Fic: Part Twelve (Of Pretty Faces and Pillocks)
Title: Of Pretty Faces and Pillocks
Rating: PG-13 (talk of boy-love may scare the kiddies)
Pairings: Harry/Cedric; implied Hermione/Viktor (no het was produced in the writing of this chapter)
Warnings: AU from GoF onward; OCs galore,
Summary: Hermione thinks Harry fancies someone new. Harry sets her straight. As it were.
Thanks to my beta, rotaryphones, who finally got her internet back
Links to previous parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven
"Are you in love with Malfoy?"
Harry choked on his pumpkin juice and almost dropped his flask.
Hermione reached out and clapped him on the back while he coughed and spluttered, staring at her with wide eyes all the while. Once he could breathe again, he straightened up.
"What the bloody hell are you on?" he hissed. Then he grabbed her arm and dragged her into an empty classroom. "How could you ask that? Just because I happen to - to fancy boys occasionally doesn't mean I get hot over every pretty face to grace the corridors of Hogwarts."
Hermione tugged herself free. "Well," she began, and lifted her chin defiantly, "you just admitted you think Malfoy has a pretty face."
Harry buried his face in his hands and made a sound like a muffled scream of frustration. Trust her to pick up on the least important bit. "I'm not stupid, Hermione. He might have a pretty face, but his dad tried to kill Ginny, tried to kill me twice, and he broke my nose on the train. If I wanted a boyfriend I'd go for someone nice, like --"
"Like Cedric."
Even now, the name made his heart miss a beat. He could feel Hermione staring at him with the concerned, hopeful look she wore whenever Ron wasn't looking, the look that went with her lecture on the Hogwarts Express at the end of Fifth Year. She hadn't mentioned his name since then.
"I was going to say, 'like whoever has been writing me those letters,' but yeah, like Cedric." Harry laughed softly. "Honestly, did you think after I dated a guy like Cedric that I'd do a nut and then go after some pillock like Malfoy?"
Hermione floundered a bit. "They do say opposites attract," she said.
Harry shrugged and leaned back against one of the desks. He gazed out the dusty windowpanes on the far side of the room, and Hermione faded into the background as he lost himself in memory.
Images, moments, words. They flooded his mind and struggled for dominance as his heart reminded him why he loved the boy he'd loved.
"Cedric and Iwere opposites. He was handsome. I'm bloody scruffy." He reached up and ruffled his already-messy hair to emphasize his point. "He was intelligent and thoughtful, and I - I go gallivanting into the Department of Mysteries without stopping to see if there's a trap."
His voice caught slightly at that, and Hermione reached out, tentatively placed her hand over his.
He smiled faintly.
"Cedric was popular, and I - I was the Heir of Slytherin, the unwanted Champion. He was my opposite in pretty much every way that mattered to anyone else."
Harry watched a thousand emotions play across Hermione's face as she struggled to form a response. He could only imagine what was going through her head - equal parts encouraging and embarrassing, no doubt. Good on you, Harry, you've accepted your boyfriend's dead and gone? Cheers to closure, now go out and shag someone new?
"You have too much going on in that bright brain of yours sometimes," he said. "But, to answer your initial question directly, no, I am not in love with Malfoy."
"You seem a bit - obsessed with him," Hermione said, rallying her defense half-heartedly. "You talk about him all the time, and you follow him, and --"
"And I think he's up to something," Harry said. "If I were secretly dating him, I'd never talk about him, never talk to him, and you would never know a thing."
At that, Hermione recoiled slightly.
Harry sensed the wound he'd inadvertently given. "Hermione, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It's just - how would I have explained?"
"I don't know. Sat me down and said, 'Hey Hermione, I have a boyfriend just like yours - he's a Triwizard Champion and a seeker.'" She met his gaze frankly. "Doesn't sound so hard, does it?"
"You know it wasn't nearly that simple," Harry said.
"I know. It's just - we're best friends. You could have told us."
