NOTE: WARNINGS FOR SLASH AND INCEST

Chapter Fourteen

When Cedric next woke up, it was to discover that they had all been moved to the Fleet manor. He immediately shot to his feet to look for Harry, but then saw the boy was in the bed beside him, still sleeping. He slowly sat up in bed, never once taking his eyes off the slim figure. It seemed insane to think that just three weeks ago Harry Potter had been nothing more to him than a figurehead, a rival Seeker.

In that time he'd become the most important person in his life.

He stumbled over to the other bed.

"Hey."

No response.

"Harry."

Suddenly he just lost it, and gripped the boy's slim shoulders. He felt his fingers digging into the bones stark beneath, but he couldn't help it.

"What do you think you were doing, you git?"

He was shaking Harry as hard as he could, and yet trying not to hurt him at the same time. "Damn it, Harry, why the hell couldn't you think?"

Perhaps it was good Herbie came in when he did.

"Hey, Ced, lunch-" He saw what was going on and flung the tray carelessly across the floor.

"Shit, Cedric, stop! You've got to stop!"

He tried to shove his way between them, but Cedric, with his desperate mania, wasn't letting go.

"Why-why did you-"

"Cedric! You've got to stop, damn it! Can't you see you're hurting him!"

"Merlin, Harry, think a little, won't you!"

And this fit left him as suddenly as it had come upon him. Harry's shoulders slipped out of him numb grasp back against the pillows. The younger boy never once woke.

"Cedric?" Herbie tried.

He dropped his blond head in his arms. "This is insane, Herbie," he whispered. "I just meant to help him- where did this go out of hand?"

Herbie stilled. "You…do you regret it?"

"Merlin, no!" he burst out immediately. "Of course not! Actually- I don't think I could, even if I wanted to." He eyed the slumbering boy on the bed sadly. "But do you see what it's got us into? We still don't know how much he's lost- how much he remembers-" he cut himself off with a choke, but the sentiment was clear- if he still remembers me.

"This is mad, Herbie. I never thought I could love someone this much, and it's been just three weeks. He's only thirteen."

"Cradle robber," Herbie teased, with no real heat. He sighed, and slumped against Cedric's side.

"I am, aren't I?" Cedric asked in a small voice.

Herbie sounded cautious. "Do I want to know?"

"I don't think so."

"But you're going to tell me anyway, aren't you?"

"Yes, he- he-" All at once Cedric went red and he couldn't say a word.

"So you aren't going to tell me after all."

Cedric knew his friend was provoking him, but blurted it out anyway: "He wanked me off."

Herbie stared at him with large, surprised eyes. "He's thirteen!"

Cedric dropped his head in his hands again. "I know," he mumbled. "And then I had to explain what the hell just happened to him, because he didn't have the slightest clue. He got it when I was kissing him, but anything after that-"

"Oh, dear Merlin," Herbie whispered. "You didn't. You couldn't have."

"I did."

The brunet burst out laughing.

"You shouldn't be laughing. I'm being serious here."

"I'm trying to be serious too!" he said through his laughter. "But if you're going to keep telling me things like this, I just can't!"

"Herbie, I really am trying to be serious."

He inhaled deeply, took that large breath in, and held in for several counts. Then he released it.

"Okay. Throw it at me."

"I'm terrified if he doesn't wake up. I'm terrified if he does wake up. Will he remember me? Will he remember us? "

"I hope he at least remembers your little 'Talk', so that way you don't have to go through the entire mortifying experience all over again."

"Herbie!"

"Sorry!" The other boy tried to calm himself. "Look, Ced, you can't keep chewing yourself up over something you had entirely no control over. You didn't know your bastard of a father would show up- how did he knew you'd be there, anyways?"

The blond shrugged as carelessly as he could. "It isn't exactly hard to find out when Hogsmeade weekends are. And if he's so cushy with the headmaster-"

"There is that," Herbie conceded. "This will go to trial as soon as he wakes up. We have your Pensieve testimony, at least, and Hermione's and mine of what's been happening the past couple of weeks. And then we have nearly thirty witnesses of that little altercation out in the open at Hogsmeade."

Something just occurred to him. "How long have we been here?"

Herbie's face softened. "Not as long as you think; it's only Monday. You slept all day Sunday. It was good, since that gave you time to heal. You had to regrow your jaw entirely, and staying awake waiting for the Skele-grow to take effect would have just been needless and painful. I'm afraid I can't say the same for Harry, though."

"No change, huh?"

