FIC: Terra Firma (1/5)
Happy holidays, everyone who's celebrating!
Title: Terra Firma, Chapter 1
Recipient:rosenskimmer
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Cedric, OFC
Rating: PG this part, maybe R altogether
Warning: My new favorite type of AU, in which Cedric replaces the epilogue.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter & friends belong to JKR.
Prompt: More muggle world interaction, like a trip into London or something. Can wizards really live their whole lives without any sort of knowledge of the outside world?
Summary: Years after the war, the last place Harry expected to see Cedric was on a plane headed to Florence.
A/N: I don't know what I was thinking when I started this; I somehow had the delusion that I could write it as a one-shot. :) Instead, the story will be a five part novella, with part two nearly completed. I hope you like it, rosenskimmer!
Thank you to the most excellent nagi_schwarz for the beta and the cursory britpick. I'm still on the lookout for an expert britpicker (I'm dealing with a lot of cultural stuff, not just grammar), so if anyone would like to volunteer, let me know.
Oh yeah - breaking out a new icon, too. ;)
Terra Firma
Chapter 1
It was nothing like real flying. Flying was supposed to be liberating, weightless, with the wind stinging his face and the ground dropping off beneath him. Flying was exhilarating.
This, however, was just work.
Not that being in a plane didn’t have its charm. The first time Harry had flown the muggle way he did find something exciting about the rumble of the huge engines and the disorienting sensation of leaving the ground. His first muggle flight had been shortly after the war as a favor to Mr. Weasley, who had spent the entire time badgering him with questions he couldn’t answer.
In fact, Harry still couldn’t answer them, even though those questions were now a part of his job. He had no clue how the angle of a wing could lift limitless mass into the air. All he had to know as a flight attendant were the emergency procedures and how to deal with drunk, belligerent passengers.
He stood at the back of the cabin, overseeing the scramble for overhead space. It was late January, and the abundance of overcoats meant less room for luggage. He had to intervene several times, convincing one woman that her coat would not get ruined under the seat in front of her.
Admittedly, “flight attendant” had not been Harry’s first choice of career, but the job had seemed apt at the time. Harry had wanted to get away from the wizarding world for a while, though he had no special fondness for the muggle one, and he thought it would be nice to travel the world he’d saved but never seen. Besides, there weren’t many muggle jobs he could land with nothing more than a secondary school equivalent diploma and a few years at a joke shop. The latter he managed to pass off as “customer service.” George, as a huge favor, had carried around a mobile for weeks just so Harry could use him as a reference.
And now here he was, seven years after the war, demonstrating to muggles the proper method of fastening their seatbelts.
When Harry initially had the idea to apply for the job, Hermione didn’t think he could pull off the calm cheerfulness that was required. She was certain he would snap at the first passenger who gave him lip. But with everything Harry had been through, a little rudeness just rolled off his back; it wasn't as though the insults were ever personal. He wasn’t much known for being a conflict mediator, but he did have a reputation for keeping a cool head in an emergency.
Once the passengers were seated and the aisles checked, Harry found his own seat and strapped himself in for takeoff. He opened his copy of Catcher in the Rye, a book he probably would have read years ago had he attended a non-magical school. He was enjoying it so far; Holden was a snarky bastard, and Harry felt a bit of kinship despite the difference in place and time. It seemed strange that a book like this would actually be required reading in a class, and he was reminded once again how out of touch with the muggle world he’d become.
His opportunity for reading didn’t last long. Shortly after takeoff, Melissa hurried up to him down the aisle and said, “We have a first-timer in 7C. Can you take care of him? I have to ready the drink cart.”
“Sure thing,” Harry replied and stored the book for later.
As he approached from behind, Harry could see that the passenger in 7C was a tall male, tightly gripping the armrest that faced the aisle. Even if Melissa hadn’t told him the seat number, he would have figured it out. The man was identifiable by the whites of his knuckles alone, and the fact that everyone in the area was casting him sidelong glances. Harry came around the side of his seat and knelt down, putting on his best look of concern.
“How are we doing, sir? Is there anything -“
Surprise stole the end of his sentence.
“Diggory?”
He found it impossible to believe, but there was no mistaking those unnatural good looks. Cedric Diggory, his former schoolmate and fellow Champion, was sitting in seat 7C, on an aeroplane, looking utterly terrified.
Harry wasn’t sure what to say. They hadn’t spoken since the tournament, after Cedric had changed his mind at the last moment and tricked Harry into taking the cup alone. After he had returned from the graveyard, Harry had had no patience for Cedric’s continued apologies. What could have become a friendship had fallen by the wayside.
But now, all polite awkwardness was sidestepped when Cedric grabbed Harry’s arm in place of the armrest and hissed, “Harry, this is nothing like flying!”
Harry couldn’t help grinning just a bit, even though they were now getting some very strange looks. “No kidding. You can relax - it’s all perfectly safe. I’ve been on one of these things almost every day for the past year and a half, so you can trust me on that.”
Cedric took a deep breath and, realizing he still had a hold on Harry’s arm, released it. “You know, I’ve faced a dragon and a war, and this is possibly the most frightening thing I’ve ever done.” He chuckled nervously while Harry glanced around, hoping the muggles took that as a figure of speech. “How do they do it, anyway? How the hell does it stay up?”
Harry gave his usual response. “I could explain it, but that doesn’t mean either of us would understand it. All I can say is that they know what they’re doing.”
Cedric seemed mostly pacified by Harry’s assurance, although he still looked skeptical. “So all that shaking was normal?”
“Perfectly normal.”
“And the noises?”
“All standard noises.”
