Awakening

Pairing: Cedric/Harry/Cho
Archive: Just ask.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and all other characters from the popular series are the sole ownership of J.K. Rowling and like all other authors, I'm merely borrowing them for my own satisfaction. Enjoy.

Harry knows this is probably a dream. Forgoing the fact that everything is too warm, and the world is spinning hazily, he knows he simply shouldn’t be this…content isn’t the right word. Intense maybe? He can’t be sure. All he’s aware of is that as perfect – yes perfect will do nicely – as everything is, there is something intrinsically wrong.

It’s not a nice feeling to be having at the moment, not when so many other feelings are rivaling for top spot. So many nicer, ‘oh god yes, harder’, ‘more please, more’ feelings that Harry would rather focus on. This feeling, buzzing in the back of his mind is more distracting than the rhythmic ‘Oh my god’ that sputters and repeats, like a skipping record with no one to adjust it.

A soft grunt by his ear makes him realize he’s probably just over thinking. He’s been doing it a lot lately, but then, his dreams have been more and more real. There are days he’s not completely certain he isn’t insane. And the panic rises in his chest often for no reason at all.

“Have a tart Harry?”

And suddenly he can’t breathe.

“Stop thinking so much.”

Harry jerks as fingers twist inside him sharply.

“It’s not flattering.”

Harry smiles as teeth close about the tip of his ear and tug gently. Warm lips settle against his throat and he’s bathed in the smell of lavender soap. The soap makes him think of the bath, where he and Cedric had first gotten to know one another well. Which transverses so many other seemingly abstract moments, all of which are and are not a part of this moment.

This moment where he’s no one more important than just Harry.

“You’re drifting again.”

“Sorry,” he rasps, neck craning back to better feel the sucking at the hollow of his throat.

“Not as sorry as you’re going to be.”

And Harry moans deeply as he feels the heady probing at his entrance.

“Just relax,” she says, stroking over his chest. “Just let him.”

Harry has every intention of letting him, and he doesn’t need coaching anymore. Still, feeling the soothing hands stroking him, pressing close to her chest, the feel of one breast giving as he squeezes it to relieve some tension building in his lower back, as she moans, “Oh Harry…” is comforting in it’s own way.

They never plan for it to happen, it just does. As evidence, they’re all in Quidditch uniform today. Perhaps it could just be viewed as kinky to bystanders, but they all did have practice today. Harry wonders if he’ll ever have to justify it one day, and when that day comes just what he’ll say.

He’s the Boy-Who-Lived, and that matters to people. Just not to Harry. He’s sick of the responsibility, but knows he can’t fight fate. Even when he tries. Kicking and screaming will only get you so far.

Speaking of screaming…

Cedric groans, and reaches around to stroke his bruised neck. “Yes, Harry….just like that…God you’re so beautiful…”

Harry would rather not be called ‘beautiful’ if he can help it, but for some reason, whenever Cedric says it, he can’t find it in him to object.

“And so hard,” agrees Cho, stroking up his shaft.

Harry shudders.

“Maybe you can help him with that?” answers Cedric. “I’m a little busy at the moment.” And to prove his point, he thrusts hard.

Harry cries out, but Cho merely hums and strokes him, moving around to guide him into her body. She sighs as he slips inside, and Harry himself emits something akin to a gurgle – which he’d be thoroughly embarrassed over, were he not too close to coming to care.

Harry knows that sharing himself is dangerous. Knows that those who get involved with him will eventually get hurt. But he can’t help but acquiesce when Cedric flashes him that smile.

Harry is helpless where Cedric is concerned. Perhaps he should be more cautious of the fact, but he’s too busy at the moment.

He shuts his eyes tightly, feeling himself near, and just as his mind explodes in lights, the color is all too green. Flashing, hurtling, and Cedric falls.

Harry wakes with a scream, and scrabbles at his throat and chest. With no shirt on, he claws into his own flesh leaving red trails to rival the clear ones that stream down his face. His stomach is in knots, and he’s sure he’ll be throwing up, if he could just conquer the vertigo that’s keeping him planted.

Hands slide over his shoulders, rub at his back and chest. Skin presses against his, and he’s drawn to a heated chest. “Oh Harry, not that nightmare again…” Harry nods and burrows into a neck, making himself as small as possible as arms encircle, embracing him tightly.

“Is everything alright?” comes a softer voice. Sheets ruffle, and the bed dips as another body presses close, sandwiching him in warmth and support.

“Harry had that nightmare again.”

“Oh Harry,” she sighs.

“Shhh…” And the softness still sends vibrations through Harry’s throbbing forehead. “Everything’s all right, Harry,” he says, rocking slowly. “I’m fine.” Harry blinks as his head is tipped back, strong fingers guiding his chin. Cedric smiles. “See?”

Harry gives a sob and throws his arms about him, clutching close. Cedric draws him closer, as Cho lays against Harry’s back.

And maybe it’s just a dream, but if it is, Harry’s not sure he wants to know reality.