4.
When Cedric and I return to the room with the other champions, he's in a decidedly better mood. Before he opens the door, he turns to me with a windy look on his face. He breathes in deep and, at first, I wonder what he's waiting for.
He exhales, "Ready?"
"In for the nut, in for the galleon," is my reply.
"My uncle used to say that," he says, smiling.
"I dunno where I heard it from," I admit with a shrug.
Taking another deep breath, his posture straightens, seeming to pull strength from reservoirs I could only fathom. He's so strong. Even in the face of certain adversity and animosity, not to mention possible public humiliation, he still manages to look... like a man. He reaches for the doorknob, opens the door, and stands aside, sweeping his free arm in one grand motion.
"After you," he says with a slight bow and a smile.
"Why, Cedric," I reply, with mock-surprise as I enter the room.
The room doesn't go silent, but the tension certainly grows as we gain everyone's attention. Viktor is still sulking in the far corner, leaning against the wall. He hops up once he sees us, his expression flashing to slight concern before he catches himself and returns to his more sullen moue.
To my surprise, Colin Creevy mirrors Viktor's actions. On the other side of the room, he seemed to want to run over to me. As our eyes met, I throw him a smile only to be met with narrowed eyes. He quickly turns his attention back to the paunchy man taking photographs for that hag, Rita Skeeter. I can't help wondering if I've done something wrong; is Colin mad at me? Why do I care?
The familiar dreamy and raspy voice of Mr. Ollivander rang through the room above all others, "Harry Potter. I thought I'd see you here."
The short old man with spindly grey hair as untidy as my own seemed to waltz over to me, leaving Bagman mid-sentence. As he stepped closer to me, our noses almost touching, I'm reminded of the first time I ever saw him. He's just as creepy now as then with those bally eyes that refuse to blink.
"My how you have grown," he says. I realise then that I tower over him, instead of vice versa. But I was eleven then, after all. "Still have... your wand, Harry?" he asks in a voice to breathy and low that I can barely hear him, despite being so close.
"Uh... yes, sir," I answer, in a hushed whisper. I feel faintly perturbed at the fact that he can make me feel like that scared eleven-year old; I'm sure that's how he still views me, too. I'm half expecting him to apologize for selling Tom Riddle his wand. I hope he doesn't go into his 'my-wand-is-the-brother-wand-of-Voldemort's-wand' schpeel.
From behind Mr. Ollivander, Bagman coughs. Placing his hand on Mr. Ollivander's shoulder, he attempts to guide him back to the front of the room, where the three champions have gathered behind the table and in front of their respective banners. Mr. Ollivander's gaze stays on me, however, even when he has to crane his neck to do so. And that smile... Godric's gold, that smile! It's even creepier than his eyes.
"It's time for the weighing of the wands," Ludo announces.
Only then does Mr. Ollivander seem to lose interest in me. I rush to Colin, who has managed to pry himself away from Rita's photographer and is standing by one of the window sills. He doesn't look at me when I walk over to him. In fact, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and inches away from me when I lean against the same beam. And... is he pouting?
After a bit of silence, Colin finally speaks. Still not looking at me, he says, "You and Cedric were gone an awfully long time."
"No we weren't," I counter. Were we really gone that long? Just enough for Cedric to be mean, apologize, and then seem like he wanted to ... kiss me. Maybe 'almost kissing' can stop time? It certainly felt like it was standing still, that's for sure.
"Did you have to go far to find him?"
"Nah," I reply, "He was just down the corridor."
"Really?"
Immediately, I realise that's the wrong answer. I should have said 'oh yeah, he ran all the way down to the dungeons' or 'my goodness, he was up in the Astronomy Tower!' Anything would have been better than 'oh, no! He was right around the corner.' But really... why would Colin care.
He's definitely pouting at this point. His jaw is clenched and I can hear him grinding his teeth.
"What'd you two talk about?"
"Nothing," I say with a defensive laugh, too defensive, in fact. It probably sounded like I was definitely hiding something.
Colin looks at me with disbelieving eyes, pushes himself from the sill, and walks away, muttering 'whatever' under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
I call out after him, but I don't know why. Why is Colin acting this way? Why would he care what me and Cedric were talking about? Why was he keeping track of how long we were away? I shake the cobwebs from my head and walk to the front of the room where Mr. Ollivander is standing in front of the champions' table. Ludo follows close by, undoubtedly to make sure that he's in every picture captured by the hag's photographer.
"Yes. Mademoiselle Delacour first, I believe?"
