Chapter Text
Harry Potter was in love.
Not the kind of love that made you write sonnets or feel inspired to take long walks in the Forbidden Forest. No, Harry Potter was in the kind of love that made you trip over your own feet in the corridor, drop your books when a certain Hufflepuff smiled at you, and black out entirely when he so much as said, "Hey, Harry."
The first time it happened was during Care of Magical Creatures. Cedric had passed by their group, laughing with some sixth years, and Harry’s brain had just... short-circuited. He had fed a dead ferret to the wrong end of a Hippogriff. Hagrid had looked personally offended. He had never noticed him before, at least not in this way, apart from some glances during quidditch practice, Harry hadn't so much as batted an eye towards the golden haired boy. However, it seemed Harry just noticed him more and more after that; the way his hair fluffed up when he was tired from flying, the way his eyes lit up when he talked to his friends, Harry even memorized the path he took to all his classes.
Months later it had developed into something worse. Now, Harry was fully entrenched in an embarrassing, all-consuming crush, the kind that made your stomach turn and your friends mock you relentlessly.
Ron thought it was weird. Hermione thought it was hormonal. Draco Malfoy (although no one asked) thought it was pathetic.
It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Potions class had devolved into chaos. Cauldrons hissed with overboiled concoctions. Snape paced the aisles with his usual sneer, robes billowing dramatically behind him, clearly seconds away from docking points just for existing. Students slumped in their seats, faces glazed over with boredom. The air in the dungeons was thick with humidity and the acrid tang of overcooked Boomslang skin. Slytherins and Gryffindors were, predictably, at each other's throats.
And through it all, Harry Potter was hopelessly, miserably staring at Cedric Diggory.
He wasn’t even supposed to be in this class, and technically he wasn't, Cedric was leaning against the doorframe outside, talking with Professor Vector about some Arithmancy collaboration. But the angle of the doorway gave Harry a perfect view of his face, and that ridiculous dimpled grin. Harry was completely enamoured, he knew that Cedric was probably going to bail soon and walk around with some friends, opting to skip class as he usually did (Harry noted). He himself felt compelled to skip class just to get a glimpse of him in the halls.
Malfoy, sitting beside him due to some twisted scheduling error, leaned over with a smirk at Harry's disheveled notes. Hermione was three benches away, already three steps ahead with her ingredients. Ron was beside Seamus, muttering about something burning. The whole classroom was fixated on some potion they were learning, Snape had explained earlier but Harry wasn't paying attention. He seemed to be out of it these days, showing up to class, eyes burning to see through the walls, to catch a glance of yellow, of a light laugh.
Harry was never really there.
"Bloody hell Potter, you're writing his name in the margins of your textbook," Malfoy drawled, leaning far too close over Harry's shoulder as though the smell of Amortentia hadn't already fried his brain. Harry had been taking very serious notes on whatever serious topic Snape was discussing, a topic Harry totally knew.
"Am not," Harry muttered, moving his notebook away. He lasered his focus back to a certain Hufflepuff, but the blond beside him didn't budge.
The only thing worse than being in love with Cedric Diggory was having Draco Malfoy notice.
"You drew little hearts around it," Malfoy added chuckling, "that’s not even subtle, do you want him to know you're obsessed?"
Harry's head whipped back, "what?"
The blond had tilted the page towards himself, casually flipping through the pages of half written love notes, fantasies, and a couple bad sketches of the Hufflepuff, "look, Cedric Diggory, with a heart over the ‘I’- I mean lucky him right, getting fawned over by the chosen one." Harry yanked the book back, slamming it shut, "shut up, Malfoy."
He raised an eyebrow, "I'm just saying, if you’re going to pine that hard, you could at least try not to look like you’re about to propose marriage mid-class."
Harry frowned, "I'm not about to propose marriage... We haven't even gone on a date yet," he mumbled.
Draco held in a laugh his cheeks painted pink, Harry scowled, "Why do you care?"
"I don’t, I’m just horrified by your lack of dignity."
That was rich, coming from someone who used hair gel like it was a personality trait. But before Harry could retort, Snape barked at them to focus. Draco leaned back in his seat, smug, while Harry sat fuming, clutching his quill so hard it snapped in half.
Draco leaned back in his chair, tilting the chair forward towards the brunette, "do you think if you stare hard enough at Diggory’s face, he’ll suddenly gain the ability to read your tragic, repressed feelings telepathically? Or are you just hoping he’ll fall in love with you out of pity?" Draco whispered, he was relentless, and smug... And far too observant... And, unfortunately, correct. Harry groaned and shoved his books into his bag, ignoring the amused gleam in Draco’s eyes. He stomped out of the classroom, cheeks burning, only to nearly trip over a stray cauldron in the hall when he caught sight of Cedric chatting with a group of fourth-years.
He was doomed. Absolutely, completely, doomed.
