Valentine's Day Fic, NOT a Ficathon story, sorry!
Greetings again, fellow Harry/Cedric fans! As if my sickly-sweet Valentines weren't enough, I come bearing fic. This was written independently of the Valentine's Day Ficathon, as I only started it a few days ago. So please don't be offended, Ficathon participants, but I wanted to post at least the first part today!
The first chapter is pretty G-rated, but I assure you, the story won't stay that way. Warning, this is still a work in progress, so it might take me a few days to put it all up. Good things come to those who wait. Comments containing praise and constructive criticism are welcome, but please be aware that this is my first completed HP fandom fic ever. Thanks to my wonderful slash-friendly hubby for the beta job.
--Seven
Title: Needles And Pins
Rating: G - NC17
Pairing: Harry/Cedric
Warnings: explicit male/male sex, a bit of dom/sub play
Summary: Harry gets tired of waiting and finally sends a Valentine to the object of his affections. Cedric gets a little more than he bargained for.
Archive? I'd be honored, but please ask first.
Needles And Pins
The morning of February 14th began like any other February morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; that is to say, overcast and windy with freezing rain falling from the sky. It was going on the third day straight for the freezing rain, and it seemed weeks since they'd seen the sun or blue skies. Normally Harry Potter didn't mind winter weather, but he was already in a glum mood. He had Care of Magical Creatures that day, which was almost always outdoors, since Hagrid didn't feel the weather like other people did; he had a detention to serve with Filch that night, for getting caught with a handful of Dungbombs near the Slytherin common room door Friday evening; he still wasn't sure what he was going to do about the second Task; and, to make it all worse, it was Valentine's Day.
Harry had no particularly pleasant memories of Valentine's Day. He knew it was supposed to be a day of expressing your feelings for your loved ones, and he did appreciate the Valentines that he received from his female friends, like Hermione, Ginny, Lavender and Parvati. But Harry also inevitably received Valentines, every year, from girls he hardly knew at all, girls who would have loved to go out with Harry Potter, just to be able to say that they had. These Valentines, some of which were delivered in person by sincerely hopeful girls, made Harry more uncomfortable than facing Filch at his worst. Once or twice in the past, there had been people he had wished to send Valentines to, but didn't dare, for fear of making himself look even more foolish than he usually did. So he had always refrained, keeping his feelings to himself.
But this year, some perverse fairy of insanity - or stupid Gryffindor courage - had seized Harry. Things, he'd decided, had simply gone unsaid long enough. So the previous evening, under the pretense of doing homework up in his dorm room, he'd slipped a few things out of his book bag and made a simple little Valentine out of red construction paper and plain old parchment. After some thought and a few false starts, erased with his wand, he wrote:
Dear Cedric,
Thanks for all the times you've been
nice to me, even when you didn't really
have to be. With all this Tournament
rubbish we haven't had time to really
talk at all since last summer.
I kind of miss that.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Harry wasn't about to sign his name on the bottom; just mentioning the Tournament had been perhaps a bit unwise. He didn't want Cedric's friends, or anybody else, guessing who had sent him this particular Valentine. But he definitely wanted Cedric to know. Even if nothing at all came of it, Harry wanted to be able to say that he had expressed his own feelings honestly. In the end, he simply left it unsigned, folded the heart in half, slipped in into a little envelope, sealed it, wrote
Cedric Diggory
on the front and took it up to the Owlery, giving it to a school owl to deliver the following morning, before he lost his nerve.
Later that night, unable to get to sleep right away, Harry found himself unable to stop thinking of Cedric. He had truly enjoyed getting to know the older boy, during the few brief times they'd been together. When he'd first encountered Cedric last year, he'd thought him little more than an empty-headed Hufflepuff pretty-boy, like most of the other Gryffindor boys. Of course, the giggles, whispers and longing looks of the Gryffindor girls didn't help. But after that terrible Quidditch match when Harry had fallen off his broom because of the Dementors, he had been a little surprised to hear that Cedric had argued with Madam Hooch for a rematch. He had been more surprised when the older boy had approached him at breakfast the following Monday, inquired sincerely about how Harry was feeling, and actually apologized for winning. They'd spent the rest of that morning before class talking, mostly about Quidditch, and Harry was surprised again to find how comfortable and enjoyable it was to pass the time in Cedric's company.
