Pairing: Cedric/Harry.

Rating: R.

Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Characters owned by J.K. Rowling.

Summary: The sequel to Bittersweet. it takes a strange channeling in divination to help Harry begin to let go of his grief. WARNINGS: MAJOR GOF SPOILERS.

Author's Notes: Yes, it's the long-awaited, much clamoured-for sequel to Bittersweet, the one I said I wouldn't do because I don't like angst. (She said, as she slathered it on in Evil Proportions!) I think this one is bittersweet, too, and I've never written Professor Trelawney or anything Divination-related before so I drew heavily upon a medium I saw on Unsolved Mysteries or something like that once, so even though I shed some tears while writing it... I like it. I probably won't in about half an hour, though.

//...// denotes thought
*...* denotes emphasis

Though Ron was snoring softly next to him and Seamus Finnigan was sprawled out on the floor with a pink pillow tucked beneath his cheek, and Harry suspected that even the Divination Duo, Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, were dozing... he felt neither sleepy nor awake. He felt no desire to sleep even though the tiredness he felt cut through his bones; when he slept, he had nightmares.

He stared at the patterns on the wooden table he was seated at until they swam in front of his eyes, and the incense made him feel like he no longer inhabited his mind, though his body was weighted with memories. So many memories. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut. Tears were familiar along his lower eyelid, and though he could pass them off as irritation from the smoke and heat, he couldn't close his eyes. No. When his eyes closed, all he could see was the ghostly apparitions of his parents, of Cedric, Cedric's lifeless curse-stricken body, Wormtail, blood, Voldemort's maniacal ruby-red eyes, so much blood, why so much blood, why was Cedric bleeding so profusely...

A loud snore from Ron jolted Harry from his haze. The crimson that had crept over his vision faded away.

//Get a hold on yourself, you weak wretch.// Harry's chest constricted with unadulterated anger. //You don't want to remember, but you have to remember. You have to remember.//

This felt familiar, too. It was all so familiar. The tears. The pain in his chest. The anger that made him shake.

//How could I forget.//

Professor Trelawney swept by him in robes that shimmered a revolting shade of green, casting him a misty-eyed look from her magnified eyes that saw so much, yet apparently did not notice Seamus sprawled out just beside Harry, drooling all over her pink satin pillow. Harry stonily stared back, fully prepared for an ominous bulletin about his tragic death from the Divination teacher, but she raised a pointy nose and pinched her lips together tightly before moving on and casting her eye elsewhere.

//Are you afraid you'll scare me, Professor?//

He watched her step over sleeping Gryffindors gracefully and stopping to tap her long slender wand at a few candles that had burned themselves out. But something about the way she coaxed back the flames reminded Harry of the end of Voldemort's wand, the priori incantatem, and his parents, and *Cedric*...

//You can't scare me.//

Cedric hadn't bled from the Avada Kedavra, but Harry's thoughts seemed to drip with blood. All he could see was red. Passion. Blood. *Anger.*

//Nothing can scare me anymore.//

For some reason it was even more painful to recall Cedric alive, to find himself longing to see the boy's handsome, wholesome smile. To remember his voice...

//Except...//

God, would it always hurt like this?!

//Forgetting...//

Would it always feel like the ache in his heart was slowly tearing him up inside? Would the wound ever stop *bleeding*?

//... And remembering.//

Harry had been hot on the trail of his friends; his heart raced as he hurried through the corridor leading to the Potions dungeon, head a whirl with what he'd just seen. So focused on the thought of Karkaroff was Harry, however, that he took no notice when a hand reached out from an alcove where a large suit of armor stood gleaming importantly, and was taken completely by surprise when the hand snatched him into the dark corner.

He yelped -- loudly. It was all he could do to keep from falling over or knocking the suit of armor over. His initial instinct was to shove himself away from his assailant, and placed his palms square over the chest of the bigger body just before finding himself crushed against that very chest.

"*Harry.*"

At the earnest voice and the familiar smell emanating from where his nose was pressed into the shoulder of a plain black Hogwarts work robe, Harry's eyes widened.

"Cedric," he squeaked, stomach fluttering. A small, amused laugh from the taller boy had Harry's hormones in an immediate fit.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

It would have been romantic if Harry could think straight; he might've slid his arms up Cedric's shoulders and around his neck, might've leaned in close and titled his face up for a kiss. But Harry was awkward and stuck in his position, hands laid over Cedric's chest, fingers of his right hand against the silken embroidery of Cedric's Hufflepuff badge, his leg was slightly twisted and caught between Cedric's feet, and he was embarrassed that he was panting so heavily with all the different kinds of adrenaline pulsing through his veins.

Shyly, he glanced up into Cedric's eyes, which were dark in the shadows, though his skin glowed like moonstone tainted with cherry-blossom pink stains on his cheeks.

