Until he had discovered that he was a wizard, Harry Potter had never celebrated his birthday. In the years he spent at Hogwarts, his birthdays, now more or less acknowledged and celebrated, had generally been peppered with strange occurrences. It was only in recent times, since he was no longer obliged to live with the Dursleys, that Harry's current birthday ritual had begun. A cemetery seemed an unlikely place to celebrate another year – spending the day of your birth in a place of death, never really got you into the party spirit. But over the past few years, Harry had found himself drawn here.

Standing before the grave, a frown puckering his face, he repeated the question he asked every year.

"What would have happened if you had lived and I had died?"

That was the problem with being 'the-boy-who-lived,' it nearly always meant that someone else hadn't quite managed it. It nearly always meant that someone else had died. First, there had been his parents and supposedly Voldemort; then Professor Quirrell; the memory of Tom Riddle; Cedric Diggory; Sirius Black... The list went on and seemed, at times, almost endless. For Harry, fame in the wizarding world had come at a heavy price.

He supposed that he was trying to serve some kind of penance by coming here. Trying to atone for something that he hadn't done and couldn't have stopped. All the deaths that he had witnessed haunted him, but it was the innocent ones that filled his thoughts day after day, in his sleep and when he was awake. What was worse, he wondered - what filled you with more guilt – killing someone yourself or failing to protect someone else from being killed? For which would he ultimately be sent to hell?

Light footsteps shook Harry out of his thoughts, bringing him back to the here and now. Having never met anyone else here on his visits, he was surprised, almost alarmed. He turned around, a question in his eyes.

"Wood?" he asked hesitantly. "Oliver Wood?"

"It's been a long time," came the curt reply. Harry frowned at the tone of the answer. When he and Oliver had last met they had been on excellent terms, so why was Oliver now speaking to him with unmistakable dislike in his voice?

"Congratulations on making the England team, at last. You deserve it, Wood." Harry had tried to inject some enthusiasm into his voice, but it was difficult and his congratulatory comments came out rather flat. His thoughts were confused. In the years that he had been visiting this place, he had never met another living soul, so why on earth was Oliver Wood, his former Quidditch Captain, here?

"I didn't expect anyone else to be here," muttered Wood, ignoring Harry's well wishes, but echoing his thoughts.

Harry didn't know what to say. He shifted his weight from foot to foot nervously. Finally, with some degree of effort, he spoke. "I come here every year on this date."

Oliver looked at him, his usually animated face completely blank. "What's so special about today?"

"It's my birthday," explained Harry.

"Your birthday," echoed Wood dispassionately. "Your birthday?" he questioned, his face going slightly red and his voice rising. His eyes narrowed suddenly and he glared at Harry. "What are you trying to prove? Does it make you feel better knowing that you lived and he died?"

Harry was surprised, and he looked it. "No. Oliver, that's not it! I... I came here because I lived and maybe I shouldn't have. I came here because his death haunts me. I came here to pay my respects."

Oliver turned to face the gravestone, showing no reaction to Harry's confession. The two men stood in silence for some time, until Harry could take it no more. "Wood?" he asked tentatively. "Do you – well, do you come here a lot?"

"I try not to," Oliver replied quietly, "but I always end up coming back."

"I didn't realise you were so close." Harry, during his first three years as the Gryffindor Seeker, had seen Oliver Wood in a range of moods. He had seen him jubilant, he had seen him determined and he had seen him in the depths of despair. However, he had never seen him, never imagined him, as he saw him now.

Something about Harry's last words had broken something in Oliver. For years he had been keeping it all a secret – habits learned through necessity at school had followed him into adulthood and he had found them difficult to let go of. He had never really allowed himself to acknowledge his feelings on what had happened. Never really allowed himself to mourn the loss of the person who had, for a time, been his world. His true feelings had been hidden from the world, just as they had been during his schooldays. Harry's simple statement seemed to break through many barriers, straight to his heart. Repressed anger welled up in him. How dare the-boy-who-lived visit this grave. How dare he question Oliver's right to be here.