Harry had finally realized why the professors called him 'a credit to his House', why he had so many friends, and why so many girls wanted to date him. Cedric had a way of putting other people at ease; he was friendly, quick-witted, even-tempered, funny, quietly charming yet genuinely modest - and very, very handsome. Harry had gone the rest of that day with a smile on his face, and over the following weeks, he'd found his eyes straying every so often over to the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall. It seemed that whenever his gaze had connected with Cedric's, the older boy had been quick to respond with a smile and a little lift of his chin. Harry always smiled back.
Towards the end of that year, Harry had noticed, every once in a while he would look over at the Hufflepuff table to find Cedric's eyes already on him, staring thoughtfully. And a handful of times that Harry could remember, Cedric had let his gaze lock with Harry's for a moment or two, giving a secretive, strangely intimate little smile or a subtle lift of his eyebrows before looking away. Harry thought about those gazes, thought about how he had been seeing them more and more frequently from Cedric this year, and felt a bit hot, prickly and restless in his bed. For the hundredth time that evening, he wondered how Cedric would respond to his Valentine.
Cedric had continued to be as friendly to Harry as could be, considering the difference in their ages and Houses. That summer, at the Quidditch World Cup, Harry, Hermione and the younger Weasleys had met up with Cedric again the afternoon before the match, and they'd spent time wandering among the tents, snacking on food from the carts, marvelling at the spectacle and finally finding a shady spot to sit down and talk out of the heat of the sun. Harry had once again been amazed at how easy and pleasant it was to be with Cedric, and was inordinately pleased that Cedric seemed to feel the same way about him, sitting down right beside him and continuing to talk with Harry after Fred and George and the girls, and even Ron, had dropped out of the conversation. The others were finishing their snacks or napping, but Harry and Cedric lay on their sides, propped up on their elbows, facing each other and discussing the respective merits of the Irish and Bulgarian Seekers. No one else was really paying attention to them anymore, and for the first time, Harry had felt the full power of that gaze, so close to him, and of Cedric's undivided attention. He remembered the slick, cool feeling of the pine needles under their bodies, their resinous scent, and the occasional sharp pinprick; he remembered the lull in their conversation, remembered the intensity of the other boy's stare, directly into his own eyes; remembered the nubby, soft-looking jumper Cedric wore, its mossy green color seeming to lend a greenish cast to his grey eyes. Harry remembered being unable to meet that stare any longer, remembered his eyes dropping to Cedric's mouth to watch the tip of his tongue slide out and lick his lips. But most of all he remembered the sudden touch of Cedric's fingertips on his forehead, smoothing away a lock of untidy black hair that had fallen into his eyes. Harry's gaze had snapped back to Cedric's in that moment, and this time he found himself unable to look away, as Cedric, no longer bothering with the pretense of brushing Harry's hair out of his face, caressed his temple and the side of his cheek with fingertips that were hot and ever so slightly trembling. Harry remembered the way Cedric's knowing little smile had slipped as his gaze roamed over Harry's face, and for just a moment Cedric had looked lost, anxious, almost desperate as his thumb skated over Harry's chin and his fingertips approached Harry's lips, Cedric's own mouth opening as if to whisper something -
And then a toy Snitch had sailed right between them, followed closely by its apparent owner, a little dark-haired girl of seven or eight zooming by on her toy broomstick and nearly knocking them flat. Harry scrambled away from Cedric, who had caught the slow-flying Snitch and handed it back to the little girl with a brilliant smile. By that time everyone was awake again and looking over at them; group conversation resumed, and shortly after that, Cedric had left to rejoin his father before the match. Harry hadn't seen him again until the new school year.