“What about all that stuff in the beginning about ‘emergency landings’ and ‘oxygen masks?’”
“Just cautionary protocol. You know, just in case. But you really don’t have to know that stuff unless something unexpected happens, and it won’t.”
Cedric gave a half smile. “I suppose I didn’t need to memorize that card in the seat pocket, then?”
Harry let out a laugh. “No. Probably not.” He rose from his crouching position and glanced around at the nosy parkers who were now openly staring.
Cedric, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, looking a bit more at ease. “They really know how to scare a bloke, then. I never imagined that flying in an aeroplane could be such an ordeal.”
“Well I never imagined I’d see a -“ Harry barely managed to censor himself “- a bloke like yourself on one of my planes. Listen, I have to go help with the drink cart, but I’ll come back and check on you, all right?”
“Thanks, Harry.” Cedric laughed again. “Merlin, I feel like a little kid or something.”
Harry winced at the wizarding-specific oath, but Cedric didn’t seem to know any better. Hopefully he’d come off as eccentric and nothing more. It was amusing to think of Cedric Diggory, Mr. Perfect, as being eccentric, but then again he was way out of his element here. Harry was dying to know why Cedric was on a plane in the first place, but he really did have work to do, and he curbed his curiosity for the time being.
The plane hit some mild turbulence about halfway through the trip, and the crew walked around urging people back to their seats. Harry made sure to stop by Cedric’s seat to convince him it wasn’t the end of the world - not an easy task. Although Cedric was extremely brave for a Hufflepuff, even at seventeen, bravery had little to do with trust. Purebloods rarely trusted muggle ingenuity even if they had no problem with muggles themselves. Arthur Weasley was an exception to that, but even he had been nervous throughout his flight.
Unfortunately, what with the turbulence and other minor emergencies, Harry didn’t get the chance to talk with Cedric until the plane was descending. He stopped by row seven one last time to tell Cedric what to expect, then returned to his own seat in the back. It was a smooth landing, and everyone applauded. Harry hated it when everyone applauded. There was no reason for anyone but Cedric to act impressed that the plane had arrived in one piece.
Melissa reached over to pick up the microphone. “On behalf of our airline, we would like to say welcome and benvenuto to Florence. The local time is 5:28 PM, and the temperature is seven degrees. Please remain seated until the pilot has turned off the 'fasten your seatbelt' sign, and make sure you’ve left nothing behind when you leave the plane. Enjoy your stay, and we hope you’ll fly with us again.”
She and Harry moved to the entrance of the plane to bid the passengers farewell as they left, wearing the smiles that were part of their uniform.
When Cedric made his way to the front, Harry pulled him out of line so he could give a proper farewell. To his surprise, Cedric looked just as terrified as he had at the start of the flight.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, fine,” said Cedric unconvincingly. “Do you - are you still working? Or are you heading back to England right away?”
“Actually, I’m free to go as soon as everyone leaves and I’m out of uniform. We have a 36-hour layover in Florence, which is longer than usual. I think we’re staying at a hotel by the airport. Why? Did you want to get drinks or something?”
“Er, no. I mean, yeah that sounds great, just…” Cedric ran a nervous hand through his hair. There were a lot of people pushing past to exit the plane, and Cedric suddenly seemed to notice he was in the way. He was certainly distracted about something. “Will you be off work soon? Could I talk to you where there aren’t so many people?”
“Er, sure. I only get paid while the plane’s in the air, so I’ll be out of here in no time. Do you want to wait for me by the baggage claim?”
“Baggage claim?”
“Oh, it’s where you pick up the luggage you checked,” Harry explained.
Cedric just gave him a quizzical look and patted his pocket. “Everything I need’s right here.”
Right. Wizard. And everything was so shrunken, there probably wasn’t even enough metal to set off the detectors. Harry would have to remember that trick. “Well, just follow everyone else. You’ll show your passport to customs, then there’ll be a station where people are picking up their suitcases; you can wait for me there.”
“Thanks Harry,” Cedric said, relieved, as though Harry had already done him a huge favor. As Cedric followed the other passengers into the terminal, Harry wondered if he even had a passport.
Harry finished his shift as quickly as possible and excused himself from his coworkers to go and find Cedric. He was waiting by the luggage carousel as instructed, at a distance from everyone else, his own luggage already expanded. He stared at the conveyer belt but his mind was clearly elsewhere.
“So, tell me,” Harry said as he approached, “you do have a passport, yeah?”
Cedric startled, then fished around in his pocket. “Do you want to see it? It’s the first muggle picture I’ve ever had taken of me, only it’s bloody awful. I don’t think faces are meant to be still.” He handed to Harry a perfectly legitimate passport, much to Harry’s surprise. The photo was rather unflattering, but it had more to do with the head-on flash than anything else.
“I’m impressed,” Harry said, giving it back. “Most wizards wouldn’t be able to work out the bureaucracy of airports, let alone work up the courage to actually get on a plane. What are you doing flying to Italy anyway?”
Pocketing the passport again, Cedric shifted uncomfortably. “That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.” His eyes wandered back to the people retrieving their luggage. “How did the suitcases get there?”
Harry was in no rush to be anywhere, so he humored Cedric’s change of topic. “They were with us on the plane. Baggage handlers drove them to the baggage claim as soon as we landed.”
“That’s clever,” Cedric said, sounding surprised.
“Yeah, well, muggles typically are. I guess they’ve had to be, to compensate.”
Cedric nodded. “That makes sense.” He turned to Harry once more and asked, “Is it hard living like a muggle?”
“Not once you get used to it,” said Harry with a shrug. “I mean, we all grew up without doing magic, right?”
