This was written late at night on the 13th of August, after I'd watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire again for the umpteenth time. But this time it seemed like I had some new point of view or something; honestly, how slashy can you get? I'm also trying a new style of writing. Tell me if I should stick to what I can do or continue branching out.

Harry/Cedric, movie-verse.

Disclaimer: If I owned Sirius or anyone else in the Harry Potter universe... *sigh* Rowling is one lucky woman.

Stolen

Stolen moments in the dark corridors of Hogwarts; stolen kisses and hurried touches between classes and in the dark of night. It's hard to even be friends, let alone something more, when you're supposed to be rivals, when each of you is hated by the other's friends.

You tell yourself you're just giving him a sporting chance, that it's unfair that he's the only champion who doesn't know about the dragons. But deep down inside, you know you just don't want to see him get hurt when you could have prevented it. It's ridiculous, really, trying to protect someone so much more older and talented. But you can't help yourself.

Everyone thinks you're glaring at them during the Yule Ball because you're jealous of him. Ha, if only. It's hard to admit, even to yourself, that you're jealous of her.

You're pleasantly surprised when he tips you off about the egg. And you can't help but wonder at his motivations. Is he simply doing it for the sake of fairness, to repay a debt, because of that noble air that drew you to him in the first place? Or is it due to the same reason that you helped him? You can't help the warm tingly feeling that spreads through you at the thought.

It's after the second task that the stolen moments begin. They start one night when, unable to sleep, you remember that the Prefects' bathroom really isn't a bad place for a bath. Evidently he thought the same, for you run into him – literally – outside the door and both of you are knocked off-balance. There's a moment of awkwardness, then – you never can remember who started it – that first impulsive kiss. All your indecision and fears are stolen away, to be replaced with an obsession.

The two of you share one last kiss before stepping towards the Cup. You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back before letting go and reaching towards the Cup.

It all happens so fast. Too fast. One swift flash of bright green light and his life is stolen from his body, his face is frozen like some beautiful marble statue of a god, his warm brown eyes now glassy and unseeing. Pain tears you apart, and it feels like your life has been stolen too.

When the wands connect, his ghost seems so real you almost let go of your wand. You promise yourself that his last wish will be carried out. And just before you finally let go of the wand, he drifts closer, and his ghostly lips brush your own, though all you can feel is a breeze.

You try desperately to shut out the too-cheerful music. You cling desperately to his now cold body, missing the warmth and strength and love that infused it in life, holding it tightly to your own as if the frantic thudding of your heart can somehow restart his. Hot tears run down your face as the reality finally sinks in properly, and the internal ripping and tearing and bleeding is far worse than the Cruciatus. Even your moment of grief is stolen by you by someone you soon discover is an imposter, the one who helped to steal him from you.

Voldemort is a thief, you think bitterly. He stole your parents and the chance for a normal life from you. And not content with that, he stole him from you, your beautiful Cedric, your rival and friend and lover.

~*~

Kill me now, for I have turned to the Dark side and voluntarily written slash featuring Harry. But GoF was just too damn slashy. I'm sorry about the 'beautiful' bit, I'm too obsessed with Edward Cullen.

Reviews will earn you Harry and Cedric. ;)