Harry wept for him. He had wept for him so completely that tears stopped coming. He wept not for the life he left, the family and friends he had lost or the reason behind his death. Harry wept, selfishly, for the death itself. Cedric was no longer there to comfort him. No longer there to love him.
It had started with the suggestion about the prefect's bath for the clue regarding the Second Task. After that, Harry could barely take his eyes off of Cedric. At any moment he would let his eyes linger on Cedric, he put it off as staring at Cho. Cho was beautiful he had to admit, but he didn't want beautiful. He didn't want soft either. He had wanted Cedric's strong hands, his lean torso and his lanky legs.
All those things he had wanted so badly that he had cornered him in the hall and told him so. And Cedric had pushed him against the wall and kissed him. His first real kiss. And then Cedric had walked away as if nothing had happened. And Harry had wept some more. For things that would never be.
And now Harry was coming, stroking himself hard, and there were fresh tears on his cheeks.
Yes, he had wept for Cedric.