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Harry Potter
Following the tragic torture of his parents, Harry Potter had been raised by his godfather.
It was a fact that tended to make people pause when they heard it, their expressions shifting into the careful sympathy reserved for war orphans and tragic figures. Harry had never quite known what to do with that look. His parents were gone, yes, and that loss sat quietly in the background of his life like an old bruise.
But the rest of it had never felt particularly tragic.
Harry had grown up loved, raised in a large, slightly crumbling house full of noise and laughter and comfort. Honestly, Harry couldn’t have asked for better guardians.
Sirius Black, his godfather, had swept him into his life with the reckless enthusiasm he seemed to apply to everything. Sirius had money, dramatic flair, and a firm belief that childhood should include as many sweets, broom rides, and ill-advised adventures as possible. Remus Lupin—Sirius’s husband and Harry’s quieter parent—was warm, steady, and endlessly patient. He was the sort of person who kept the house from collapsing entirely under Sirius’s more… creative impulses.
Harry had grown up loved. Spoiled, if Sirius was being honest. Remus called it “well cared for.” Harry had thrived under their care, inheriting both Sirius’s flair for mischief and Remus’s dry wit, a combination that made him charming when he was behaving and deeply exasperating when he wasn’t.
People sometimes expected him to carry some visible mark of tragedy, something that set him apart. But no, Harry was an ordinary boy with ordinary, overprotective parents.
Just… Harry.
So, when the Triwizard Tournament was announced during his fourth year, Harry watched the spectacle from the stands rather than the arena.
The Goblet of Fire spat out Cedric Diggory’s name for Hogwarts, and just like that, the entire school seemed to revolve around him. Cedric was everything a champion was supposed to be—brilliant, brave, impossibly good-looking—and Harry found himself watching the tournament with more interest than he’d initially expected.
From the Gryffindor stands, he cheered louder than anyone.
Cedric, it turned out, noticed.
What began as a few conversations after Quidditch practice or in the library turned into something else, almost without either of them meaning it to. Cedric had a quiet kindness about him that Harry liked immediately, and Harry’s sharp humor seemed to draw out a softer, more relaxed side of the usually composed Hufflepuff champion.
Before long, they were spending most of their free time together, tucked into corners of the castle where the rest of the school was unlikely to wander.
The friendship shifted into something sweeter after that.
Kisses stolen in empty corridors. Hands brushing together as they walked side by side. The sort of soft, secret happiness that made the rest of the world feel pleasantly distant.
By the time the Yule Ball arrived, neither of them saw much point in pretending otherwise. As long as Sirius didn’t get too nosy, Harry’s relationship would remain carefully tucked away from the critical gaze of his overprotective Godfather.
They spent the night dancing and laughing and whispering promises to each other in the quiet spaces between songs, and when Harry finally fell asleep that night with Cedric’s chest warm beneath his head, it felt almost like a dream.
Not even two months later, that dream was about to collide rather violently with his parental reality.
—
Harry was lounging in the Gryffindor common room, attempting to finish a Potions essay he’d successfully ignored all week. The fire crackled warmly, and the familiar sounds of chess games and quiet chatter filled the space.
Harry startled when a school owl, a large tawny one he didn't recognize, swooped in through the open window, landing gracefully on the table before him with a hoot. It extended its leg, to which a thick, cream-colored envelope was tied. The Hogwarts crest was pressed into the wax seal, but it was the elegant, sharp script of his dad’s handwriting that made Harry’s stomach clench.
He took the letter, his heart starting to thud a little faster against his ribs. Sirius’s letters were usually cheerful, full of gossip and boasts about his latest expensive purchase. But, for some reason, Harry had a sinking feeling in his gut as he broke the seal and unfolded the parchment.
Harry,
I trust this letter finds you well. I had a rather… enlightening conversation with Molly Weasley this afternoon at a Ministry event she was attending with Arthur. She mentioned that you and the Hogwarts Champion, Cedric Diggory, have become quite close.
Harry’s breath hitched. Oh, no.
She seemed to think it was lovely. I, on the other hand, am trying to understand why I had to hear about my son having a boyfriend from a woman who still knits me sweaters that are two sizes too big. I am your father, Harry. I am supposed to be told these things. Directly.
This, of course, leads me to my next point. I want to meet him. Remus and I both do. You and Mr. Diggory are to come to Grimmauld Place for dinner on the Saturday of the next long weekend, two weeks from now. We will be using the Floo from Professor McGonagall’s office. I’m not asking.
