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I.
Sirius keeps Harry after class on Tuesday afternoon to remind him that they’ll be having their usual Sunday tea together on Saturday, since the full moon is Sunday night.
“Yeah, Padfoot, I know,” Harry says with a fond eye roll, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder. “I’ve got a full moon calendar in the dorm, remember?”
“Yeah, well, maybe I just wanted to see you for a minute,” Sirius says, cupping the back of his neck fondly.
“You see me every day.”
“Seeing you from a distance at breakfast isn’t the same.” It’s then that Sirius notices something sticking out of Harry’s bag, and he cocks his head curiously. “Who are those from?”
There are two flowers sticking out of a pocket in the side of the bag, a dahlia and an oleander.
“Oh!” Harry says, glancing down, like he’s forgotten entirely about them. “Cedric gave them to me.”
“He did?” Sirius frowns. “He gave you… two flowers?”
Harry shrugs. “We were studying out on the grounds, and he tucked them in my book. Think he wanted to mark my page for me.”
“Right.” Sirius shakes his head. “Well, off with you, then. Moony will have my head if you’re late to his class again because of me.”
It’s not until later that night that the significance of the flowers hits him--they’re Harry’s house flowers. The dahlia has been the flower of House Black for centuries, while the oleander belongs to House Potter. A sweet gesture from Cedric, albeit an odd one, especially coming from a friend.
II.
Two nights after the full moon, Sirius tucks Remus into bed after dinner, and then returns to his office to grade the imposing stack of essays he’s been putting off for the past week. Moons are easier for Remus now that he has an unlimited supply of Wolfsbane, Padfoot, and the best medical care outside of St. Mungo’s, so he doesn’t need Sirius to fuss over him as much anymore.
It’s quarter past ten when a knock sounds at the door.
“Come in, Harry!” Sirius calls. Only Remus and Harry ever visit him in his office this late, and Remus doesn’t typically knock.
But when the door opens, he’s surprised to see Cedric Diggory standing there. Even more surprising, the boy is wearing dress robes. Black with gold trim, they must have cost his father at least a month’s salary.
“Mr. Diggory.” Sirius stands and comes around his desk. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Lord Black,” Cedric says, sinking into a deep bow, and now Sirius is completely baffled. Lord Black? “I request an audience.”
“Er, alright. Audience… granted?”
Cedric straightens, and he holds out a thick roll of parchment tied with a gold ribbon. “For your review, sir. A complete accounting of my lineage, stretching back eight hundred and fifty years.”
“Your lineage…” Sirius takes the roll of parchment, perplexed--and then it hits him. The house flowers, the dress robes, the family tree. The courtship rituals. “Cedric… are you asking my permission to court Harry?”
“He accepted the First Gift,” Cedric says, but now there’s a tiny line between his brows, and he looks uncertain. “It’s… customary to then go to his guardian with the Second Gift.”
The courtship Gifts sometimes vary, depending on a suitor’s interpretation of them, but not the Second Gift. That one is always the suitor’s family tree, and it’s always presented to the guardian of the person they want to court. The guardian can put a stop to the courtship immediately, if they find the family tree isn’t up to their standards.
“That's true,” Sirius says, “but what makes you think I care about tradition, or about the courtship rituals?”
“I believe you do, sir,” Cedric says. “You wear the Black signet ring, and whenever it doesn't conflict with teaching, you attend Wizengamot sessions in your family’s ancestral seat. You live in the Black ancestral home. You formally named an heir, and registered him with Gringotts and the Ministry.”
Sirius scowls. He’s not used to being understood so well by anyone other than Remus. “You’re very observant.”
“I’m a Hufflepuff.”
“Indeed.” Sirius taps the rolled-up scroll against his palm. “You know what courtship entails?”
“Yes, sir.”
Sirius nods to himself. With a father like Amos Diggory, Cedric undoubtedly knows all the ins and outs of Pureblood culture. “I don’t care about your lineage, son.”