"Told Ron, who was furious and thought I was a glory-seeking, stuck-up prig? He hated Cedric as it was." Harry smiled. "It was good, though, being with Cedric." Then he laughed. "Who do you think Ron would have been angrier about - you and Viktor or me and Cedric?"
Hermione paused. "Well...you and Cedric, I think."
Harry stared at her a moment, surprise and skepticism warring for dominance in his mind, then shrugged. "If you say so." He turned back to gaze out the window.
Hermione was silent for another long stretch, probably puzzling over the right thing to say. "Harry...are you...doing all right this year?"
Harry felt a sly smile curve his lips. "I think am. Doing a sight better than you at potions, at any rate."
Anger sparked in the air, radiating outward from Hermione with a thrum almost as tangible as magic, and Harry looked away, waiting for her to rein herself in. She had her reservations about the Half-Blood Prince, and Harry had his faith. She couldn’t change what he felt any more than he could change what she felt. After the stunt with the Felix Felicis, Harry thought she ought to be a bit more trusting, but she was Hermione, and if she didn't know the answer backwards and forwards and in her sleep, she didn't trust it.
"Harry --" she began.
Harry beat her to it. "I know what you're really asking."
Hermione blinked. "Oh?"
Harry continued gazing out the window. "I've accepted that Cedric's dead. I know that someone out there knew how he wrote, knew what he would write, and whoever that stranger is, man or woman, they care about me. I suppose, if I ever meet them, I should thank them." Then he closed his eyes and tilted his head back with a sigh.
Hermione, alarmed at the sound, started forward. "Are you all right?"
"I just miss him sometimes, is all." Harry sighed again and raked a hand through his hair. "I miss - holding him. Kissing him. Talking to him. I miss the nights when we'd huddle together in an empty classroom and watch the stars. Do you miss Viktor?"
"It - it wasn't like that with him." Hermione reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry. I can't begin to understand what you went through, what you're still going through."
He shrugged, still not looking at her. "'S all right. We have other things to worry about, don't we? Like what Malfoy's up to."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Right. Say..." She hopped up onto the desk beside him. "What would you do if you met the person who was sending you those letters?"
He paused. Anger and betrayal were his initial reactions, but he had come to learn from Cedric that what he felt in a single instant didn't necessarily reflect how he really felt about things. He'd felt, for a single instant, utter hatred for the boy who had claimed to be his friend and then got on his back after the Second Task. But underneath it all, he’d just felt hurt that the boy he cared about didn't care about him. Now that he could understand his own reactions and emotions better, he could give her a better answer.
After all her concern, she deserved one.
"I think..." Harry turned and met her gaze. He was beyond betrayal at this point. Whatever that stranger had gone through to get him those letters, every word had been filled with genuine emotion. "I think I'd thank him." He was quite sure it was a him, no matter who Hermione thought it might be. Sometimes, when Harry re-read the letter, hidden behind the drapes of his bed, he wondered if this strange amanuensis loved him as Cedric had.
"That's good." Hermione grinned at him. Then she tugged on the sleeve of his robe. "Come on. Let's go get food."
"Be careful - you'll sound like Ron," Harry said.
Hermione pushed open the door and headed into the corridor. "Would that I could get as tall as him for eating what he does."
Harry smiled down at her and was surprised to properly notice, for the first time, that he had to smile down at her rather than right at her, chin up to meet her gaze. "Come on. Maybe if you're nice I'll tell you all about how much I fancy Malfoy later."
Hermione slapped his arm. "Come off it! That's an awful thing to say."
Harry laughed. "I know. I couldn't resist."
Together they headed for the Great Hall. Harry would have to ask Dobby to refill his flask for tonight if he was going to attempt to keep watch on Malfoy. Hermione's laughter drew him out of his plotting, and he smiled again. She wasn't so worried about him anymore, it would seem. He would always love Cedric, always miss Cedric, and perhaps, somewhere in the deepest of his desires, imagine that Cedric was still alive but unable to see him due to unspeakably complicated circumstances. Harry had faced, however, the fact that Cedric was dead. Now all he could do was hold onto his letters and learn how to win this war.