"You shouldn't be here, Harry," he all but yelled. "You never really knew him – you were just there when he died. You were just the boy who let him die. What right do you have to judge me and what right to you have to lay claim to him?"

Harry gasped, completely unprepared as he had been for Oliver's outburst. "Wood – Oliver – I'm not judging you. Honestly!"

"You killed him, Harry! You killed him!" Oliver's chest heaved with emotion and his burly form advanced towards Harry. For a second, Harry thought that Oliver was going to hit him. Then, before he could move, the Keeper's mood changed from indignant rage to overwhelming grief. Tears glittered in his eyes and the anger melted away from his body. "He's dead," Oliver whispered. "Gone."

Harry did nothing. He didn't move, didn't speak, hardly breathed. He had no idea what was going on or what he should do. The only time he had ever seen Oliver Wood cry had been when Gryffindor had at last won the Hogwarts' Quidditch Cup. Really, the only time that Harry had seen Wood express any kind of emotion at all had been because of Quidditch. He wasn't sure if he'd thought that Wood had any feelings outside of his favourite game. Feeling awkward, he looked at Wood, feeling helpless. Wood was leaning forward, tracing the engraving on the headstone gently.

CEDRIC DIGGORY
1977 – 1994

We Will Remember

"We were lovers, you know," Wood said absently, as much to himself as to Harry. "We had been friends for years – since he first arrived at Hogwarts – but something else happened when he found out that he had made the Hufflepuff Quidditch team. Today's the day he found out about it. Dumbledore and Sprout sent him an owl to let him know he'd been upgraded from the reserve team. He told me right away – I was the first person he told. He was so proud!"

Harry was stunned. How had no one known about this? Surely a relationship between two of the school's most popular students wouldn't have gone unnoticed. Then his mind reminded him of an important fact – Cedric had been involved with Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker. Harry knew that although they hadn't made anything official until the Yule Ball during the Triwizard Tournament, that the pair had been more than just good friends. Cho had told him all about it during their own brief relationship.

"He didn't want anyone to know," Oliver continued, mirroring Harry's thoughts once more. "You know what he was like. He was everyone's golden boy. He was frightened about what his parents would say, especially his father. He told me that he was just using Chang to make everyone believe that he was normal. That was the word that he used – normal. He told me that he felt nothing for her and that it was me he loved, but I always had a bit of doubt. A piece of me always thought that if he really loved me, he wouldn't need to use someone else to cover it up. I never knew for sure that it was the truth, and now," he added sadly, "I never will."

"That doubt ate away at me. I loved him, but I just couldn't accept what he was doing. Eventually, I gave in and did one of the stupidest things I've ever done in my life." Oliver's face took on a pained look. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I gave him an ultimatum." He looked at Harry. "Is that what you do to the people you love – give them ultimatums?" Harry didn't answer, but Oliver didn't seem to notice. Having started his story, he seemed unable to stop. His eyes shone with a crazy sort of desperation as he went on.

"I told Cedric that he had to choose. He could have Cho Chang or me, but he couldn't have us both. He looked at me and laughed. He really thought that I was joking, but I wasn't." Oliver could picture the way that Cedric had looked that day, and in his mind he relived those few days in vivid detail. While his brain filled with memories, he relayed them to Harry.

Cedric laughed. "Oh come on, Oliver. Don't say things like that! Humour's never been your strong point."

"I'm not joking," Oliver stated clearly. "I can't do this anymore, Cedric. I can't watch you parade around the school with her, touching her, kissing her, when I know it should be me. You have got to choose. You can't have both of us anymore."

"But you know I don't want her. You know it's you I want. I've told you that before." The laughter had died out of Cedric's voice and he looked at Oliver, concern etched into his features.