Cedric’s expression falls for a moment before he schools it into a neutral mask. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s not me denying you permission to court Harry,” Sirius says. “But you should understand that while some aspects of Pureblood culture are important to me, others are not. Everything that happens after this is up to Harry, and Harry alone. I don’t have any say in how Harry runs his life or who he loves. I won’t dictate that for him.”
“I understand.”
Sirius holds out his hand. “Good luck, Mr. Diggory.”
Cedric grasps it, grinning. “Thank you, Lord Black.”
Remus is awake but still in bed when Sirius returns to their shared quarters, Demeter slumbering in his lap while he reads. She purrs loudly as Sirius strokes her soft fur, but doesn't move. Remus's lap is almost her favorite place in the world, second only to the beam of sunlight that pools on the rug in their sitting room every afternoon.
“Were those essays that bad?” Remus asks, and Sirius glances at the clock--it’s nearly eleven.
“Sorry, love. I didn’t realize how late it was.” Sirius presses a hand to the small of his back, leaning back to crack his spine, and sighs. “I had a visit from Cedric Diggory.”
“Oh?” Remus arches an eyebrow. “He’s at the top of his class. Are your essays so difficult that they stump even him?”
“No, he wanted to talk to me about something else.” Sirius changes into pajamas and slips under the blankets. “He wanted to ask my permission to court Harry.”
Remus closes the book and takes off his reading glasses to look at Sirius. “He wants to initiate the courtship rituals?”
Sirius nods. “He brought his family tree and everything. And Harry accepted the First Gift from him--he had it in class with him the other day.”
“What did you say?”
“You’ve seen them together. As if I could ever say no to someone who makes Harry smile like that.”
“But the courtship rituals… dating is one thing, Padfoot, but courtship is another.” Remus fiddles with his glasses. “Do you think… does Harry know Cedric is courting him?”
“He accepted the First Gift, Moony.”
“But does he know what it means?”
“We’ve told him how James courted Lily,” Sirius says, frowning. “How could he not know?”
“I suppose,” Remus concedes, though he doesn’t look entirely convinced. “And how do you feel about it?”
“He’s so young,” Sirius admits. He’d thought they’d have more time before Harry started doing, well, all the things that normal teenagers did. “Courtship usually ends in betrothal, and he’s only fifteen.”
“My heart knew what it wanted at fifteen.”
Sirius can feel his ears burning. “You're a hopeless romantic, Moony.”
“It’s true. It knew it wanted you, and only you.” Remus leans over to kiss him at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe the same is true of Harry as well. Maybe he already knows what his heart wants.”
“What if he doesn't?”
“Then that’s okay, too, Padfoot,” Remus says. “Heartbreak is part of being a teenager. No matter what happens, we’ll be here for him.”
III.
The first Quidditch match of the year is Hufflepuff against Ravenclaw. Harry’s disappointed they’re not starting the year off with a Gryffindor match, but he relishes the chance to sleep in on a Saturday. He makes it down to breakfast with just enough time to grab some toast before they have to head out to the pitch to take their seats.
“Harry.” Cedric appears at his side, decked out in his Quidditch kit, auburn hair artfully tousled. Harry wonders how he gets it to look like that. “I’m glad I caught you. I’ve got to meet up with the rest of the team, but here--I wanted to give you this first.”
He hands Harry a square swatch of yellow fabric with a pin in the back.
“Er,” Harry says eloquently. “Thanks?”
“It’s for your robes,” Hermione provides helpfully. At Harry’s blank look, she says in exasperation, “You’re supposed to wear it, Harry.”
“Oh, right,” Harry says. He shoots Cedric a quick smile, despite his puzzlement. “Thanks, Ced.”
Cedric beams. “See you after the match, yeah?”
“Yeah, ‘course.”
“That’s so sweet of him,” Hermione says wistfully, and Harry could almost swear that she was misty-eyed. It's completely baffling; it must be a girl thing.
“Er, yeah, sweet,” he says distractedly, trying to pin the swatch on his robes.