“Yeah, but my mum always did magic for me when I was little.” Cedric sighed, finally coming back to Harry’s initial question. “I’m here visiting my grandmother. Er, she’s a muggle. That’s why I flew here instead of just catching a portkey. It’s not that she dislikes magic, she’s just sort of … uncomfortable around it.” The way Cedric was looking suspiciously around the airport, Harry wanted to point out that he was probably just as uncomfortable around muggles as she was around magic. “At least, that’s all according to my dad. I’ve never actually met her.”
“Oh. So she’s your dad’s mum, then?”
“No, my mum’s.” Cedric’s eyes fell to the ground. “My mum, er, she - died during the war.”
Harry’s gut clenched. If his mum was muggleborn, he didn’t have to ask why she died. Harry hated this, hated that he had been so absent during the war, and that after all these years he still didn’t know the full death count. It made it near impossible to move past the guilt. “I’m sorry, Cedric.”
“It’s not your fault.” Why did they always tell him that? “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to make this trip since the war ended, but I kept putting it off. Then my grandfather died last summer of a heart attack. So I decided I’d better meet my grandmother while I still had the chance.”
“Is she meeting you here?”
“Yeah, she’s probably looking for me right now…” Cedric trailed off, then turned to Harry with pleading eyes. “Will you come meet her with me? I know it sounds childish, but - I’d really appreciate the support.”
Is that what this was all about? “Er, yeah. I can do that.”
“Really? You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“No, that’s fine. As long as you’re sure you want me there.”
“Yes. Definitely yes.” It looked as though a weight had been lifted from Cedric’s shoulders, and he smiled in gratitude. “I really appreciate this. She’s supposed to be wearing a green coat, so if you see anyone who looks like they might be related…”
They walked together to the baggage claim exit, where a crowd of people stood waiting for their loved ones. “Is that her?” Harry asked, nodding towards the back of a woman in an olive pea coat.
Cedric swallowed. “One way to find out.”
They picked through the crowd, making their way towards her. After taking a deep breath, Cedric tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Pardon me…”
The woman spun around and lifted a hand to her mouth. There was no mistaking the resemblance, although she seemed young to be a grandmother. She had brown hair shot through with gray, which framed a pair of brown eyes, identical to Cedric’s in everything but color.
“Cedric,” she cried before pulling him into an embrace. Cedric hugged her back as a mix of emotions crossed his face. She pulled away and held him at arm’s length, studied his face and said, “The last pictures I have of you are from when you were 16. I can’t believe how you’ve grown.”
“You have pictures of me? Did mum send you those?”
“Yes, I’ll have to show you when we get back to the house. You’re even more handsome in real life.” She grinned, and then finally noticed Harry awkwardly standing nearby, watching the reunion.
Cedric placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “This is my friend, Harry. I just happened to run into him; he works for the aeroplane.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry,” she said, offering her hand.
“I’m glad to meet you too, Mrs…?”
“Please, both of you, call me Alida. Will you be in Florence long?”
“Only for a day. I fly back to London early Friday morning.”
“Do you have a place to stay? I have an extra bed you could sleep in. That is, if Cedric doesn’t mind.”
Harry was about to refuse, explain that the airline already covered room and board in a decent enough hotel, but he caught sight of Cedric’s expression. His wide eyes were just begging Harry to accept. “It wouldn’t be too much trouble?”
“No, no trouble at all! I’d be happy for the extra company, and I’m sure Cedric would be too.”
That was an understatement. Cedric seemed thrilled about this turn of events, and whispered thank you’s to Harry all the way to his grandmother’s car, a tiny hatchback with a stick shift. Harry had only learned to drive two years ago, and had never driven stick, so he was certainly impressed as Alida switched from gear to gear, maneuvering through traffic with ease. Of course, this all went right over Cedric’s head. He probably assumed it was a standard muggle skill, like riding a bike.
There was a bit of awkward small talk in the car, discussing Harry’s work for the airline and Cedric’s job at the Ministry. Alida explained that she taught secondary school English, while her husband had been an art history professor. That was why they had moved to Florence in the first place, shortly before her daughter’s marriage. She talked a bit about Florence, or Firenze as she called it. She explained how in many ways the city was just as it had been during the Rennaisance, and was resistant to change, unlike the more modern cities of Roma or Milano. There was apparently but one modern art museum in the entire city, and it was dedicated to but one artist, and she joked how even her husband, a Medieval and Renaissance art scholar, would sometimes long for a Picasso. She listed off the names of places they should visit, palaces and museums and cathedrals that were meaningless to Harry’s ears, and lamented Harry’s short stay. It was a lot to take in at once. As they approached Alida’s house, set in a very residential area on the far north end of Florence, she also pointed out the village of Fiesole situated on top of the hill nearby, as well as the nearest pizza parlor.
Alida’s house was cozy and stylishly modern. The entire first floor was a single room with large glass doors that opened out onto a small backyard. A dinner table designated the dining area, and a small kitchen was set off from the rest of the space by sliding doors.
Alida brought them up the stairs to show them their bedroom, a room that spanned the entire third floor. There was a bed on either side of the room, as well as an ensuite bathroom. Most exciting was the wrap-around balcony with a clear view of Fiesole and the Tuscan countryside.
She excused herself to prepare dinner while she left the two of them to settle in.
Harry claimed a bed and sat on it. “She seems like a sweet person.”
“Yeah, she does,” Cedric said without conviction. “It’s just so weird being here. I mean, what am I supposed to say to her? Everything in my life revolves around magic, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or anything.”
