Chapter Text
The Yule Ball was a spectacle of shimmering light and enchanted ice, a dizzying whirl of color and music that made Cedric’s head ache. He moved with Cho through the throng, her hand light on his arm, her laughter a familiar, pleasant sound. But his attention was a stray thing, a hunting dog off its leash, and it kept catching a scent across the crowded dance floor.
And then he saw him.
Harry.
He was dancing with Parvati Patil, a whirl of vibrant silk beside him, but Cedric only had eyes for the boy in the simple, impeccably cut black dress robes. The fabric was a dark shadow against his skin, clinging to a frame Cedric had spent far too much time thinking about. It cinched at his waist, emphasizing the narrow line of his torso, the delicate taper of his hips. His dark hair was an artful mess, falling over his forehead as he moved, and the warm glow of the enchanted ceiling caught in his glasses, hiding his eyes for a moment before he tilted his head and they locked with Cedric’s.
The jolt was electric, a current that shot straight up his spine. The music faded, the crowd disappeared, and it was just the two of them, staring at each other across an impossible distance. Harry looked away first, a faint blush creeping up his neck, but the connection had been made. It happened again and again. A glance during a slow waltz, a fleeting look as the tempo picked up, each one a silent conversation, a challenge thrown and accepted.
Cedric wanted to be over there. He wanted to tear the expensive robes right off Harry’s body, to rip the fabric from his shoulders and see the pale skin he knew was hiding underneath. The thought was a violent, possessive thing, and it startled him with its intensity.
“You’re staring,” Cho murmured, her voice a soft, knowing whisper in his ear. She followed his line of sight, a small, amused smile playing on her lips. “Go on, then. Go talk to him. Or do something about it, at least. Unless you’d rather be a coward all night.”
Cedric blinked, tearing his gaze away from Harry to look at his friend. He forced a laugh, shaking his head as if to dismiss the very idea. “Don’t be ridiculous, Cho darling. I’m just… observing the competition.”
Cho’s smile didn’t falter. If anything, it grew. She just patted his arm, a gesture that was both fond and condescending. “Right. Of course you are.” She let it go, but the knowing look remained, a small spark of amusement in her eyes that told him she saw right through his flimsy excuse.
—
Later, when the night was drawing to a close and the last dances were being called, Cedric found himself wandering the stone terraces of the gardens. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the suffocating warmth of the Great Hall.
He was slightly drunk, the firewhiskey he’d shared with some of his Hufflepuff teammates humming pleasantly under his skin, dulling the edges of his frustration. Cho had gone off to find her friends, leaving him alone with his thoughts, which were, as usual, circling back to one person.
He found him sitting alone on a stone bench, bathed in the silver light of a waning moon. Behind him, an ornate patio area was set with an empty table and chairs, flanked by silent, winged statues of angels that seemed to watch over the scene with impassive stone eyes. Harry looked so small out here, more vulnerable, the black of his robes a stark contrast to the pale stone.
Cedric approached, his steps deliberate on the flagstones, his shadow falling over the boy as he drew near. Harry’s head snapped up, and he rose to his feet, his body rigid with tension. Cedric could see the memory of their last conversation flicker in his eyes, the wary defensiveness of a creature remembering a threat.
“Potter,” Cedric said, his voice low, a little rough from the alcohol. “What are you doing out here all by yourself?”
Harry’s shoulders relaxed, just fractionally. “Ron and Hermione are having a row. I’d rather not get in the middle of it.” He gestured vaguely back toward the castle. “It’s… loud.”
“Smart move,” Cedric acknowledged, his gaze sweeping over him. “Where’s your date? Parvati, was it?”
A faint blush colored Harry’s cheeks. He hesitated, looking down at his hands. “She’s… not really my type.” The admission was quiet, almost shy.
The alcohol in Cedric’s system was a warm, bold tide, washing away his usual restraint. He took another step closer, close enough to see the way the moonlight caught the glassy sheen in Harry’s eyes. “And what is your type, exactly?”
Harry looked up, startled by the directness of the question. His lips parted slightly, but no sound came out. He shook his head. “I don’t… I don’t really know.”
That was all the permission Cedric needed. He reached out, his fingers gently but firmly gripping Harry’s chin, tilting his head up. The skin was incredibly soft, pale and smooth beneath his calloused touch. “I can teach you,” Cedric murmured, and then he crashed their mouths together.
The kiss was bruising, a desperate, hungry thing.
Harry gasped against his lips, a sharp, shocked inhale that Cedric used to his advantage, slipping his tongue into the warm, wet heat of Harry’s mouth.