We will be waiting.
Your loving Godfather,
Sirius
Harry stared at the letter, the words blurring slightly. He’d told Remus about his relationship with Cedric. Of course, he’d told Remus. The man had listened with his usual calm, a warm smile on his face, and promised to help manage Sirius when the time came.
But Harry had been a coward, putting off the inevitable conversation with his more volatile and protective father. Now, the inevitable had arrived, delivered via the Weasley family grapevine. His eyes drifted to the bottom of the page, where a different, neater script was added.
P.S. Don't mind your father, he's just dramatic. We're both very excited to finally meet Cedric. From what you've told us, he sounds like a wonderful young man and a great match for you. Try not to worry! Love, Remus.
Harry let out a shaky laugh, relief and dread warring within him. Remus was the calm before the storm. Now he just had to go tell his boyfriend that his very famous, very intimidating, Auror godfather wanted to… evaluate him.
Easy peasy.
—
The library was hushed, the air thick with the scent of old parchment and dust motes dancing in the slanted afternoon light. Deep in the Restricted Section, tucked away in a shadowed alcove formed by two towering shelves, Harry had found his sanctuary.
Cedric was sitting on the floor, leaning against the shelf, his long legs stretched out. Harry was sprawled across his lap, his head resting on Cedric’s shoulder, his own legs thrown casually over Cedric’s. Cedric’s arm was wrapped securely around his waist, holding him close, while his other hand turned the pages of a heavy, leather-bound book titled Waters of the Magical World: A Comprehensive Guide.
Cedric’s brow was furrowed in concentration, his grey eyes scanning a passage about Grindylows. Harry loved watching him like this—the serious, dedicated champion who was also the boy who blushed when Harry kissed his cheek. He could feel the steady rise and fall of Cedric’s chest against his back, the warmth of him a comforting presence. He shifted, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Cedric’s neck, right where his pulse beat steadily beneath the skin.
Cedric hummed, a low, pleased sound, but didn't look up from his book. "Hmm?"
"Nothing," Harry murmured, nuzzling closer. "Just you."
A slow smile spread across Cedric's face, though his eyes remained on the page. "You're distracting me. I need to know if Merpeople are likely to use a binding charm or just brute force to capture a hostage from a ship."
"They'll probably be too charmed by your dashing good looks to do anything," Harry teased, his voice a low whisper.
Cedric finally chuckled, the sound a warm rumble in his chest. He tilted his head down, his grey eyes finally meeting Harry’s, full of a love so open and adoring it still sometimes took Harry’s breath away. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Potter."
Harry’s smile softened. He reached up to gently push a stray lock of hair from Cedric’s forehead, his fingers lingering against his skin. "Ced… we need to talk about something."
The playful light in Cedric's eyes immediately shifted to one of concern. He closed the book, setting it aside with a soft thud. "What is it? Is everything alright?"
"Yeah, everything's fine," Harry said quickly, though his voice was a little tight. "I just… I got a letter."
Cedric’s arms tightened around him instinctively. "From your parents? Is Remus okay?"
Cedric didn’t know about Remus’s… condition, obviously, but he knew he struggled with some sort of chronic illness. Harry softened; Cedric was so sweet to be worried.
"They're both fine! It's not bad news, it's just… news." Harry took a breath, steeling himself. "Sirius knows. About us."
Cedric froze, his entire body going rigid beneath Harry. The warmth that had been so comforting a moment ago now felt charged with tension. "He… knows? How?"
"Molly Weasley," Harry said with a wince. "I’m guessing one of her kids mentioned it to her, and she took it upon herself to talk to Sirius about it."
Cedric paled, his grey eyes wide with a dawning horror. Harry knew exactly what he was thinking. Everyone knew the stories of Sirius Black—the brilliant, reckless Auror, known for his fierce temper and unwavering devotion to his family. The idea of meeting him under these circumstances must’ve been terrifying.
"Oh," Cedric breathed, his voice barely a whisper. "He… he wants to meet me, doesn't he?"
"He does," Harry confirmed, sitting up a little to look him properly in the eye. He took Cedric’s face in his hands, his thumbs stroking his cheekbones. "Hey. Look at me. It's going to be okay. I promise."
Cedric swallowed hard, his gaze searching Harry’s. "Harry, he's Sirius Black. He's a legend. And I'm just… me. What if he hates me?"
"He won't hate you," Harry said with fierce certainty. "How could anyone hate you? You're the kindest, most wonderful person I've ever met. He's just being a protective dad. He wants to make sure I'm happy. And you make me happier than I've ever been."
The raw honesty in Harry’s voice seemed to break through Cedric’s fear. His shoulders relaxed slightly, and he leaned into Harry’s touch, turning his head to press a kiss into Harry’s palm.
"He's demanding we come to Grimmauld Place for dinner next weekend," Harry continued softly. "He wants to… err… evaluate you."
Cedric let out a shaky laugh, the sound full of nerves. "Evaluate me? What am I, a prized Hippogriff?"
"Exactly like a Hippogriff," Harry grinned. "You just have to bow and show him you mean no harm."
Despite the terror still lingering in his eyes, Cedric’s lips curved into a genuine smile at that. He loved Harry’s humor, the way he could make even the most frightening situations feel manageable. He wrapped his arms around Harry, pulling him flush against his chest and burying his face in Harry’s messy hair, inhaling the familiar scent of broomstick polish and the specific, warm spice that was just Harry.
"Alright," Cedric murmured, his voice muffled against Harry's hair. "For you, I'll bow to the terrifying Auror godfather." He pulled back just enough to look at Harry, his expression softening into that look of pure, unadulterated adoration that made Harry’s heart feel like it was trying to climb out of his chest. "If he's half as wonderful as his son, I'm sure I'll survive."
Harry beamed, leaning in to capture Cedric’s lips in a slow, deep kiss. Cedric’s lips were soft and firm, moving against his with a practiced gentleness that spoke of their months together. He poured all his reassurance into it, all his love and confidence that this would be okay. Cedric kissed him back, his hands coming up to tangle in Harry’s hair, holding him close like he was the only solid thing in a world that had suddenly tilted on its axis.
When they finally parted, they were both breathing a little heavier. Cedric rested his forehead against Harry’s, his warm brown eyes tracing every feature of Harry’s face as if trying to memorize it.
"So," Harry said, his voice a little breathless. "Dinner at Grimmauld Place. Next Saturday. Think you can handle it?"
"I can handle anything as long as you're there," Cedric replied, his voice sincere. He paused, a flicker of his earlier nerves returning. "What should I wear? What should I bring? Do I call him Sirius? Mr. Black? Oh Merlin, what if I call him Sirius and he insists on Mr. Black?"
Harry laughed, the sound echoing softly in the quiet library. "Breathe, Ced. Just breathe. Wear something nice, but not too nice. You know, your good robes. And bring nothing. Sirius would be offended if you thought he couldn't provide for his guests. And you call him Sirius. He'll probably insist on it anyway. He hates all that kind of pomp and circumstance."
"Okay," Cedric said, taking a deep, steadying breath. "Okay. Nice robes. Call him Sirius. Don't bring a gift. I can do this."
"You can," Harry confirmed, pecking him on the nose. "And Remus is there. He's the secret weapon. He'll keep Sirius in line."
Cedric managed another smile, looking more determined now. "Good. I like Remus. He sounds sensible."
"He is," Harry said, snuggling back into his comfortable spot against Cedric’s chest. "Now, back to your Merpeople. I need my champion to be fully prepared for his second task."
Cedric’s arm tightened around him, and he reached for the heavy book again, but he didn't open it. Instead, he just held Harry, his chin resting on top of Harry's head.
For a long moment, they just sat there in the peaceful silence, the threat of a parental interrogation hanging over them, but for now, pushed aside. In this small, dusty corner of the library, wrapped in each other's arms, they were just Harry and Cedric. And for right now, that was more than enough.
—
Cedric Diggory
The anticipation was a cold stone in Cedric’s gut.
Standing in the quiet, austere office of Professor McGonagall, he felt like he was awaiting his own execution rather than a dinner invitation. He’d spent the better part of the afternoon agonizing over his appearance, finally settling on his best formal robes in a deep, dignified dark blue, trimmed in Hufflepuff yellow that brought out the gold in his eyes. They were immaculate, pressed to a razor's edge.
Harry, on the other hand, looked utterly, endearingly himself.
He stood beside him, fidgeting absently with the sleeve of his casual black robes, which were soft and well-worn. His hair was its usual chaotic masterpiece, a dark thatch that refused to be tamed, and his glasses were perched slightly crooked on his nose. He looked so comfortable, so completely unbothered, that it made Cedric’s own anxiety feel foolish.
"You look like you're about to face the Hungarian Horntail again," Harry said, his voice laced with amusement as he looked Cedric up and down. "Why the formal wear? We're just having dinner."