"You were in an awful rush," he noted.

Harry was distracted by the movement of Cedric's mouth. It took him a minute to collect his wits.

"I... I was trying to catch up with Ron and Hermione," he said, wondering in the farther recesses of his mind if Cedric knew who they were at all.

"I won't keep you," promised Cedric, who paused and brought one hand up to the back of Harry's neck, twisting fingers into Harry's hair. "Though I want to."

A hot flush crept up Harry's neck, and he quickly lowered his eyes, staring at the black and gold of the Hufflepuff insignia. His heartbeat began to pound in his ears as Cedric's thumb graced his jawline.

"Is there -- s-something you want?"

Damn it! Harry closed his eyes. Why did he have to stumble over his words like that? He and Cedric weren't exactly strangers anymore, even if they hadn't been able to talk or be alone around each other since the night when they'd met in the Prefects' bathroom. In differing years, Houses, and social circles, he and Cedric never even saw each other unless it was by pure chance in the hallways of Hogwarts between classes, in the Great Hall, or when called together for Triwizard Tournament business. Even though Harry knew the shape and feel of Cedric's body beneath the robe and beneath his clothes, he didn't know things like Cedric's middle name, birthday, favourite song. Even though they'd snogged and done their fair share of groping before reluctantly parting to go back to bed, Cedric was still a mystery, still the pretty boy of Hogwarts. And it was still a shock that everything that had happened between them... well, happened. Was happening.

"I just wanted to... well..." Cedric's voice sounded strained, and he stopped. Then, he sighed softly. "No, I didn't really want anything."

Harry looked up again questioningly. Cedric blushed and looked up too, at the pointed roof of their private little alcove, and Harry wondered if it was just his eyes playing tricks on him or if Cedric's cheeks had become darker.

"I was going to send you an owl," Cedric said slowly, "just to say hi... and see how you were, and everything. I've not been able to talk to you since..." Yes, Harry noted, the cheeks were definitely darker. It made a strange feeling take hold of his stomach. "Anyway," the boy continued hastily, "I've... just been wondering if... what... what you thought. About us. About *it.* I mean... I've just been wondering. A lot. Every night. If that... if that was it... *was* that it, Harry?"

//That's it,// Harry decided, //because I'm not really here, and this is all some kind of dream, some kind of strange and terribly lovely dream.//

There was a lengthy pause in which Harry waited to wake up and Cedric waited for an answer, fingers still wound into Harry's unruly hair and one hand still on Harry's back.

"Anyway, I *thought* the owl was a stupid idea," Cedric managed finally. "Maybe this was, too. I'm sorry."

Yet, Cedric didn't let go of him, and Harry focused on the tie knotted at Cedric's collar, trying to control his breathing. How often had he struggled to remember the scent he was now breathing in? How many times had he wondered the very thing Cedric was wondering? He was amazed.

"No," he blurted.

Cedric's chest hitched beneath Harry's hands. "No?"

"No. It's not stupid. No. That wasn't it. I mean, I hope not. I don't want it to be it. I *don't.*"

He pressed his face into Cedric's chest, dangerously close to completely overheating and melting and not trusting his knees.

//I *want* you to keep me.//

"You--"

Whatever Cedric said was lost between Harry's lips, forgotten by them both.

//But that *was* it.//

Cedric's deep gray eyes and soft mouth...

//The last time I kissed him.//

It was funny the way things had gotten so heated and fumbling in that alcove, the alcove Harry still had to pass by on his way to and from Potions.

//The last time I touched him.//

While mostly hidden behind the armor, it hadn't been as private nor as accommodating as the Prefects' bathroom, yet neither of them had cared, shedding robes, sweaters, ties, unbuckling Cedric's belt and fumbling to get Harry's glasses off in a desperate heat, like they *knew* it was their last chance.

//As if we could have known.//

Cedric had been so...

//Rapturous.//

And Harry had felt so...

//In love.//

Cedric's smile, his laugh, his *life*...

//Gone.//

And Harry had never told him.

"Oi, Harry."

Harry was pulled out of himself like he'd been pulled from the depths of a turbulent ocean.

Ron was shaking him on the shoulder and yawning. "Class is over. Time to wake uuuuup..." Ron stretched. "That was a right good nap. You awake yet?"

"I'm awake," said Harry blankly.

//Are you alive yet?//

//No.//

Ron was speaking light-heartedly. "C'mon, let's get on to lunch. I could go for a Hagrid-sized pitcher of pumpkin juice right about now, it's so hot and mucky in here. I'll just swim in it, thanks. No need for a goblet..."

"Right," said Harry, stiffly getting up and stepping over Seamus, who was being prodded by Dean Thomas' foot.

Still stretching, Ron rambled on. "... Still, these 'personal reflection' days always get me good and knocked out, but it's better than star charts and palmistry, don't you think?..."

