Fic... Force of Will
Title: Force of Will
Rating: PG
Pairing: Cedric/Harry
Warnings: slash, danger
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends did not come from my head.
Summary: Mad-Eye Moody makes a mistake in the maze.
Author's Note: Well, I'm back with another offering. This is a lot more suspense, a lot less romance. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not, but I'll let you decide! Again, feedback and criticism is always appreciated, and thanks to those who commented last time!
Force of Will
Part I
Cedric’s dread of the hedge maze lasted only a moment.
He had merely walked a few steps and turned left when all of the anxiety, self doubt, and single-minded desire of the past few months suddenly lifted from his shoulders in a moment of fuzzy clarity. Warmth spread through his limbs, and he allowed all those painful, cumbersome thoughts to escape through his lips in an audible sigh, as his vision slid out of focus. He felt happier than he could ever remember feeling, and he didn’t care why, nor did he know why. And he didn’t know where he was, and he couldn’t recall what he was doing, but he wasn’t concerned. There was a tiny voice in the back of his head to remind him:
Make sure Harry takes the cup.
Right. That was his reason for being in the maze. He would see to it that Harry not only emerge safely from the final task, but emerge with the eternal glory he deserved. Cedric wouldn’t let anyone get in the way of that. He set off into the maze with renewed confidence and purpose.
Harry tried his hardest to steady his breathing. So far, things were going all right. He wasn’t sure how, but he had managed to plunge himself far into the labyrinth, and had been just barely capable of handling what few obstacles had so far crossed his path. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He assumed it was another aspect of the enchanted maze, to block out hope the way it blocked out sound and light. He didn’t like imagining his surroundings with the properties of a dementor, however, and pushed away the thought. Instead, he wondered about the progress of the other Champions, particularly Cedric Diggory who had looked so uncharacteristically concerned moments before entering. Harry of course couldn’t blame him. He reminded himself that this would all be over soon, and he could go back to the common room with Ron and Hermione and laugh as though none of this stupid tournament had ever happened.
A shrill scream interrupted his thoughts.
Cedric did not glance back at Fleur’s limp body as he set off once again. There had been a brief moment after stunning the girl in the back when something seemed wrong. The beginnings of a doubt. But his happily buzzing brain swept it aside, and he remembered what the problem was: there was still another Champion. Somewhere in this maze, Krum was getting closer to stealing the cup from Harry.
Cedric wove through the leafy corridors with ease, stopping on occasion to blast away a skrewt. There was no fear, only resolve. Help Harry. Stop Krum. When a thorn cut through his robes and opened his arm, he did not notice. When the Triwizard Cup emerged in the distance, he imagined Harry lifting it triumphantly before retracing his steps. He imagined Krum unconscious at his feet.
At this point, Harry knew something was wrong. It wasn’t the maze that frightened him anymore, although the lack of obstacles concerned him. No, there was definitely something else. He sensed it in the air, in the prickling of his nerves, and in the stunned face of Fleur Delacour. He stepped slowly and silently through the foliage with his wand gripped tightly in front of him, praying that he’d make it to the end intact. Once again, his thoughts strayed to the mysterious circumstances that had landed him here in the first place. His muscles tensed. His breathing was fast and heavy.
When he rounded the next corner and found himself standing in the wandlight of Cedric Diggory, he jumped a foot and summoned all of his willpower not to curse him on sight. Cedric on the other hand merely smiled vaguely and lowered his wand.
Harry barely had time to wonder about the calm in Cedric’s face when Victor Krum emerged only a few feet away, mistrust burned into his eyes. He and Harry drew their wands simultaneously. Cedric, however, was faster than either of them, spinning around and shooting a curse directly into Krum’s chest without hesitation. While Harry gaped, Krum fell to the earth, hard.
“Come with me.”
It was the only logical thing, not that logic mattered. Cedric had taken care of Harry’s competition. Now he would take him to the cup. He didn’t understand the confusion and alarm in Harry’s expression, but didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he grabbed Harry’s elbow and dragged him down the path he had come from.
Leave him.
Cedric slowed his pace, confused.
Leave him; don’t show him where the cup is.
But that didn’t make sense. He wanted Harry to have the cup. Why shouldn’t he bring him to it? The voice in his head sounded agitated.
Don’t let him know you’re helping!
Cedric suddenly stopped, and dropped Harry’s elbow. Of course. He couldn’t let Harry know he was helping. “Right,” he said, “You try that way and I’ll try this way.” With that, he turned and walked briskly in the opposite direction, thinking happily of Harry’s impending victory.
Harry hesitated only a moment. “Cedric!”