“What makes you think she’d be uncomfortable? She doesn’t seem the type, really.”
Cedric paused in removing his clothes from his suitcase. “The entire time I was talking about my job, did she once ask me to elaborate? She asked you all sorts of questions about the aeroplane. But as soon as I start talking about the Department for International Cooperation, she shuts up. It’s like she doesn’t want to know the details.” Cedric pulled out his wand and levitated his clothing into the open drawers. “I’m sure she’d like to pretend I’m negotiating between religious factions, not goblins and wizards.”
Harry had actually noticed her silence as well. But he had also noticed Cedric’s own discomfort in talking about his work, and it would have been clear to anyone how heavily he was censoring himself. “Maybe she was uncomfortable about it because you seemed uncomfortable, too.”
“Well, of course I’m uncomfortable!” Cedric shouted, dropping onto the bed. “I’m expected to live for an entire week as a muggle in a foreign country!” He rested his head in one hand and sighed. “I don’t know how you do it. I feel like I have to watch my every move. And I’m probably making loads of mistakes I’m not even aware of. Do you know how much research it took just to buy a week’s worth of muggle clothing?” He gestured to his outfit, a navy jumper and denims. Harry hadn’t even noticed the clothes, which was probably a measure of Cedric’s success.
“You look good, though,” Harry said.
Cedric blushed. “Er, thanks. I’m just not sure if I can survive the week.”
“Hey, you’ve only just got here; give it some time. After a few days, I’m sure you’ll both be more comfortable around each other. Think of it … as being a tourist.”
Cedric smiled weakly. “I’ve always hated being a tourist.” He stood up to manually close the drawers, then spent a few moments exploring their room. Harry had to explain that the bidet in the bathroom was more of an Italian thing than a muggle one, and Cedric seemed scandalized when he learned its use - much to Harry’s amusement.
“What, you mean you wouldn’t like to freshen up before dinner?” Harry asked.
Cedric rolled his eyes. “Come on, we should probably get back downstairs.”
The smell of cooking greeted them as they made their way down the narrow staircase. They sat on the couch for a while and talked as Alida finished the meal, mostly catching up from their schooldays. By the time they finally sat down to eat it was late, almost 8:30, but Alida insisted that was standard Italian dinnertime.
As they ate, Alida gave them suggestions for tomorrow’s sightseeing, all the while bringing dish after dish to the table. She was a wonderful cook. The pasta was delicious, and Harry nearly filled up on that alone, not realizing there would be a second course of pork to follow. By the end of the meal, he was filled to bursting. He sat back in his seat feeling sated and spoiled, thinking of his coworkers who were probably eating hotel food.
The conversation lulled, and Alida suddenly pushed back from the table. “I almost forgot, Cedric, I wanted to show you those photos.” She walked over to a cabinet on the far wall and retrieved an album from inside. She handed it to Cedric, who solemnly accepted the artifact. He opened to the first page. Harry watched his eyes widen in shock.
“They’re muggle,” he said, before he could catch himself.
Alida stiffened, but didn’t look surprised by the word. “I told her once I found the moving photographs a little unnerving, so your mother always sent me the normal kind instead. I understand the difference is in how they’re developed?”
But Cedric didn’t answer. He was too busy taking in the still images before him, looking more and more distressed with every page. At one point, he stopped and pointed at one of the photos with a shaky finger.
“We have this photo,” he said, his voice small. “Framed over the mantle. A moving version. I’ve never seen it still …”
He stared at it for a while, reaching out to almost touch it, like it was something grotesque from which he couldn’t turn away. Then, abruptly, he slammed the book shut, handing it back to Alida. Without a word, she returned it to the cabinet.
“You’re both probably tired,” she said. “Why don’t you get to bed while I clean up?”
“Let me help,” Harry offered, but Alida shooed him away, casting anxious glances at Cedric instead. Harry caught the implication, and followed Cedric back up the staircase.
“Are you okay?” he asked, once they were both in the room.
“Yeah.” Cedric sat on the bed, and brought his knees up to his chest. “No. I don’t know.”
Harry was no good at comforting and stood there awkwardly, waiting for Cedric to speak again.
“It was just a bit of a shock, seeing my mum like that. She was so … still. I’m so used to her waving at me in that picture; it wasn’t right with her just standing there. She looked…” Cedric paused and shook his head. “It wasn’t right,” he repeated.
Feeling the need to do something, Harry moved to sit next to Cedric on the bed. He thought maybe he should be rubbing his back, or giving a hug, but instead settled on patting his knee. Cedric smiled appreciatively; feeling bolstered, Harry decided to offer that hug after all. Cedric was quick to respond, wrapping his arms around him, his tensed muscles relaxing slightly in the embrace.
“I’m really glad you’re here, Harry,” he said when he pulled away. “You don’t know how much this means to me. I think I’d be having a nervous breakdown otherwise.”
Harry shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I’m happy to be here. And your grandmother’s a fantastic cook, so I think I should be thanking you, really.”
A smile made its way across Cedric’s face. “She is, isn’t she? Merlin, the pasta was delicious!”
“Oh yeah, that reminds me; just so you know, muggles don’t say ‘Merlin.’”
“Oh shit, really?” Cedric looked upset for just a moment, then started laughing. “Actually, that sort of makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it? Wow, I feel thick.”
Harry grinned. “It’s an understandable mistake.”
They dressed for bed, Cedric going into the bathroom to do so, then slipped under their respective covers.
“’Night, Harry.”
“Goodnight, Cedric.”
And Cedric extinguished the lights with a whispered, “Nox.”