And this year, Harry had been so distracted with the foreign students, the intermittent pains in his scar and his concern for Sirius that by the time he'd worked up the courage to approach Cedric again, the Tournament Champions had been chosen. After that, Harry had thought bitterly, if they were even seen talking together, everyone would naturally assume that they would be conspiring to trade Tournament strategies. He had intended to ask Cedric whether they might meet sometime, just to talk for a bit, after telling him about the dragons, but Moody's approach had nixed that possibility. And then, the night of the Ball, when Cedric had repaid him for the hint about the dragons with the hint about the egg, Cedric had been distracted by Cho. But now, Harry was tired of waiting. He had finally gathered his courage, made the gamble and sent his Valentine.
The bait was out there, and Harry would find out in a few hours whether it would catch anything.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Breakfast on Valentine's Day was exactly as Harry had expected it to be; owl after owl, embarrassing Valentine after embarrassing Valentine, rude comments from the Slytherins (joined, this year, by others from Hufflepuffs as well), giggling girls, good-natured teasing from his dormmates, and a few soothing comments from Hermione. Nothing special, really, nothing unusual. Harry glanced over at the Hufflepuff table as often as he dared, watching Cedric open his own mountain of Valentines, looking much more pleased about them all than Harry did. Finally Harry recognized the owl he had given Cedric's Valentine to. His stomach, which had lurched nervously upon seeing the owl, sank as he watched Cedric take the unremarkable envelope, give it a brief glance and then toss it casually on top of the pile, feeding the owl a bite of bacon as he did so. Disappointed, he cast his eyes down to his own bowl of porridge. But in doing so, he missed the second glance Cedric gave the envelope, the tiny frown that appeared on the handsome Hufflepuff's face, and then the long, appraising look he levelled straight at Harry.
At lunch, there were a few more straggling Valentines, one delivered by a third-year Ravenclaw girl who blushed so fiercely and stuttered so badly that Harry felt genuinely sorry for her, and accepted her Valentine with a gracious smile. A small school owl delivered two or three more, and Harry laid them down beside his plate with the rest. And then, just as he was finishing his goulash, his own Hedwig landed right in front of him, almost knocking over his glass of pumpkin juice, and dropped a comparatively plain-looking note directly into his plate. Harry quickly picked it up, brushing off a few smears of tomato sauce and letting his beautiful snowy owl snap up the last bits of beef from his plate.
The envelope, to Harry's mild surprise, didn't have his name on it, or the name of the sender. Instead it just said:
DO NOT OPEN IN PUBLIC
Something about the handwriting looked familiar, and Harry felt a wild flutter of hope beating in his chest. He looked around casually and then, satisfied that none of his friends was paying any particular attention to yet another Valentine for Harry Potter, he sneaked a glance up at the Hufflepuff table. Sure enough, Cedric was staring at him out from under his lashes, looking equally sneaky. Upon meeting Harry's eyes, the older boy flashed that secretive smile again, just for an instant, and then turned to his friends, apparently answering a question one of them had asked. Harry smiled a secretive, smug little smile of his own, allowing his gaze to linger on Cedric a little longer, mentally challenging the other boy to look at him again. In another moment, Cedric did - and that time, Harry made sure he himself was the one who broke eye contact. He stood up and casually gathered the rest of his Valentines and his book bag, rolling his eyes at Seamus's loud speculations about which hopeful Valentine sender Harry was going to snog first tonight. He made his excuses to his friends, promising Hermione that he wouldn't be late for Transfiguration, and made for an unused classroom he knew about on the second floor. Once there, he made sure there was no one else in the room, and then shut the door behind him and leaned on it for good measure. With fingers that were trembling only the tiniest bit, Harry opened the envelope.
Happy Valentine's Day to you.
And thanks, I really appreciated it.
I kind of miss talking with you, too.
Going to Hogsmeade on Saturday? No?
Me neither. Maybe we can find some
other way to amuse ourselves.
