Harry had never really been especially fond of the color yellow—not that he had disliked it, of course. He simply had never associated it with anything of particular importance.

Yellow was not the color of his eyes, which he shared with his mother, if only in memory, nor was it the color of his house robes, which never failed to remind him that there was someplace he belonged. His best friend's hair was not yellow (providing he hadn't been on the receiving end of a few harmless hexes that day) nor was his godfather's (though Remus had shown him enough pictures of Sirius in his youth to know that this had not always been the case). His broom was not yellow, and though the Snitch's golden hue came close the fact remained that gold was not yellow.

Of course, neither was yellow the color of the curse that had stolen away the lives of his parents and left its cursed mark upon his brow. It was not the color of his enemy (though, he supposed, Death Eaters might wear bright colors too, despite his difficulty imagining such a thing) or of his enemies mark (and wasn't that an amusing thought—a Dark Mark in the color most commonly associated with sunshine and buttercups!).

In short, yellow was a neutral color that brought him neither joy, nor pain. It simply was—until Cedric, that is. Now, as Harry's eyes studied the familiar walls of the Headboy's private rooms, decorated proudly with Hufflepuff House banners for the first time in over a decade, he was beginning to understand why someone could come to love the color yellow. It really was such a bright, friendly color—not nearly so bold and garish as red could sometimes be. Although the bumble-striped quilt he was currently sprawled on was a bit much, the fact that it was soft, well-worn, and smelled just like Cedric more than made up for it's lack of ... style. Hands fisting in the comforter, Harry shoved aside his Potions book (he hadn't been getting anywhere with it anyway), slipped off his glasses, and buried his face in downy softness, inhaling the clean, woodsy scent.

Why is it, he wondered sadly, that the only place I can find any peace is here? But he already knew the answer, though he kept it to himself. If pressed, he would say it was because Cedric had been there and that he had believed Harry when he'd said the Dark Lord had returned, in spite of having been blissfully unconscious for the duration of the ritual, having been blasted straight into a gravestone by a blessedly non-killing curse just before things got interesting. That kind of faith was something he cherished—even Ron and Hermione hadn't been entirely convinced of his sanity at first. They had come around, of course, which was more than he could say for the Ministry and the majority of the Wizarding World, who had taking the "glory seeking" rumors from last year and exaggerated them beyond the realm of plausibility. Honestly, if he was such an attention whore, why would he have bothered to talk Cedric Diggory, who had still been his rival at that point, into taking the Triwizard Cup with him?

He growled.

Honestly, some people had no sense!

The sensation of the mattress shifting, giving way as someone sat next to him, roused him from his musings. A gentle hand rubbed his back and settled there, offering a familiar comfort Harry had, perhaps, come to rely on just a little too much. Cedric was back from the prefects meeting.

Tilting his head to the side, Harry blinked blearily up at his friend as he fumbled for his glasses and slipped them back into place. Cedric was smiling, but Harry couldn't fail to notice that the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He was worried, again—then again, when wasn't he worried these days? Lord Voldemort had returned, was no doubt rallying his supporters and plotting the downfall of the Wizarding World as they knew it, and meanwhile the Ministry and the public at large was wasting precious time targeting the Boy-Who-Lived when they should have been preparing for a war. Cedric had reason to worry. They all did.

"Is something's troubling you?" Cedric asked.

"You mean, besides the obvious?" Harry snapped, and although his friend's smile didn't waver, the worry in his eyes deepened and his hand pulled away to fall limply to his side. Harry felt like a complete git. He troubled Cedric enough with his penchant for making the Headboy's chambers his personal sanctuary. He didn't need to stir up trouble between them with his bad attitude. He had few enough friends as it was. "I'm sorry," he said, contrite. "You, of all people, don't deserve to be talked to like that..."

"Talked to like what?" Cedric shrugged. "You're frustrated. I understand."

"Yes, but--"

"I also understand that you're trying to dodge the question," he commented shrewdly, "and that I won't allow. You can keep your secrets if you like, but I would much rather you tell me to mind my own business than to distract me with petty arguments. I may be a Hufflepuff, but I'm not stupid."

"No!" Harry cried, shocked, sitting up quickly. "Of course you're not stupid. And I'm not trying to distract you, I just--"

"Well, then, why don't you just tell me what's got you all riled up or tell me to bud out?"

