Title: A Lack of Color, Chapter 09

Author: kevo

Pairing: Harry/Cedric

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I do not claim ownership to these characters or the series they're from.

Summary: What might have happened in Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts. (Goblet of Fire canon re-write)

The Love So Green Collection

Playlist #1:

a lack of color


CHAPTER NINE

"Fortune Favors the Brave"

Potter and Diggory couldn't move, frozen in terror. Cedric was the first one to attempt a plea in their defense.

"P-professor," he stammered. "We-we were just—"

"I'm not going to tell you twice, Diggory," Moody said, his calm tone barely masking the underlying threat. "Get going!"

Giving Harry a sympathetic glance, Cedric turned and headed for the same classroom his friends had entered. Something about the way Moody watched him go made Harry extremely uncomfortable. He wondered if Moody's eye could see through muscles and bone, see how rapidly their hearts were beating. Would he think their guilty expressions were from anxiety over being caught out of class? It was part of the reason. The other part, well, that was something worse. Could Moody have heard them talking, seen how close they were to…?

"Let's go, Potter," Moody grumbled, He turned and, with surprising speed for someone with a limp, headed toward the stairs.

"Professor," Harry began, rushing after the former Auror, "I'm supposed to be in Herbology—"

"Never mind that, Potter," Moody replied. He spoke with the same edge he had used on Cedric. "In my office, please…."

Figuring it was best not to argue with the man who turned Draco Malfoy into a ferret, Harry followed in silence. What kind of punishment would he give Harry for catching him with another boy in the Charms corridor during class time? Sooner than Harry would have liked they were at Moody's office. Moody ushered the boy inside, then entered behind him and closed the door. He faced Harry, staring at him with both his normal and magical eyes.

"That was a very decent thing you just did, Potter," Moody said evenly.

Harry stared.

What the hell is he talking about?

Moody told Harry to sit and went on to discuss the Triwizard Tournament. All he cared about was that Harry had told Cedric about the dragons. Harry relaxed considerably, especially when Moody began giving him advice about the task. By the time he left the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office, he was almost glad that Moody had interrupted him and Cedric.

Almost.

O O O O O O O

"Harry, you need to concentrate," said Hermione for the umpteenth time.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione!" Harry cried. "I get it! Okay? I get it! I know I have to concentrate! It doesn't help for you to keep saying it over and over and over again!"

Across the Gryffindor common room, Hermione scowled. It was nearly one in the morning, and they had been attempting to teach Harry the Summoning Charm for hours. Given the trouble he had been having with it so far, it was not going well. The first task was mere hours away and Harry was showing no signs of improving.

"I'm only trying to help you, you know," Hermione said coolly. "Maybe I should just go up to bed and let you figure this out on your own."

Harry smiled despite himself.

"You could never let me get away with not being able to perform a charm properly, dragon or no dragon," he replied.

The distraught champion plopped down in an armchair near the fire and removed his glasses so he could massage the bridge of his nose. He was getting very tired, and seriously considering just throwing in the towel on his whole Summoning Charm idea. It was good in theory but, even if he did learn it in the next few hours, it certainly wouldn't help for him to face the dragon exhausted. Perhaps some sort of inspiration would strike him after a good night's sleep. It was extremely doubtful, but at this point it was all he had. He was on the verge of suggesting this to Hermione when she spoke up again.

"I think we're going about this the wrong way," she said. "Maybe if we used some sort of analogy to help you focus."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Well," Hermione began, "try thinking about something that you want."

"I want to learn how to do this charm," Harry quipped.

"No, I don't mean like a goal," Hermione said. "All right. Close your eyes and relax."

Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow at his friend. Then, secure in the knowledge that she was one of the brightest students at Hogwarts, did as he was told. Besides, he doubted she would have him do anything of no use so late the night before he was going to face a dragon. It took a few moments for his hectic brain to settle down, but Hermione waited patiently.

"Now," Hermione said, after enough time had passed. "Think back. Hasn't there ever been anything that you wanted so badly that you felt like … if you just wished hard enough, it would appear? Focus on those things, and how that made you feel."