--C
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, giving a little giggle of joy as he did so. He read the note two more times, feeling a hot prickle of excitement travel the length of his spine. Then he slipped the heart-shaped piece of parchment back into the envelope, stashed it in the breast pocket of his robes and left for Transfiguration, the smile still on his face and a new spring in his step.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Potions was Harry's last class that day, and it had been just as unpleasant as ever. Draco Malfoy and his cronies were still having a field day with Rita Skeeter's 'interview' article, much to the amusement of the other Slytherins. Snape retained his iron control during class, as usual, but Harry knew that wouldn't last. As soon as the bell rang, Harry shot out of his seat and out the door, Ron and Hermione by his side, but Malfoy was right on Harry's heels with another snidely solicitous question about whether Harry had cried over his parents last night. Harry opened his mouth before he knew what he was going to say, but what came out was, "You'll be crying over your parents, Malfoy, when everyone finds out they're Death Eaters and they end up in Azkaban - or worse!"
There was a tiny moment of silence, as the storm gathered on Draco's face. But just as he was opening his mouth to deliver his no-doubt vitriolic response, a deeper, authoritative voice rang out from the top of the stairs leading down to the dungeons.
"Potter!"
Everyone looked up, except Harry, who just froze, having instantly recognized the voice. He swore under his breath, furious with himself. Malfoy leered unpleasantly and said, "Hey, Potter, maybe if you're lucky you'll get a detention with Pretty-Boy Diggory," but was cut short by the Hufflepuff Prefect in question, who had descended the stairs to join them. "Take off, Malfoy, and maybe if you're lucky I won't take points from Slytherin too." The blond boy didn't respond to that, just sneered and continued up the stairs with his two goons flanking him. Harry took a deep calming breath and turned to face his accuser.
"Cedric."
The handsome boy had a businesslike frown on his face, a look that Harry had never seen directed at himself before; but he imagined - hoped - that Cedric was just trying to put on a proper Prefect-like show for the other students lingering in the corridor. "I heard what you said to Malfoy, and it was uncalled for, I don't care what he said to you first. One point from Gryffindor. Come on." And with that, he turned on his heel and marched back up the stairs, apparently expecting Harry to follow him. Harry stayed where he was for a moment, half from surprise and half from mulishness, until Cedric stopped halfway up the stairs and turned back to glare at him. The prefect spread his hands, pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows, as if he was trying to tell Harry something - and finally, Harry cottoned on. He blinked, then shrugged at his friends and followed Cedric, trying not to look too pleased with himself.
Needles And Pins, Chapter 2
The first chapter is pretty G-rated, but I assure you, the story won't stay that way. Warning, this is still a work in progress, so it might take me a few days to put it all up. Good things come to those who wait. Comments containing praise and constructive criticism are welcome, but please be aware that this is my first completed HP fandom fic ever. Thanks to my wonderful slash-friendly hubby for the beta job.
--Seven
Title: Needles And Pins
Rating: G - NC17
Pairing: Harry/Cedric
Warnings: explicit male/male sex, a bit of dom/sub play
Summary: Harry gets tired of waiting and finally sends a Valentine to the object of his affections. Cedric gets a little more than he bargained for.
Archive? I'd be honored, but please ask first.
Needles And Pins
The morning of February 14th began like any other February morning at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; that is to say, overcast and windy with freezing rain falling from the sky. It was going on the third day straight for the freezing rain, and it seemed weeks since they'd seen the sun or blue skies. Normally Harry Potter didn't mind winter weather, but he was already in a glum mood. He had Care of Magical Creatures that day, which was almost always outdoors, since Hagrid didn't feel the weather like other people did; he had a detention to serve with Filch that night, for getting caught with a handful of Dungbombs near the Slytherin common room door Friday evening; he still wasn't sure what he was going to do about the second Task; and, to make it all worse, it was Valentine's Day.
Harry had no particularly pleasant memories of Valentine's Day. He knew it was supposed to be a day of expressing your feelings for your loved ones, and he did appreciate the Valentines that he received from his female friends, like Hermione, Ginny, Lavender and Parvati. But Harry also inevitably received Valentines, every year, from girls he hardly knew at all, girls who would have loved to go out with Harry Potter, just to be able to say that they had. These Valentines, some of which were delivered in person by sincerely hopeful girls, made Harry more uncomfortable than facing Filch at his worst. Once or twice in the past, there had been people he had wished to send Valentines to, but didn't dare, for fear of making himself look even more foolish than he usually did. So he had always refrained, keeping his feelings to himself.