Why did this conversation fill like it was spinning out of control? All he'd wanted to do was spend a nice, quiet evening with his fellow Triwizard Champion, maybe play a nice game of Wizard's Chess (Cedric was nice enough to let him win every once in a while) and forget that --

"Cho kissed me!" he blurted.

"Wh-what?" Clearly this had not been the response Cedric had been expecting, though it was not long before his startled expression was replaced by a queer look of calm acceptance that troubled Harry more than he cared to admit. Why, oh, why couldn't he have kept his big mouth shut? Cedric clearly still cared for her...

"It didn't mean anything," Harry said, trying to rectify the situation. "It was just... Well, after the D.A. meeting Cho wanted to talk..." He laughed nervously. "Actually, I'm not even sure what she wanted to talk about. It must not have been that important, because once we found ourselves trapped underneath the gag mistletoe Fred and George had left behind --" He blushed. He'd been so mortified when he'd become yet another victim of the Mistletoe of Doom, though really he shouldn't have been surprised. He'd spent too much time with the twins this past year to think just being himself would protect him from pranks. He was just grateful he hadn't been caught under a sprig of that stupid plant with Malfoy. He could well imagine how awful it would be to be forced to lock lips with that shifty-eyed ferret. Cho had been, perhaps, a little too eager for comfort, but at least she had understood his reluctance and refrained from teased him when his first attempt had resulted in both of them rubbing their noses (apparently, closing one's eyes and aiming only worked in the movies). "Um, well. Like I said, it wasn't..." Wasn't something that would have happened under normal circumstances.

"Harry," Cedric started with a forced smile, "Cho and I broke things off months ago and we're not getting back together. She's a nice girl, but she's not the one for me. I know how much you like her." He chuckled, and anyone else would have been fooled, but the sound was dead to Harry's ears. "Only a blind man could have possibly failed to notice the way you looked at her last year. You've gotten better at hiding the way you feel, but there really is no need." Cedric thumped him on the back encouragingly. "If you want to ask her on a date, go for it. Don't hold back on my account."

Harry cringed. Oh, Merlin. He just gave me his blessing to date a girl I only thought I liked because --

With a frustrated hiss, Harry flopped backward to stare at the ceiling. He couldn't look Cedric in the eye. Not now. Not when he couldn't stop reliving that kiss over and over, the memory forcing him to face the truth he had been trying to ignore for a very long time. What would his friend say if he knew? He wouldn't spurn him, of that he was sure: Cedric Diggory was far too loyal and kind for that sort of bigotry. But would he maybe be...happy? Sometimes, when Cedric looked at him, he thought he saw something in those eyes that made his heart beat just a little bit faster, but what if that was his imagination running wild? What if it wasn't?

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"This isn't really about Cho, is it?"

Harry blinked and glanced back up at Cedric, who had (thankfully) dropped his fake smile and was currently gazing down at him with a knowing look. Times like these really made Harry wonder how Cedric had managed to avoid ending up in Ravenclaw—or Slytherin, though he supposed the Slytherins would have gobbled up nice-guy Diggory almost immediately. "You would have made a good Ravenclaw. You're too observant for your own good."

Cedric snorted. "Ravenclaws may be intelligent, but most of them are more book-smart than people-smart. And don't change the subject. I already told you how much I hate it when you try to evade my questions."

Harry sighed, closing his eyes. He felt a headache coming on.

"Is it Sirius?"

"No."

"Then what?"

Should he tell the truth? Was it worth the risk? Harry's lips twitched, and he opened his eyes again. Of course it was worth the risk. "You were wrong to assume that my frustration has nothing to do with Cho, because it does. Just not in the way you think."

"What do you mean?"

"Ask me about the kiss."

Baffled, Cedric complied: "Okay, how was the kiss?"

"Wet."

"Wet," Cedric repeated, astonished. To his credit, it only took him a moment to regroup and press on. "Okay, so the kiss wasn't all earthquakes and fireworks. It was your first kiss, wasn't it? No one's first kiss is perfect. These things take practice. You were probably just nerv--"

"I wasn't thinking of Cho while I was kissing her," he declared with a meaningful glance.

"Oh." And now Cedric was starting to get it, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. Harry felt just a little cruel teasing him like this, but it was really the only way to be sure. That, and the so-called Hufflepuff hottie never looked more adorable than when he was uncomfortable and red with embarrassment. "And who," Cedric inquired weakly, "was it you were thinking of."