Chapter 2
Title: Terra Firma, Chapter 1
Recipient:rosenskimmer
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Cedric, OFC
Rating: PG this part, maybe R altogether
Warning: My new favorite type of AU, in which Cedric replaces the epilogue.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter & friends belong to JKR.
Prompt: More muggle world interaction, like a trip into London or something. Can wizards really live their whole lives without any sort of knowledge of the outside world?
Summary: Years after the war, the last place Harry expected to see Cedric was on a plane headed to Florence.
A/N: I don't know what I was thinking when I started this; I somehow had the delusion that I could write it as a one-shot. :) Instead, the story will be a five part novella, with part two nearly completed. I hope you like it, rosenskimmer!
Thank you to the most excellent nagi_schwarz for the beta and the cursory britpick. I'm still on the lookout for an expert britpicker (I'm dealing with a lot of cultural stuff, not just grammar), so if anyone would like to volunteer, let me know.
Oh yeah - breaking out a new icon, too. ;)
Terra Firma
Chapter 1
It was nothing like real flying. Flying was supposed to be liberating, weightless, with the wind stinging his face and the ground dropping off beneath him. Flying was exhilarating.
This, however, was just work.
Not that being in a plane didn’t have its charm. The first time Harry had flown the muggle way he did find something exciting about the rumble of the huge engines and the disorienting sensation of leaving the ground. His first muggle flight had been shortly after the war as a favor to Mr. Weasley, who had spent the entire time badgering him with questions he couldn’t answer.
In fact, Harry still couldn’t answer them, even though those questions were now a part of his job. He had no clue how the angle of a wing could lift limitless mass into the air. All he had to know as a flight attendant were the emergency procedures and how to deal with drunk, belligerent passengers.
He stood at the back of the cabin, overseeing the scramble for overhead space. It was late January, and the abundance of overcoats meant less room for luggage. He had to intervene several times, convincing one woman that her coat would not get ruined under the seat in front of her.
Admittedly, “flight attendant” had not been Harry’s first choice of career, but the job had seemed apt at the time. Harry had wanted to get away from the wizarding world for a while, though he had no special fondness for the muggle one, and he thought it would be nice to travel the world he’d saved but never seen. Besides, there weren’t many muggle jobs he could land with nothing more than a secondary school equivalent diploma and a few years at a joke shop. The latter he managed to pass off as “customer service.” George, as a huge favor, had carried around a mobile for weeks just so Harry could use him as a reference.
And now here he was, seven years after the war, demonstrating to muggles the proper method of fastening their seatbelts.
When Harry initially had the idea to apply for the job, Hermione didn’t think he could pull off the calm cheerfulness that was required. She was certain he would snap at the first passenger who gave him lip. But with everything Harry had been through, a little rudeness just rolled off his back; it wasn't as though the insults were ever personal. He wasn’t much known for being a conflict mediator, but he did have a reputation for keeping a cool head in an emergency.
Once the passengers were seated and the aisles checked, Harry found his own seat and strapped himself in for takeoff. He opened his copy of Catcher in the Rye, a book he probably would have read years ago had he attended a non-magical school. He was enjoying it so far; Holden was a snarky bastard, and Harry felt a bit of kinship despite the difference in place and time. It seemed strange that a book like this would actually be required reading in a class, and he was reminded once again how out of touch with the muggle world he’d become.
His opportunity for reading didn’t last long. Shortly after takeoff, Melissa hurried up to him down the aisle and said, “We have a first-timer in 7C. Can you take care of him? I have to ready the drink cart.”
“Sure thing,” Harry replied and stored the book for later.
As he approached from behind, Harry could see that the passenger in 7C was a tall male, tightly gripping the armrest that faced the aisle. Even if Melissa hadn’t told him the seat number, he would have figured it out. The man was identifiable by the whites of his knuckles alone, and the fact that everyone in the area was casting him sidelong glances. Harry came around the side of his seat and knelt down, putting on his best look of concern.
“How are we doing, sir? Is there anything -“
Surprise stole the end of his sentence.
“Diggory?”
He found it impossible to believe, but there was no mistaking those unnatural good looks. Cedric Diggory, his former schoolmate and fellow Champion, was sitting in seat 7C, on an aeroplane, looking utterly terrified.
Harry wasn’t sure what to say. They hadn’t spoken since the tournament, after Cedric had changed his mind at the last moment and tricked Harry into taking the cup alone. After he had returned from the graveyard, Harry had had no patience for Cedric’s continued apologies. What could have become a friendship had fallen by the wayside.
But now, all polite awkwardness was sidestepped when Cedric grabbed Harry’s arm in place of the armrest and hissed, “Harry, this is nothing like flying!”
Harry couldn’t help grinning just a bit, even though they were now getting some very strange looks. “No kidding. You can relax - it’s all perfectly safe. I’ve been on one of these things almost every day for the past year and a half, so you can trust me on that.”
Cedric took a deep breath and, realizing he still had a hold on Harry’s arm, released it. “You know, I’ve faced a dragon and a war, and this is possibly the most frightening thing I’ve ever done.” He chuckled nervously while Harry glanced around, hoping the muggles took that as a figure of speech. “How do they do it, anyway? How the hell does it stay up?”
Harry gave his usual response. “I could explain it, but that doesn’t mean either of us would understand it. All I can say is that they know what they’re doing.”
Cedric seemed mostly pacified by Harry’s assurance, although he still looked skeptical. “So all that shaking was normal?”
“Perfectly normal.”
“And the noises?”
“All standard noises.”
“What about all that stuff in the beginning about ‘emergency landings’ and ‘oxygen masks?’”