But this year, some perverse fairy of insanity - or stupid Gryffindor courage - had seized Harry. Things, he'd decided, had simply gone unsaid long enough. So the previous evening, under the pretense of doing homework up in his dorm room, he'd slipped a few things out of his book bag and made a simple little Valentine out of red construction paper and plain old parchment. After some thought and a few false starts, erased with his wand, he wrote:
Dear Cedric,
Thanks for all the times you've been
nice to me, even when you didn't really
have to be. With all this Tournament
rubbish we haven't had time to really
talk at all since last summer.
I kind of miss that.
Happy Valentine's Day.
Harry wasn't about to sign his name on the bottom; just mentioning the Tournament had been perhaps a bit unwise. He didn't want Cedric's friends, or anybody else, guessing who had sent him this particular Valentine. But he definitely wanted Cedric to know. Even if nothing at all came of it, Harry wanted to be able to say that he had expressed his own feelings honestly. In the end, he simply left it unsigned, folded the heart in half, slipped in into a little envelope, sealed it, wrote
Cedric Diggory
on the front and took it up to the Owlery, giving it to a school owl to deliver the following morning, before he lost his nerve.
Later that night, unable to get to sleep right away, Harry found himself unable to stop thinking of Cedric. He had truly enjoyed getting to know the older boy, during the few brief times they'd been together. When he'd first encountered Cedric last year, he'd thought him little more than an empty-headed Hufflepuff pretty-boy, like most of the other Gryffindor boys. Of course, the giggles, whispers and longing looks of the Gryffindor girls didn't help. But after that terrible Quidditch match when Harry had fallen off his broom because of the Dementors, he had been a little surprised to hear that Cedric had argued with Madam Hooch for a rematch. He had been more surprised when the older boy had approached him at breakfast the following Monday, inquired sincerely about how Harry was feeling, and actually apologized for winning. They'd spent the rest of that morning before class talking, mostly about Quidditch, and Harry was surprised again to find how comfortable and enjoyable it was to pass the time in Cedric's company.
Harry had finally realized why the professors called him 'a credit to his House', why he had so many friends, and why so many girls wanted to date him. Cedric had a way of putting other people at ease; he was friendly, quick-witted, even-tempered, funny, quietly charming yet genuinely modest - and very, very handsome. Harry had gone the rest of that day with a smile on his face, and over the following weeks, he'd found his eyes straying every so often over to the Hufflepuff table in the Great Hall. It seemed that whenever his gaze had connected with Cedric's, the older boy had been quick to respond with a smile and a little lift of his chin. Harry always smiled back.
Towards the end of that year, Harry had noticed, every once in a while he would look over at the Hufflepuff table to find Cedric's eyes already on him, staring thoughtfully. And a handful of times that Harry could remember, Cedric had let his gaze lock with Harry's for a moment or two, giving a secretive, strangely intimate little smile or a subtle lift of his eyebrows before looking away. Harry thought about those gazes, thought about how he had been seeing them more and more frequently from Cedric this year, and felt a bit hot, prickly and restless in his bed. For the hundredth time that evening, he wondered how Cedric would respond to his Valentine.