And here it was: the point of no return. He could lie now, feign a short-lived crush on some girl from such-and-such house, and everything would go back to normal in a month or two. Or he could be honest and admit once-and-for-all that as much as he wanted to be a normal boy, he wasn't and never would be. Ordinary boys liked beautiful girls like Cho Chang, not...

With a deep breath, Harry made his confession: "A boy."

Cedric's eyes shot up and something flashed through his eyes, but before Harry could even hazard a guess as to what it was, Cedric was on his feet and heading for his bookcase, back turned toward a rather frightened Harry, who was suddenly wondering if he had made a very big mistake. Maybe Cedric wasn't as open-minded and unprejudiced as he thought.

Or maybe he just needs a moment to adjust to the idea that the Boy-Who-Lived is not quite so golden and pristine as every has always assumed. With that thought, Harry clung to hope and watched as Cedric pressed his forehead to the corner of the bookcase and grasped a shelf so tightly with one had with white knuckled force, the other a tight fist at his side. With every second that ticked by, Harry's fear—and disappointment—grew. He didn't know what kind of reaction he had expected, but it certainly hadn't been this. Perhaps he should have saved the flirtatious looks for later?

"Who is it?" Cedric asked, voice raw and shaking—but not angry.

"Does it matter?" he snarled back, surprised by his own animosity—his bitterness. Cedric flinched. "He will never return my feelings." Not when he could be so disturbed by a simple confession of homosexuality.

Cedric turned, and Harry's fury melted away in an instant. His eyes were bloodshot, his cheeks wet with tears, and Harry realized that he had completely misunderstood his friend's violent reaction. "C-Cedric?"

"Any guy would be lucky to have you," Cedric stated firmly, "and if the one you want doesn't want you back, then the man is a fool."

Heart caught in his throat, Harry voiced a question that he knew could change his life forever: "What about you, Cedric? If I told you that I loved you, what would you say?"

The older boy was silent a moment, studying his young companion—searching for a truth that had been there all along. Then, finally, his lips curled into a true, full-blown, eye-crinkling smile that nearly took Harry's breath away, despite the red eyes and blotchy skin. "I would say I loved you, too," he replied, approaching the bed once more. And then, eyes twinkling, he leaned forward: "You do realize there are better ways to figure out how someone feels about you, right? Making me think you had feelings for someone else... Merlin! I didn't even know you liked boys, and then you make me think I missed my chan-- Umph!"

Cedric tasted a thousand times better than Harry had ever dared to imagine. Sugar and spice and everything nice... he mused nonsensically as Cedric recovered from his initial surprise to return his kiss with equal ardor and (though Harry hated to admit it) far more skill. The sensation of Cedric's hot wet tongue against his own, although a bit awkward this first time, sent shivers of pleasure down his spine and if Cedric's soft moans were any indication he was not the only one lost in the moment. Alas, all good things must come to an end, and when the two ardent youths found themselves uncomfortably entangled on the shag rug at the base of the bed (Harry having tumbled forward from his kneeling position at the edge of the bed and Cedric having been dragged down with him), they reluctantly parted, laughing breathlessly.

"Well," Cedric breathed, "I guess rumors of Gryffindor daring aren't quite as exaggerated as I thought."

Harry grinned. "How long have you known me?"

Glowing brightly, Cedric returned his smile and leaned in for another kiss, this one as slow and gentle as the first was rushed and all-encompassing. No doubt they had a lot to discuss before their relationship could be truly solidified, but for now Harry was more than willing to lay back and enjoy the moment.

He closed his eyes and saw yellow.

Omake

Some time later...

"I just have one question," Harry asked suddenly, fingers coyly tracing the lines of the Hufflepuff crest on his boyfriend's sweater. His impish look was more than enough to make Cedric weary.

"And what's that?" he inquired apprehensively.

"Earlier, when I told you that I had been thinking of someone else while kissing Cho... Why did you blush?" said Harry, with feigned innocence. "I mean," he continued with a facade-shattering leer, "I was attempting to hint that I was thinking of you, but you obviously didn't catch that part."

"Oh," Cedric murmured, cheeks reddening once more. "I picked up on the hint just fine—I just didn't realize that you knew what you were hinting at. Er, um... I guess I let my imagination run away with me for a moment..."

Harry laughed wickedly.

His Cedric really was too cute when he was embarrassed.