Disclaimer: I am not the wonderful JK Rowling, nor do I think she would approve of my use of her characters. But oh well. I'm just a fan writing some fiction, no copyright infringement intended! And be warned that this story is slash, dark, and not exactly consensual.

A/N: This story was done for the 'theirloveissokeyboard KoFF' challenge at FictionAlley Park/ KinkeyBoard of Fate LJ. In This challenge you had to choose two letters on the keyboard that were next to each other (in my case, C and V), the choose characters with those letters (Cedric and Voldemort) to write a fic about. I would really appreciate reviews letting me know what you think, especially since this is my first non- Draco/Harry piece. Thanks!

---Graveyard Prophecies---

"I think I'm just going to head to bed guys, tired you know." Cedric stated to the rest of the crowded Hufflepuff common room as he made his ways towards the stairs. He wanted a quick escape tonight, just to fall into his bed and collapse. Tomorrow was a big day, he needed sleep. Tomorrow was the final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Cedric stripped off his clothes, and pulled on a pair of black silk pajama pants that he had received for Christmas.

He yawned as he crawled into bed, thinking about Cho and how pleased she would be with him if he won the tournament. 'I bet she'll even want to go all the way.' Ced thought to himself, smiling. He pulled his bed curtains closed, tucked the blankets up to his chin and rolled over to sleep.

His mind was racing with thoughts of the past tasks, and wonders at what the next one would be. Little did he know what was in store for him the next day. As his mind became fuzzy, dreams started to swirl around in his head. His sleep came in short stints; he never managed more than an hour at a time. And since the tournament started, more than an hour of sleep was a great feat.

Around two o'clock in the morning, Cedric woke with a start as if someone had jerked him awake. The only sounds in the room were the snoring of his dorm-mates, 'Must have just been my imagination. With all the stress of the tournament and all.' He thought to himself.

Cedric fluffed his pillow up, closed his eyes and flopped back down onto the bed. Within no time he was drifting back to dream world, but as the haze of sleep overtook him he heard a faint, high pitched laugh in the distance. It began growing louder as he slipped farther from his waking self until he was in a graveyard, standing face to face with the man making the sounds of that maniacal laughter.

Lord Voldemort stood in front of him, red eyes gleaming in the sharp of the late night sky. "Welcome." He said simply.

Cedric looked around, he thought this must be part of his dream, some fear he was harboring that was being vent on his sleeping conscious. But it felt so real! The man laughed again, a cruel and cold laugh and a smile spread across his harsh lips that sent a chill through Cedric's bones.

"Where... where am I?" He stammered.

The laugh continued, it seemed a swirl of never ending, dizzying laughter that made his insides grow cold. "You, child, are asleep in your bed." Voldemort replied. He paused, a pause that seemed to go on for ages. "And tomorrow you will face me and you will be defeated, you do not stand a chance. But tonight, oh yes, tonight is my time to play with my prize before I win it."

Cedric opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. Voldemort's toy? He would be defeated? He would fight the Dark Lord?

As if reading his mind, Voldemort spoke, "No, you will not fight me. You will not stand a chance. It has been foreseen that you will be arriving with Harry Potter tomorrow, he of course will be killed, as will you. And I will be restored to my original splendor. You see, as I am now, in your dream, I am not whole. This is merely a reflection, a preview, if you will, of what I will become tomorrow evening when I am restored."

Motionless, thoughtless, speechless, all Cedric could do was stand and watch. Surely this was just a dream, some silly game his mind was playing with him because he was so nervous about the task. All day he had been running over every possible scenario of what might take place tomorrow.

Voldemort raised his wand and spoke words that Cedric did not hear, his ears were filled with a rushing wind and he felt faint. Never had he experienced a dream like this!

The Dark Lord drew closer to him, as he did so Cedric struggled to move his arms, to hit, kick, bite, run... anything. But he could not move, he felt frozen to the spot. As Voldemort closed in the space between them he reached a pale and bony hand up to Cedric's cheek. He stroked downward towards his neck softly, then grasped his chin so hard that it felt as if it would break. Cedric tried to scream, to do anything to get away but it was useless. Voldemort had placed some kind of charm on him so that he was completely unable to move or speak.