“No, mate, on the left side,” Ron says. “Here, let me.”
He takes the fabric from Harry, folds it in half, and then pins it to the front of Harry’s robes.
“We need to get seats down in front,” Hermione says, standing up and tucking her book into her bag. “So Cedric has a good view of Harry wearing his token.”
Baffled, Harry follows both of his friends out of the hall.
Sirius quickly grows bored of the match--he doesn’t care much for Quidditch, so if Harry isn’t flying, it holds very little interest for him. After about five minutes of watching the match, he uses his omnioculars to pick out Harry in the stands, and then he elbows Remus sharply in the ribs.
“Ow! The hell, Padfoot?”
“Look at Harry,” Sirius says, thrusting the omnioculars into Remus’s hand. Remus peers through them, and then he gives Sirius and incredulous look.
“Third Gift, already? That was fast.”
“It must be going well,” Sirius says, delighted. He could do far worse for a son-in-law than Cedric Diggory. “It took James weeks to get Lily to wear a token for him.”
“What’s the Fourth Gift, then?”
“The suitor has to prove themself a worthy match by presenting their courted with a trophy they’ve won.” Shame the Triwizard Tournament was last year, Sirius muses. That would have been a worthy trophy to give Harry as the Fourth Gift.
“What kind of trophy?”
“It’s not specified,” Sirius says. “Prongs brought Lily a boat.”
“He did what?” Remus exclaims, aghast, and Sirius hushes him.
“He put it back, don’t worry,” Sirius goes on in an undertone. “I mean, she made him, he was going to put it on the grounds of the Manor and all, but he put it back because she asked him.”
“Like, a fishing boat, or--”
“That famous Muggle one. The Titan or whatever.”
“He brought Lily the Titanic?” Remus hisses, and Sirius pinches his thigh.
“Not so loud!” he whispers. “Look, he put it back, alright?”
“Sirius, the Titanic wasn’t even discovered until the eighties!”
“By Muggles! Prongs found it in ‘77.”
IV.
There’s a knock on Remus’s office door, and he looks up to see Harry standing there. He feels a warm smile spread across his lips, the way it always does when he sees his godson. “Hello, love.”
“Moony,” Harry protests half-heartedly, but he’s grinning as he pushes the door open fully and comes into the room.
Remus pushes aside the stack of essays he’s been grading. “What’s got you up at this hour of the night?”
They’ve long since given up scolding Harry for sneaking out after curfew. With James’s cloak, he rarely gets caught, and they were far worse at his age.
“Cedric gave me this,” Harry says, pulling a glass case out of his bag. “I don't know what to do with it, and I thought you might know. It’s got to go back to the forest, yeah?”
Remus takes the case from Harry and holds it up, peering at the creature within. “Cedric gave you a Bowtruckle?”
“I know!” Harry exclaims. “I have no idea why,”
“Harry, this is extremely dangerous. Was he in the Forest tonight? He would have had to get past the centaurs and the acromantula colony and--” Remus stops, realization dawning. The Fourth Gift.
“Can you help it?” Harry asks. He truly looks distraught. “I don’t know how to care for one, and there’s nothing in the library about it, and if I get caught in the Forest again, Padfoot is going to kill me.”
“Of course,” Remus says. “She’s not in too much distress right now, it’s okay. I’ll give her some water and food, and then I’ll take her back to her home tomorrow. She’ll be fine.”
Harry’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Thanks, Moony.”
“It’s… a pretty big deal that Cedric went into the Forest and got this for you,” Remus says carefully.
Harry’s eyes go round. “He’s not going to get in trouble, is he? Please, Moony, don’t tell anyone. If he gets detention, he might miss the next match, and--”
Remus holds up a hand, forestalling Harry’s panicked babble. “It’s alright, I’m not going to tell anyone, and I’ll make sure this Bowtruckle gets back to her colony. I just want to make sure you understand what Cedric has done for you.”