Herbie looked sympathetic. "None at all. A Healer's been by every six hours, but there hasn't been any changes. Even the brains scans- there's been no activity at all. She says we'll just have to wait and see. There isn't anything else that can be done."

Even though he'd known it'd be something like that, it still hurt to hear the words.

Cedric took a deep breath, and pushed the pain to the back of his mind. "Alright. Then let's try being productive. Do we have everything we need for the case?"

Herbie nodded, looking somewhat relieved to be off the subject. He waved his wand and summoned the tray back to him, banishing all the food and summoning new plates and dishes from the kitchen.

"We have all the Pensieve memories. They were taken immediately after the fight, so even if they've been Obliviated since, we'll still have them. And Obliviating will only cast them in a worse light. The Wizengamot will be reviewing them all week. Court will only commence, though, once Harry wakes, and his condition can be stabilised."

Cedric snorted. "I don't think my father could be cast in an any worse a light than he already is. Openly attacking the Boy-Who-Lived in the middle of Hogsmeade? There's no way he can deny it."

"You know if he's found guilty it'll be a minimum sentence of three years in Azkaban," Herbie said in small voice.

"He'd better be found guilty!" Cedric growled. Herbie sighed and smacked him over the head.

"Stop thinking about revenge like a bloody Gryffindor for a moment, would you?" Cedric thought that was rich, coming from him, but didn't dare say anything against his best mate's blank blue eyes.

"Just think about with a clear head for a moment, Cedric. No matter what, he's still your father. How's this going to affect your mother? She can hold the Wizengamot position by proxy for you until you graduate, but whose income will you live of? Your mother doesn't work. And there's only so much gold in the Diggory vaults.

"Say Harry wakes up with his memory relatively intact. You know there's a fair chance of that. I heard how he reacted when you and your mother discussed provoking your father into attacking you two. How's he going to feel when all this shit goes South?"

Herbie looked at his suddenly pale friend flatly. "You see? You have to think about the little things like this, Cedric. It isn't all going to be happily ever after."

"We won't even have living expenses…" Cedric said slowly.

"Food," Herbie told him. "How much does it cost per month to keep the manor, let alone the summer house? You'll need funds for school fees for your next two years at least before you start drawing a full Wizengamot income. Your mother, as a proxy, will draw only two-thirds of that salary. And your father supplemented even that by-"

"-never being home," he cut in bitterly.

Herbie hit him again and finished, "-by working in the Ministry. You have to think about daily expenses, Cedric. And correct me if I'm wrong, but your boy over there needs nutrition potions and a new wardrobe too."

Cedric tightened his lips. These must've been exactly what Herbie himself had been worrying himself to death over after he awoke from a two-year-long coma to the realisation that he didn't actually have a family anymore. His personal vault had been tied to the family, and the Fleets were far above than well-to-do. Herbie had probably never even before considered mundane things such as these; all his purchases had been paid by credit.

"It's just two years," he said bravely, "And I'll find something during the summer. We'll manage something."

Herbie gave him a dark look. "I hope so. Else your boy's going to worry himself to death and probably starve himself when you're not looking just to scrimp on the food bill."

Cedric gulped. It sounded far too much like what Harry would do.

A timid knock came on the door, interrupting their conversation, and a bushy head poked its way in.

"He's not awake yet, is he?" Hermione asked sadly.

Cedric smiled wanly at the girl. She really should've been a 'Puff, for all the loyalty she'd showed. "He'll be right as rain soon," he told her.

She managed a wet smile for him.

"How goes the news?" Herbie asked as a distraction. He'd put her in charge of monitoring the various papers the Fleets subscribed to.

"You didn't have to worry about that at all," she hastily assured him. "Public opinion is overwhelmingly on your side. In fact, they're even holding your father, Cedric, until Harry wakes."

"Has there been any word from Mother?"

"Oh!" The girl dashed out of the room, but came back mere moments later with a thin stack of missives.

"One came that evening, another yesterday, and then one this morning, before you woke up."

She looked about to open her mouth to ask, but pressed her lips together under Herbie's watchful eye. Cedric broke open the first one and began to read. It was pretty basic, asking after him and Harry. It didn't tell him anything he didn't already know; it was just a confirmation that she'd managed to get out safely.

The next one said Amos had apparently made it home that night, although early in the morning Aurors had come to question him in custody for the unsolicited attack on a minor. They'd barely even noticed her; his mother was talented like that. She was practically a part of the furniture unless you knew what you were looking for. Sometimes Cedric never understood that part of it, as she was quite a beautiful woman, but it served her purposes, so he put that out of his mind for the time being.