The boy was small and dainty beneath him, all sharp angles and yielding flesh. Cedric’s other arm snaked around Harry’s waist, pulling him flush against his body, and Harry went easily, pliantly, his own arms coming up to clutch at Cedric’s shoulders.
He fit against Cedric’s toned muscle like he was made to be there, a perfect, desperate match.
Cedric walked them backward, stumbling slightly in his drunken state, until the backs of Harry’s knees hit the stone bench. The boy stumbled with a soft cry of surprise, and Cedric reacted on pure instinct, hoisting him upward with an easy display of strength. Instinctively, Harry wrapped his legs around Cedric’s waist, his hands cupping the boy’s slender thighs to hold him in place.
Harry gasped at the sudden friction, at the feeling of Cedric’s hard cock pressing against his own through the layers of their robes. The sound was wanton, needy. Cedric smirked into the kiss, finally pulling away just enough to look at him.
Harry was panting, his lips already swollen and red, his eyes wide and dark with lust.
Without warning, Cedric ducked his head and bit into the soft skin of Harry’s neck, right where it met his shoulder. He sucked harshly, intent on leaving a mark, a purple-black brand of possession. He wanted everyone to see it, to know that their precious golden boy wasn’t so innocent, that he belonged to someone. He recognized the hypocrisy of the thought; Cedric was more than guilty of maintaining a false reputation, but he didn’t care.
Suddenly, he could feel Harry grinding against him, a slow, desperate roll of his hips, seeking more stimulation, more friction. Cedric held him in place with one strong arm, stopping his movements, and Harry whined, a high, frustrated sound. Embarrassed, he buried his face in the broad expanse of Cedric’s shoulder.
Smirking, Cedric leaned back slightly, forcing Harry to look at him. “What do you want, Harry?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing growl.
Harry just shook his head, his face burning with humiliation. Clearly, he was out of his depth.
Cedric’s smirk widened. He leaned away, giving Harry space, and Harry’s gaze finally met his. His eyes were glassy with arousal, but a determined fire burned in their depths. His lips were kiss-red and parted. Cedric had to bite back a possessive growl at the sight. He asked again, his voice dropping lower, more serious. “What. Do. You. Want?”
Harry glared at him, a flash of that familiar defiance, and refused to answer.
Cedric just shrugged, uncaring. “Fine,” he said, his tone casual. “I’ll just have to show you what you want.”
He set Harry down gently on his feet, Cedric’s hands lingering on the boy’s waist before he pressed his mouth to Harry’s once more, a slow, deep kiss that promised everything.
As their tongues danced, Cedric’s fingers moved to the clasps of Harry’s robes, deftly undoing them one by one.
With a flick of his wand, he cast privacy wards, a shimmering, invisible dome of silence and concealment around the little patio. He didn’t want anyone but him to see Harry like this.
The top of Harry’s robe pooled at his feet, leaving his chest bare. His beautiful, bony shoulders seemed to glow in the moonlight, the pale skin almost luminous.
Cedric was enraptured.
He leaned down, his mouth finding the sensitive skin of Harry’s chest, his collarbones, the hollow of his throat. He left a trail of hickeys and bite marks, a constellation of possession, until Harry’s chest and neck were covered in them, clearly marked as his.
Harry was panting with desire, his chest flushed a deep, embarrassing red.
“Cedric,” he moaned, the name a breathless plea.
Cedric guided him to sit on the stone bench, his hands firm on Harry’s shoulders. With another whispered spell, he vanished the rest of Harry’s dress robes, leaving him in only his thin, simple boxers.
Harry, adorably, flushed even more, a deep crimson that spread down his neck and across his chest, but he spread his legs eagerly, a silent invitation that made Cedric’s blood run hot.
He stared up at Cedric from his position on the bench, his gaze challenging, daring him to do his worst. The challenge was a spark to dry tinder, and Cedric felt a rush of pure, unadulterated desire.
He would take Harry apart, piece by piece, until he was a whimpering, squirming mess, begging for Cedric’s cock.
Harry’s own dick was straining against the thin fabric of his boxers, a clear, wet patch growing steadily larger by the second.
Cedric knelt in front of him, the movement bringing him to eye level with the boy’s straining erection. Harry spread his legs even wider at the sight, his hips lifting instinctively in anticipation of Cedric’s touch.
Cedric laughed at him, a low, mean sound that was all amusement and dominance. He reached out and fisted the fabric in his grip. In an easy display of strength, Cedric tore the boxers open, exposing Harry’s pretty pink cock to the cool night air.
He vanished the ruined fabric with another flick of his wand, leaving Harry completely, beautifully naked, a beautiful contrast to Cedric’s fully clothed form.
Slowly and deliberately, Cedric wrapped his hand around Harry’s length. His large hand seemed to dwarf Harry’s cock as Cedric began to jerk him off, his grip firm and movements sure.
