The same but different

Chapter 9 Dragons

Before they knew it, it was close enough to the first task that the school was starting to hum with anticipation, and at any given time Harry could hear other students speculating about what he and the others might have to face. The Hogwarts students had warmed up to him a little after it got out that he'd refused an interview with Rita Skeeter at the wand-weighing, and also insisted he and Cedric take pictures together instead of individually. It hadn't stopped her article from being ninety percent filled with the Boy-Who-Lived, but Cedric was making it very plain that Harry hadn't asked for any of it. People were finding it hard to argue with the Hufflepuff when he had that earnest look in his grey eyes. Harry couldn't blame them; he foresaw a lot of folding to that look in his future, but he couldn't really be mad about it. Helga's eyes, though amber as honey, could pull off the same expression, and he'd long ago made his peace with caving to it regularly. The things he did for love.

Neither of the Hogwarts champions were particularly worried about what the first task might entail. They were working at the distinct advantage of having over seventy years of extra memories in their heads, from some of the most skilled wix in the history of magical Britain. They'd be fine.

Then, one evening, Hagrid showed an invisible Harry into the Forbidden Forest under the guise of taking Madame Maxime on a romantic moonlit stroll - to see some dragons. Four of them, all nesting mothers. Harry wondered, not for the first time, if today's governments had any sense left between them.

He stared up at the huge ferocious beasts, listening to them spit and snarl in the harsher dialect of Parseltongue that dragons spoke in. That would make the task easier for him, at least - Cedric wouldn't be so lucky. He was good at mimicking certain phrases in Parseltongue, but that only worked for passwords and sometimes snakes - and knowing when Salazar was cursing up a storm or professing love in the secret language. He wouldn't be able to hold a conversation, especially not in the dragon-tongue variant.

Hagrid was extolling the virtues of the beasts to the French headmistress, who didn't seem quite as enthusiastic as her companion. Harry only half-listened, edging closer under the invisibility cloak to get a better look. He recognised Charlie Weasley among the dragon handlers, and remembered the man's words in the summer about seeing them sooner than expected. Gods, that all felt like a lifetime ago now. So much had changed since then.

When it became clear that he wasn't going to get more information about the actual task, Harry left Hagrid to his odd attempt at a date and hurried back towards the castle. He didn't turn for the stairs back up to Gryffindor, however - instead he let his feet lead him to the Hufflepuff common room; a place he hadn't been in this lifetime, but still knew like the back of his hand. Tapping the barrel for entry, he moved silently through the darkened common room, heading straight for the corridor to the boys' dormitories. It was easy to find the sixth year dorms; easier still to sneak in silently, reaching out with his magic to find Cedric's bed. A small thrill went through him, the illicit teenage feeling of sneaking into his boyfriend's room at night, but he pushed it away; that wasn't why he was here.

Shrugging off the cloak, Harry nudged the drapes back, his expression fond as his eyes landed on Cedric's sleeping face. The Hufflepuff's hair was in total disarray, his brow smooth and peaceful in sleep, the faintest smile at the corner of his mouth. Harry was loathe to wake him. He did so gently, fingers running through the older boy's hair. "Cedric," he breathed, watching the boy frown and slowly blink his eyes open. Sleep-fuzzy and squinting, it took him a minute to recognise his unexpected visitor.

"Mm, Harry?" he murmured blearily, frown deepening. "Whassamatter?"

"Budge over," Harry urged, squeezing his small frame onto the edge of the single bed and closing the drapes, putting up a silencing ward just in case. He kicked off his shoes to tuck his feet up, and Cedric's body curved automatically towards his, still warm and soft. Harry's heart ached. What he wouldn't give to wrap himself up in this boy and never leave.