Disclaimer : I don't own any of these characters, unfortunately, and they all belong to J.K. Rowling (aka : god) or to people who have rights or stuff like that on those books. I'm not making money with it or anything, I'm just writing because she gave us so much slash background to write on and because I can.

Random note : I started writing this after I watched the fourth Harry Potter movie. In my opinion, it kind of sucked, but when Harry bursts out of nowhere to tell Cedric about the dragons, he has his head on a random BOY'S lap. I just... had to write ? Okay, enough with the crap.

Warning : I wish I could write this in huge flashy letters : YAOI. SLASH. GAY SEX. Not for now, but later. I'm kind of allergic to het anyway. Kinda unsafe to post it on since people tend to get pissed off and report easily but anyway.

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I always loathed Harry Potter. I simply couldn't stand being in his presence because he just made me puke. And I knew exactly why : he oustanded me as the school's worst attention-seeker of all time. Well, he pretented it wasn't his fault, but I just knew he still liked it.

Being an incredible Quidditch player, having very good grades and being the most handsome boy of the whole school wasn't enough for me to be the real center of attention, or so it seemed. Some people were just born with a talent for this. I mean, he didn't even try and got what I would have killed to get.

That's why when he fell off his broomstick during his third year at Hogwarts, I felt really pleased. Oh, of course, I got out my most concerned face and pretented I didn't accept my victory, but in fact, I was just hoping he was badly hurt. At least enough to stop him from being the star for a week or two.

But the following year was my last year of school. I had to beat him at something in a way everyone would remember, so they would keep saying things like 'It's a shame I used to prefer that Potter guy to The Great Cedric Digory!' I just had to, no matter what it cost me.

On the first day of school, thank god, they gave me the perfect opportunity to prove to everyone that I was better than him once and for all. I nearly had an orgasm when Dumbledore told us that we had to be at least 17 years old to participate : that made Harry Potter out of my way, out of everyone's way, in fact. I smirked at him, but he didn't notice at all. He was too busy chatting with that redhead boy. I had much sympathy for the guy. Being Potter's best friend doesn't sound like fun at all...

When I headed back to the dormitory, proudly leading the crowd of tiny first-years, I had this wonderful feeling saying nothing would stop me this time. If I was lucky enough, I would get to see him apologize to me, on his knees. I even started picturing the guy with torn off clothes, tied up in a corner, calling me master and begging for his life... Wait... was that a bit too much ?

Someone pulled my sleeve, kind of awakening me from my daydreaming.

'We're there, Ced…' said one my followers.

They called themselves my friends, but I never really cared about them. I just liked the fact that they thought I was some kind of living god. They were nothing more than acquaintances.

'Ah, of course…'

I teached the password to the students, telling them in politically correct terms I would hang them by the balls in Filch's bedroom if they forgot it. I also told them to go to bed early if they didn't want to get kicked out on their first day at school because they were sleeping in class before going to my own bedroom. My three roomates/followers, Moron, Insipid Loser and Sexslave were there, but only Insipid Loser was still awake.

'Hi Ced…' he mumbled.

'Hi.'

'It's been a long time.' he simply said, before starting snoring loudly.

He was annoying, but less than Moron. And Sexslave was just a good fuckfriend. I know, it was kind of weird, I mean, about him being a boy. But I somewhat see my sexual preferences as another unique aspect of my personnality. Besides, Sexslave combined two important qualities : he was almost as good-looking as he was submissive.

I got to bed half-dressed. I didn't really feel like searching for my pajamas.

Smiling, I pulled the soft sheets over my shoulders and eventually fell asleep, dreaming of the tournament.

----

Harry was feeling quite light-hearted about the Triwizard tournament. For once, he would just watch, not participate and he would have all of the fun without the hard work that usually goes with it. Also, people would stop watching every single step he made, every single word he said or every single breath he took. They would, for the first time during all these years at Hogwarts, be looking away from him. Dumbledore's words were like music to his ears, relieving, relaxing words. He felt peaceful, for once, as he watched Ron's face whose lips moved without much sound. Harry smiled constantly, half-dreaming and nodding when his friend seemed to be talking of an important point.

He wanted to bounce all around with joy, but of course, it would just gather all of the attention around him again and that was exactly the opposite of his fourth year's goal.

So, he just entered the common room, following the mob, listening to a bunch of overly-excited students. Ron seemed particularly impressed, but the twins were pretty angry.

'I mean, we're almost seventeen !' yelled Fred to the crowd that was filling the room.

'Yeah, we would be able to do this, it's not fair !' pouted George.

Harry tried to look shocked, but failed miserably.

'But you know, Dumbledore won't stop us that way, right ?' said a smiling Fred.

The mass of student exclaimed loudly, and ages later, a few girls were still giggling stupidly. Ron yawned repeatedly until Harry decided to go to his bedroom, almost carrying his sleepy friend, as the twins were still whining like hell to everyone who dared coming closer to them.

He had a hard time sleeping that night. It wasn't because of Ron's snoring (he was now used to it) or not even because of the party's noise.

He was just happy. Maybe he would finally be able to get some kind of life.

----

I had just won the triwizard tournament. People clapped so loud I could not even hear what Dumbledore was telling me. He was just beside me, though. It seemed desperately important, according to the look on his face. I yelled at the crowd to shut up but the cheering became even louder. I glanced at Dumbledore again and read on his lips 'Triwizard cup.'

I was FINALLY going to lay my hands on it. In front of thousands of people. In front of Harry Potter.

There was a sudden flash of light that completely blinded me as the noise became (thank god) a bit more distant.

Things became clearer again. I mean, I could see a little bit. But I wasn't standing in the same place anymore, nor was I with the same people. I was in a bedroom, most likely in a dormitory of the school. Well, it didn't seem like Hufflepuff's dorm even though it looked alike. No, something was different.

I think there was a naked guy on the couch. Black-haired.

And a weird mess of colors.

I blinked.

And then I woke up, trying to remember what happened after Harry Potter popped up (and without clothes, nontheless !) in my dream. I never completely remembered my dreams, and it never caused me any major problem, but that morning, I felt something a bit peculiar, though I didn't care much. My second brain was aching like hell for some obscure reason, so I thought about asking Sexslave for help, but his bed was already empty.

'Damn.' I pouted.

Moron and Insipid Loser were still there though : that meant I wasn't late or anything. Sexslave was kind of an overzealous student. He got up early every goddamn morning because he always wanted to be ready. Even on the FIRST day of school. I wasn't going to use the two other idiots anyway, so I just headed to the bathroom, intending to take a reaaally cold shower to calm down that unexpected arousal. Masturbating had always made me feel uneasy, so I tried to avoid it as much as possible and cold water somehow gave a small bit of relief. Sexslave was a real useful person, after all, I thought.

I let the icy water run on my body for at least five good minutes before even attempting to wash it. To be honest, the intrusion of the Potter boy in my dream seemed to be a sign that something was definitely wrong with me. He always bothered me just by existing, but I wasn't obsessed to the point of dreaming of him. Though, as they say, a dream doesn't mean anything if its elements just pop up in it once or twice. I still wanted to know the end of it—there was one, I had just forgotten.

What if I did remember ? I thought of going to Trelawney's to see what she had to say on the subject, but she would have made things worse as usual, since it was about Potter. No, that would be the most idiotic idea ever.

I grabbed the soap.

'Oh enough with that crap, Cedric. Since when are you taking silly night fantasies so seriously ? What if you dreamed about Snape dressed as a drag or something ?'

Then, shivering at that mental image, I quickly got back to my bedroom and dressed up before a bunch of my followers arrived, like the whole school would surely dream to do in a few months.