It started out as a schoolboy crush. I was looking for the snitch; she was stalking me around in the air. I was playing one of my best games. She looked beautiful.

For over a year, any communication between us was in fleeting. A 'good luck' before the Slytherin game. A shy 'hi' in the Hogwarts Express. I have never been the most vocal and eloquent guy but around her, any word with more than a single syllable was a fool's dream.

Until McGonagall announced the Yule Ball in honour of the champions of Triwizard tournament last year.

I thought, what the hell, I'm a champion; maybe I deserve the honour of escorting the girl who often starred in sweat filled nights of dreaming of ecstasy and love.

Only, Cedric asked her first.

Now, I'm not a bitter person. But getting passed over for a pretty-faced Hufflepuff who had everything, everything I dreamed of having once when I was naïve enough to hope for a just world, hurt. When I would fight the hunger and cold and pain by dreaming of a redheaded woman and a messy-haired man with spectacles.

I used to do that a lot, you see. I used to close my eyes and dream of a world where my mother would bandage my injuries and sing me to sleep. My father would teach me how to play sports and buy me ice cream behind my mother's back.

That dream changed when I learnt my parents' names. It felt wonderful to learn about them, don't get me wrong, but it also meant having to face the facts and accept they are dead.

So, I craved acceptance. I dreamt of rising above the title of 'freak'.

That didn't work out so well for me either. Because I was the Boy-Who-Lived, then I became a dark wizard, then I became a hero, then I became a rebellious teenager.

Okay, maybe I am a bitter person, but who wouldn't be? Here I am, a boy whose biggest dream is having a sense of normalcy and Cedric had everything I envied in others. He was popular, well groomed, well fed, had loving parents, and to top it all of, he had the girl of my dreams in his arms.

I'm not proud of the thoughts the darkest recesses of my ego whispered into my ears. I'm not proud of the way I went against my own desires and played into Voldemort's hand by trying to prove I'm better than Cedric.

And I'm not proud of the small part of me that feels vindicated that I survived while he did not.

There! I said it, and I hate myself for it. Because, no matter my personal and imaginary issues with Cedric, he was a good man. Hell, his death haunts me to this day.

This year has been hell. Not only my parents' murderer is back and hunting for me, the government and public hate me with vehemence, once again. The defence teacher is always on the lookout for a reason to torture me using my blood. I can't sleep because if I do, I either dream about some weird door or Cedric's death. The first cause my scar to flare up in pain. The second causes me to wake up screaming, soaked in sweat.

But those aren't even the worst part of my year so far. That title goes to the mess of constant sadness, confusion and shyness on her face. She's thinner than last year, her face a little gaunt and her eyes always shine with phantom tears.

It kills me. It kills me because I can't stand knowing she's sad, and it kills me because I want her still.

No, that's not true. I want her even more.

Isn't that fucked up? I have the constant urge to run over to the girl whose boyfriend's death I witnessed and kiss her silly until there is no more sadness on her face. I want to kiss the tears she fights away until there is nothing but a bright smile on her face, reserved only for me.

A part of my mind knows where she is at all times lately. It isn't a result of a decision I mulled over. I didn't investigate her class schedule, and I didn't stalk her. But still, I find my feet dragging me to her and my eyes on her the moment she's in my line of sight.

Ron is oblivious to my newfound habit of running into her even if it means choosing the longest route in the castle. Hermione isn't. Oh, she has said nothing about it but I can tell from the knowing looks she steals, she's aware of what I'm doing. Even if I'm not.

One good thing that happened this year has been Defence Association. No, I don't call it Dumbledore's Army and I won't. Ginny, Hermione and the others may think it's funny to name our little group after Dumbledore but I don't. There is no way I will name a group where I teach defence to for the man who lets Umbridge brainwash and torture children. I don't buy for one second he doesn't have the capital to get rid of her.