Meanly, Cedric swiped his thumb against the sensitive, leaking head, smearing the pre-come around the tip.
Harry’s hips jerked desperately upward, seeking more, a choked moan escaping his lips.
Cedric guided one of Harry’s legs upward, draping it over the stone bench to spread him open even further. He leaned in and pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the inside of Harry’s thigh, so close to where Harry really wanted him but not quite touching.
The stimulation was both too much and not enough. Harry was overwhelmed, his head falling back against the cold stone of the bench’s back, his chest heaving, his throat exposed. He looked like a sacrifice, beautiful and willing.
Just as Harry’s breath hitched, his body tensing on the edge of orgasm, Cedric pulled his hand away.
Harry whined, loud and desperate, the sound echoing in the quiet space. “Cedric…” he panted, unabashed.
“Shhh,” Cedric tutted, his voice a soothing, condescending purr. “Relax. I’ll take care of you.”
He shifted Harry backwards a little on the bench, then wrapped the younger boy’s slender legs around his shoulders. The position left Harry completely open, vulnerable, and Cedric felt a primal surge of satisfaction at the sight. He leaned in and, without any further warning, brought his tongue to Harry’s tight entrance.
The first touch was electric. Harry jolted as if struck, a sharp, shocked gasp tearing from his throat. His hands flew from the stone bench to Cedric’s hair, his fingers tangling desperately in the thick strands, holding on as if for dear life. The boy writhed and squirmed, his hips canting instinctively, seeking more of the new, overwhelming sensation.
Cedric didn’t tease. He flattened his tongue and licked a broad, wet stripe over the fluttering hole, tasting the clean, salty skin. He felt Harry’s thighs tremble where they rested against his shoulders.
He did it again, and again, establishing a rhythm that was both torturous and intoxicating, each pass of his tongue making Harry’s breath hitch. Then, he pointed his tongue and pressed it firmly against the tight ring of muscle, circling the rim slowly, deliberately, feeling the clench and release of Harry’s body as it tried to accommodate the intrusion.
“Cedric,” Harry moaned, the name a choked, breathless sound. It was the first of many.
Cedric began to tongue-fuck him in earnest then, licking and probing, pushing past the initial resistance to delve inside.
He alternated between shallow, teasing thrusts and deeper, more forceful forays, his tongue exploring the velvety heat, preparing him. He could feel the way Harry’s body opened for him, the way the muscles relaxed and yielded to the insistent, wet pressure.
Harry’s moans grew louder, more desperate, a desperate, chanting litany that filled the silence of their warded bubble. He was grinding down against Cedric’s face now, lost to a pleasure so intense it bordered on pain, his body no longer his own to command.
Finally, Cedric curled his tongue, searching for that specific spot, and he found it. The small, hard bundle of nerves deep inside him. He pressed against it, hard, and Harry screamed. It wasn’t a sound of pain, but of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
His whole body arched off the bench, his spine bowing in a perfect, taut curve, his heels digging into Cedric’s back.
Cedric was silently grateful for the privacy charm; the sound would have carried halfway to the castle. He didn’t let up, licking and sucking at that spot, over and over, until Harry was a sobbing, writhing mess, chanting his name like a prayer.
Harry was chanting his name now, completely overcome, lost to the sensation. “Cedric, Cedric, please, Cedric…”
Cedric pulled away, a triumphant grin on his face, his chin glistening. He looked down at the wrecked boy beneath him. “Are you ready to tell me what you want from me now, Harry?”
Harry, desperate and wanting, was past the point of denial. Unashamed, his voice raw with need, he looked Cedric dead in the eye. “I want your cock. I want it inside me. I want you to fuck me, hard. I’ve wanted it for so long.”
The answer was everything Cedric had hoped for.
He placed one last, possessive kiss on the inside of Harry’s thigh and stood, taking in the delicious, debauched picture beneath him. With one hand, he lifted Harry again, his strength effortless, and carried him over to the stone table behind the bench. He laid Harry down on top of it, the cold stone making him gasp.
Finally, Cedric unzipped his own trousers, freeing his own aching cock. He remained otherwise fully clothed, a stark contrast to Harry’s nakedness.
Carefully, he lined himself up with Harry’s gaping hole. Despite everything, it still felt tight around the tip of Cedric’s cock. Cedric moaned, eager to feel Harry completely stretched around him. He felt his already achingly hard dick twitch in excitement at the thought.
Unable to resist a moment longer, slowly, Cedric pushed inside.
—
Harry’s kiss-red mouth fell open in a silent, perfect “oh”.
He was completely overwhelmed.