In his mind, Harry went back to his days on Privet Drive . He thought about his aunt and uncle and cousin. About the tiny cupboard under the stairs that he had lived in for more than a decade. About all the things that he had been deprived of as a child. It was a long list; toys, friends, food. Parents.

Beauty. Color. Happiness.

Love.

A horrible yearning feeling socked Harry in the chest after each item on this list.

"Can you remember that feeling?" Hermione asked softly.

"Yes," Harry answered, still deep in concentration.

"Good," Hermione said. "Now I want you to think of thinks that you've gotten. Things that have made you happy."

Now Harry's reflections were much more recent, all within the last three years or so. Anything that made him truly happy came after his eleventh birthday. Finding out that he was a wizard. Making his first friend on the Hogwarts Express. (Though that memory now had a tinge of sadness when he thought about how Ron currently was not speaking to him.)

Harry remembered the first time he rode a broom, and every time after that. The first Quidditch game he ever won.

Finding out that Sirius was innocent and the temporary elation of believing he would take Harry away from the Dursleys forever.

Finding out that Cedric liked Harry the same way Harry liked him.

A warm, rumbling feeling rolled around in Harry's stomach as he remembered all the things that had made living the first eleven years of his life before the last three worthwhile.

"Can you remember that feeling?" Hermione asked again in that same soft, soothing tone.

"Yes," Harry repeated.

"Good," Hermione said. "You can open your eyes now." He did. "Do you feel a little more relaxed?"

Harry nodded.

"Now what do I do?"

"Okay, you're going to take what you just did and apply it here," Hermione explained. "While you're focusing on the object you're trying to summon, think about how you felt when you wanted something. Then when you cast the spell, think about the way you felt when you actually got something. It's all about the emotion behind the charm, as well as the visualization."

Nodding like he understood, Harry got to his feet. He looked around for something to try and summon. There were several items to choose from scattered around the otherwise empty common room. Deciding to start small, Harry turned his focus on a quill he'd noticed. He concentrated on the feather and, like Hermione told him to, thought about that feeling of longing. Harry let the feeling grow stronger and stronger.

I want that quill.

"Accio Quill!" he cried.

At the same time, Harry switched his focus from the wanting feeling to the having feeling, visualizing the quill zooming towards him. Astonishingly, this is exactly what the quill did. It flew swiftly across the room and right into Harry's open palm.

"You did it!" Hermione shouted, beaming. "Oh, Harry, I knew you could!"

Harry smiled too, feeling immensely proud of himself.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Hermione," he told her. "Where did you learn that technique?"

"Actually, I just made it up on the spot," Hermione confessed. "I figured if I could simply get you to calm down and find a way for you to relate to it, everything else would just fall into place. Thank goodness it did, because I honestly have no idea what I would have done if it hadn't."

"Nice, Hermione," Harry laughed. "All right, I might as well keep practicing. Maybe something a bit heavier than a feather this time."

For the next hour, Harry made an assortment of objects fly across the room at his bidding. By two o'clock he was surrounded by so many that he was almost barricaded by them.

"Harry, you've made an amazing improvement," Hermione said, looking delighted, though tired. "Come on, let's put this stuff back and head up to bed."

"I just hope the charm is good enough for tomorrow," Harry said nervously, up righting a chair he had summoned ten minutes earlier. "The Firebolt's going to be a lot farther away than any of this stuff."

"Don't worry about that," Hermione insisted. "As long as you concentrate and put the proper feeling into the spell you'll do fine. Remember: if you want it badly enough, you can make it happen." She looked at the clock she had just put back in its place. "I think this clock is running slowly."

"It might've broken after I dropped it," Harry said. He'd tried summoning the thing then accidentally let it fall when he discovered it was too heavy for him to catch. He paused. "Maybe we don't tell anyone that happened."

"Maybe," Hermione said.

Harry knew she must have been worn-out if she was willing to lie about destruction of school property. He thanked her again and they both said goodnight. Harry climbed the stairs to his dorm and collapsed on his bed without even changing into pajamas, trying his hardest not to think about what he was going to be facing tomorrow.

