Disclaimer: None of this is mine; everything belongs to the great Joanne K. Rowling.

A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews to fifespice, guardian of durins line, Kelly185891, Silvermane1, mizzrazz72, PercyJacksonROCKS4ever, MagnificentFern and a guest! Also thank you to all the readers who followed and favourited my story!

Rejoice - Flint is back! Enjoy this chapter!

xXx

Chapter 14:

Harry couldn't have chosen a more inappropriate moment to enter the Great Hall with Cedric, Hermione thought – he couldn't have known, of course, but still, this was really bad timing. It was like everyone held their breath when they entered together; and then a hushed whisper ran through the room. Harry seemed oblivious – well, he was used to whispers following him wherever he went, and he mostly ignored the other students, so that was to be expected.

He walked towards them with brisk steps, having spotted them with just one look, and rummaged through his bag while walking. "Morning," he said without looking up, "Ron, can you remember where I put my Transfiguration essay? I seem to have misplaced it."

"Mate," Ron said, "Harry, mate."

At that, Harry looked up. "Yeah?" he asked, blinking.

Ron swallowed. "Bad news, mate," he said uncomfortably, pushing the Daily Prophet over to him. Harry rolled his eyes – Hermione knew he thought the Daily Prophet to be rubbish – well, she did, too – nevertheless he picked the newspaper up obediently. He froze when he saw the headline.

"Harry," Hermione said, placing her hand on his, but he didn't seem to hear her as he skimmed through the article.

"So it's true then?" Seamus asked curiously as soon as Harry dropped the paper with a disgusted expression.

"Shut up, Seamus," Harry said and helped himself to a few pancakes. He was obviously trying to ignore the whole thing, playing it cool, but Hermione saw his hands trembling slightly and his jaw clenching.

Ron placed a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I wish it hadn't come out like that," he mouthed so quietly only Harry and she could hear.

"Neither do I," Harry said, his face expressionless.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "Were you even…," she lowered her voice even further and Ron leaned in a bit, "were you even… official?" It hadn't seemed like that the last days – she had rather assumed the opposite, despite hoping it might work out – she had thought Harry would break up with Cedric – but with the way Cedric had looked at Harry this morning, it had been kind of obvious.

"Since last night," Harry said very quietly.

"Oh," Ron said, seemingly stunned. Probably he hadn't expected Harry to do the very opposite of what he had predicted. "You… er, stayed with him then?"

Harry nodded, his face still expressionless.

"Bad timing, mate," Ron breathed, "really bad timing."

Then someone stepped up behind them and with the way Harry tensed, Hermione already knew it was Cedric. All whispers around them died and there was a sudden, eerie silence.

"Can we talk?" Cedric asked very quietly. Harry said nothing; he placed his fork on the table with more force than necessary and stood up abruptly, following Cedric outside, still silent.

"Whew," Ron breathed, "what a morning."

"Harry will have a hard time," Hermione agreed quietly. Neither of them had said anything about the article or the photos so far; and Ron fended off curious questions while she glanced at the pictures once more. They were a bit blurred, but they still easily held an observer's gaze. All of them showed Harry and Cedric kissing; but for some reason, it was always Harry who initiated their kiss by grabbing Cedric's collar.

Hermione cringed at the article, "it seems as if it is Harry who wears the breeches in their relationship, despite being the younger one", but she had to admit that there probably was a certain truth to it. She knew Harry, of course, and she vaguely knew Cedric, too, and it was obvious to her that it would be Harry who made the decisions – like Cedric would ever say no to anything that Harry suggested.

xXx

Harry was trying to keep his temper under control while he followed Cedric outside with brisk steps; he wanted to scream at the other students that the article was nothing but a load of bullshit – but he knew no one would believe him. "Harry," Cedric said, his voice insistent, "are you alright?"

"What do you think?" Harry hissed, crossing his arms. He didn't want to be mad at Cedric, but somehow he couldn't stop himself – surely Cedric would be so fucking understanding now and he was already unnerved by even the prospect of it.

"Well, I think you are not alright," Cedric said softly, trying to take Harry's hands, but he ripped his hands from Cedric's grip once more. "You and I know none of this is true."

"Is it not?" Harry asked harshly. "Would you let me win?"

Cedric hesitated for just a second and Harry narrowed his eyes to slits. "I knew," he said. "Don't you dare. Don't you fucking dare."

"I never said a word," Cedric defended himself, but Harry snorted.

"Stop being such a fucking good soul for just one second, Cedric, it's getting on my nerves." At this, Cedric frowned and sighed, but he said nothing, which made Harry even madder – Cedric was supposed to snarl right back at him and not be so bloody understanding. "Never mind, how did she get those pictures?" he asked after a few calming breaths. "Did you see anyone?"