"I just want to make a good impression," Cedric admitted, his hands feeling clammy inside his perfectly tailored sleeves.
Harry rolled his eyes, a fond exasperation that Cedric had come to adore. "You're overthinking this." He stepped closer, the scent of his cologne—a light, clean scent, like fresh air and cinnamon—washing over Cedric. Harry reached out, his small hands smoothing down the front of Cedric’s robes, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through him. "There. Perfect."
Cedric looked down at him, at the earnest concern in those brilliant green eyes behind the askew lenses. A wave of pure, overwhelming adoration washed over him, so potent it nearly stole his breath. This was the boy he loved. This messy, brilliant, kind-hearted boy who was currently trying to calm his nerves.
He caught Harry's hand as it lingered on his chest, bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.
"Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. He let go of Harry’s hand only to pick up the small pot of Floo powder from McGonagall's desk. "Ladies first," he teased, his voice finally regaining some of its usual strength.
Harry snorted, but a smile played on his lips. "Yeah, yeah, you're hilarious." He took the powder, stepped into the roaring hearth, and clearly called out, "Grimmauld Place!" With a flash of green flame, he was gone.
Cedric took one last steadying breath, squared his shoulders, and followed.
The landing was rougher than he expected. He stumbled out of the fireplace into a dimly lit, narrow hallway, coughing slightly as he brushed soot from his robes. The air was thick with the smell of old house, dust, and something else… something dark and magical.
Harry was already there, grinning at him, but his attention was quickly drawn to the two men standing just beyond the hearth.
Remus Lupin was exactly as Harry had described: warm and welcoming. He had kind, tired eyes and a gentle smile that immediately put Cedric at ease. "Cedric, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said, his voice calm and steady.
Then there was Sirius Black. He was handsome, with sharp features and the same dark hair as his godson. Contrary to Remus, Sirius’s grey eyes were anything but welcoming. They were piercing, intelligent, and currently fixed on Cedric with an unnerving intensity. He smiled, a wide, charismatic grin that didn't quite reach that silvery gaze.
"Cedric Diggory," Sirius said, his voice a smooth, low baritone. "The Hogwarts Champion. We've heard a lot about you." He extended a hand.
Cedric took it, expecting a polite shake. He was met with a grip of surprising strength, a crushing pressure that lasted a fraction of a second too long before it relaxed into a normal handshake. It was a clear, silent message. I am stronger than you. I am watching you.
"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Black," Cedric said, keeping his voice even and his smile polite.
"Call me Sirius, please," he said, clapping Cedric on the shoulder, the impact just a little too firm to be friendly. "We're all family here. Right, Harry?"
"Right!" Harry said over his shoulder, completely oblivious. He was already chatting animatedly with Remus about a new defensive spell he'd learned.
Making polite conversation, Harry’s parents led the happy couple over to their already set dinner table. Cedric sat as the chair magically pulled itself out for him, swallowing nervously.
The house was grand but shabby, all faded carpets and dark wood, and the long dining table made Cedric feel as if he’d been placed at the center of a courtroom, with Sirius Black was the judge, jury, and executioner.
The food appeared suddenly on their plates, and thus began Cedric’s long, careful performance.
"So, Cedric," Sirius began, carving a slice of roast with a little more force than necessary. "Seventeen, is it? A full-grown wizard." He took a bite, chewing thoughtfully as his sharp grey eyes assessed Cedric. "Must be quite the experience, being of age while Harry's still just a boy. What is it, exactly, that a seventh year finds so interesting in a fourth year?"
Cedric felt Harry kick him under the table, a little urgent. Cedric held back a flinch, meeting Sirius's gaze directly. "Harry's age’s got nothing to do with why I care for him. He’s incredible, sir. He’s got a hell of a spirit; I swear, I've seen him stand up to bullies, people twice his size, without a second thought. He's the bravest person I know." Cedric smiled, his brown eyes crinkling as he looked over to his boyfriend, “Not to mention his flying.”
Harry blushed beside him, but Sirius just narrowed his eyes slightly, a flicker of surprise in their depths before he masked it with another smile.
Later, as Remus served pudding, Sirius leaned back in his chair. "This tournament must be taking up all your time. It's a dangerous business. Hardly seems fair to be dragging Harry into such a high-profile relationship when your focus should be on surviving, does it?"
This time, Remus shot Sirius a warning look, but Harry just laughed, completely missing the subtext. "He's not dragging me into anything! I'm his lucky charm." He grinned with exaggerated arrogance.