That night Harry dreamed he was being chased by a dragon with gray eyes that fled every time he turned to face it.

O O O O O O O

"Harry, eat something," Hermione pleaded. "You're going to need your strength."

Harry glanced at her over his lunch. He didn't want to admit that if he tried to eat it he might lose it, so he said nothing. Instead he poked at the food in front of him with his fork a bit more. Hermione frowned, but didn't push any further. Harry was grateful for her understanding silence. They were both very much aware that he would be called to face his task at any moment.

Suddenly they both heard a lot of shouting at the next table.

"What is that?" Harry wondered, craning his neck to see who was yelling. Much to Harry's surprise, it was – "Cedric?"

"Oh no," Hermione murmured. "He must have caught someone wearing one of those badges."

"Whating one of those who?" Harry asked, very confused as to what could make someone as peaceable as Cedric holler like that.

"The badges," Hermione repeated. "Those Support Cedric/Potter Stinks badges? Surely you know that he's been giving hell to anyone who wears them?" Harry stared vacantly at his friend. "Oh. Wow. I guess you didn't know."

"Why would he do something like that?" Harry wondered.

Now it was Hermione's turn to stare.

"You really are a dope, Harry."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said petulantly. "Exactly what I want to hear when I'm about to face a dragon."

As if on cue, Professor McGonagall appeared at Harry's side and told him it was time for the first task. Harry dropped his utensil on his plate and stood up from his seat.

"Good luck, Harry," Hermione said. She lowered her voice so McGonagall wouldn't hear and added, "Just remember what we went over and you'll be fine."

"Okay," he said. Harry tried to sound confident but even he could hear the hollowness in his voice.

As McGonagall escorted Harry to where the dragons were being kept, the nervous young champion noticed that the head of Gryffindor house was acting very strange. She seemed apprehensive and kept shooting Harry concerned looks. In a highly uncharacteristic gesture, she even placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Now, don't panic," McGonagall advised, "just keep a cool head...."

Harry nearly had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. "Cool head"? He wondered if the professor had chosen that phrase on purpose. She said a few more encouraging things before finally giving up. She probably figured there was no consoling him at this point.

She was right.

After a few more too-short minutes, they arrived at the enclosure where the dragons were being held. A large tent had been put up in front of it, blocking the dragons from view. McGonagall told him to enter the tent, as he would be given instructions inside, and wished him luck. Harry thanked her and went inside.

The other three champions were already there. Fleur was sitting on a stool looking feeble and clammy and very un-Fleurlike. Krum was scowling harder than ever. Cedric was pacing back and forth across the tent. The minute Harry entered he looked up, like he had been waiting, and smiled. It was a weak smile, but it was there. It lifted Harry's spirits enough for him to give a small smile in return, however much his face muscles tried to rebel against it.

"Harry! Good-o!" Bagman cried. He sounded much too cheerful for a man who knew what they were all about to face. "Come in, come in, make yourself at home!" And once more Harry found himself being literally dragged into an uncomfortable situation by the man.

The overly-excited Ministry official explained that once the audience was in place the champions would each choose at random which dragon they were going to face. He was very careful not to say "dragons" yet, but Harry, like the other champions, already knew, of course. The only new information he gave them was the reason they were facing the creatures: to capture a golden egg from it.

While they waited, Harry sat himself down on one of the chairs that had been provided for them. He closed his eyes and repeated what he and Hermione had discussed over and over. Harry felt someone sit beside him. He looked over and saw Cedric giving him a labored smile.

"How are you holding up?" he asked softly.

"I'm not," Harry admitted. "You?"

"The same, I guess," Cedric said.

"I bet you're regretting entering right about now," Harry joked.

"Actually," Cedric replied, "at this particular moment, I'm pretty happy that I entered."

He took a quick look around to see if anyone was watching, which they weren't because they were all too worried about themselves, then placed his hand over Harry's. Harry looked down at their joined hands, then back up at Cedric. There was anxiety in those deep gray eyes, yeah, but something else as well. Something that made the yearning, wanting feeling and the joyful, having feeling Harry had been working on conjuring mix and mesh until he felt like his whole torso was on fire.