The third was the shocker. She was actually thinking of capitalising on this situation and going through with a divorce.

Herbie had been reading over his shoulder.

"Will she get her name back?"

"Yes if it's a Wizengamot order, but not the ennoblement. She'll keep her dowry and reclaim the bride price, too." Hermione just looked confused.

"That's a pretty good deal."

"I know."

"What're you talking about!" Hermione burst out, unable to contain herself any longer.

Cedric glanced down at the letters in his hand again. "My mother. She's planning to use the popular sentiment of this affair and force a divorce through the Wizengamot. What's the official reason in this case again?" he asked Herbie.

The other boy shrugged. "Shame, I guess. Maybe even fear of retribution, since there's no end of violence in this case. Usually spouses in arranged marriages would get their unions dissolved so that the taint of the spouse wouldn't touch them, and they'd still be eligible to form other alliances. Yeah, it's pretty archaic," he said at the look on Hermione's face, "but this is a pretty archaic society. Our traditions mean everything to us. And it's going to work for us in this case, at least. The Wizengamot is a bunch of old farts, and the oldest fart of the lot's just broken the oldest law in place."

"Yes, I'm beginning to learn that," she whispered. There was a flicker of unusual indecision in her eye. Finally she said, "Herbie, your brother…"

His face tightened. "What is it?"

"He asked me if you would speak with him."

"Did he say where?" Cedric asked, frowning. The girl shook her head.

Herbie waved it off. "I'll deal with it later." Hermione was fretting again, but she managed to calm herself down. She still seemed itching for something to do, so Herbie took pity on her and edged the tray of food behind him. He asked, "Why don't you go see what's for lunch?"

She brightened, and then shot out of the room. Cedric looked at him oddly.

"You just brought me lunch."

He shrugged. "Well, she doesn't know that, does she? It gives her something to do- and it gives us time to talk about things you wouldn't want her to hear."

"What kind of things would there be?" Cedric asked, genuinely curious.

"You really want to air dirty laundry in public?" Herbie asked archly. "Let's get back to the matter at hand. Your mother may divorce your father, but you'll still be holding his titles by proxy till you're of age. And if she divorces him, your seat will remain empty the next two years while you finish up at Hogwarts. You're not going to get any income from a moulding chair."

Cedric could see why Herbie would want Hermione out of the room for this. As intelligent as the girl was, there was still too much of her Muggleborn nature evident in her for her to not be antagonistic in these discussions.

"Well, the house-elves will take care of maintenance at the manor, and the deed is paid in full, so the land is ours. But there are still monthly estate fees that we need to take care of, and the deed for the summer home is only partially paid off, and it's in Antakya, so it might not move as quick as we would like– who the hell buys a summer home in Antakya?" Cedric demanded, although it was more out of rhetorical exasperation than anything else.

"Well, it's far enough to be unreachable and near enough to not be a cause for concern-"

"Don't, Herbie, just don't-"

"I warned you, Cedric, at the very start of this, I asked you if this was what you really wanted, if you were ready to be fully committed to Harry's cause. And you said yes."

"That's because I was," Cedric insisted heatedly, "and I still am. But the summer home my father purchased has nothing-"

"It has everything to do with it," his best mate cut in. "You need to be ready to push things through to the end. You have to be able to not falter, and see this through."

The blond sighed, running a tired hand through his messy curls. "You've told me this a thousand times, Herbie, and I've answered you a thousand times. Don't ever mistake me on this."

"Are you really all that prepared to choose between your lover and your father?" Herbie's question pulled him up short. "Is your mother? Well, apparently she is," he muttered.

Then he stood. "Think it over, Cedric. And carefully. Think of the answers Harry'll need once he wakes up. You can't be alone in making this decision. It's his life you're changing too."

Cedric looked weary for having just woken up, but he summoned up a smile for his friend. "I don't know what I'd have done without you, Herbie."

The brunet snorted. "Probably drown yourself first chance you got. By the way, it's supposed to be a clear sky tonight. If he's not awake by then, it'd be good to do a reading, get some direction that way."

Cedric nodded. "Thanks. Again."

He cackled. "Don't thank me. Hermione'll be back any moment and she'll grill you for everything you're worth, if I recognise that look in her eye."

Cedric saw the opportunity to turn things on his friend and seized it with both hands.

"You seem to be getting familiar with those looks in her eye."

"I'm just observant." He shrugged off the insinuation like he was impervious to it.