Harry nods. “I do, and I’ll tell him not to do it again, I promise.”
“Er--”
But Harry is already almost out the door. “Night, Moony!”
“What’s this?” Sirius stares down at the glass case sitting on his pillow, and the irritated Bowtruckle inside.
“Gertrude,” Remus says as he turns a page in his book. Demeter is sitting next to him, tail flicking as she eyes the Bowtruckle with a great deal of interest. “At least, that’s what I’ve been calling her. She’s Harry’s Fourth Gift.”
“Cedric went into the Forest?”
“He did. Harry brought her to me. He doesn’t know how to care for a Bowtruckle and wants to make sure she gets back to her colony. I’ll be returning her in the morning.” Remus closes his book and takes off his glasses. “Sirius, I don’t think he knows.”
“He’s got to know by now,” Sirius insists. Cedric has been courting Harry since the beginning of the year. Harry attends every Quidditch match wearing one of Cedric’s tokens, even when he’s playing, and Cedric went with them on holiday at Christmas when they went skiing in the Alps. They hosted the Diggorys at Grimmauld on New Year’s for a family meal, and even Kreacher was on his best behavior, knowing that the Black heir was in the midst of the courtship rituals.
“He was more worried about Cedric getting into trouble than anything else. I don’t think he fully grasped what a big deal the Fourth Gift is.”
“Well, Lily didn’t truly understand the significance of all the Gifts, either,” Sirius points out. He picks the Bowtruck’s case up gently and places it on his nightstand. Demeter follows, knocking a pile of Sirius’s books on the floor so she can sit next to the Bowtruckle and continue to watch it. “I don’t think anyone does, if you’re not raised in the culture. But Lily knew it was important to James, just like Harry knows this is important to Cedric.”
“And to you,” Remus says as Sirius climbs into bed.
“And to me,” he admits. “I know it must seem silly to you, but--”
“It doesn’t,” Remus assures. “Although I can’t help but notice that you never went through the courtship rituals for me.”
“It wouldn’t have made your parents like me any better.”
“Well, that’s true.”
V.
Harry’s in the library with Ron one afternoon, the two of them frantically trying to finish their weekend homework before they head to his godfathers’ quarters for their weekly tea. Hermione has already finished all her assignments, of course, and she’s off with Ginny at the moment.
Cedric approaches the table holding a large box. Ron takes one look at it and starts packing up his things. “I’ll see you at tea, mate.”
“Er, okay?” Harry says as Ron hastily clears out. “See you.”
Cedric nods to Ron as he leaves, then smiles at Harry as he sets the box on the table.
“This is for you,” he says without preamble.
“For me?” Harry repeats, puzzled. “Er… but I didn’t get you anything?”
He curses himself inwardly. Why would he say something like that? Of course he didn’t get Cedric anything! Why would he? It’s the middle of April. It’s not either of their birthdays, it’s not Christmas, it’s not any other holiday that he can think of. So why has Cedric gotten him something?
Cedric gives him an indulgent smile. “Open it?”
“Right.” Harry lifts the lid off the box and peers inside. He reaches in, and pulls out a miniature Quidditch pitch, complete with hoops, players, and balls.
“It’s a fully functional Quidditch pitch,” Cedric says. “You can use it to replay any game England has participated in in the past one hundred years, or you can use it to mock up your own Quidditch matches. I figure it will be useful for when you’re captain next year.”
“You don’t know that I’m going to be captain,” Harry says, a blush creeping up his neck.
“‘Course I do, you’re brilliant.”
“Cedric, you really shouldn’t have,” Harry says. “This had to cost a bloody fortune.”
“I didn’t buy it,” Cedric says. “I made it.”
“You--what?”
“Well, I transfigured it. It took me a while to figure out what material would work best. It turns out weeds from the bottom of the lake provided the best material. After that, I had to work out all the enchantments and the various activation spells. Here.” Cedric pulls a thick sheaf of parchment out of the box, which Harry had missed. “These are all the instructions for how to use it.”