"Listen," Cedric said. "I was hoping I could see you later tonight. Our houses will inevitably have celebrations planned for tonight, but after that, maybe. I was thinking you could meet me in the entrance hall around eleven? Would that be okay?"

His eyes were now communicating a nervousness that had nothing to do with dragons. Harry smiled, an honest smile this time.

"I'd like that," he said.

"Good," Cedric said, smiling broadly. "Great. That'll be something to look forward to, then."

Harry nodded in agreement. Cedric gave Harry's hand a soft yet firm squeeze before releasing it. Then the crowd died down and Bagman called for their attention again. It was time to choose.

They each picked out a dragon with a number on it. Fleur chose the Welsh Green, and the number two. Krum picked the Chinese Fireball, and the number three. Cedric got the Swedish Short-Snout, and would be going first. Harry knew exactly what was left: he would be going last, and he would be facing the Hungarian Horntail. The dragon Charlie Weasley had called vicious, and said he didn't envy whoever had to go up against that one.

Harry was very proud of himself for not throwing up on the spot.

Bagman explained what they all already knew; that they would be facing the real-life version of the model they had chosen by order of the number around their dragon's neck.

"Mr. Diggory, you're first, just go out into the enclosure when you hear a whistle," Bagman finished. Or at least they thought he was finished until he said, "Now … Harry … could I have a quick word? Outside?"

Harry stared. He had been hoping to spend his last few dragon-free moments with Cedric before the older boy was called to face his. As much as he would have liked to say no, Harry thought it was best to find out what Bagman wanted.

"Er, all right," Harry said.

He gave an apologetic look to Cedric as he followed Bagman outside. The older wizard led him a short distance away from the tent and then turned, looking anxious.

"Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?"

"What?" Harry said. "I – no, nothing."

This is what he pulled me away for? Harry wondered.

"Got a plan?" Bagman asked him. "Because I don't mind sharing a few pointers, if you'd like them, you know. I mean," he put a hand on Harry's shoulder like McGonagall had done earlier, "you're the underdog here, Harry…. Anything I can do to help…"

"No," Harry said.

Bagman looked slightly offended at his abruptness but Harry didn't really care. First he pulled Harry out of the tent and away from one of the few people who were of comfort to him at the moment, and then he suggested that Harry cheat. This was the Ministry's head of the Department of Games and Sports. In Harry's opinion, the man deserved much more than abruptness.

"Thanks anyway," Harry added, "but I've already got a plan."

His mind was working over time, going back and forth between thinking about Hermione's technique and Cedric. Focus on wanting, focus on having. Cedric's eyes staring into his as they clouded over with unease. On wanting, on having. Cedric's suggestion that they meet later that night.

"Oh," Bagman said. "Well, are you sure you don't want me to—" A whistle sounded somewhere on the other side of the tent. "Good lord, I've got to run!"

He quickly ran off towards the crowd, leaving Harry alone. Harry was heading back toward the tent just as Cedric was exiting it. For once, the Hufflepuff boy didn't smile when he saw Harry. He did nod, however. His face was a horrible ashy color.

"Good luck," Harry said gently, clasping a hand on Cedric's arm as they passed each other.

All of a sudden, Hermione's words rang out in his head.

Remember: if you want it badly enough, you can make it happen.

"Cedric," he called, turning back around.

The other boy stopped and turned as well. Without the slightest bit of hesitation, Harry rushed forward and kissed him. Cedric leaned into the kiss, and Harry leaned back, both pouring every ounce of frustration and worry and want they had into each other. An instant later it was over, and Cedric was staring down at Harry, breathing heavily.

"What was that?" Cedric asked.

"Something to look forward to," Harry replied.

Cedric blinked, then smiled and continued around to the other side of the tent. Harry watched him depart before going back inside. As he listened to the crowd cheer upon Cedric's entrance, Harry pulled out his tiny model of the Hungarian Horntail. He smiled down at the tiny creature.

Bring it on.


End Notes:
And that's why I'm not that sorry about the cock-block. We're skipping the task because it has nothing to do with Harry and Cedric and their story. It's the same as canon. So, onwards. -kevo