I watch as Mr. Ollivander walks to the table and stands in front of Fleur. He holds out his hand; she tosses her hair and smirks before handing him her wand.
It has barely touched the tip of his fingers when he announces, "Yes," he said quietly, "nine and a half inches... inflexible... rosewood... and containing..."
He twirls the wand between his spindly fingers like a baton, smiling as it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Bringing it closer to his face, he squints and examines it carefully. Abruptly, he pulls back, his eyes wide with bemused shock.
"Oh, my! Is this—?"
"Veela 'air," she interrupts with a coquettish smile, "from my grandmuzzer."
So, Fleur is part Veela! I make a mental note to tell Ron. Rita's magical quill is scribbling furiously on the parchment, certainly writing about Fleur's lineage. The scag!
Mr. Ollivander runs his fingers along the length of the wand. Apparently satisfied with whatever he was looking for, he swishes it in a clockwise motion; then he mutters, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers fly out from the wand tip.
With an admiring look on his face, he gingerly places the wand back in Fleur's hand.
"Temperamental, that one is. Veela hair tends to bring that out in a wand. I imagine, however, that being part Veela and related to the one who gave you the core, it handles well under your care."
He bows and moves on to Viktor. The look on Fleur's face is priceless! She can't decide between being offended or gracious. I don't blame her, either; it's hard to tell if it was a compliment or a slag-off.
Round-shoulder and (still) sullen – and what could he possibly have to be so damned surly about? – Viktor hands Mr. Ollivander the wand. There's a flash of light as the photographer made sure to grab a shot of the famous Seeker having his wand manhandled. Viktor scowled even more.
"Hmm," Mr. Ollivander says, "this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I... Well, no matter. He is who he is."
Viktor looks just as put out as Fleur did. My, does Mr. Ollivander have a way with words. I find myself giggling. I look over and, to my shock, Cedric is looking at me. He's smiling, too, holding back a laugh that is sure to be considered rude. He winks knowingly at me. I think I blush. I don't even want to look to see if Colin's watching me. Bother! I still don't know why I care!
Mr. Ollivander lifts the wand high and examines it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes, muttering, "Yes... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who nodded. "Ten and a quarter inches... Rather thicker than one usually sees... quite rigid..."
I hear a cough escape Rita from the side of the room. She has her hand covering her mouth and I can tell she, like Cedric, is trying to hide a laugh. Unlike Cedric, she's doing a horrible job.
"Avis!" Mr. Ollivander cries.
The hornbeam wand lets off a blast like a gun. A number of small, twittering birds fly from the end, making a beeline to one of the open windows and out into the gold-tinged horizon.
"Excellent, Mr. Krum," he says with a smile, handing Viktor back his wand, "This should do you well in the tourney... and beyond."
He says the last part with such knowing weight; I can't help but wonder if he's foretelling the future. He's certainly more convincing than Professor Trelawney.
"That leaves Mr. Diggory," he says, sliding down to face Cedric, who is still trying his hardest not to laugh or even crack a smile. He hands Mr. Ollivander his wand.
"Ahhh," he says enthusiastically with a smile stretched from ear to ear, "This is one of mine, isn't it? Oh, yes, I remember it well!"
The wand seems to slide through his fingers as Mr. Ollivander caresses its length like a lover. My cheeks burn as I start to imagine his fingers as mine and the wand as...
"... containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn... must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail," he admits with a ginger laugh.
Unicorn hair? Doesn't Ron have unicorn hair in his wand? I could have sworn...
"Ash. . . pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition...You treat it regularly, yes?"
"Polished it last night," Cedric says, his eyes darting to me.
With a wolfish smile, he winks. I'm pretty sure I blush. I wrench my eyes away from Cedric's gaze, finally, and start fidgeting.
"Twelve and a quarter inches," Mr. Ollivander continues, "the biggest one, yet!"
I look over to see Rita clutch at her pearl necklace with one hand and snatch the floating parchment from the air with the other. As she starts to fan herself, her eyes bulge from their sockets. Sara Fawcett hides her laugh behind her hand and even Colin seems flustered. Ludo lets out a loud guffaw before regaining his composure. I'm lost. I must have missed the joke; I hate when that happens.
"Ahh, thank you, Mr. Ollivander... champions," Ludo booms, clapping his hands, "I'd like to thank you for coming. Time to go back to your classes, I believe."
Ludo looks to me and then Colin, "If you would, please return the room to its original working order..."
Sara walks over to me with a hopeful expression on her face; she leans in closer and whispers, "Harry, d'you mind? I sort of told Cho I'd help her study for one of her exams?"