Cedric had continued to be as friendly to Harry as could be, considering the difference in their ages and Houses. That summer, at the Quidditch World Cup, Harry, Hermione and the younger Weasleys had met up with Cedric again the afternoon before the match, and they'd spent time wandering among the tents, snacking on food from the carts, marvelling at the spectacle and finally finding a shady spot to sit down and talk out of the heat of the sun. Harry had once again been amazed at how easy and pleasant it was to be with Cedric, and was inordinately pleased that Cedric seemed to feel the same way about him, sitting down right beside him and continuing to talk with Harry after Fred and George and the girls, and even Ron, had dropped out of the conversation. The others were finishing their snacks or napping, but Harry and Cedric lay on their sides, propped up on their elbows, facing each other and discussing the respective merits of the Irish and Bulgarian Seekers. No one else was really paying attention to them anymore, and for the first time, Harry had felt the full power of that gaze, so close to him, and of Cedric's undivided attention. He remembered the slick, cool feeling of the pine needles under their bodies, their resinous scent, and the occasional sharp pinprick; he remembered the lull in their conversation, remembered the intensity of the other boy's stare, directly into his own eyes; remembered the nubby, soft-looking jumper Cedric wore, its mossy green color seeming to lend a greenish cast to his grey eyes. Harry remembered being unable to meet that stare any longer, remembered his eyes dropping to Cedric's mouth to watch the tip of his tongue slide out and lick his lips. But most of all he remembered the sudden touch of Cedric's fingertips on his forehead, smoothing away a lock of untidy black hair that had fallen into his eyes. Harry's gaze had snapped back to Cedric's in that moment, and this time he found himself unable to look away, as Cedric, no longer bothering with the pretense of brushing Harry's hair out of his face, caressed his temple and the side of his cheek with fingertips that were hot and ever so slightly trembling. Harry remembered the way Cedric's knowing little smile had slipped as his gaze roamed over Harry's face, and for just a moment Cedric had looked lost, anxious, almost desperate as his thumb skated over Harry's chin and his fingertips approached Harry's lips, Cedric's own mouth opening as if to whisper something -
And then a toy Snitch had sailed right between them, followed closely by its apparent owner, a little dark-haired girl of seven or eight zooming by on her toy broomstick and nearly knocking them flat. Harry scrambled away from Cedric, who had caught the slow-flying Snitch and handed it back to the little girl with a brilliant smile. By that time everyone was awake again and looking over at them; group conversation resumed, and shortly after that, Cedric had left to rejoin his father before the match. Harry hadn't seen him again until the new school year.
And this year, Harry had been so distracted with the foreign students, the intermittent pains in his scar and his concern for Sirius that by the time he'd worked up the courage to approach Cedric again, the Tournament Champions had been chosen. After that, Harry had thought bitterly, if they were even seen talking together, everyone would naturally assume that they would be conspiring to trade Tournament strategies. He had intended to ask Cedric whether they might meet sometime, just to talk for a bit, after telling him about the dragons, but Moody's approach had nixed that possibility. And then, the night of the Ball, when Cedric had repaid him for the hint about the dragons with the hint about the egg, Cedric had been distracted by Cho. But now, Harry was tired of waiting. He had finally gathered his courage, made the gamble and sent his Valentine.
The bait was out there, and Harry would find out in a few hours whether it would catch anything.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Breakfast on Valentine's Day was exactly as Harry had expected it to be; owl after owl, embarrassing Valentine after embarrassing Valentine, rude comments from the Slytherins (joined, this year, by others from Hufflepuffs as well), giggling girls, good-natured teasing from his dormmates, and a few soothing comments from Hermione. Nothing special, really, nothing unusual. Harry glanced over at the Hufflepuff table as often as he dared, watching Cedric open his own mountain of Valentines, looking much more pleased about them all than Harry did. Finally Harry recognized the owl he had given Cedric's Valentine to. His stomach, which had lurched nervously upon seeing the owl, sank as he watched Cedric take the unremarkable envelope, give it a brief glance and then toss it casually on top of the pile, feeding the owl a bite of bacon as he did so. Disappointed, he cast his eyes down to his own bowl of porridge. But in doing so, he missed the second glance Cedric gave the envelope, the tiny frown that appeared on the handsome Hufflepuff's face, and then the long, appraising look he levelled straight at Harry.
At lunch, there were a few more straggling Valentines, one delivered by a third-year Ravenclaw girl who blushed so fiercely and stuttered so badly that Harry felt genuinely sorry for her, and accepted her Valentine with a gracious smile. A small school owl delivered two or three more, and Harry laid them down beside his plate with the rest. And then, just as he was finishing his goulash, his own Hedwig landed right in front of him, almost knocking over his glass of pumpkin juice, and dropped a comparatively plain-looking note directly into his plate. Harry quickly picked it up, brushing off a few smears of tomato sauce and letting his beautiful snowy owl snap up the last bits of beef from his plate.