Thirteen
Rating: PG-13 (talk of boy-love may scare the kiddies)
Pairings: Harry/Cedric; implied Hermione/Viktor (no het was produced in the writing of this chapter)
Warnings: AU from GoF onward; OCs galore,
Summary: Hermione thinks Harry fancies someone new. Harry sets her straight. As it were.
Thanks to my beta, rotaryphones, who finally got her internet back
Links to previous parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven
"Are you in love with Malfoy?"
Harry choked on his pumpkin juice and almost dropped his flask.
Hermione reached out and clapped him on the back while he coughed and spluttered, staring at her with wide eyes all the while. Once he could breathe again, he straightened up.
"What the bloody hell are you on?" he hissed. Then he grabbed her arm and dragged her into an empty classroom. "How could you ask that? Just because I happen to - to fancy boys occasionally doesn't mean I get hot over every pretty face to grace the corridors of Hogwarts."
Hermione tugged herself free. "Well," she began, and lifted her chin defiantly, "you just admitted you think Malfoy has a pretty face."
Harry buried his face in his hands and made a sound like a muffled scream of frustration. Trust her to pick up on the least important bit. "I'm not stupid, Hermione. He might have a pretty face, but his dad tried to kill Ginny, tried to kill me twice, and he broke my nose on the train. If I wanted a boyfriend I'd go for someone nice, like --"
"Like Cedric."
Even now, the name made his heart miss a beat. He could feel Hermione staring at him with the concerned, hopeful look she wore whenever Ron wasn't looking, the look that went with her lecture on the Hogwarts Express at the end of Fifth Year. She hadn't mentioned his name since then.
"I was going to say, 'like whoever has been writing me those letters,' but yeah, like Cedric." Harry laughed softly. "Honestly, did you think after I dated a guy like Cedric that I'd do a nut and then go after some pillock like Malfoy?"
Hermione floundered a bit. "They do say opposites attract," she said.
Harry shrugged and leaned back against one of the desks. He gazed out the dusty windowpanes on the far side of the room, and Hermione faded into the background as he lost himself in memory.
Images, moments, words. They flooded his mind and struggled for dominance as his heart reminded him why he loved the boy he'd loved.
"Cedric and Iwere opposites. He was handsome. I'm bloody scruffy." He reached up and ruffled his already-messy hair to emphasize his point. "He was intelligent and thoughtful, and I - I go gallivanting into the Department of Mysteries without stopping to see if there's a trap."
His voice caught slightly at that, and Hermione reached out, tentatively placed her hand over his.
He smiled faintly.
"Cedric was popular, and I - I was the Heir of Slytherin, the unwanted Champion. He was my opposite in pretty much every way that mattered to anyone else."
Harry watched a thousand emotions play across Hermione's face as she struggled to form a response. He could only imagine what was going through her head - equal parts encouraging and embarrassing, no doubt. Good on you, Harry, you've accepted your boyfriend's dead and gone? Cheers to closure, now go out and shag someone new?
"You have too much going on in that bright brain of yours sometimes," he said. "But, to answer your initial question directly, no, I am not in love with Malfoy."
"You seem a bit - obsessed with him," Hermione said, rallying her defense half-heartedly. "You talk about him all the time, and you follow him, and --"
"And I think he's up to something," Harry said. "If I were secretly dating him, I'd never talk about him, never talk to him, and you would never know a thing."
At that, Hermione recoiled slightly.
Harry sensed the wound he'd inadvertently given. "Hermione, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It's just - how would I have explained?"
"I don't know. Sat me down and said, 'Hey Hermione, I have a boyfriend just like yours - he's a Triwizard Champion and a seeker.'" She met his gaze frankly. "Doesn't sound so hard, does it?"
"You know it wasn't nearly that simple," Harry said.
"I know. It's just - we're best friends. You could have told us."
"Told Ron, who was furious and thought I was a glory-seeking, stuck-up prig? He hated Cedric as it was." Harry smiled. "It was good, though, being with Cedric." Then he laughed. "Who do you think Ron would have been angrier about - you and Viktor or me and Cedric?"