"So you say, but it doesn't stop you from treating me like I'm just an acquaintance when anyone else is around."

"You know why, Oliver. You know I can't risk my parents finding out. My father... My father would not approve."

"What does it matter?"

"What does it matter? I can't let him down – I'm his only son and he's proud of me. He depends on me."

"He bullies you, you mean. You can't be everything to everyone forever. Sometimes you can't live up to what someone wants from you. Lying to everyone isn't something to be proud of, Cedric. This person that everyone thinks you are – you're so much more than him."

Cedric reached out and took Oliver's hand. "I love you, Oliver, I really do, but I can't tell everyone. I'm... Well, I'm just not ready."

"When will you be ready?" Oliver thundered. "As far as I can tell, you'll never be ready. We've been together for over a year now, Cedric. A year. Doesn't that mean something to you? Doesn't it?"

"Of course it does," Cedric replied unevenly. "Oliver, please, don't do this."

"Do what? Make you acknowledge the truth about yourself? You're gay, Cedric. You like men, not women. You are not some kind of straight movie star who sleeps with a different girl every night. You can't keep making everyone think that you are. You don't have a girlfriend, you have a boyfriend – me. Do I need to remind you of that every day?"

Cedric looked at Oliver in surprise. "I know I'm gay, Oliver. I don't need you to remind me. I also don't need you to remind me that you're my boyfriend. I know you are. And you know that you are, so why does anyone else need to know?"

"Because I can't watch you flirt with every girl in the castle anymore," shot back Oliver furiously. Cedric had rarely seen him this angry. "I can't just watch you throw what we have away."

"I'm not throwing anything away! Why would you say that?"

"Because, if you keep acting like you are, I can't be with you. I know I'm not the greatest catch ever, Cedric, but I'm better than this. I don't need to be treated like you're treating me." Oliver glared at his lover.

"Really, Oliver, you're overreacting!"

Oliver's face flushed and his eyes glittered dangerously. "Overreacting? Don't treat me like a child, Cedric." It was then that he said it – then that the ultimatum became final. "Give up Chang or it's over." He waved his hand as Cedric tried to speak. "Fine. You don't think you can do it, how about a wager? Flint's just been to tell me that we're playing you instead of Slytherin. The match is in a couple of days. If Gryffindor win, you'll break up with Chang. If Hufflepuff win, you can stay with her but I certainly won't be staying with you."

"Oliver – no! That's – You can't say that and mean it! Please, Oliver, talk sense!" But Oliver's mind was made up. He growled in return and set his jaw stubbornly. He had set his terms and now they would just have to see what happened.

Venting much of his anger during the Gryffindor team's last practice, Oliver began to realise what he had done. If Gryffindor lost, he would loose everything. Not only would the Quidditch Cup be out of his reach, but so would Cedric. And worse, he still hadn't told the team that their opponent had changed. Steeling himself up, he explained that Slytherin had rescheduled their game as their Seeker was still injured. Everyone had reacted to this with dismay and anger, but Oliver brushed this aside, trying to focus on the tactics they would need to beat Hufflepuff:

"They've got a new captain and Seeker, Cedric Diggory – "

Angelina, Alicia and Katie suddenly giggled.

What?" said Wood, frowning at their reaction.

"He's that tall, good-looking one, isn't he"' said Angelina.

"Strong and silent," said Katie, and they started to giggle again.

"He's only silent because he's too thick to string two words together"' said Fred impatiently. "I don't know why you're worried, Oliver, Hufflepuff are a pushover. Last time we played them, Harry caught the Snitch in about five minutes, remember?"

"We were playing in completely different conditions!" Wood shouted, his eyes bulging slightly. "Diggory's put a very strong side together! He's an excellent Seeker! I was afraid you'd take it like this! We musn't relax! ... We must win!"

"Oliver, calm down!" said Fred, looking slightly alarmed. "We're taking Hufflepuff very seriously. Seriously."