I love DA. Not only it is my way of contributing to the war and ensuring more people survive, unlike Cedric; but it is my way of saying 'fuck you' to the ministry and Voldemort. When the door to the Room of Requirements closes, I am in charge. I am in control. I'm the boss.

There is a poem by William Ernest Henley; Invictus. The last verse of that poem is my favourite quote. 'I am the master of my fate; I am the captain of my soul.'

When I teach this small group of students how to defend themselves, I am the master of my fate. And I love it.

There is one other thing that makes DA the best part of my miserable year; her. She is something special. I don't know how she is in regular classes but during DA, she's a brilliant student, rivalling Hermione. She's always one of the first people to learn a spell and when she does, she gives me this brilliant smile that just takes my breath away. And knowing those brilliant smiles are directed at me blows my mind.

Today is the last DA session before the Yule break. I am leaning against a desk the room created as soon as I thought about it as I wait for my students to come.

Luna Lovegood is first to enter with a "Hello," that drifts over me like a breeze. She's an odd girl who confuses me with everything she does. Even this two syllable word has a strange quality coming from her.

I mumble a distracted greeting back and focus my attention back on the door. Cho will arrive in nine minutes unless she stops by her dorm which will add another, unnecessary, three minutes to my wait.

Luna must pick up on my distracted state because instead of talking further, like she usually does, she hums a lullaby.

Angelina, Alicia and Katie are the next ones to arrive, all three of them breathless. "We've replaced you," Angelina informs me while shedding her outer cloak. I cock my head and raise an eyebrow in silent enquiry. "You and Fred and George," she explains impatiently. "We found another seeker, Ginny Weasley."

I smile at that. Good for her. She's been practising nonstop.

"She's good. Not as good as you, of course, but seeing as we can't have you..." she trails off and throws me a dirty glance.

"Don't give me that look, I didn't hire Umbitch. If you have complaints, go to Dumbledore. He's in charge of the hiring process," I snarl at her, unwilling to take shit from her. "But seeing as you all come here every week to learn defence from me..."

"Dumbledore didn't make you punch Malfoy," says Angelina. "Don't go blaming him for your actions."

"If you think my ban had anything to do with punching Malfoy, you are deluding yourself."

Ron and Hermione's arrival with Neville in tow brings our delightful talk to an end. She follows them not thirty seconds later, a little after the seven-minute mark. Her brown eyes find my green ones and it takes me as much effort as fighting Imperus to stop myself from smiling. She doesn't have the same reservations I have, giving me a shy half-smile; and I lose the fight, beaming at her.

"All right, people, settle down," I say, silencing the crowd. "There is no point in teaching you lot anything new as I know you will all forget everything I say as soon as you board the express. So, today, we will go over everything we did this semester."

"We're not doing anything new?" delightful Zacharias Smith complains in a loud enough whisper to carry over the room. "If I'd known, I wouldn't bother coming."

"Then you may as well leave. I won't spill tears over you." I ignore the sniggers of several people and wait for him to do anything. Her laughter rings amongst the sniggers and it makes my stomach dance. I focus my attention back on the irritant. If I'm honest with myself, I'd rather Smith leave and not come back at all. I hate the bastard.

He stays, though I get to enjoy his embarrassed glance around.

"Pair up! We'll waste first ten minutes on Impediment Jinx. Then we'll see if you lot can stun each other enough to force more than a yawn from your opponent."

They cast at each other as I walk between them, correcting wand movements and whispering words of encouragement. They are not the most talented bunch but everyone is getting better, even Neville. His aim is still off, and he has the self-confidence of a shy turtle but there is potential for a lot of growth in him.

I spend most of my time around her, though I don't focus on her much, at least on the surface. No matter how much I want to focus solely on her, I can't. She doesn't need my help today. So, other than a shy 'congratulations', earning me a beaming smile, we don't talk.

I spend the hour on a similar vein, correcting this and that, and saying a lot of nonsense to encourage my students. When the faces turn tired and incantations turn sloppy, I realise it's time to call an end. "I expect you had enough for the day. You've done well today. I see a lot of improvement." I wait for the cheering to stop before continuing. "But there is room for improvement still, so don't assume you are ready for your defence masteries just yet."

My words get good-natured grumbling and I smile. They are a good lot, my students. "When we return from the holidays, we will move on to the big stuff. No more kid gloves for you. If you want to place a bet on who amongst you will master the Patronus Charm, see Fred and George."

As the room clears in twos and threes, I close my eyes and get lost in the murmur of excitement. I should leave as well but I don't want to. I'm not ready to give up my control over my fate yet. Even as Hermione and Ron collect the cushions spread around the room and leave, my eyes stay closed, a pleased smile on my lips.

I open my eyes when I hear sniffling and see her in the middle of the room, her shoulders hunched and shaking, pearls of tears dripping from her chin.

And she still looks beautiful and my heart sinks. "Are you- Are you okay?"

She shakes her head, her raven tresses go wild, sticking at odd angles, and she wipes her eyes on her sleeve. "I'm sorry." Her voice is hoarse, and she sounds lost. "Learning all this stuff... It makes me wonder if he'd known it all... Maybe he'd still be alive."

I can't decide if I want to scream at the injustice of the world or soothe her pain or kiss her tears away. "It wouldn't have mattered," I answer honestly. "He didn't die because he was incapable or because his opponent was too powerful. He died because he was unlucky."

I take a deep breath and close the distance between us by a little. I don't like thinking about the graveyard, let alone talk about it but for her, I will. When I continue, it's in a low voice, afraid talking about it above a whisper would make it more real. "He was unlucky to get caught in the middle of a plot aimed for me. He shouldn't have been there. And his death was needless, a waste. Voldemort had no use for him and no quarrels with him. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

She looks up at me and my breath hitches at the sadness in her eyes. At least there isn't any anger aimed at me. Besides the sadness, there is a hunger there. Hunger to know more, to make sense of everything.

I know I can't hide from her anymore, I can't hide this. "We arrived at the cup together. He was closer and would win but an acromantula caught him off guard. We battled the spider together and dispatched it. I thought he deserved to win; he thought I did. We decided on a Hogwarts victory. The cup was a portkey. The portkey took us to a graveyard. We barely had our wands out when Voldemort ordered Pettigrew to kill Cedric. Two Latin words and that was that."

I shrug in impotence, my frustration mounting. "What we do here is important but against the killing curse, against the unforgivable curses, none of it will do us any good."

I want to reach out to her and caress her soft cheeks but I'm not brave and insensitive enough. So I move to the door. "No. I'm afraid his death wasn't due to his lack of defensive skills. It's on me and Dumbledore. And Voldemort and Pettigrew."

"Don't say that," she says from behind me before I can reach the door, her voice low but firm. "It's not your fault. I can't believe that. And I know you don't believe that."

I turn around to look at her. She's close, so very close, only a few feet away. She has a fierce gleam in her eyes and she's standing straight and proud. The difference between when she was crying and now is breathtaking. "Cedric would be proud, you know? He would be proud of what you are doing here. He would be one of the first people to join Dumbledore's Army."

I close my eyes at that, not wanting her to see my anger at the name but I can't stop myself from saying, "Don't say that. It's Defence Association. Not Dumbledore's Army. We are here because he couldn't find a competent teacher."

She gives me a puzzled look but doesn't dwell on it as she takes a step towards me. "Don't blame yourself. Cedric wouldn't want that." She takes another step as she continues in a lower voice, "You know, he told me you warned him about the dragons. He admired you for that, respected you."

She's oh-so-close, I'm sure she can hear my rampaging heart and I could count the freckles on her nose but I don't. I don't dare look away from her dark eyes. They captivate me and keep me a willing prisoner. "That's good to hear," I whisper.

"I admire you too," she confesses, sounding almost afraid to voice it.

