tried not to examine: the idea that Harry could be easily led.
“I know you never would intentionally,” said Hermione. “But Cedric…you flirt as easily as breathing. Half the time you don’t even realize you’re doing it.”
“Not this again,” Cedric muttered. They had joked often enough about Cedric’s unsought popularity with women, but it wasn’t quite so funny now. Charm and charisma might come to him naturally, but he didn’t abuse it. He wasn’t some tease who enjoyed the attention. Especially not with those he wasn’t attracted to. Especially not with Harry.
And yet an insistent voice reminded him that he’d gone far past flirtation already. He’d snogged Harry in a heated moment, then said nothing as Harry returned his advances tenfold, pinning him to his seat, touching him everywhere. Since then, Cedric had thought only of the implications to himself. What did it say about his sexuality? His loneliness? His state of inebriation? No thought had been spared for Harry’s reaction, or how he might be feeling in the aftermath. It was selfish, but deep down Cedric knew there was a reason for this. He was protecting himself from what now hovered on the edge of their conversation, from the idea that Harry might actually…
“Look, Hermione.” He took a deep breath to clear his thoughts. “I don’t know what Harry told you, but there is nothing happening between us. Last I checked, I’m still straight, and Harry’s still a stubborn git.”
Hermione snorted and rested her cheek on her palm as she regarded him. “Don’t worry, Harry doesn’t tell me anything. Never has. But I think I know him well enough by now to recognize when he fancies someone.”
And there it was. Put into words and spoken out loud. All of a sudden, Hermione’s flat was too crowded, and the air was too thin. “You’re wrong,” said Cedric, his voice sounding dangerous to his own ears. He turned to the door, eager to end the interrogation, while Hermione’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I should go.”
“Cedric, wait.” He paused with one foot out the door. Hermione rose from her seat wearing a look of concern. “What if I’m not?”
Cedric stared out onto the landing. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
Chapter 7