"No," Cedric said, shaking his head. "I only had eyes for you, though," he added with a lopsided smile.

Harry rolled his eyes – trust Cedric to turn this into something sappy. But he hadn't seen anyone either – and he was pretty sure that he would have noticed if someone was near them – he was always very aware of people watching him, despite ignoring them most of the time. Did this Skeeter-bitch have an invisibility cloak? But he doubted it – he knew they were expensive as hell and very rare, so that was unlikely. Were there invisibility spells?

Surely there were – after all, Dumbledore had managed to sneak on him in his first year, too – but how should she have gotten onto Hogwarts grounds? You couldn't just merrily walk through the gates – so had the photos been taken by students? But that once again posed the problem of someone being near them – Harry narrowed his eyes. He would do some research on this subject and ask Ron and Hermione for their help.

"Harry?" Cedric asked quietly. "Are you mad at me?"

"No," Harry said after a few seconds with a sigh – he knew it wasn't Cedric's fault, of course. "I'm just… mad in general."

"That's understandable," Cedric said with a relieved smile. "I just don't want this article to stand between us."

"It doesn't," Harry assured him – there might be other things, though, but Harry didn't want to think about them now. He still wasn't really sure if he wanted to be with Cedric – he felt like he should want it, like he should be happy with him – but what he truly wanted, that he didn't know. And there was a quiet, nagging voice in his mind that told him that he only was with Cedric so he could evade Flint and the fact that part of him still longed for him – did that make sense? Probably not.

xXx

The next morning began with another disaster: first, there was another cringe worthy article in the Daily Prophet; an interview with Amos Diggory where he accused Harry of seducing his son just so he could win the Tournament, which had caused quite the tumult in the Great Hall and Harry had actually had to pull up a shield around him as a few hexes (well, they were minor hexes, they were Hufflepuffs after all) had come into his direction. And then, there had been not only one, but fifteen Howlers.

The first one had been by Cedric's father – this time he was yelling at Harry in person; he knew quite a few choice insults, for being such a dutiful Ministry worker; and he told Harry never approach his son again. And there were more Howlers by people Harry didn't know, had never even known the names of – most of them carried female voices though; one of them accusing him of being "a gay slut" – why, however, she couldn't elaborate.

Cedric had tried to talk to him, but Harry had decided not to be a Gryffindor for once – he had skipped lessons and spent the day in their dorm, not willing to face even more hateful glances, barely hushed gossip or outright insults – and he didn't fancy a few hexes either. He hadn't – well, he had hidden in his dorm because he was totally fed up with people either taunting him (as Malfoy had done with glee), laughing at him because he apparently was a sap, calling him hateful names or accusing him of utilising Cedric – there was a very large group of girls who accused him of just this – one girl had actually told him it was his fault Cedric had turned gay. Harry snorted at the memory – sometimes one had to wonder how people made it through the exams.

And he was not at all in the mood of seeing Cedric – he knew it wasn't Cedric's fault his father was an arsehole (it would be like accusing him for Uncle Vernon being an asshole); but still he simply didn't feel up to it.

"Harry! Harry, come down, mate!" Harry, who lay on his bed, books about camouflage spells spread all around him, frowned at the door; then he closed his book with a sigh (it was surprisingly interesting) and jogged down to the Common Room.

"Harry!" He sped up a bit – normally Ron only sounded that urgent when he had discovered a particularly large spider and wanted Harry to eliminate it right now. They had a silent agreement on that: Harry would remove any spider from Ron's surroundings without saying a word whereas Ron would dutifully wake him up every morning – so far, both of them had only gained from their agreement.

"What's up?" he asked – Ron was out of breath and had obviously told something to Hermione who looked shocked.

"Mate, talk's all over the castle: Cedric got beaten up – like, really bad. Apparently his nose was broken and his wrist, too – a few Seventh Years who found him brought him to the Hospital Wing; Madam Pomfrey's healing him."

"Who was it?" Harry asked although he knew. There was only one suspect.

Ron shrugged. "Nobody knows – apparently Cedric can't remember."

"I'll go," Harry said, jogging out of the Common Room before Ron could even say a word – but once he was outside, he stopped to consider what to do. He pulled out the Marauder's Map and checked it – Cedric was in the Infirmary, with Madam Pomfrey bustling about him; but he was looking for another name, in fact – there he was, on the fourth floor.

He hesitated for a moment – he knew he should go to Cedric first, but then his instincts won and he ran down to the fourth floor. There he stood, looking out of the window, his broad back turned towards Harry, the muscles in his neck bulging and his hands curled into fists. He turned around when he heard Harry approaching, though; his face a grimace of suppressed anger. "What do you think you're doing?" he growled.

