Author's notes: This is my first fic ever published on this site. But I felt I simply needed to tell the story of Harry and Cedric, who are my favorite never-a-couple from the entire series. So please, enjoy. And if you do, please leave a comment. I'm not begging for reviews, I just wanna know if it's even worth writing.

Chapter One: Visions

Harry Potter stood helplessly, his feet glued to the ground by a spell he could not break. He watched Wormtail lift up his wand and shoot a ray of green light in Cedric Diggory's direction. He tried to scream but his lips were sown shut. He looked as Cedric's lifeless body fell in the mud, his eyes still open, staring straight into Harry's. He heard a loud, high-pitched cackle that he knew belonged to Lord Voldemort, that little bundle of rags resting in Peter Pettigrew's arms.

And then he woke up. He woke up very audibly, gasping for air and sitting up in his bed right off the bat. It took him a long three seconds to remember that it was just a dream. None of that had ever happened. Cedric survived the graveyard. The both did.

Then why did he keep on having those dreams?

It was never the same dream, though. Always a different one, but always ending in the same exact way. With Cedric Diggory dead at Harry's feet. It terrified him to the point where he was reluctant to even go to sleep, for fear of seeing the boy he had come to respect – and kind of like – die over and over again.

Two weeks ago he had confided in Hermione about the problem. The best suggestion she had, was coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. Ron was still in the dark, probably suspecting that his friend had a mild case of insomnia. Nothing disruptive.

Harry was exhausted. He stood up from the bed and put his green dressing gown on. He reached for his glasses and set them on his nose. He really needed to clean those, he could barely see through the grease and the dust that had accumulated over the course of his stay at The Burrow. He and Hermione arrived three weeks prior to the day and Harry could not believe that tomorrow they would have to go to school.

Usually during the summer, when he was at the Dursley's, he simply could not wait to get back to Hogwarts. But staying with the Weasleys and Hermione? Well, that was a completely different story. He could stay here forever, chasing the chickens and throwing garden gnomes over the fence. Especially this year, short two months after fighting Voldemort again and winning again. He knew, though, that there would come a day to face that monster again.

And what would happen if he didn't have Cedric, Hermione or Ron at his side to help him and save his skin once more? He shivered with dread at the thought.

Slowly, he dragged his feet out of the room, being as quiet as possible, so as not to wake up Ron, who was still snoring happily and very, very roaringly. Maybe that was the cause of Harry's nightmares? Maybe the dreams were just a way for Harry's subconscious mind to let him know that it was time to sleep in a room that did not have Ron and his loudness in it?

A joke. Finally, something to smile about.

He went downstairs and into the kitchen. To his surprise, Hermione was already sitting at the table, fully clothed, her hair in a bushy ponytail. She was leaning over a giant book filled with nothing but tiny text. Harry suspected it was a required reading for one of the very many classes she was taking, one he was not even intending to bother with.

"Oh, hello, Harry," Hermione said, not tearing her stare from the book for even a split second. "I didn't see you there."

"You still haven't seen me, you're reading."

"There's bacon on the stove," she responded absent-mindedly.

Harry grabbed some bacon from the frying pan and got three pieces of toast from the breadbasket. He sat opposite the girl and busied himself with eating. After three minutes, he started to suffer severely from hiccups so he stood back up and poured himself a glass of water. He drank it in one impressively massive gulp.

Hermione closed the book shut and Harry could swear he saw a cloud of dust rising from it.

"I can't read when you're being that loud," she said scoldingly.

"What is that book, anyway?" asked Harry and then held his breath to get rid of the hiccups.

"It's about mythologies. All the different ones. You simply wouldn't believe the magic that the ancient Egyptians knew, and you just know Professor Binns would never teach us about that stuff, and there is one spell in particular that I'm dying to try out when we get back to..." When she saw the expression on Harry's face, raised eyebrows and a mocking smile to boot, she stopped talking for a second. She visibly deflated a little, as if the sheer enthusiasm was the only thing sustaining her. "What's wrong, Harry?"

"What do you think is wrong?" He said, all of a sudden a little bit angry. Mostly at himself.

"Another one of those dreams, huh? That's... Harry, I promise, tonight after the party I'll start going through all my books. Who knows, maybe it's a curse of some sort. Do you have some enemies who might want to drive you insane?"

"Um, I don't know. Maybe Lord Voldemort?" Harry replied sarcastically.

"Yes, of course, but I don't think it's him. You have to be in a very close vicinity to someone to put that kind of a curse on them. Maybe it's... You know, I think Professor Binns once told us about a wizard driven insane by nightmares magically sent by his wife in the 1760's. I'll wager it's still in my notes. I had better go through them." She started to walk out of the kitchen, never once ceasing to talk, mostly to herself. Harry grabbed her by the arm and stopped her in her tracks.

"Hermione, don't, okay? I bet... I bet it's just residual stress or something. Once we're back at Hogwarts, I'll relax and the nightmares will most probably stop."