“Just cautionary protocol. You know, just in case. But you really don’t have to know that stuff unless something unexpected happens, and it won’t.”
Cedric gave a half smile. “I suppose I didn’t need to memorize that card in the seat pocket, then?”
Harry let out a laugh. “No. Probably not.” He rose from his crouching position and glanced around at the nosy parkers who were now openly staring.
Cedric, meanwhile, leaned back in his seat, looking a bit more at ease. “They really know how to scare a bloke, then. I never imagined that flying in an aeroplane could be such an ordeal.”
“Well I never imagined I’d see a -“ Harry barely managed to censor himself “- a bloke like yourself on one of my planes. Listen, I have to go help with the drink cart, but I’ll come back and check on you, all right?”
“Thanks, Harry.” Cedric laughed again. “Merlin, I feel like a little kid or something.”
Harry winced at the wizarding-specific oath, but Cedric didn’t seem to know any better. Hopefully he’d come off as eccentric and nothing more. It was amusing to think of Cedric Diggory, Mr. Perfect, as being eccentric, but then again he was way out of his element here. Harry was dying to know why Cedric was on a plane in the first place, but he really did have work to do, and he curbed his curiosity for the time being.
The plane hit some mild turbulence about halfway through the trip, and the crew walked around urging people back to their seats. Harry made sure to stop by Cedric’s seat to convince him it wasn’t the end of the world - not an easy task. Although Cedric was extremely brave for a Hufflepuff, even at seventeen, bravery had little to do with trust. Purebloods rarely trusted muggle ingenuity even if they had no problem with muggles themselves. Arthur Weasley was an exception to that, but even he had been nervous throughout his flight.
Unfortunately, what with the turbulence and other minor emergencies, Harry didn’t get the chance to talk with Cedric until the plane was descending. He stopped by row seven one last time to tell Cedric what to expect, then returned to his own seat in the back. It was a smooth landing, and everyone applauded. Harry hated it when everyone applauded. There was no reason for anyone but Cedric to act impressed that the plane had arrived in one piece.
Melissa reached over to pick up the microphone. “On behalf of our airline, we would like to say welcome and benvenuto to Florence. The local time is 5:28 PM, and the temperature is seven degrees. Please remain seated until the pilot has turned off the 'fasten your seatbelt' sign, and make sure you’ve left nothing behind when you leave the plane. Enjoy your stay, and we hope you’ll fly with us again.”
She and Harry moved to the entrance of the plane to bid the passengers farewell as they left, wearing the smiles that were part of their uniform.
When Cedric made his way to the front, Harry pulled him out of line so he could give a proper farewell. To his surprise, Cedric looked just as terrified as he had at the start of the flight.
“Are you okay?” Harry asked.
“Yeah, fine,” said Cedric unconvincingly. “Do you - are you still working? Or are you heading back to England right away?”
“Actually, I’m free to go as soon as everyone leaves and I’m out of uniform. We have a 36-hour layover in Florence, which is longer than usual. I think we’re staying at a hotel by the airport. Why? Did you want to get drinks or something?”
“Er, no. I mean, yeah that sounds great, just…” Cedric ran a nervous hand through his hair. There were a lot of people pushing past to exit the plane, and Cedric suddenly seemed to notice he was in the way. He was certainly distracted about something. “Will you be off work soon? Could I talk to you where there aren’t so many people?”
“Er, sure. I only get paid while the plane’s in the air, so I’ll be out of here in no time. Do you want to wait for me by the baggage claim?”
“Baggage claim?”
“Oh, it’s where you pick up the luggage you checked,” Harry explained.
Cedric just gave him a quizzical look and patted his pocket. “Everything I need’s right here.”
Right. Wizard. And everything was so shrunken, there probably wasn’t even enough metal to set off the detectors. Harry would have to remember that trick. “Well, just follow everyone else. You’ll show your passport to customs, then there’ll be a station where people are picking up their suitcases; you can wait for me there.”
“Thanks Harry,” Cedric said, relieved, as though Harry had already done him a huge favor. As Cedric followed the other passengers into the terminal, Harry wondered if he even had a passport.
Harry finished his shift as quickly as possible and excused himself from his coworkers to go and find Cedric. He was waiting by the luggage carousel as instructed, at a distance from everyone else, his own luggage already expanded. He stared at the conveyer belt but his mind was clearly elsewhere.
“So, tell me,” Harry said as he approached, “you do have a passport, yeah?”
Cedric startled, then fished around in his pocket. “Do you want to see it? It’s the first muggle picture I’ve ever had taken of me, only it’s bloody awful. I don’t think faces are meant to be still.” He handed to Harry a perfectly legitimate passport, much to Harry’s surprise. The photo was rather unflattering, but it had more to do with the head-on flash than anything else.
“I’m impressed,” Harry said, giving it back. “Most wizards wouldn’t be able to work out the bureaucracy of airports, let alone work up the courage to actually get on a plane. What are you doing flying to Italy anyway?”
Pocketing the passport again, Cedric shifted uncomfortably. “That’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.” His eyes wandered back to the people retrieving their luggage. “How did the suitcases get there?”
Harry was in no rush to be anywhere, so he humored Cedric’s change of topic. “They were with us on the plane. Baggage handlers drove them to the baggage claim as soon as we landed.”
“That’s clever,” Cedric said, sounding surprised.
“Yeah, well, muggles typically are. I guess they’ve had to be, to compensate.”
Cedric nodded. “That makes sense.” He turned to Harry once more and asked, “Is it hard living like a muggle?”
“Not once you get used to it,” said Harry with a shrug. “I mean, we all grew up without doing magic, right?”