"The two of you…get along very well," he tried again.

This time, at least, Herbie seemed to get it, and stared flatly at his friend. "Unlike you, dearest Ceddy, I am not a cradle robber. And you seem to forget how I'm two years your senior, which would make me four years hers. That's much more than robbing the cradle, Cedric; I think we've progressed to breaking hips."

Cedric seemed abashed to be caught out on that.

"I'll give you some time to yourself." Herbie quirked a smile to show Cedric that he hadn't quite meant it, and then waved at the boy on the bed on the way out.

Once in the hallway, he leaned against the wall and sighed, heavily. Then he made his way very slowly to an old familiar wing of the manor. He'd moved out, years ago, because he couldn't stand the nearness, couldn't stand the implications, couldn't stand just what had been done and what lay between them.

If his brother hadn't changed, and Herbie sincerely doubted he had, he'd be in the second nursery, the room they'd grown fond of when they were getting too old for the toys in the first nursery but were still too young to throw all those memories away. Even as they'd grown older, they'd kept going back to that room. There'd been something about it that had made it special. Herbie had never found out what it was. He'd tried to, sneaking back when Bernard hadn't been around, but the room had felt empty without his twin's presence, and more often than not he had found himself looking in on the first nursery, where the memories and the boundaries of their relationship were more concrete.

Bernard was curled up on the divan, staring out into the cloudless sky. When Herbie knocked, his head whirled about so first he was sure the other boy'd given himself whiplash.

"You came," he breathed. "Granger told you. I wasn't sure if she would."

"What is it?" Herbie asked stoically.

Bernard spread his hands open. "I don't know. Nothing. Everything. Anything. There's no one- Herbert, there's only ever been you."

He didn't move any nearer, so Bernard got to his feet, creakingly slowly. He went to shut the door first, whispering a locking charm over the frame itself, before turning back to his twin.

"Don't you think you're presuming a bit much?" Herbie sniped.

Bernard hesitated, and he looked oddly vulnerable to Herbie's patently biased eye. "You came," he whispered again. "I just- hoped-"

Herbie couldn't stand looking at him anymore and shut his eyes. He wondered if he were being selfish. He wondered if this was worth the risk of his parents' ire, and their possible twin disinheritance. But then smooth fingers trailed their way across the side of his face, tipping it up and turning it back. Herbie couldn't help but open his eyes then, staring at the same pale blue, a little watery and a little desperate, and the right side was slightly bloodshot.

Bernard was gravitating closer and closer, clearly giving him enough time and space to move away, although he himself was fair trembling with the effort of holding himself from not clinging to the body he hadn't been able to touch in years.

Their lips on each other were as smooth and seamless as he remembered. He opened his mouth with a moan, drinking in his brother's taste. Then hands were scrabbling desperately at his shoulders, pushing robes off, baring skin to cool air and roving over goosepimpled flesh, striking and stroking in delicate, loving gestures.

His twin was nearly crying.

He himself was understandably shaky.

This had been what they'd wanted for so long and for such a long time they had believed it hadn't been something they could have. Even now they still didn't believe in their right to have this. Somehow being forbidden just made it all the more powerful.

They were on the floor now, and his twin loomed over him, spreading his legs up and open. He shivered with anticipation at the first cold touch, and then the pain jolted him into feeling. The second cold touch worsened the pain, but a wet, hot mouth engulfed his cock to make up for it.

He hadn't expected it to be so terribly unhygienic. He wanted to tell him, clean your mouth before you kiss me, wipe your hands before you touch me, but the words went unsaid as a fragrant hand clasped his hip, pulling him closer, and a tongue pressed against his lips, begging for entrance. He might have tasted sweet before, but now he tasted exotic and unparalleled, seasoned by a spicy musk that made him heady to even think of its very source.

As his twin spread his legs even more, he wondered about how they'd gotten to their current point. He remembered a blond boy, vaguely; a girl with a wonderfully expressive bush on her head; and a small boy with dark hair, but they all paled in the light of-

His breath was completely driven out of him. There was nothing left to think, even.

His brother's thick organ slid in and out of him as he lay there, rocking with the movement, not quite able to realise that this was it, this was what he'd botched up a ritual for, what he'd nearly left home for, what he'd endured three years of silence and abstinence for, what he'd almost lost his magical core for; all of it, culminating in this moment, when his twin gripped him by his cock and pulled.

He felt like he could've woken Harry with that cry.

No, Cedric doesn't have a clue about this aspect of Herbie's life. He never has, and if Herbie has his way, never will.