Oliver realised that he had been lucky that the team just thought he was being fanatical about Quidditch. If they had suspected anything else, there could have been trouble. A funny sort of desperation took hold of him after that. Although it was, in a way, fitting that his relationship rested on the outcome of a Quidditch game, it added a new dimension to the game that Oliver found himself quite unready to deal with. Driven to the point of distraction by the double stakes, he pestered the rest of the team, finding them between classes and bombarding them with tips. Finally Fred and George stopped him.

"Look, Oliver, we know you really want to win the Cup and everything," began Fred.

"We know how much it means to you," added George.

"But you have to calm down and stop giving us all advice. We're going to win this game."

"Without a doubt," finished George.

Oliver appreciated the sentiment, but he couldn't seem to stop thinking about what he'd done. He knew that he would follow through with the bet, for no other reason than for his own sense of sportsmanship. He barely slept that night and come morning, he could hardly look anyone in the eye. He completely messed up his pre-match speech, completely unable to say a word, and before he knew it he was walking on to the pitch and Cedric was standing in front of him.

The Captains walked up to each other and shook hands; Diggory smiled at Wood but Wood now looked as though he had lockjaw and merely nodded."

As he shot into the air, Oliver went strangely numb and everything that had happened afterwards seemed like a dream. Through the rain he watched as Harry and Cedric raced after the Snitch, and, for a brief moment, had been jubilant as it looked like Harry was going to get there first. And then the Dementors had come and Harry had fallen. Cedric, unaware of what had happened, had caught the Snitch and the game was over. Oliver couldn't believe it. This was not happening. Gryffindor had not just lost. He had not just lost. Even as he heard Cedric's demands for a rematch, Oliver made his way to the Changing Room and all but fell into one of the showers. How long he stood there, he could never remember, but one thing kept running through his mind – "I've blown it. I've lost Cedric."

"It was the last time that we ever really spoke," Oliver told Harry. "Cedric came to me a few times, pleading with me to change my mind, but I wouldn't and eventually he stopped trying. I was glad to leave Hogwarts that year, and glad to leave him behind. Seeing him every day... well, it wasn't easy."

Harry continued to stare at Wood, still shocked by what he was hearing. "He owled me to tell me that he'd been made Hogwarts' Champion. His letter was just like the one he'd sent to tell me he'd been promoted to the main Hufflepuff team. It was full of joy and pride. He sent me a few more messages that year, but I didn't answer any of them. When he stopped writing, I assumed that he'd just given up on me again. I had no idea that he was dead." Oliver let out a choked sob. "All that time I thought he had stopped loving me and really, he was dead. Do you know how I finally found out?"

Harry shook his head numbly. He could hardly believe that Wood hadn't known about Cedric's death, but then it had been a dark time. "A Chocolate Frog Card," sobbed Oliver. "A stupid card told me what had happened to him. I can remember the words exactly – Cedric Diggory. 1977 – 1994. The first Hogwarts' Triwizard Champion in over 400 years. Killed by You-Know-Who when he took hold of the Triwizard Cup alongside Harry Potter. One of the first to fall during the Dark Lord's return to power. Informative, wasn't it?"

Harry was shocked. What a way to discover that the person you love is dead. He watched as Oliver knelt before Cedric's gravestone. The man before him was not that man that he had known at school. This Oliver was weighed down with feelings that he had never been able to share with anyone. This Oliver had had something more important in his life than Quidditch, and he had lost it. That loss had almost destroyed him.

"I'm so sorry, Cedric," Oliver whispered. "Sorry that we always hid in the shadows. Sorry that I threw you away. Sorry that we'll never be together."

The-boy-who-lived did the only thing he could. Placing a hand on Oliver's shoulder, he sat beside him. Silently they looked at the stone.

CEDRIC DIGGORY
1977 – 1994

We Will Remember

All italicised words are taken from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban