Chapter Text
Cedric turned at the sound of his father's voice and saw a collection of redheads approaching – the Weasleys. His father had mentioned that the family would be taking the Portkey with them to the World Cup. He smiled and looked around at the group as it gathered around him, recognising the twins, their younger brother Ron and a young girl who could only be their sister. He also noted Hermione Granger, whom he knew to be good friends with Ron, and his eyes widened at the sight of ... Harry Potter.
Cedric knew about him from previous years of course, but really, who didn’t know about The Boy Who Lived. Harry was two years behind Cedric in their classes, and he was happy to see him in the company of the Weasleys. Cedric smiled warmly at the approaching group, although the twins still kept their distance from him.
‘Come on, lads, it was only a house Quidditch match,’ he said good-naturedly. ‘Someone had to win and that time it was Hufflepuff. Give us a break already.’
Grudgingly Fred and George smiled, but Cedric knew that if any family were Quidditch crazy, it was the Weasleys. He was sure they were waiting for a chance to even the score.
His father made a big deal over Harry. Of course he couldn’t have known that Cedric had secretly harboured a fascination of the younger boy since the previous year, but when Amos went on about how Cedric had beaten Harry Potter at Quidditch, Cedric felt the heat rise in his face. Nervously, he looked away and pretended to scan the horizon, while inside his chest his heart beat a tattoo like a wild thing.
‘Good Merlin, why must he go on about that?’ he muttered, finding it difficult to maintain his composure. He spoke quickly to his father who, oblivious to the feelings of those around him, continued to pontificate about his son’s ability.
Mercifully, the time had come to Port and they all stood huddled around the old boot held by his father. Cedric looked around at his travelling companions and at Harry directly across from him. The younger wizard was sandwiched between Ron and Hermione and, as Mr Weasley counted down the time, Cedric was oddly delighted by the excitement on Harry’s face that seemed to glow in the semi-light.
‘Three … two …’
He glanced again at Harry, and their eyes met as they grinned at each other.
‘One!’ and they were off.
~*~
They sailed through the air, spinning wildly as they Ported to the World Cup grounds. Cedric enjoyed riding by Portkey and thought that the sensation was closest to flying madly without a broom. The wanton confusion of it all appealed to him, a boy who had been brought up by the straight and narrow, to follow the path of societal convention, to be proper.
He looked around at his grinning Porting companions, and his eyes locked onto Harry’s face. The look of sheer delight and excited wonder on the younger boy’s face evoked sensations in Cedric’s body and strangely delicious thoughts in his mind; excited fluttering thoughts that evaded clarity and floated just out of mind’s reach.
He remembered his first Portkey when his father had taken him to work one day, and the Floo Network wasn’t working properly. His father had removed what looked like a very small clock from his pocket and had placed it on the kitchen table. He withdrew his wand and tapped the object as he murmured an incantation. The object had glowed with an eerie blue light and had rattled around on the table before coming to rest. He had looked at his father questioningly, but Amos had simply smiled and held his son’s hand. He then placed a finger on the small clock and Cedric had felt a jerk behind his navel for the very first time.
He was brought back to the present rather abruptly as their Porting group landed. He managed to keep his feet as the rest of the youngsters collapsed on the ground. Laughing, he leaned down and extended his hand to Harry as they clambered to their feet. As their hands met there was a definite sssnnnnap! as though a connection had been made, a connection more than a merely physical one. Cedric’s eyes widened, as he was sure they both felt it. Their eyes met and sealed the connection into a self-perpetuating loop that briefly excluded the world around them.
‘C’mon, Harry, let’s get going.’ Ron’s voice stole into Cedric’s altered consciousness, and he shook his head, releasing Harry’s hand. Amos threw his arm around his son’s shoulders, and they headed off, waving farewell to the Weasley group. Cedric could still feel the heat of Harry’s palm in his own.
As they walked to find their tent, Cedric pondered the consequences of his thoughts about Harry and wondered just what his subsequent reactions were all about. He suspected that he knew and was surprised to find himself so drawn to the younger boy after just one meeting and one touch. One touch that had seemed so inconsequential to onlookers, but that spoke volumes to Cedric, and he couldn't shake the unmistakable feeling that things were going to change.
Significantly.
TBC