“I--I don’t really know what to say.”
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah, it’s brilliant.”
“Then you accept it?”
“Yes?” Harry says, suddenly unsure. “Cedric, what’s going--”
Cedric kisses him. It’s a chaste, gentle press of lips, but electricity sparks down Harry’s spine anyway. It’s over all too quickly, leaving him gaping at Cedric as the other boy pulls away.
“See you tomorrow, Harry,” he says, and then he’s gone just as quickly as he came.
Harry bursts into his godfathers’ quarters. Ron and Hermione are already there, Ron and Remus playing a spirited game of chess while Hermione reads and Sirius cooks.
“Ah, there you are, sprog!” Sirius says cheerfully. “Thought we were going to have to send a search party out for you. Dinner will be--”
“Cedric’s courting me,” Harry blurts.
Four pairs of eyes give him puzzled looks.
“Er, yeah, mate, we know,” Ron says. “He gave you his colors to wear for that one Quidditch match, remember?”
“And he gave you your house flowers,” Hermione puts in.
“And the trophy,” Remus adds.
“Kids,” Sirius says to Ron and Hermione, watching Harry’s face carefully, “do you mind if…”
Hermione and Ron get the hint and quickly leave. Sirius flicks his wand so that the utensils in the kitchen continue prepping the meal on their own, and he steers Harry over to the couch.
“Did he give you the Fifth Gift today?” Sirius asks quietly, and Harry nods. “And you accepted it?”
“And then he kissed me,” Harry whispers.
“That’s typically what happens when the Fifth Gift is accepted,” Sirius says. “Harry, did you really not know?”
Harry shakes his head. “I just thought he was being nice. Doesn’t he have to ask permission to court me?”
“He does, and he did,” Sirius says. “Honestly, Hazza, I thought you knew.”
“How do you feel about it?” Remus asks gently. “You like him, at least. You’ve been good friends ever since last year.”
That was true. They’d gotten to know each other last year during the Tournament, and had written to each other over the summer. Cedric had integrated nicely into their group, despite being two years older than them, and Harry liked spending time with him.
Liked kissing him, too, it turns out.
“I have to stop it, don’t I?” Harry asks, and for some reason, the realization is a disappointment. He looks at Sirius. “You told me courtship ends in getting engaged, and I don’t want that yet.”
“You don’t have to stop it if you don’t want to,” Sirius says. “When the rituals are over, if you want to keep seeing him, then just tell him that. Treat it like a normal relationship after that. Date for as long as you want to. It was a sweet gesture for Cedric to want to observe the tradition, but what happens from here is up to you.”
VI.
In May, during one of the last Quidditch matches of the season, Malfoy knocks Harry off his broom as they’re both racing for the Snitch. Harry still manages to catch it, but he also falls fifty feet and snaps his collarbone. He wakes up in the Hospital Wing with Sirius at his bedside. Remus is conspicuously absent.
“He’s shouting at Snape,” Sirius says. “The Head of Gryffindor House is most displeased with the Head of Slytherin right now.”
“You like it when he’s bossy,” Harry murmurs. He’s woozy and disoriented, but at least the pain is gone.
Sirius barks out a laugh. “I do. How are you feeling, kiddo?”
“Fine. Tired. Bit weird.”
“That will be the pain potions.” Sirius strokes his hair, and Harry lets his eyes fall closed for a moment. Eventually, he rouses himself again.
“What happened to Malfoy?”
Sirius’s expression is grim. “He’s been suspended from the team for the rest of the year, and he’ll be serving detention every week until the end of term.”
“With you?”
“No, nor with Moony. McGonagall knows better. I assume she’ll assign him to a neutral party, or take on his detentions herself.”
Harry hears the doors to the hospital wing open, and then a shadowy figure comes to stand on the other side of the curtains.
“Rem?” Sirius asks, reaching over to peel the curtains aside. “Oh! Hello, Mr. Diggory.”