Harry just nodded and followed, though he would have rather have been distracted by reading palms or calculating star charts than sitting. Thinking. Remembering. ... Hurting.

So focused on the thought of Cedric was Harry, however, that he took no notice when a hand reached out from the corner by the trap door where Trelawney's coat stand stood glittering with her various robes, and was taken completely by surprise when the hand snatched him into the candlelit corner.

Professor Trelawney's eyes blinked at him, huge and round and bug-like.

"My *dear* boy," she drew out, "I have something to discuss with you."

Harry shot a look at Ron, who raised his auburn eyebrows and rolled his great hazel eyes that clearly said, 'What an old bat.' He nodded a brief parting nod and stepped out, followed by Dean and a yawning, red-cheeked Seamus.

"What do you want, Professor," asked Harry dully.

"Ah," said Professor Trelawney, sighing dramatically, "but it's not what *I* want."

Harry sighed. He didn't know if he could stand any of Trelawney's cryptic predictions at the moment. His chest ached fiercely with emptiness and his head was still muddled from the incensed classroom. He barely noticed as Professor Trelawney put a hand on his shoulder and steered him to the front of the classroom, to her winged chair that had been drawn up to the table where her crystal ball rested, glinting and empty.

"I have Seen something, my boy," she said in a far-off voice as she plunked Harry down into the chair across from hers.

"Oh, gee," said Harry in a monotone.

She swept around her lizard-green robes again and settled into her chair with a flourish, then wasted no time with pulling her crystal ball forwards toward her. Her spindly hands began to hover over it, and Harry only watched, with no energy to try and get whatever death warrant Trelawney was busy drawing up for him from her in a hurry so he could at least go be miserable and tired in the company of friends.

Her hands moved back and forth over and around the ball.

"This is merely for distraction, my dear, do you understand?"

Harry blinked. No, of course he didn't. He didn't really understand anything about Divination or crystal ball reading. But he said, "Yes."

"My dear, I am Seeing Beyond. I am not Seeing the future. I am not even looking in the crystal ball."

//Funny, I could have sworn that since your eyes are looking at it, that's just what you were doing,// thought Harry sardonically, but merely nodded.

"There's a female presence. A female presence is impressioning me. Do you understand?"

Harry's eyebrows drew together. "Yes..."

"Yes, a female presence. And a male. A male is here, now."

Harry jumped and looked around him, peering through the hazy heat of the room. But he and Professor Trelawney were alone; no students, teachers, or even familiars were in the room with them. He slowly turned back. Was Trelawney going mad? Her eyes were intently focused on the ball, despite the movement of her hands. He listened to her voice as she continued on, realizing that the usual mist had dissipated completely from it, leaving it rushed, her words coming out sharp.

"A male and a female. They're together. They're telling me that they're together, they're telling me that you know this. Do you understand?"

//What on earth.//

"Y-yes," he said, deeply uncomfortable.

"You knew them both. They give me the impression you do not really know them, yet you knew them. Yes, that is distinctly what they're saying. They want me to know that you have not seen each other in a very long time. They are giving me the number four. They are giving me the number four and are telling me that you will understand. I leave it to you that you understand."

Harry had never been more confused, actually, but he nodded, wondering what she was trying to tell him. Was she communicating with two people he knew? His thoughts ventured immediately to the main males and females in his life. Ron and Hermione? No, he'd just seen them earlier. He hadn't seen Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon since August, and here it was, a month since the first day of school.

"They send me a picture. The female sends me a picture. It is of a... it is of a... a cloth, a large piece of cloth, perhaps... yes, I think -- a blanket. Green. Green and blue. Soft. Light."

Harry's hands tightened on the arms of the chair as he remembered the scraps Aunt Petunia was currently using as dust rags.

"My baby blanket?" he ventured, then froze.

His mum and dad.

Four years since he'd first seen them in the Mirror of Erised, and he'd last seen them at the end of his fourth year.

"I leave it to you that you understand," repeated Trelawney, hands moving in a frenzied pattern. Her tongue clicked and she added, "They impress upon me much love, yes. Much love. They love you deeply. They want you to know that you're not alone."

The hand that Harry had raised to touch his mouth in trepidation quickly went to cover his eyes as his chest constricted again and the hot tears that had been plaguing his eyes endlessly broke over, spilling down his cheeks in salty drips. Trelawney didn't pause at all, not even noticing Harry's contorted posture and pained face.

"They also want you to know that they are not alone either, besides being together. The female says they were recently joined. She wants you to know that there is another presence with them now."

//Oh, God. God. No. I can't--//

"This presence is male. A young male. Your age, maybe. He identifies himself as your lover."