Something was definitely, emphatically wrong. The boy Harry had grown to trust over the course of the year had just cursed another student without blinking, and the odd behavior that had followed did nothing to alleviate Harry’s fear. Although his bones ached to scramble toward the cup and put an end to it all, intuition held him firmly in place. First, he needed answers, and Diggory was going to give them. But as Cedric turned to face him, Harry felt sick with dawning comprehension.
Cedric’s handsome features were slack and thoughtless. The gray eyes that usually sparkled with warmth or concern now appeared glossed over. His many bleeding cuts and bruises went unnoticed. Harry had spent enough time glaring at him during the Yule Ball to know this wasn’t Cedric, and enough time in Defense Against the Dark Arts to know what it was. He took a cautious step closer, wand outstretched.
“Harry, I… have to find the cup,” Cedric said lamely without moving.
“Why do you want me to win this tournament?” Harry asked, voice trembling but arm steady. Professor Moody, for all of his illegal demonstrations, had never taught them how to release another wizard from an imperius curse. Harry simply had to stall until he found a way, if there was a way.
Cedric blinked. “I want to win this tournament,” he intoned. Don’t let Harry know you’re helping.
“Then take the cup, it’s right over there!” Harry jerked his head over his shoulder, and sure enough, Cedric could just make out the glint of a handle in the distance. What was Harry waiting for? He glanced at the cup, then at Harry whose wide green eyes were drawing nearer, then back to the cup again. He waited.
“Why do you want me to win this tournament?” Harry repeated. But Cedric didn’t know why. It was simply because he did. Because that was his only purpose. Because he liked Harry Potter. Cedric shook his head, trying to clear these unnecessary thoughts, when a new one angrily intruded.
Force him to take the cup!
Cedric quickly disarmed the unsuspecting boy and magically bound his feet, knocking him to the ground.
“Cedric, no!”
He paused, then picked Harry’s wand off the ground before levitating him into the air. Harry would take the cup. Harry would win. He wouldn’t let anyone get in the way, not even Harry himself.
Harry thrashed uselessly as he floated the last several yards toward eternal glory. Blind panic was setting in, and he found himself pleading with his captor in vain.
“Cedric, don’t do this! I know this isn’t you! I know you don’t want to hurt me! What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?”
A foot away from the eerily glowing cup, Harry dropped to the ground with a thud. He quickly scrambled to his bound feet, but he was still utterly defenseless. Thinking wildly that he would have to wrestle his own wand away by force, he nearly missed what was happening in Cedric’s face. A cloud of conflict had passed over his glassy eyes, as though they were trying desperately to see again. With a great amount of effort, Cedric moved his lips and practically breathed the words, “Because I like you.” Cedric shuddered deeply, and his face reverted to a blank slate.
But Harry’s mind was racing. Was that Cedric? Was he trying to tell him something? As Harry digested the strange confession, he thought back to their brief interactions in the past. The attempted forfeit of a Quidditch match. The anger directed at petty badges. The offer of the prefect’s bathroom. All of the small things Cedric had done for him over the past year came sharply into focus. And then there were the looks, the glances in the corridors, the small tortured smile at the Yule Ball, the look of concern mere hours ago before they had entered the maze and everything had changed. What if Harry had been wrong about Cedric all along?
The boy in question now raised his wand menacingly and spoke in a cold voice: “Put your hands on the cup, Harry.”
And what if Harry was wrong now? Could he be misinterpreting all those fleeting moments out of desperation? In any other circumstances, the suggestion that Cedric Diggory might fancy him would make him laugh. But now was not the time to question. Now was the time to act with what little hope he had left.
“Now!” Cedric screamed.
Harry lunged forward and planted his mouth on Cedric’s soft lips, and in a moment of insanity, thought of how good they tasted.
Make him take the cup! Make him take the cup!
But there was a new voice now, a small frightened one that simply stated the obvious: Harry Potter is kissing me.
Force him to the cup!
The other voice grew bolder. No. Harry Potter is kissing me.
Cedric hovered. Harry had to take the cup, but maybe it could wait. There was something significant about what was happening, if only he could remember…
Force him to the cup NOW!
NO! Harry Potter, the boy I like, is kissing me!
With this sudden revelation, Cedric deepened the fiery kiss, while the warmth was ripped from his body leaving him aching and searing from his many injuries.
“Oh god,” Cedric gasped, breaking the kiss and pulling Harry tight against his body. He winced slightly as Harry wrapped his arms around his bruised waist, but he wouldn’t let him go no matter what. “Harry, do NOT touch that cup!”