Suddenly alert, Harry tries to push himself into a sitting position, but Sirius presses a hand to his sternum. “Stay still, Harry, you’ve got to take it easy. Come in, Cedric, I was just leaving.”
Cedric and Sirius switch places, and Cedric takes the chair Sirius has abandoned. Sirius goes over to the other side of the bed so he can lean down and press a kiss to Harry’s forehead.
“I’m going to fetch my husband and dinner from the kitchens, and I’ll be back in an hour,” he says. “Don’t keep him awake if he starts to drop off, Mr. Diggory. He needs his rest.”
“Of course, Lord Black,” Cedric says, bowing as Sirius leaves the curtained-off area.
“That’s really weird,” Harry mutters.
“What is?” Cedric takes his seat again. He reaches for Harry’s hand, grasping it tightly. Harry squeezes back.
“Calling him Lord Black.”
“It’s protocol to call him by his proper title throughout the courtship process,” Cedric says. “Speaking of…”
“Yes?”
“I was going to give you the Sixth Gift tonight,” Cedric admits. “After the match and the party, I was going to take you up to the Astronomy Tower and give it to you there.”
“You can still give it to me,” Harry says.
“Not exactly a romantic setting, here.”
“I don’t care.”
Cedric pulls a small vial out of his robes. It sits on a golden chain, and inside is a lock of hair. A lock of Cedric's hair, Harry realizes.
“The Potters are a Light family, but the Blacks are Dark, and I wanted to honor that, too,” he says, placing the vial in Harry’s palm. “The Sixth Gift is supposed to be a piece of yourself. Not literally, in most cases, but there’s a lot of dark magic you can perform when you have part of someone’s body. You could do a lot of damage with only a few strands of my hair. This symbolizes my trust in you, and my willingness to be vulnerable in front of you.”
Harry curls his hand around the vial, mouth dry. “I accept.”
Cedric grins. It lights up his whole face. Even the roots of his hair seem to be glowing. “Well, that’s the last gift of the courtship ritual.”
“So now what?”
“Centuries ago, the next step would be betrothal and marriage,” Cedric says, and Harry’s heart jams itself in his throat. Smiling softly, Cedric adds, “It’s more customary now for two people to either decide if they want to part ways after this, or continue to date.”
“Oh,” Harry says, his mouth now dry for a different reason entirely. It had never occurred to him that Cedric might not want to date after all. “Do you… do you want to end it?”
“No,” Cedric says, and Harry’s stomach swoops. “Do you?”
“No,” Harry says quickly. “Not at all.”
A relieved grin breaks out over Cedric’s face. “Good. That’s good. So, um. Do you want to be my boyfriend, then?”
“Yeah,” Harry says, threading their fingers together, feeling an answering grin tug at his own lips. “Yeah, I really do.”
Coda.
It turns out that Harry doesn’t like snogging Cedric.
He loves snogging Cedric.
He loves the quick kisses that say hello and goodbye. He loves the kisses stolen in dark alcoves and behind suits of armor. He loves the kisses exchanged behind Cedric’s bed curtains whenever he manages to sneak Harry into his dorm, kisses that leave him gasping and aching and breathless.
But perhaps his favorite kisses are the ones they have after curfew, hidden away in a storage cupboard, knowing that they could be caught at any moment.
They’ve been in here for half an hour already, and Harry’s head is spinning and his lips are tingling. The only reason he’s upright is because he’s backed against the cupboard wall, Cedric’s weight pressed against him.
Soon enough, the cupboard door swings open to reveal Sirius with his hand over his eyes.
“Harry James,” he says in exasperation, “you have the map for a reason. Can you please find somewhere to snog your boyfriend that I won’t find during my rounds?”
“Sorry, Sirius,” Harry says as he steps out of the cupboard, though he isn’t really very sorry at all. Sirius spends a lot of his time nowadays trying to embarrass Harry, so it’s nice to be able to return the favor. “Come on, Cedric. I think the Transfiguration Professor’s office is free right now.”
“Hey!”