This time, I am the one to take a step, her confession emboldening me. "Suddenly, I find myself fascinated with the word admire."

She takes another step and I can see the dried tear tracks on her cheeks and feel her breath on my chin. "Why?"

"Because it's coming out of your mouth."

~~~~~ H/C ~~~~~

It started out as a fascination. I was following him in the air and he was searching for the snitch. He was playing like a madman. I was desperate for a win.

The game didn't end well for me. He not only caught the snitch but cast a magnificent spell I later learned called Patronus Charm. This small, skinny boy with the most amazing green eyes could cast a charm maybe only a hundred people in Britain could cast.

He and I were in different social cycles, so for a year, we didn't talk more than a few words in passing. I did almost get caught staring at him more than once though.

It was my fifth year when things changed, and for the worst. It felt horrible, watching this bright young boy burdened with a deadly tournament. I was horrified that many of my friends would resort to wearing those awful badges.

Our first conversation with longer than a sentence spoken by both of us was when he asked me to Yule Ball. He was so sweet and awkward; I felt terrible for already having accepted Cedric's offer.

Then I felt terrible for feeling terrible for accepting Cedric's offer. That was rude of me.

The Yule Ball went wonderful. The food was great, dancing was fun and Cedric was a gentleman. At the end of the ball, Cedric insisted on talking to him. I still remember that moment of hatred in his brilliant eyes.

Cedric later explained why he wanted to talk. I was so surprised by his thoughtfulness, telling Cedric about the dragons. My fascination with him went up a notch.

Then the second task happened. I was confused about what happened until Cedric explained.

Hey now! Don't judge. I was still groggy from the spell the Headmaster put me under.

Anyway, Cedric told me when he arrived at the merpeople village, he was already there. He waited there until the end of the task to ensure every hostage was safe and when he realised Fleur wasn't coming; he saved Gabrielle.

My fascination with him turned into something else, and I felt terrible. I was dating Cedric; it wasn't right for me to have feelings and romantic dreams about another boy.

That year ended up being the worst year of my life when he returned with Cedric. When he returned with Cedric's dead body. I still hear Mr. Diggory's cries in my dreams.

This year has been hell. Not only I'm under constant pressure from my parents to stay on Umbridge's favour, I can't control my emotions enough to stay on a broom. It doesn't help that most of the school assumes he killed Cedric while butterflies fill my stomach every time he watches me. I'm having nightmares all the time. I dream of Cedric's corpse; he blames me for not loving him, for not being able to stop thinking about another boy.

It seems like a betrayal but Cedric is dead and I need to move on but how can I move on when I still don't know what happened? Is it cheating when you date someone while having feelings for another boy? Is it cheating if I desperately want him to hug me and make everything better?

But those aren't the worst part of my year. No, the worst part of my year is the anger and pain in his eyes, and the burden on his shoulders. He's thinner than last year, his eyes haunted and he has bags under them.

It hurts. It hurts because I can't stand seeing this wonderful, selfless and talented boy suffer and it kills me because I sense my heart pushing me towards him still.

How messed up I am? I have the constant urge to kiss the boy who witnessed my boyfriends death and make him better because his eyes shine oh-so-bright when he's happy. I want to hug him until all he does is give me that shy smile of his that tugs my heart.

Perhaps it's my imagination but I run into him more often than I used to in previous years. Everywhere I go, he's there and my heart flutters whenever I sense his eyes on me. It hurts to be near him so often when I am so confused about everything in my life but I don't want these coincidences to stop.

My friends doesn't understand why I stop talking in the middle of a sentence sometimes and why I smile a teary smile.

Amidst all the bad, there are good though. Well, one good. He started this defence group where he teaches us defence. Not only do I get to learn from him, it feels like I'm honouring Cedric's memory by learning to protect myself.

Cedric would want me to learn; he would want me to protect myself better.