Cedric’s heart swelled with affection for his wonderfully, blissfully unaware boyfriend. "Harry is my anchor," he said, his voice soft but clear. "He's the reason I'm not lost in all the pressure. All this tournament stuff,” Cedric shook his head, “It’s insane. But Harry keeps me grounded.."
Sirius opened his mouth, but Remus cut in smoothly. "Speaking of the second task, have you given any thought to the Gillyweed, Cedric? Or are you planning a Bubble-Head Charm?" The conversation shifted, and for a few blessed moments, the interrogation ceased as Cedric chatted happily about his preparation for the second task.
“So how did you two get to know each other?” Remus asked, levitating over the dessert course. “Quidditch?”
“I think that was when I first was introduced to you,” Cedric replied, looking over to Harry for confirmation. “We’re both seekers, so it's hard to miss each other out on the field.”
“A seeker, huh?” Sirius asked, sounding begrudgingly impressed. “You any good?”
Harry nodded excitedly. "Oh, Cedric's a brilliant flier," he said, puffing out his chest with pride. "He's been helping me with some new maneuvers. He loves when I ride."
Cedric choked on his pudding, his face turning a shade of crimson he didn't know was humanly possible. He frantically grabbed his napkin, dabbing at his mouth while his eyes darted to a frozen Sirius. "No! Not like that!" he sputtered, his voice an octave too high. "I mean… on the broom! His broom! We practice together sometimes, and I… I appreciate his form! His… his technique! It's very… aerodynamic!"
Cedric was going to kill himself. He was going to spontaneously combust, right here and now. There was no saving him.
Harry looked utterly bewildered. "Well, yeah. That's what I said. What's wrong with you?"
Sirius’s smile was predatory, a slow, sharp curve of his lips. "Aerodynamic technique," he repeated slowly, his voice dripping with condescending amusement. "How… enlightening. Do you often appreciate his technique, Diggory?"
"Sirius," Remus said, exhaustion evident in his voice. At least someone here was taking pity on Cedric.
But Harry, ever the helpful one, plunged on. "He does! He's always watching me practice. Sometimes he just stands there and stares. It's a bit distracting, actually." He grinned at Cedric. "Makes me want to show off."
Cedric wanted the floor to swallow him whole. He could feel a bead of sweat trickle down his temple. "I'm… I'm scouting! For Hufflepuff! We’ve gotta be up to date on Gryffindor talent if we want to take them down in games," he lied, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a desperate rush.
Sirius leaned forward, his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers. "Is that so? And what talent does my Harry have that's caught the eye of the Hogwarts Champion, I wonder?"
"He's fast!" Cedric blurted out, his mind a complete blank. "And… and agile! And he has a very firm grip!"
Remus closed his eyes, a pained expression on his face. Harry, meanwhile, beamed. "I do, don't I? Sirius says I get it from him."
Sirius's eye twitched.
The rest of the meal continued in a similar fashion. Every innocent comment from Harry was twisted into a new accusation by Sirius, and every frantic, panicked clarification from Cedric only seemed to dig the hole deeper.
By the time dessert plates were cleared, Cedric felt like he'd run a marathon. He was sweating, his throat was dry, and he was pretty sure he'd aged five years in the span of an hour.
Finally, dinner was over. The grumbling house-elf cleared the last of the dishes, and the tension in the room was thick enough to be sliced with a knife.
"Well," Sirius said, standing up and stretching with an exaggerated yawn. "It's getting late. Harry, why don't you head on back? I just want a quick, private word with Cedric."
Harry looked confused, his gaze darting between his dad and his boyfriend. "Oh. Okay." He looked at Cedric, a question in his eyes.
"It's alright, Harry," Cedric said, giving him a reassuring smile that felt more like a grimace. "I'll be right behind you."
"We'll see you again soon, kiddo," Remus added, his tone gentle.
Reassured, Harry nodded, took a pinch of Floo powder from the mantelpiece, and vanished back into the green flames.
The moment he was gone, the warmth in the room evaporated. Sirius’s smile dropped, replaced by a cold, hard mask. He took a step closer, invading Cedric's space.
"Let's get one thing straight, Diggory," he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "I see the way you look at him. And I know what seventeen-year-old boys want."
"Sirius–" Remus began, but Sirius held up a hand, his eyes never leaving Cedric's.