Those red eyes drew closer to his face as Voldemort leaned in and planted a soft kiss on Cedric's lips, almost out of spite. He tightened his grip on Cedric's jaw and kissed him again, forcing the boy's mouth open with his own and slipping his tongue inside. It was a harsh kiss, Cedric felt as if he were going to throw up and pass out at the same time. The Dark Lord's hands roamed down his body, his lips slid down to Cedric's neck. He bit down hard, drawing blood.

He lapped at the blood on the boy's neck, sucking it from the wound. Every sensation in Cedric's body felt heightened, he was unsure of what this spell upon him must be, but he was certain it was not the Imperius Curse. If only it was, if only he felt happy and could not feel so vividly what was happening to him. The pain, the caresses of the Dark Lord, and especially the way his body seemed to respond.

"Ah, I see you must be enjoying this." Voldemort responded with an echoing laugh as he noticed Cedric's growing erection. He stepped and pressed his hips into Cedric's so that he could feel the Dark Lord's as well.

Another spell was uttered and Cedric's clothing disappeared, he stood in front of his captor stark naked and unable to help himself. Voldemort's lips formed a grin that would have made the boy shudder if he were able to move, and the man began to run his hands down the sleek and toned body before him.

Without knowing what he was doing, without telling his body to do so, Cedric began to kiss at Voldemort's neck, pulling off his robes. His mind was racing, he could not control his movements but he could feel himself doing each of them. His hands traced down the male man's body as his robes dropped to the ground, Voldemort laughed as Cedric's hand cupped around his erection and began to work at him.

All throughout their rough entangles; Cedric's pain was magnified as the Dark Lord spared no expense with his body. He wanted to scream, and kick, to do everything in his power to get away. But he was powerless, and yet some small, miniscule part of him was enjoying the pleasure. He tried to tell himself that it was just because he had been deprived, it had nothing to do with whose body was doing the pleasuring. His mind went foggy with orgasm and his thoughts were pushed aside, he was left crumpled and naked on the wet ground of the graveyard. He felt dirty, disgusting; he wanted to shrink out of existence.

"Ah Cedric, I thank you for that. For your willingness." Voldemort replied with a sneer as he dressed. "And I will be seeing you tomorrow evening, for the last time, I'm afraid." His voice was so cold, as if this rape was something he did every night. 'And it probably is.' Cedric thought to himself.

"No run along back to your bed; get some rest... you'll need it for tomorrow." Voldemort said, his laugh ringing out into Cedric's ears as he seemed to plunge back through the haze and land in his own bed.

He awoke, cold sweat pouring down his face, his eyes full of tears. He was in his dormitory, had it been just a dream? It had seemed so real. He knew he needed rest but his mind was spinning, his body aching, and fear was overtaking him. What if it was real and it happened again when he went back to sleep? What if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was returning to power, and he, Cedric would die at his hand tomorrow night?

Feeling drowsy again, swallowing his fear and wiping all thoughts from his mind, Cedric let himself ease back off to sleep.

"Cedric, wake up! Wake up!" A voice was calling, his bed curtains were flung open and sunlight flooded his eyes.

"Huh?" He groaned.

"Come on! Get up! The third task starts tonight, and you've already missed breakfast!" The voice said.

'The third task! That's right!' Excitement and nerves flooded Cedric's mind as he rolled out of bed and streached. He grinned at his roommates who were all already dressed, and beaming, excited about what that night was to hold. Everyone felt sure that Cedric would win.

For a brief moment as he reached for a pair of jeans from his trunk, Cedric felt apprehension, fear welled up inside of him. But he pushed it away, it was just nerves.

Not a thought, nor memory of his dream remained in his head, he exited the Hufflepuff common room with his friends as he did everyday, having no idea that it would be his last.