"The question is what you think you're doing," Harry hissed. "Beating Cedric up like that? He never did anything to you. You had no fucking reason to do this."

"He allowed you to get hurt," Flint snarled. "The rumours are all about the castle – you think I cannot calculate the dates? I know he was with you when you were attacked by the acromantulae. He allowed you to get hurt."

Stunned, Harry took a step back. That was almost… oddly romantic, in a very wrong way. Flint had interpreted his expression correctly and stepped closer to him. "You didn't expect that, did you?" he drawled. "You thought I smashed in his pretty face because you're with him?"

"Didn't you?" Harry asked, crossing his arms.

"That too," Flint admitted with a careless shrug. "Smashing in his face felt good. He whimpered like a coward." There was a frightening grin on his face. "He deserved it, Potter. I heard the stories how you were hurt in the Forest – don't you fucking tell me he didn't deserve it."

Harry winced at that – he sometimes conveniently forgot that Flint was not without the reason among the most feared students of Hogwarts – he was well known for closing fights with fists instead of words; and his brutality in Quidditch games was legendary – most Quidditch players never even received as many penalties during all their time in Hogwarts as he received in one game. Still, he wouldn't be afraid of him – had never been, would never be. "You thought that beating him up would make me come back to you?"

"Well, you came to me, didn't you?" Flint asked, triumph in his voice. "You went to me first instead of visiting poor Diggory in the Infirmary."

Unfortunately, he was right – Harry had gone to him first instead of his boyfriend – and he didn't even know why. "I came because I knew it was you," he hissed; and suddenly his wand was in his hand.

Flint, however, just laughed – and that stung. "Threatening me, Potter?"

Harry opened his mouth to speak a Stinging Hex, but before more than two syllables had left his mouth, Flint had grabbed his wrist, pressing his hand downwards, and pulled him close. "So defiant," he breathed, and his mouth was dangerously close to Harry's. "I like it."

"Let go of me!" Harry hissed and managed to wriggle out of his grip. "I should hex you into next week!"

"You're welcome to try," Flint said lazily. "You're standing too close, though, I'm faster than you." And he was right – Harry prided himself on his good reflexes, but unfortunately, Flint was faster than him – and considerably stronger, which made this kind of futile. Still, that didn't mean that he couldn't hurt Flint with words.

"Still, I won't get back with you," he snarled, crossing his arms – and it was not like he had ever actually been with Flint. "Something in your mind is fucked up if you think beating up Cedric is going to make me crawl into your bed again."

"You crawled into Diggory's bed, didn't you?" Flint asked harshly. "Are a few pretty words and a pretty face enough to make you spread your legs?"

"Unlike you, Cedric is kind and he actually cares for me," Harry hissed – he couldn't object and tell Flint that he had been the only one so far for whom he had spread his legs, as he had phrased so bluntly – then he might as well give in just now.

"Does he?" Flint snarled; and then his hands were on Harry's upper arms, slamming him into the wall. Harry gasped with shock and tried to wriggle free from his grip, but Flint's hands were like steel fetters on his arms – which made him wonder how he had managed to evade Flint's grip before – probably because he had let him go. That was not a good thought.

"Listen, Potter," Flint growled, his face so close to Harry's their noses almost touched, "I will not let Diggory have you. You are mine. Mine."

An unwilling shiver ran down Harry's spine at those words – still, he raised his chin defiantly, not willing to give in. "I am not," he said in a loud, clear voice. "And I will never be. What are you going to do now? Beat me up, too?"

An odd expression flashed over Flint's face. "I never would," he said harshly. And then he said nothing anymore, just pressed Harry against the wall with his body and grabbed his chin with his right and kissed him – or tried to, rather, because Harry bit his lip hard, and kicked his shin with as much force as he could muster – he couldn't allow himself to be kissed by Flint, because alone being pressed against his strong, delicious body made his nerves prickle with anticipation – and he knew, if he let Flint kiss him, it was over – he would never be able to stop then.

Flint jerked back, wiping off his mouth with his right, but he still held Harry with his left. "Just leave me alone, Flint," Harry hissed; he was breathing heavily and he could hear his own blood rush in his ears – nothing would be easier than to step up close to Flint and to kiss him; and Flint would rip off his clothes and cover every inch of his skin with hot, fiery kisses and – he shook his head to get rid of the thought. He mustn't think that, he must remember that he was with Cedric now, he must remember that Flint had betrayed him, he must remember that he could never be with him, because Flint was on the other side.

Flint said nothing, just stared at him with dark eyes. Then suddenly, as if he had burned himself, he let go of Harry's arm and walked off without saying another word – oddly, that hurt – Harry didn't know how he had wanted Flint to react, but just marching off like that – that didn't seem right. Deeply in thought, he rubbed his arm where Flint had held him – his skin prickled and he hastily stopped. Then he remembered what he had been supposed to do all along: going to the Hospital Wing.