-
The dungeons always felt colder in the mornings, the stone walls damp and echoing with every step as students filed into Potions. The torches lining the walls flickered dimly, casting long shadows that twitched with every movement. Harry entered reluctantly with his book pressed to his chest, gaze flitting toward the corridor. No Cedric. Not that Cedric would be there, he wasn’t in this class. Still, Harry looked anyway. Pathetic. He was still fuming from last night’s dinner, where Cedric had smiled at him across the Hall, coming up and asking about last weeks quidditch game, Harry had just about choked on his water so hard that Hermione thought he was dying.
Snape swept in moments later, black robes trailing like smoke, eyes narrowed.
"Today," he began, "you’ll be brewing Draught of Peace. Potter, Malfoy... Front bench."
Harry groaned inwardly. He glanced around desperately for Hermione, but she was already sliding into a spot with Ernie Macmillan. Harry’s stomach dropped. His eyes met Hermione's, who mouthed "good luck" with a grimace. He took his seat beside Malfoy, who was already stretching out his notes with theatrical sighs, he laid out his ingredients with precision.
"You again," he drawled as Harry sat down.
"Malfoy," Harry muttered.
The blond observed him for a moment, then looked toward the door, "checking for your Hufflepuff prince again?"
"Shove off."
"Admit it, you're like a kneazle in heat. It’s almost impressive," He snorted, sorting out the ingredients and straightening their instruction paper.
Harry ignored him and focused on his notes, scribbled on the back of an old Quidditch lineup. The instructions blurred as his brain wandered back to Cedric’s stupid smile, his kindness, his-
"You’re chopping the valerian root wrong," Malfoy sighed, "Merlin, you’re useless like this."
Harry felt his face rush with heat, "Malfoy quit it, what do you know? No one would touch you with a ten foot pole."
Malfoy smirked at the comment, "I've touched lots of poles Potter," Harry felt his face get hot, "Plus, he’s not even in this class, and you’re still distracted. Tragic, really."
Harry tried- he really tried, to focus on the bubbling cauldron and Snape’s droning lecture, to zone out Malfoy's quips but then the door creaked open and Cedric stepped inside and all hope just flew out the window. He strolled in like he owned the place, tall, self-assured, and just slightly windswept, like he’d walked through a dramatic breeze on purpose. He gave Snape a lopsided grin, “just need a bit of fluxweed, Professor. Promise I won’t blow up anything… this time.”
Harry’s heart did a somersault so dramatic it should’ve earned House Points.
Snape looked like he was resisting the urge to hex him. Cedric just smiled wider, easygoing and infuriatingly likeable.
Malfoy looked over and smirked, "oh no he’s here, focus Potter. No- focus on not setting us on fire."
Harry tried. He failed. Again.
By the time Cedric left, Harry’s potion had gone completely wrong. Who could blame him though, Cedric looked so good today, all confidence and charming smiles. Light laughter and golden skin, tanned from flying around in the summer heat. His hair had started getting long and while it might've needed a trim, Harry liked the look of longer hair.
Malfoy pinched the bridge of his nose, "You need help. Like actual psychological help."
Harry shook his head in response, Malfoy leaned against his chair, "no, really, this is getting sad. You’re not even brewing correctly. That’s powdered root, not shredded. Are you trying to poison us both?"
Harry blinked down at the mixture. The potion had turned an unsettling shade of green. He winced. Malfoy rolled his eyes and reached over to fix it himself, "unbelievable. The chosen one can’t even chop valerian root without supervision."
Later, as they were packing up, Cedric lingered near the front.
"Hey, Harry," he said casually.
Harry straightened like a board, "Hi! Hello... Have you seen the quidditch reports... Cedric?"
Cedric smiled, loosely nodding, his eyes leaving Harry's as a group of girls rushed passed them.
Malfoy choked on a snort.
"Can't wait for the quidditch match next week, you're playing right?" Cedric asked.
Harry nodded mutely, the boy waved and Harry stood there watching as he walked off before turning to glare at the blonde.
"You’re a menace."
Malfoy patted his shoulder. "And you’re a walking embarrassment. We're both doing our best."
"Oh c'mon he's just so.."
Malfoy didn't wait, "So what? I really don't see what you see Potter and I'm the one with 20/20 vision." Harry grumbled, pulling his bag up, he walked slowly, Malfoy following.
"He's nice, he's charming, he's friendly-"
"Half the world's like that Potter, I mean look at me, no one does it like I do but I suppose-" Malfoy shrugged, Harry cut him off.
"There's just something about him, I like how funny he is, our banter, it's never boring to talk to him because he always has something to say back."
"Potter you don't make it hard to talk, merlin, I don't think you've even had a proper conversation with him," Malfoy wheezed.
"What? We just had one," Harry glanced at the blond, Malfoy rolled his eyes, "you cannot possibly be serious. You were practically foaming at the mouth, unable to form a coherent sentence."
"You're insufferable."
"And you’re pathetic. It’s a wonder you’re still breathing."
"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry mumbled.