It takes me a moment to realize what she's asking. I shrug, because I'm not the one in charge, but she takes it as permission to leave.
With a relieved expression, she says "Cheers, Harry! Ta, Colin!"
Just like that, Colin and I are left alone.
I wave my wand over the crushed velvet covers along the wall adjacent to the door, dispelling them. I start to place the tables and chairs back to their original place while Colin deals with the School banners. We complete our tasks separately without so much as a word uttered between the two of us. Finally, I've had enough.
"Colin, are you going to fuckin' talk to me?"
I think my shoddy impersonation of being narked works; Colin freezes in his tracks and turns to face me.
"What?"
"What do you mean, 'what'? You know perfectly well 'what'," I say, crossing the room in large strides until I'm face-to-face with him.
"Everything was fine until I came back from fetching Cedric. Now, you won't even look at me, let alone talk."
"Whatever—"
"If I wanted this kind of attitude, I could have hung out with Malfoy."
Colin's eyes jerk to meet mine at the mentioning of Malfoy's name. Undoubtedly, he hates me saying I'd prefer the Slytherin git's presence to his, but, for the moment, it's true. Malfoy's taunting disdain I can handle but being ignored by someone I thought was my friend I can't stick.
"Don't..." Colin whispers, more of a plea than an order, really.
"Don't what? You know, Colin... I have better things to do if all you're going to do is slag me off!
I'm starting to get angry, now. All Colin can do is stand there and gawk at me, chewing on his lower lip. His hands clench and unclench, anxiously. He looks around the room, nervously. It's as though he's trying desperately to answer some unspoken question, fighting some unseen conflict.
And then it happens. Colin steps closer to me, grabs my head and pulls me down...
... into a kiss.
His lips are soft and sweet, like bubblegum; my hands seem to slide over angles and curves. I start to wonder if he's exactly what a girl would feel like in my arms – taste like in my mouth. With his small frame, I can't help but to feel strong in comparison, like I can move mountains and hold back glaciers. My lips cover his and, even with the occasional bump of the teeth, the kiss is heavenly, if not a little frightening.
'I could do it,' I think to myself. 'Right here, right now.' And I know I'm right. His tongue, his breathing, his heartbeat – they all tell me this; they all scream 'make a move, any move'.
When my hand slides down to the small of his back, I can feel him arch, as if he's giving me permission to go further than either of us are ready for. I place a shaky hand underneath his shirt, feeling the velvety smooth skin of his back. I can feel the tiny peachfuzz that collects at the base of his back, just above his arse. It's heavenly. Even though my mind stops working, my cock does not, rising to the occasion, literally.
Colin pulls away from the kiss and looks down at the bulge in my trousers.
"Why, Harry... you cheeky little bugger," he whispers, his hot breath dancing across my face.
He smiles. I pull him closer to me. His hands rest on my chest and I can feel some resistance.
'Take him,' the voice chimes in my head, 'Take him and be done with it.'
Colin's eyes are the deepest shade of brown I've ever seen and so big they are almost cartoonish. But when he looks at me there's an innocence that draws me in, then drowns me.
"We should... finish straightening up," he says, weakly.
I'm already up. I look down at the front of my trousers, still bulged and hot, and Colin laughs, finally pulling himself from me.
"I meant the room, silly."
He turns to walk away, but I grab his hand and pull him back into another embrace. Our faces are close, noses almost touching. Colin's smile is so bright I fear I will go blind. He kisses me, quick and chaste.
"You know, I'd could take you to the Yule Ball..."
He scoffs, "Whatever. You'd probably take someone like... Chang or Pavarti Patil or summat."
"No, really I would! Sod them all!"
Now it's Colin's turn to blush. He looks down, resting his forehead on my cheek. When I kiss the top of his head, his hair tickles my nose. I like it. For some reason or other, we start swaying to invisible music, his arms wrapped under mine and his grip tightening on my back.
"I'm sure you'd rather take someone like..."
"Like who...?"
"... like Cedric Diggory," he says, finally breaking the silence. His head tilts up until he's looking at me eye-to-eye. He's still smiling, but it's not quite as bright -- not quite as wide -- as before. I realize that I did something to upset him. "That's ok, Harry," he assures me, "I understand. He's... perfect. And he's perfect for you."
"But..."
He interrupts me with a kiss. Not as passionate as our first kiss, but not devoid of emotion, either. I hold him tight as we embrace, a promise that he is good enough for me; a promise that I will prove that I care for him; a promise that I'll show him that I want him and deserve him.
I only hope that I don't break the promise.
Something tells me that I will.