The envelope, to Harry's mild surprise, didn't have his name on it, or the name of the sender. Instead it just said:
DO NOT OPEN IN PUBLIC
Something about the handwriting looked familiar, and Harry felt a wild flutter of hope beating in his chest. He looked around casually and then, satisfied that none of his friends was paying any particular attention to yet another Valentine for Harry Potter, he sneaked a glance up at the Hufflepuff table. Sure enough, Cedric was staring at him out from under his lashes, looking equally sneaky. Upon meeting Harry's eyes, the older boy flashed that secretive smile again, just for an instant, and then turned to his friends, apparently answering a question one of them had asked. Harry smiled a secretive, smug little smile of his own, allowing his gaze to linger on Cedric a little longer, mentally challenging the other boy to look at him again. In another moment, Cedric did - and that time, Harry made sure he himself was the one who broke eye contact. He stood up and casually gathered the rest of his Valentines and his book bag, rolling his eyes at Seamus's loud speculations about which hopeful Valentine sender Harry was going to snog first tonight. He made his excuses to his friends, promising Hermione that he wouldn't be late for Transfiguration, and made for an unused classroom he knew about on the second floor. Once there, he made sure there was no one else in the room, and then shut the door behind him and leaned on it for good measure. With fingers that were trembling only the tiniest bit, Harry opened the envelope.
Happy Valentine's Day to you.
And thanks, I really appreciated it.
I kind of miss talking with you, too.
Going to Hogsmeade on Saturday? No?
Me neither. Maybe we can find some
other way to amuse ourselves.
--C
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, giving a little giggle of joy as he did so. He read the note two more times, feeling a hot prickle of excitement travel the length of his spine. Then he slipped the heart-shaped piece of parchment back into the envelope, stashed it in the breast pocket of his robes and left for Transfiguration, the smile still on his face and a new spring in his step.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
Potions was Harry's last class that day, and it had been just as unpleasant as ever. Draco Malfoy and his cronies were still having a field day with Rita Skeeter's 'interview' article, much to the amusement of the other Slytherins. Snape retained his iron control during class, as usual, but Harry knew that wouldn't last. As soon as the bell rang, Harry shot out of his seat and out the door, Ron and Hermione by his side, but Malfoy was right on Harry's heels with another snidely solicitous question about whether Harry had cried over his parents last night. Harry opened his mouth before he knew what he was going to say, but what came out was, "You'll be crying over your parents, Malfoy, when everyone finds out they're Death Eaters and they end up in Azkaban - or worse!"
There was a tiny moment of silence, as the storm gathered on Draco's face. But just as he was opening his mouth to deliver his no-doubt vitriolic response, a deeper, authoritative voice rang out from the top of the stairs leading down to the dungeons.
"Potter!"
Everyone looked up, except Harry, who just froze, having instantly recognized the voice. He swore under his breath, furious with himself. Malfoy leered unpleasantly and said, "Hey, Potter, maybe if you're lucky you'll get a detention with Pretty-Boy Diggory," but was cut short by the Hufflepuff Prefect in question, who had descended the stairs to join them. "Take off, Malfoy, and maybe if you're lucky I won't take points from Slytherin too." The blond boy didn't respond to that, just sneered and continued up the stairs with his two goons flanking him. Harry took a deep calming breath and turned to face his accuser.
"Cedric."
The handsome boy had a businesslike frown on his face, a look that Harry had never seen directed at himself before; but he imagined - hoped - that Cedric was just trying to put on a proper Prefect-like show for the other students lingering in the corridor. "I heard what you said to Malfoy, and it was uncalled for, I don't care what he said to you first. One point from Gryffindor. Come on." And with that, he turned on his heel and marched back up the stairs, apparently expecting Harry to follow him. Harry stayed where he was for a moment, half from surprise and half from mulishness, until Cedric stopped halfway up the stairs and turned back to glare at him. The prefect spread his hands, pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows, as if he was trying to tell Harry something - and finally, Harry cottoned on. He blinked, then shrugged at his friends and followed Cedric, trying not to look too pleased with himself.
Needles And Pins, Chapter 2