I learn so much in DA. He is the best defence teacher I had. I mean, I couldn't stun a fly before and now, I can honestly say I am one of the best defence students in the school. Defensive spells have always been instinctive for me but now, I can cast offensive spells almost as good. It helps that whenever I manage a spell, he gives me a proud smile that just makes learning even more fun.

Today is the last DA session before the Yule break. As I leave Great Hall, I consider stopping by at my dorm to change into something more comfortable, and prettier. Okay, just prettier. What? I won't be near him for two weeks and a girl can dream of a kiss under a mistletoe, right?

As soon as the image comes to my mind, my stomach drops. This time last year, I was kissing Cedric. I can't have these emotions. I shouldn't.

I shake my head, hating all this confusing thoughts and emotions coursing through me. Life was simpler when I was younger. I hate being a teenager and I hate Voldemort for killing Cedric.

I'm not sure if we'd be together still if he was alive but I'm sure I wouldn't be this confused and wouldn't hate myself. Cedric was a good man who wouldn't hold my emotions against me.

I walk into Room of Requirements and see him half leaning against a desk that isn't a part of the usual decor. I can't help it, I give him a smile. His answering smile takes my breath away and my step falters.

"All right, people, settle down," he orders us. Leadership suits him. This confident version of him is a stuff of amorous dreams and I chuckle at a vision of a future he's the defence teacher, breaking students' hearts.

"There is no point in teaching you lot anything new as I know you will all forget everything I say as soon as you board the express." That line sounds like something a younger Dumbledore would say and I chuckle. "So, today, we will go over everything we did this semester."

"We are not doing anything new? If I'd known, I wouldn't bother coming," complains Zacharias Smith. I don't understand what Smith's problem is, but the boy has an axe to grind with him.

"Then you may as well leave. I won't spill any tears over you," he drawls in a Snape-like way. I don't know whether I'm laughing at the imitation of Snape or the thought of him imitating the man he famously hates. "Pair up! We'll waste ten minutes on Impediment Jinx. Then we'll see if you lot can stun each other enough to force more than a yawn from your opponent."

I pair with Roger Davies as he walks around. I can't help but take his last remark personally. Oh, I realise it wasn't but I have this burning desire to prove myself to him. Impediment Jinx is simple, and if I didn't know better, I'd think he was wasting our time. But I do. I know he's making us use this jinx to improve our aim and casting speed.

Okay, I don't know but I'm smart enough to guess the reason.

I am on fire today and Roger suffers the brunt. My Stunning Spell is almost perfect and the 'congratulations' I receive from him makes the next one I cast perfect.

Roger and I spend the rest of the hour playing around, creating new personas and faux-duelling. He is a funny boy and I expect he might have a small crush on me.

He walks to the middle. "I expect you had enough for the day. You've done well today. I see a lot of improvement." I beam and cheer at the last part, this time taking it personal with no quarrels. "But there is room for improvement still, so don't assume you are ready for your defence masteries just yet."

This is another reason I love DA. He's so carefree while he teaches us, and so captivating. "When we return from the holidays, we will move on to the big stuff. No more kid gloves for you. If you want to place a bet on who amongst you will master the Patronus Charm, see Fred and George."

My eyes reflect my shock as they almost pop out of their sockets. I can't believe he will teach us the Patronus Charm. If he were anyone else, I'd assume they're crazy to consider a group of children capable of learning such a complex and powerful spell. But if anyone can teach it, it's him.

Under his tutelage, even Longbottom turned into a competent caster, if not an accurate one. Granger is becoming a scary dueller. He is a great teacher.

That knowledge makes me falter as I stand in the middle of the now empty room. If Cedric had him as a teacher, could he still be alive?

I notice my eyes burning and I hate it. I wish it would stop. My reasons for staying behind didn't involve crying about Cedric. I stayed behind to wish him happy holidays. I notice Weasley and Granger leave the room in my periphery by the time I lose the fight to my tears.

"Are you- Are you okay?" he asks, his tone afraid and gentle.