"Stop!" choked Harry, whose heart felt as if the woman had just punctured through it with the sharpest knife possible. "Please, stop." He struggled to breathe. "It's not true. It's not him. It's not true."

But Professor Trelawney gave him no sign that she even heard him, staring at the ball and moving her hands in a furiously fast blur.

"The boy identifies himself as your lover," she proclaimed, "and he imparts to you that he's with the male and female presence now, like he's in the family, and he is also with another male presence, that of his grandfather, and also is specifically impressioning upon me... water. Also vague impressions of a female he says you know, also your age."

//No, please! Not Cho!//

Harry shoved his hands up under his glasses and pressed his eyes closed with his fingers, tears running down his palms and into his sleeves. He collapsed back against the wide cushion of the chair, fighting away the visions of Cho Chang, whose blood-shot and tear-thick almond-shaped eyes refused to make contact with his.

"He..." Trelawney trailed off for a moment, as if trying to grasp something, "he wants you to know that it's not your fault."

"Stop," sobbed Harry.

"It's not your fault. You've got to let it go. 'You can let it go without letting me go,' he says. There's warmth. Warmth of the heart. He also possesses a love for you, though it's -- it's unclear, and he says there wasn't enough time."

//We wasted so much time. So much, being unsure of ourselves and of each other, so much, allowing our lives to busy us so much, we wasted so much time! It isn't fair!//

"'It's not your fault,' he keeps saying. He says he felt no pain and his only regret in life is not telling her, and his only regret in death is not being with you enough. I leave that to you to understand."

"Tell him I miss him," Harry managed desperately between sobs so great that his gut wracked, but it was pointless, because Trelawney was connected with Cedric, not with him.

"He -- he's getting vague. He simply says it's not it. That it's not it. Do you understand?"

"No," whispered Harry, who was drawing his feet up and curling himself into a foetal ball.

"'That's not it. Tell him it's not it.' He repeats it. Oh. He's gone. He's left me. The male and female presences have followed. They're gone. That's it."

As if Trelawney were a marionette on strings that were abruptly cut, she slumped back in her chair and finally laid her hands to rest on the table.

"Oh, dear," she sighed in a bewildered voice, "now that I've sat, I've forgotten what I have to tell you. I knew that would happen," she added ruefully, before looking at Harry curled up with tears still running heavy down his cheeks. "Goodness. Are you feeling ill?"

"Yes, quite," gasped Harry, sliding off his glasses and burying his face in his sleeve.

"Oh, there, there, my dear boy." She reached across the table and patted Harry's hand, and simply patted it patiently while Harry cried through lunch. When Harry finally had the strength to put his glasses back on and leave the stifling classroom, he knew what he had to do. Professor Trelawney sent him off after a sip of tea, feeling that no doubt Harry had finally discovered the joy that was Divination and had been crying from his immense love for the art.

//I just hope she talks to me,// Harry prayed nervously as he walked down the many flights of stairs from Professor Trelawney's room. Oddly enough, he didn't feel nearly as angry as he had during class, and was even able to give a weak smile to the Fat Friar as he merrily floated past, even though it reminded him of Cedric. He remembered everything Cedric had said about Cho.

//"She's a brilliant Seeker, she's... well... very, very pretty. She's nice, and so cool, smart as the dickens, and she has a sense of humour you wouldn't believe..."//

//I know all that, but I'm still petrified. So many people think that your death was my fault, Cedric. Even I felt that way until now. How can I convince her otherwise? How can I even come up to her and talk about you?//

He knew Cho didn't want to talk to him; like Harry, she felt the immense pain of having someone she deeply cared for ripped away senselessly, felt it with every breath she took.

//"I was going to send you an owl... Anyway, I *thought* the owl was a stupid idea... Maybe this was, too... I'm sorry."//

Recalling Cedric's words still made his stomach clench with pain; yes, it was too early still to not feel the knife being twisted every time he remembered Cedric and his unabashed honesty.

//I guess I'll just have to do it with that same honesty, and not be afraid to apologize.//

It sounded as if the Great Hall was still busy, though lunch was due to be over in the next five or so minutes.

//I'm not scared to apologize.//

Harry laid is hands on the great gilded handles of the tall doors.

//Nothing can scare me anymore.//

"You're trembling," said Cedric, eyes round with concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah..." Harry managed a delirious, yet timid, smile at Cedric. "Just scared."

Cedric grinned a pretty grin at him. "Don't be." Butterfly-light kisses were placed along Harry's bare thigh.

"What if it hurts?" Harry whispered, running his hand over Cedric's cheek before touching the dark locks on Cedric's head. Cedric looked beside himself, purring and nuzzling at Harry's flesh.

"It might hurt," he whispered, "but only for a minute, and then, just think -- I'll be inside of you... I'll never want to leave."

"You'll be lucky if I ever let you go," Harry grinned.