“Yeah, but my mum always did magic for me when I was little.” Cedric sighed, finally coming back to Harry’s initial question. “I’m here visiting my grandmother. Er, she’s a muggle. That’s why I flew here instead of just catching a portkey. It’s not that she dislikes magic, she’s just sort of … uncomfortable around it.” The way Cedric was looking suspiciously around the airport, Harry wanted to point out that he was probably just as uncomfortable around muggles as she was around magic. “At least, that’s all according to my dad. I’ve never actually met her.”
“Oh. So she’s your dad’s mum, then?”
“No, my mum’s.” Cedric’s eyes fell to the ground. “My mum, er, she - died during the war.”
Harry’s gut clenched. If his mum was muggleborn, he didn’t have to ask why she died. Harry hated this, hated that he had been so absent during the war, and that after all these years he still didn’t know the full death count. It made it near impossible to move past the guilt. “I’m sorry, Cedric.”
“It’s not your fault.” Why did they always tell him that? “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to make this trip since the war ended, but I kept putting it off. Then my grandfather died last summer of a heart attack. So I decided I’d better meet my grandmother while I still had the chance.”
“Is she meeting you here?”
“Yeah, she’s probably looking for me right now…” Cedric trailed off, then turned to Harry with pleading eyes. “Will you come meet her with me? I know it sounds childish, but - I’d really appreciate the support.”
Is that what this was all about? “Er, yeah. I can do that.”
“Really? You’re sure you don’t mind?”
“No, that’s fine. As long as you’re sure you want me there.”
“Yes. Definitely yes.” It looked as though a weight had been lifted from Cedric’s shoulders, and he smiled in gratitude. “I really appreciate this. She’s supposed to be wearing a green coat, so if you see anyone who looks like they might be related…”
They walked together to the baggage claim exit, where a crowd of people stood waiting for their loved ones. “Is that her?” Harry asked, nodding towards the back of a woman in an olive pea coat.
Cedric swallowed. “One way to find out.”
They picked through the crowd, making their way towards her. After taking a deep breath, Cedric tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Pardon me…”
The woman spun around and lifted a hand to her mouth. There was no mistaking the resemblance, although she seemed young to be a grandmother. She had brown hair shot through with gray, which framed a pair of brown eyes, identical to Cedric’s in everything but color.
“Cedric,” she cried before pulling him into an embrace. Cedric hugged her back as a mix of emotions crossed his face. She pulled away and held him at arm’s length, studied his face and said, “The last pictures I have of you are from when you were 16. I can’t believe how you’ve grown.”
“You have pictures of me? Did mum send you those?”
“Yes, I’ll have to show you when we get back to the house. You’re even more handsome in real life.” She grinned, and then finally noticed Harry awkwardly standing nearby, watching the reunion.
Cedric placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “This is my friend, Harry. I just happened to run into him; he works for the aeroplane.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry,” she said, offering her hand.
“I’m glad to meet you too, Mrs…?”
“Please, both of you, call me Alida. Will you be in Florence long?”
“Only for a day. I fly back to London early Friday morning.”
“Do you have a place to stay? I have an extra bed you could sleep in. That is, if Cedric doesn’t mind.”
Harry was about to refuse, explain that the airline already covered room and board in a decent enough hotel, but he caught sight of Cedric’s expression. His wide eyes were just begging Harry to accept. “It wouldn’t be too much trouble?”
“No, no trouble at all! I’d be happy for the extra company, and I’m sure Cedric would be too.”
That was an understatement. Cedric seemed thrilled about this turn of events, and whispered thank you’s to Harry all the way to his grandmother’s car, a tiny hatchback with a stick shift. Harry had only learned to drive two years ago, and had never driven stick, so he was certainly impressed as Alida switched from gear to gear, maneuvering through traffic with ease. Of course, this all went right over Cedric’s head. He probably assumed it was a standard muggle skill, like riding a bike.
There was a bit of awkward small talk in the car, discussing Harry’s work for the airline and Cedric’s job at the Ministry. Alida explained that she taught secondary school English, while her husband had been an art history professor. That was why they had moved to Florence in the first place, shortly before her daughter’s marriage. She talked a bit about Florence, or Firenze as she called it. She explained how in many ways the city was just as it had been during the Rennaisance, and was resistant to change, unlike the more modern cities of Roma or Milano. There was apparently but one modern art museum in the entire city, and it was dedicated to but one artist, and she joked how even her husband, a Medieval and Renaissance art scholar, would sometimes long for a Picasso. She listed off the names of places they should visit, palaces and museums and cathedrals that were meaningless to Harry’s ears, and lamented Harry’s short stay. It was a lot to take in at once. As they approached Alida’s house, set in a very residential area on the far north end of Florence, she also pointed out the village of Fiesole situated on top of the hill nearby, as well as the nearest pizza parlor.
Alida’s house was cozy and stylishly modern. The entire first floor was a single room with large glass doors that opened out onto a small backyard. A dinner table designated the dining area, and a small kitchen was set off from the rest of the space by sliding doors.
Alida brought them up the stairs to show them their bedroom, a room that spanned the entire third floor. There was a bed on either side of the room, as well as an ensuite bathroom. Most exciting was the wrap-around balcony with a clear view of Fiesole and the Tuscan countryside.
She excused herself to prepare dinner while she left the two of them to settle in.
Harry claimed a bed and sat on it. “She seems like a sweet person.”
“Yeah, she does,” Cedric said without conviction. “It’s just so weird being here. I mean, what am I supposed to say to her? Everything in my life revolves around magic, and I don’t want to make her uncomfortable or anything.”