"I guess that would be expected after the trauma you and Cedric had endured," Hermione mused. "And it's perfectly normal that you would have nightmares about losing someone you care about."

"What? I don't... care about Cedric," Harry protested, a little bit offended.

"I didn't mean anything by it, Harry," she explained quickly, grabbing the book and holding it in front of herself for protection. "Cedric is a good person and I wouldn't be surprised if there was some sort of a bond between the two of you after what you had survived together."

"There's no bond. I haven't talked to the bloke for, like, two months."

"Well, he will be at your party tonight. Mrs Weasley thought it was only appropriate to invite him and his parents."

"Great." Harry was not too ecstatic to hear the news. He had spent the whole summer thinking about Cedric and worrying about him. He himself was sort of used to being in danger of losing his life every year. It was a given to him. But for Cedric, other than facing a dragon and being threatened by angry Mermen, it was a definite first. It could change a person. And Harry wondered what a near-death experience could do to the boy.

But did it mean he cared?

"So, what will you be doing today?" Hermione asked, ripping him out of the train of confusing thoughts.

"I don't know. Packing, I guess." He shrugged, throwing Cedric out of his mind for now. It was the day of his birthday party and the last day of summer vacation. It was a day to celebrate, not worry. "You?"

"Reading about magically induced dreams. And knitting hats in the process, I suppose."

"Knitting hats? What for?" It wasn't the strangest thing Hermione had ever said, but it certainly made the top of the list.

"You'll see," she answered, smiling smugly. She definitely was up to something but Harry had no energy to inquire any further. He was already exhausted and the day had barely even started.

Once Hermione left the kitchen, Harry sat down at the table and returned to his already cold bacon. After ten minutes or so, Mrs Weasley entered the room, humming quietly under her nose. Harry thought he recognized the tune, but couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had probably heard it on the radio Mrs Weasley was constantly playing while cooking.

"Oh, Harry, dear!" she greeted him heartily. "I did your laundry, it's waiting for you on your bed, right next to our broomstick and a stack of books. You can just throw them into your trunk before the party."

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley, you're the best," he replied, smiling from ear to ear. Why would he ever want to leave this place?

"Do you want some breakfast? I'm making eggs for the rest of the kids."

"Thanks, but I've already eaten. Hermione made bacon."

"Hm." Mrs Weasley snorted, outraged that someone dared do the cooking. "I guess that's alright. She probably meant well. Harry, could you be a dear and get me some eggs from the hen house? The kids like them fresh."

"Sure, Mrs Weasley."

Harry stood up and walked out of the house. It was a clear, sunny day, though there was distinct briskness in the air. He looked at the chickens, so plain and simple, yet probably infinitely content with their lives. He looked at the green surrounding him every which way he turned his eyes. Yeah, definitely. Why would he ever want to leave?

Cedric Diggory woke up with a jerk. He had that dream again. The one where he was just a split second too late . He had screamed Accio! and grabbed Harry's hand, but before the Portkey reached them, there was a blast of green light and Harry's body succumbed to the ground, dragging Cedric down with it. Then the world swirled around them in a mad, colorless flurry and they lay right next to each other on Hogwarts grounds. The crowds cheered. If only they knew that The Boy Who Lived had not exactly lived up to his name...

But it was just a dream. A dream he kept on having, practically every other night.

He wiped the sweat off his brow and lay back down. He tried to relax but he could feel his heart attempting to thump its way out of his bare chest. Facing Lord Voldemort, even in that state, was the most terrifying experience in his life and he was sure nothing would ever top it.

He desperately needed to talk about it to somebody but there was no one. No one he could open up to. His parents didn't know and they would never understand. His best friend, Cho Chang, either. She still thought that the two boys simply won The Tournament.

Harry Potter was the only person who would. The only person, other than Cedric himself, who had stood in front of the Dark Lord and survived to tell the tale. Or, rather, keep quiet about the tale.

Cedric had attempted to write multiple letters to Harry over the summer, reach out in any way. He would always end up tearing the parchment into pieces or throwing it into the fireplace. There were no right words to write. That was why he was elated to get an invitation to the boy's fifteenth birthday party. He could finally talk to him. Look at him. Make sure it was all real. The mere thought of Harry Potter's existence made him calm down a little bit.

Suddenly, he heard a noise outside his bedroom door. The sound of the floor creaking. Then, when the knob started to turn around, he quickly grabbed his wand, his heart beating insanely fast once again. He readied himself for an attack and quickly picked a spell that would incapacitate his opponent. He wouldn't let the Dark Mark hover above his house.

His mother entered the bedroom. She looked at Cedric, sitting up in his bed and pointing his wand at him.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" she asked. "We heard you screaming in your sleep and now you're..."

"Yeah, I'm... I'm fine, Mum." He put the wand down on the end table. He felt like an idiot. It was morning. The Death Eaters do not attack in the morning. "I just... had a bad dream. I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"If you say so, Cedric. Now, get dressed and get downstairs for breakfast. We've got a big day today."

Yeah, Cedric thought. A big day.