Part II
Part III
Rating: PG
Pairing: Cedric/Harry
Warnings: slash, danger
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and friends did not come from my head.
Summary: Mad-Eye Moody makes a mistake in the maze.
Author's Note: Well, I'm back with another offering. This is a lot more suspense, a lot less romance. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not, but I'll let you decide! Again, feedback and criticism is always appreciated, and thanks to those who commented last time!
Force of Will
Part I
Cedric’s dread of the hedge maze lasted only a moment.
He had merely walked a few steps and turned left when all of the anxiety, self doubt, and single-minded desire of the past few months suddenly lifted from his shoulders in a moment of fuzzy clarity. Warmth spread through his limbs, and he allowed all those painful, cumbersome thoughts to escape through his lips in an audible sigh, as his vision slid out of focus. He felt happier than he could ever remember feeling, and he didn’t care why, nor did he know why. And he didn’t know where he was, and he couldn’t recall what he was doing, but he wasn’t concerned. There was a tiny voice in the back of his head to remind him:
Make sure Harry takes the cup.
Right. That was his reason for being in the maze. He would see to it that Harry not only emerge safely from the final task, but emerge with the eternal glory he deserved. Cedric wouldn’t let anyone get in the way of that. He set off into the maze with renewed confidence and purpose.
Harry tried his hardest to steady his breathing. So far, things were going all right. He wasn’t sure how, but he had managed to plunge himself far into the labyrinth, and had been just barely capable of handling what few obstacles had so far crossed his path. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He assumed it was another aspect of the enchanted maze, to block out hope the way it blocked out sound and light. He didn’t like imagining his surroundings with the properties of a dementor, however, and pushed away the thought. Instead, he wondered about the progress of the other Champions, particularly Cedric Diggory who had looked so uncharacteristically concerned moments before entering. Harry of course couldn’t blame him. He reminded himself that this would all be over soon, and he could go back to the common room with Ron and Hermione and laugh as though none of this stupid tournament had ever happened.
A shrill scream interrupted his thoughts.
Cedric did not glance back at Fleur’s limp body as he set off once again. There had been a brief moment after stunning the girl in the back when something seemed wrong. The beginnings of a doubt. But his happily buzzing brain swept it aside, and he remembered what the problem was: there was still another Champion. Somewhere in this maze, Krum was getting closer to stealing the cup from Harry.
Cedric wove through the leafy corridors with ease, stopping on occasion to blast away a skrewt. There was no fear, only resolve. Help Harry. Stop Krum. When a thorn cut through his robes and opened his arm, he did not notice. When the Triwizard Cup emerged in the distance, he imagined Harry lifting it triumphantly before retracing his steps. He imagined Krum unconscious at his feet.
At this point, Harry knew something was wrong. It wasn’t the maze that frightened him anymore, although the lack of obstacles concerned him. No, there was definitely something else. He sensed it in the air, in the prickling of his nerves, and in the stunned face of Fleur Delacour. He stepped slowly and silently through the foliage with his wand gripped tightly in front of him, praying that he’d make it to the end intact. Once again, his thoughts strayed to the mysterious circumstances that had landed him here in the first place. His muscles tensed. His breathing was fast and heavy.
When he rounded the next corner and found himself standing in the wandlight of Cedric Diggory, he jumped a foot and summoned all of his willpower not to curse him on sight. Cedric on the other hand merely smiled vaguely and lowered his wand.
Harry barely had time to wonder about the calm in Cedric’s face when Victor Krum emerged only a few feet away, mistrust burned into his eyes. He and Harry drew their wands simultaneously. Cedric, however, was faster than either of them, spinning around and shooting a curse directly into Krum’s chest without hesitation. While Harry gaped, Krum fell to the earth, hard.
“Come with me.”
It was the only logical thing, not that logic mattered. Cedric had taken care of Harry’s competition. Now he would take him to the cup. He didn’t understand the confusion and alarm in Harry’s expression, but didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he grabbed Harry’s elbow and dragged him down the path he had come from.
Leave him.
Cedric slowed his pace, confused.
Leave him; don’t show him where the cup is.
But that didn’t make sense. He wanted Harry to have the cup. Why shouldn’t he bring him to it? The voice in his head sounded agitated.
Don’t let him know you’re helping!
Cedric suddenly stopped, and dropped Harry’s elbow. Of course. He couldn’t let Harry know he was helping. “Right,” he said, “You try that way and I’ll try this way.” With that, he turned and walked briskly in the opposite direction, thinking happily of Harry’s impending victory.
Harry hesitated only a moment. “Cedric!”