“What makes you think she’d be uncomfortable? She doesn’t seem the type, really.”
Cedric paused in removing his clothes from his suitcase. “The entire time I was talking about my job, did she once ask me to elaborate? She asked you all sorts of questions about the aeroplane. But as soon as I start talking about the Department for International Cooperation, she shuts up. It’s like she doesn’t want to know the details.” Cedric pulled out his wand and levitated his clothing into the open drawers. “I’m sure she’d like to pretend I’m negotiating between religious factions, not goblins and wizards.”
Harry had actually noticed her silence as well. But he had also noticed Cedric’s own discomfort in talking about his work, and it would have been clear to anyone how heavily he was censoring himself. “Maybe she was uncomfortable about it because you seemed uncomfortable, too.”
“Well, of course I’m uncomfortable!” Cedric shouted, dropping onto the bed. “I’m expected to live for an entire week as a muggle in a foreign country!” He rested his head in one hand and sighed. “I don’t know how you do it. I feel like I have to watch my every move. And I’m probably making loads of mistakes I’m not even aware of. Do you know how much research it took just to buy a week’s worth of muggle clothing?” He gestured to his outfit, a navy jumper and denims. Harry hadn’t even noticed the clothes, which was probably a measure of Cedric’s success.
“You look good, though,” Harry said.
Cedric blushed. “Er, thanks. I’m just not sure if I can survive the week.”
“Hey, you’ve only just got here; give it some time. After a few days, I’m sure you’ll both be more comfortable around each other. Think of it … as being a tourist.”
Cedric smiled weakly. “I’ve always hated being a tourist.” He stood up to manually close the drawers, then spent a few moments exploring their room. Harry had to explain that the bidet in the bathroom was more of an Italian thing than a muggle one, and Cedric seemed scandalized when he learned its use - much to Harry’s amusement.
“What, you mean you wouldn’t like to freshen up before dinner?” Harry asked.
Cedric rolled his eyes. “Come on, we should probably get back downstairs.”
The smell of cooking greeted them as they made their way down the narrow staircase. They sat on the couch for a while and talked as Alida finished the meal, mostly catching up from their schooldays. By the time they finally sat down to eat it was late, almost 8:30, but Alida insisted that was standard Italian dinnertime.
As they ate, Alida gave them suggestions for tomorrow’s sightseeing, all the while bringing dish after dish to the table. She was a wonderful cook. The pasta was delicious, and Harry nearly filled up on that alone, not realizing there would be a second course of pork to follow. By the end of the meal, he was filled to bursting. He sat back in his seat feeling sated and spoiled, thinking of his coworkers who were probably eating hotel food.
The conversation lulled, and Alida suddenly pushed back from the table. “I almost forgot, Cedric, I wanted to show you those photos.” She walked over to a cabinet on the far wall and retrieved an album from inside. She handed it to Cedric, who solemnly accepted the artifact. He opened to the first page. Harry watched his eyes widen in shock.
“They’re muggle,” he said, before he could catch himself.
Alida stiffened, but didn’t look surprised by the word. “I told her once I found the moving photographs a little unnerving, so your mother always sent me the normal kind instead. I understand the difference is in how they’re developed?”
But Cedric didn’t answer. He was too busy taking in the still images before him, looking more and more distressed with every page. At one point, he stopped and pointed at one of the photos with a shaky finger.
“We have this photo,” he said, his voice small. “Framed over the mantle. A moving version. I’ve never seen it still …”
He stared at it for a while, reaching out to almost touch it, like it was something grotesque from which he couldn’t turn away. Then, abruptly, he slammed the book shut, handing it back to Alida. Without a word, she returned it to the cabinet.
“You’re both probably tired,” she said. “Why don’t you get to bed while I clean up?”
“Let me help,” Harry offered, but Alida shooed him away, casting anxious glances at Cedric instead. Harry caught the implication, and followed Cedric back up the staircase.
“Are you okay?” he asked, once they were both in the room.
“Yeah.” Cedric sat on the bed, and brought his knees up to his chest. “No. I don’t know.”
Harry was no good at comforting and stood there awkwardly, waiting for Cedric to speak again.
“It was just a bit of a shock, seeing my mum like that. She was so … still. I’m so used to her waving at me in that picture; it wasn’t right with her just standing there. She looked…” Cedric paused and shook his head. “It wasn’t right,” he repeated.
Feeling the need to do something, Harry moved to sit next to Cedric on the bed. He thought maybe he should be rubbing his back, or giving a hug, but instead settled on patting his knee. Cedric smiled appreciatively; feeling bolstered, Harry decided to offer that hug after all. Cedric was quick to respond, wrapping his arms around him, his tensed muscles relaxing slightly in the embrace.
“I’m really glad you’re here, Harry,” he said when he pulled away. “You don’t know how much this means to me. I think I’d be having a nervous breakdown otherwise.”
Harry shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I’m happy to be here. And your grandmother’s a fantastic cook, so I think I should be thanking you, really.”
A smile made its way across Cedric’s face. “She is, isn’t she? Merlin, the pasta was delicious!”
“Oh yeah, that reminds me; just so you know, muggles don’t say ‘Merlin.’”
“Oh shit, really?” Cedric looked upset for just a moment, then started laughing. “Actually, that sort of makes a lot of sense, doesn’t it? Wow, I feel thick.”
Harry grinned. “It’s an understandable mistake.”
They dressed for bed, Cedric going into the bathroom to do so, then slipped under their respective covers.
“’Night, Harry.”
“Goodnight, Cedric.”
And Cedric extinguished the lights with a whispered, “Nox.”
Chapter 2