The feeling of Cedric’s huge cock pushing into him was more than he had ever imagined. It was so much bigger than he would’ve thought, and he felt fuller than he ever had in his life, a deep, aching stretch that burned with pleasure.
Despite Cedric taking his time, the stretch was immense, and it felt like an eternity before Cedric finally reached the hilt, his hips flush against Harry’s ass.
Harry was panting dramatically by the time he was fully seated, his body trembling.
When he looked down, he could see the slight bulge in his lower stomach where the usually flat skin was distended from the sheer size of Cedric’s cock pushing up from inside him. The sight alone was almost enough to make him see stars.
Cedric leaned down and kissed him tenderly, his mouth soft and comforting as Harry struggled to adjust to the immense stretch.
“You look so beautiful like this, Harry,” Cedric praised, his voice a low, possessive rumble against Harry’s lips. “Stretched out around my cock. Like this is what you were made for.”
He pulled back just enough to look Harry in the eye. “Was this what you were made for?”
Harry nodded, thoughtlessly, dazed, his mind a haze of pleasure.
Slowly, Cedric began to pull out, and Harry moaned at the loss, the empty feeling. He could hear Cedric begin to breathe heavily as well, his control starting to fray.
Without warning, Cedric was slamming into him again, and Harry keened, a loud, broken sound. Cedric was so big, so deep.
The fucking began in earnest then. Cedric pulled back, leaving just the head of his cock inside Harry, before driving forward with a powerful snap of his hips that sent the stone table scraping against the flagstones.
The force of it stole the air from Harry’s lungs, his entire body jolting with the impact. He was like a rag doll in Cedric’s grasp, completely at the mercy of the older boy’s strength, his limbs limp and pliant as Cedric set a brutal, punishing rhythm.
Cedric’s grip on Harry’s waist was bruising, his fingers digging into the soft flesh with enough force to leave ten dark fingerprints, but Harry didn’t care. He wanted the marks, he wanted the proof of this, a tangible reminder of being claimed so thoroughly.
Each thrust was a deep, visceral slide that sent shockwaves of pleasure-pain radiating through his entire body. He could feel Cedric everywhere—in the stretch of his rim, in the pressure against his inner walls, in the way his own body was forced to accommodate the overwhelming size and strength of him.
Harry’s mouth fell open, his tongue lolling out as he was fucked, his mind completely blank save for the thick, hard dick splitting him open again and again. There was no room for thought, no space for anything but the raw, primal reality of being taken. The world had narrowed to the slap of skin on skin, the low grunts of exertion from the man above him, and the overwhelming, all-consuming fullness.
Then, Cedric shifted, changing the angle of his thrusts with a subtle roll of his hips. He hit Harry’s prostate with unerring accuracy, a direct, devastating blow to that sensitive bundle of nerves.
Harry came immediately, his vision whiting out as his back arched off the table in a perfect, rigid bow. A scream tore from his throat, raw and guttural, as his cock spurted untouched between them, painting his own chest and stomach with streams of white.
But Cedric just fucked him through it, his pace never faltering, driving him higher and higher into a state of oversensitivity that was almost agonizing.
The pleasure was so sharp it felt like a blade, carving him open from the inside out. Harry was crying now, tears of pure, overwhelming pleasure streaming down his face as he writhed on Cedric’s dick, lost to sensation.
Harry’s body trembled uncontrollably, a constant, helpless shudder as Cedric continued to pound into his quivering hole, prolonging his orgasm until it was a never-ending wave of ecstasy.
Finally, finally, Cedric was coming himself with a deep, guttural groan that was more animal than human. His hips stuttered, losing their rhythm for a moment as he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he painted Harry’s insides white with his cum.
The feeling of the hot flood filling him up, marking him from the inside, was the final push over the edge, and Harry’s mind went blissfully, completely blank.
—
Cedric pulled out slowly, watching as his cum began to drip from Harry’s used, swollen hole. Gently, he used a finger to push it back inside, one last possessive act.
He leaned down and kissed Harry again, a soft, lingering kiss down his neck and chest. He took off his own outer robe, the heavy fabric warm from his body, and draped it over Harry’s shivering form, covering him.
He bent down one last time, his lips brushing against the shell of Harry’s ear. Cedric’s body dwarfed Harry’s form below him, and Cedric relished the sight. Harry was beautiful.
“You should take the golden egg from the first task to the Prefects’ bathroom,” he whispered, his voice a low, conspiratorial murmur. He smirked against Harry’s skin. “I’ll help you figure it out.”
With a final, soft kiss, he straightened up, looking down at the boy he had just claimed. “At the very least,” he promised, “I’ll see you in the second task.”
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Harry alone on the stone table. Champion defeated.