Madam Pomfrey greeted him kindly when he entered – somehow she seemed joyous about the fact that it was for once not him whom she had to treat. "Mr. Diggory is almost restored to health," she said happily. "He'll be glad to see you – he already asked for you."

Oops, Harry thought, but he forced himself to smile when Madam Pomfrey led him into the Hospital Wing. "Harry!" Cedric said, smiling at him from his bed. "It's good to see you."

"How are you?" Harry asked him, hurrying over to him and sitting on the bed. "What happened?"

"Oh, I don't really remember," Cedric said lightly. "I was on my way back from lunch when something hit me from behind; and when I woke up, my nose was broken and my wrist, too. But Madam Pomfrey healed both within seconds," he gave her a charming smile and she actually blushed a bit, "and she only kept me here in case anything else was amiss."

"Are you sure you don't remember?" Harry asked, biting his lip. He should have hexed Flint when he walked off, with his back to him – but then again, he wasn't Malfoy.

Cedric lowered his eyes, staring at the blanket. "No," he said slowly. "But… but I don't want you to do anything about it, okay? Whoever it might have been… they are dangerous. I just don't want you to get hurt."

Somehow people said that awfully often to him, Harry thought – but he had to admit that he was rather prone to getting hurt. "Still," he insisted. "Do you think –"

"No," Cedric said sharply and Harry looked up in surprise. "I don't want you to do anything about it, Harry. It was never really bad in first place, and I think we should leave it at that. Besides I think it's kind of fair if it's me who lands himself in the Hospital Wing, don't you think? You're here so often…" He took Harry's hand, stroking his palm, and smiled at him. "Please, Harry, let's not talk about it anymore, alright?"

Harry frowned at him – Cedric was definitely behaving weirdly. "Fine," he said reluctantly, trying to ignore his bad conscience, "when will you be out of here again?"

"Whenever Madam Pomfrey deems me healthy again," he said with a smile; and again, she blushed a bit.

"Why, Mr. Diggory, it seems to me your health is perfectly in order," she said. "Please do come to me at once, though, should something be amiss."

xXx

The following days went by like a whirlwind, and Harry hardly knew what happened around him – his popularity had obviously reached an all-time low as he had had to go to Madam Pomfrey twice; once because five Stinging Hexes had been fired at him at once – and when the first moment of shock and pain had passed; the only thing that he had heard had been steps of several people taking off quickly. His back and, embarrassingly, his bum also had hurt all day long and he had hardly been able to sit, despite Madam Pomfrey applying Healing Salve to his back. The second time he had been hit by a Stupor and he had received a long, deep gash on his temple when he crashed into a wall; and the only thing he remembered about that incident was how mad Madam Pomfrey had been – she was not known for getting furious easily (well, she was quite strict, but mostly calm), but this time she had flipped out; at dinner she had yelled at the collective of students, assuring that, if she ever found out who had that had been, she would let their injuries heal the muggle way whenever they came to her Hospital Wing.

And there had been countless minor hexes and tripping spells, but luckily, Harry was really not clumsy and had excellent reflexes so he had managed to stay on his feet most of the time – obviously it had become kind of a sport to see who could actually make him fall to the floor.

And all the time, Harry could feel Flint's eyes burning on his neck; and once, when he was just kissing Cedric outside of the Great Hall, he stalked by, his face so dark Harry would not have been surprised if he had ripped Cedric away from him and thrown him to the ground to smash in his face once more.

All in all, he was more than relieved when this horrible week was finished and most students left Hogwarts for the Christmas Holidays. Ron and Hermione went home, too; both of them had offered Harry several times to spend Christmas with them, but Harry had assured them it was fine. Christmas always made him feel slightly uncomfortable – on the one hand, it was beautiful, spending time with his friends, eating tons of delicious food, giving and receiving gifts, having snowball fights and spending lazy evenings by the fireplace with too much candy and too much hot chocolate – but sometimes, he felt overwhelmed with so many displays of love and friendship, so much emotional intimacy. He simply wasn't used to it and more often than not he found it emotionally exhausting.

Besides Neville stayed there, too; and Cedric had opted to stay at Hogwarts to show his father he stood with Harry – which Harry thought to be really sweet of him. He had – of course – apologized over and over for his father's behaviour until Harry had shut him up with a long kiss.

Apart from that, only a few Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Seventh Years he only knew very vaguely stayed there; and, as the only Slytherin, Flint.

Now that would be fun holidays.

xXx

A/N: Jealous!Flint made a comeback, yay! Next up: a Christmas chapter in the middle of August! But I suppose you don't want actually want to wait until Christmas, do you? :P Please review and let me know what you think!