I shake my head and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. I don't want him to see me cry. My face must be a mess. And I don't want to cry when I'm near him. It isn't right for me to cry when he's been through so much yet still stands unbowed. "I'm sorry," I start, my voice sounding awful. I can't stop though. He looks so lost and confused, I need to explain myself. "Learning all this stuff... It makes me wonder if he'd known it all... Maybe he'd still be alive."

I do not understand why he grimaced or why his shoulders dropped but whatever the reason, I want that reason gone.

"It wouldn't have mattered," he answers my unasked question. "He didn't die because he was incapable or because his opponent was too powerful. He died because he was unlucky."

I don't know how I feel about that. But I can feel my beating faster as he walks towards me. I don't like the pained expression on his face as he talks in a whisper. "He was unlucky to get caught in the middle of a plot aimed for me. He shouldn't have been there. And his death was needless, a waste. Voldemort had no use for him and no quarrels with him. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

That just makes it so much worse. A bright man like Cedric dying because of misfortune. Voldemort hunting for a bright boy like him.

It's so sad.

I look into his eyes, wanting to learn more but feel terrible when I see the pain and exhaustion in his eyes. I want to tell him to stop; that I need not know more but I can't lie.

"We arrived at the cup together. He was closer and would win but an acromantula caught him off guard. We battled the spider together and dispatched it. I thought he deserved to win; he thought I did. We decided on a Hogwarts victory."

And isn't that characterises the two boys perfectly? Cedric, always honest and honourable. Him, always selfless and honourable. A story with these two boys should've ended in prideful celebration and a lifelong friendship between them, not a tragedy.

"The cup was a portkey. The portkey took us to a graveyard. We barely had our wands out when Voldemort ordered Pettigrew to kill Cedric. Two Latin words and that was that." He waits a breath and shrugs before continuing. "What we do here is important but against the killing curse, against the unforgivable curses, none of it will do us any good."

I can see the self-recrimination in his eyes and I want to slap it off of him, or kiss it off of him. He should be proud to be teaching us defence at fifteen better than any teacher I had.

He moves to the door but before I can tell him to stop, to come back, he speaks again, his tone hard as a steel. "No. I'm afraid his death wasn't due to his lack of defensive skills. It's on me and Dumbledore. And Voldemort and Pettigrew."

"Don't say that," I order him before I can even comprehend what he's saying. When I process it completely, I am furious. How could he blame himself? Why would he blame himself? Whoever is the reason for his self-reproach should burn! "It's not your fault. I can't believe that. And I know you don't believe that." I move towards him unconsciously.

He turns around with hopeful and awed look on his face and I feel proud to be the reason for it. "Cedric would be proud, you know?" I say. "He would be proud of what you are doing here. He would be one of the first people to join Dumbledore's Army."

As soon as he closes his eyes, I know I said something wrong but I have no clue until he speaks, "Don't say that. It's Defence Association. Not Dumbledore's Army. We are here because he couldn't find a competent teacher."

His anger against Dumbledore surprises me but I don't let him change the subject. I take a step towards him and speak gently, "Don't blame yourself. Cedric wouldn't want that." I take another step, enjoying the effect my closeness has on him. "You know, he told me you warned him against the dragons. He admired you for that, respected you."

This close, I can see the golden flecks in his shining eyes and I am lost in them. I can't and don't want to look away from those eyes. They make me think I'm the centre of the universe and I can do anything. I bet I can even cast a patronus right now.

"That's good to hear," he whispers, his voice breathy and far-too arousing.

My skin is too hot and my mouth is dry. I can't help myself, I tell the truth, "I admire you too."

He takes a step towards me, his hands clenching at his sides. "Suddenly, I find myself fascinated with the word admire."

Isn't that the truth? This whole thing started with my fascination with him turning to admiration. But I wonder his reason so I take another step and ask, "Why?"

"Because it's coming out of your mouth."

~~~~~ H/C ~~~~~

And we kiss.