Something was definitely, emphatically wrong. The boy Harry had grown to trust over the course of the year had just cursed another student without blinking, and the odd behavior that had followed did nothing to alleviate Harry’s fear. Although his bones ached to scramble toward the cup and put an end to it all, intuition held him firmly in place. First, he needed answers, and Diggory was going to give them. But as Cedric turned to face him, Harry felt sick with dawning comprehension.
Cedric’s handsome features were slack and thoughtless. The gray eyes that usually sparkled with warmth or concern now appeared glossed over. His many bleeding cuts and bruises went unnoticed. Harry had spent enough time glaring at him during the Yule Ball to know this wasn’t Cedric, and enough time in Defense Against the Dark Arts to know what it was. He took a cautious step closer, wand outstretched.
“Harry, I… have to find the cup,” Cedric said lamely without moving.
“Why do you want me to win this tournament?” Harry asked, voice trembling but arm steady. Professor Moody, for all of his illegal demonstrations, had never taught them how to release another wizard from an imperius curse. Harry simply had to stall until he found a way, if there was a way.
Cedric blinked. “I want to win this tournament,” he intoned. Don’t let Harry know you’re helping.
“Then take the cup, it’s right over there!” Harry jerked his head over his shoulder, and sure enough, Cedric could just make out the glint of a handle in the distance. What was Harry waiting for? He glanced at the cup, then at Harry whose wide green eyes were drawing nearer, then back to the cup again. He waited.
“Why do you want me to win this tournament?” Harry repeated. But Cedric didn’t know why. It was simply because he did. Because that was his only purpose. Because he liked Harry Potter. Cedric shook his head, trying to clear these unnecessary thoughts, when a new one angrily intruded.
Force him to take the cup!
Cedric quickly disarmed the unsuspecting boy and magically bound his feet, knocking him to the ground.
“Cedric, no!”
He paused, then picked Harry’s wand off the ground before levitating him into the air. Harry would take the cup. Harry would win. He wouldn’t let anyone get in the way, not even Harry himself.
Harry thrashed uselessly as he floated the last several yards toward eternal glory. Blind panic was setting in, and he found himself pleading with his captor in vain.
“Cedric, don’t do this! I know this isn’t you! I know you don’t want to hurt me! What do you want from me? Why are you doing this?”
A foot away from the eerily glowing cup, Harry dropped to the ground with a thud. He quickly scrambled to his bound feet, but he was still utterly defenseless. Thinking wildly that he would have to wrestle his own wand away by force, he nearly missed what was happening in Cedric’s face. A cloud of conflict had passed over his glassy eyes, as though they were trying desperately to see again. With a great amount of effort, Cedric moved his lips and practically breathed the words, “Because I like you.” Cedric shuddered deeply, and his face reverted to a blank slate.
But Harry’s mind was racing. Was that Cedric? Was he trying to tell him something? As Harry digested the strange confession, he thought back to their brief interactions in the past. The attempted forfeit of a Quidditch match. The anger directed at petty badges. The offer of the prefect’s bathroom. All of the small things Cedric had done for him over the past year came sharply into focus. And then there were the looks, the glances in the corridors, the small tortured smile at the Yule Ball, the look of concern mere hours ago before they had entered the maze and everything had changed. What if Harry had been wrong about Cedric all along?
The boy in question now raised his wand menacingly and spoke in a cold voice: “Put your hands on the cup, Harry.”
And what if Harry was wrong now? Could he be misinterpreting all those fleeting moments out of desperation? In any other circumstances, the suggestion that Cedric Diggory might fancy him would make him laugh. But now was not the time to question. Now was the time to act with what little hope he had left.
“Now!” Cedric screamed.
Harry lunged forward and planted his mouth on Cedric’s soft lips, and in a moment of insanity, thought of how good they tasted.
Make him take the cup! Make him take the cup!
But there was a new voice now, a small frightened one that simply stated the obvious: Harry Potter is kissing me.
Force him to the cup!
The other voice grew bolder. No. Harry Potter is kissing me.
Cedric hovered. Harry had to take the cup, but maybe it could wait. There was something significant about what was happening, if only he could remember…
Force him to the cup NOW!
NO! Harry Potter, the boy I like, is kissing me!
With this sudden revelation, Cedric deepened the fiery kiss, while the warmth was ripped from his body leaving him aching and searing from his many injuries.
“Oh god,” Cedric gasped, breaking the kiss and pulling Harry tight against his body. He winced slightly as Harry wrapped his arms around his bruised waist, but he wouldn’t let him go no matter what. “Harry, do NOT touch that cup!”
Part II
Part III