"He's my entire world," Sirius continued, his voice trembling with an emotion that was half anger and half love. "He's all I have left of James and Lily. He was happy and safe until you came along. So I'm only going to say this once. If you hurt him. If you break his heart. If you make him cry for even a second… you will answer to me. I am an Auror. I know curses that will make you wish you'd never been born. Do you understand me?"
Cedric stood his ground, his own fear melting away, replaced by a fierce protectiveness of his own. "I understand you perfectly," he said, his voice just as low. "And I want you to understand me. I love your son. I would rather face a dragon ten times over than see a single tear fall from his eyes. I’d protect him with my life. That's a promise."
They stared at each other for a long, charged moment. Then, something shifted in Sirius's eyes. The coldness receded, replaced by a grudging acknowledgement. He stared at Cedric for another second before a genuine, albeit slightly weary, smile broke across his face.
He reached out and slapped Cedric hard across the back, a blow that nearly sent him stumbling forward.
"Good," Sirius boomed, his voice returning to its normal, loud timbre. "I hate to say it, Diggory, but you're not such a bad guy after all. And for what it's worth," he added, his tone softening slightly, "I'm rooting for you in that tournament. You've got more guts than most of the Ministry's top Aurors I've worked with. Now get out of here before I change my mind."
With that final, gruff endorsement, Cedric felt the last of the tension drain from his body, leaving him feeling hollowed out and exhausted. He nodded mutely, managed a weak "Thank you, Sirius," and turned to Remus.
"Thank you for dinner, Remus. It was… memorable."
Remus gave him a sympathetic, knowing look. "Travel safely, Cedric. We'll see you both soon."
Cedric grabbed a pinch of Floo powder from the urn on the mantelpiece, stepped into the hearth, and called out "Hogwarts!" The world dissolved into a dizzying, nauseating swirl of green and grey, the oppressive atmosphere of Grimmauld Place replaced by the familiar, comforting magic of the castle.
He stumbled out into McGonagall's office, brushing the soot from his pristine robes. And there, waiting for him by the desk, was Harry.
His face was lit up with a brilliant, unconcerned smile, his eyes sparkling behind his crooked glasses. He looked so happy, so proud, that a pang of guilt shot through Cedric's chest.
"There you are!" Harry exclaimed, rushing forward. "That went great! I told you it would be fine! They loved you!"
Cedric looked at Harry's beaming, trusting face and felt the weight of the evening settle on him. He couldn't do it. He couldn't tell him. He couldn't shatter that perfect, innocent happiness with the truth of the evening's gauntlet. He couldn't explain that his father had spent two hours systematically testing his sanity, his intentions, and his knowledge of broom-related innuendo.
So he didn't.
Instead, Cedric summoned the last reserves of his strength, plastered a smile on his own face that felt as fragile as spun glass, and pulled Harry into his arms. He buried his face in Harry's hair, breathing in the familiar scent of broomstick polish and cinnamon that grounded him, that reminded him exactly why he'd endured the interrogation in the first place.
"Yeah," he murmured, his voice muffled against Harry's temple. "It went great."
Harry pulled back just enough to look up at him, his expression full of so much love and trust that it made Cedric's chest ache. "Told you. Dad can be a bit much, but he likes you. I can tell. Remus definitely likes you. He asked me about your Transfiguration grades."
Cedric managed a weak laugh, the sound feeling foreign in his own ears. "He did? That's… nice."
"He's just proud, you know?" Harry continued, completely oblivious. "He's just making sure you're good enough for me." He stood on his tiptoes and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Cedric's lips. "And you are."
Cedric's heart, which had been pounding with anxiety all night, finally gave a lurch of pure, unadulterated affection. He tightened his arms around Harry, holding him close as if he were a lifeline. Maybe Sirius was right to be protective. Maybe any father would be. Harry was, indeed, the bravest person he knew, but he was also so wonderfully, endearingly clueless sometimes. It was Cedric's job to protect that, to shield it from the harsher realities of the world.
And if that meant enduring a few more dinners like tonight, then he would do it. He would do it a hundred times over.
"Let's go back to my room," Cedric said, his voice finally regaining some of its warmth. "I think I've earned a cuddle."
“Cedric, you know just what to say to a man after he’s eaten half his weight in pudding," he agreed, taking Cedric's hand and lacing their fingers together.
As they walked out of McGonagall's office and into the quiet, torch-lit corridors of Hogwarts, Cedric felt the last of the evening's tension finally begin to fade. He squeezed Harry's hand, and Harry squeezed back, a silent, perfect understanding passing between them. The night had been a trial by fire, but they had passed it. Together. And for Cedric, that was all that mattered.