Hermione paused. "Well...you and Cedric, I think."
Harry stared at her a moment, surprise and skepticism warring for dominance in his mind, then shrugged. "If you say so." He turned back to gaze out the window.
Hermione was silent for another long stretch, probably puzzling over the right thing to say. "Harry...are you...doing all right this year?"
Harry felt a sly smile curve his lips. "I think am. Doing a sight better than you at potions, at any rate."
Anger sparked in the air, radiating outward from Hermione with a thrum almost as tangible as magic, and Harry looked away, waiting for her to rein herself in. She had her reservations about the Half-Blood Prince, and Harry had his faith. She couldn’t change what he felt any more than he could change what she felt. After the stunt with the Felix Felicis, Harry thought she ought to be a bit more trusting, but she was Hermione, and if she didn't know the answer backwards and forwards and in her sleep, she didn't trust it.
"Harry --" she began.
Harry beat her to it. "I know what you're really asking."
Hermione blinked. "Oh?"
Harry continued gazing out the window. "I've accepted that Cedric's dead. I know that someone out there knew how he wrote, knew what he would write, and whoever that stranger is, man or woman, they care about me. I suppose, if I ever meet them, I should thank them." Then he closed his eyes and tilted his head back with a sigh.
Hermione, alarmed at the sound, started forward. "Are you all right?"
"I just miss him sometimes, is all." Harry sighed again and raked a hand through his hair. "I miss - holding him. Kissing him. Talking to him. I miss the nights when we'd huddle together in an empty classroom and watch the stars. Do you miss Viktor?"
"It - it wasn't like that with him." Hermione reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry. I can't begin to understand what you went through, what you're still going through."
He shrugged, still not looking at her. "'S all right. We have other things to worry about, don't we? Like what Malfoy's up to."
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Right. Say..." She hopped up onto the desk beside him. "What would you do if you met the person who was sending you those letters?"
He paused. Anger and betrayal were his initial reactions, but he had come to learn from Cedric that what he felt in a single instant didn't necessarily reflect how he really felt about things. He'd felt, for a single instant, utter hatred for the boy who had claimed to be his friend and then got on his back after the Second Task. But underneath it all, he’d just felt hurt that the boy he cared about didn't care about him. Now that he could understand his own reactions and emotions better, he could give her a better answer.
After all her concern, she deserved one.
"I think..." Harry turned and met her gaze. He was beyond betrayal at this point. Whatever that stranger had gone through to get him those letters, every word had been filled with genuine emotion. "I think I'd thank him." He was quite sure it was a him, no matter who Hermione thought it might be. Sometimes, when Harry re-read the letter, hidden behind the drapes of his bed, he wondered if this strange amanuensis loved him as Cedric had.
"That's good." Hermione grinned at him. Then she tugged on the sleeve of his robe. "Come on. Let's go get food."
"Be careful - you'll sound like Ron," Harry said.
Hermione pushed open the door and headed into the corridor. "Would that I could get as tall as him for eating what he does."
Harry smiled down at her and was surprised to properly notice, for the first time, that he had to smile down at her rather than right at her, chin up to meet her gaze. "Come on. Maybe if you're nice I'll tell you all about how much I fancy Malfoy later."
Hermione slapped his arm. "Come off it! That's an awful thing to say."
Harry laughed. "I know. I couldn't resist."
Together they headed for the Great Hall. Harry would have to ask Dobby to refill his flask for tonight if he was going to attempt to keep watch on Malfoy. Hermione's laughter drew him out of his plotting, and he smiled again. She wasn't so worried about him anymore, it would seem. He would always love Cedric, always miss Cedric, and perhaps, somewhere in the deepest of his desires, imagine that Cedric was still alive but unable to see him due to unspeakably complicated circumstances. Harry had faced, however, the fact that Cedric was dead. Now all he could do was hold onto his letters and learn how to win this war.
Thirteen