Cedric Diggory, much as he enjoyed his life, led one of complete boredom and normalcy. He was a son of two avid Quidditch fans, taught into the sport, and expected to join the Quidditch team and eventually become a professional. All in all, boring.
It had been a disappointment to his dad and mum when he was sorted into Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor, but frankly, it was a relief. He knew Gryffindors were the jocks, the sporty ones, and having a constant reminder that that wasn't him, that he wasn't the boy his parents had made him out to be was a source of reoccurring happiness in his life. He still loved his parents, of course. he just wish they wouldn't live vicariously through his life.
In hindsight, it shouldn't have been a shock to him that he was bisexual. He was no Ravenclaw, but he could put together that his life was basically a big metaphor made by the universe to laugh at him. He doesn't find it surprising at all. Heteronormative parents, don't ask don't tell society, and masculine expectations; bake at three hundred fifty degrees for twenty minutes to create the perfectly emotionally stunted teenager who uses puns as a defense mechanism.
Draco Malfoy was his complete opposite. His life was far different, sure, but it was incredibly exciting. He had friends, close ones. He had adventures, and as much as he denied it, he was in an unusual friendship with Harry Potter himself.
At first, he'd really thought he was in love with Cho Chang. It wasn't compulsory heterosexuality. Even when he thought he was straight, he really gave two craps about sexuality. He really just hadn't thought about his own until his absolute, undeniable, soulcrushing crush on the one and only Draco Malfoy. It was around then he figured out he wasn't in love with Cho Chang. Go figure.
In his first year, he didn't like Malfoy. He doesn't like using the word hate, but it pretty close. Malfoy was a racist. He despises gingers and muggleborns. He hates the Gryffindor house, and his parents worked for the man who killed Harry's parents (who, come to think about it, was probably Cedric's first gay crush). He was everything Cedric despised, but over the years, Cedric realized it wasn't that black and white. malfoy sucked, sure, and as a white male he doesn't really get to have the say on all of his shit, but he knew Malfoy was raised in a household that had taught him again and again his discriminatory world views. Was it really so different from a young Cedric going starry-eyed over a sport he finds plain stupid now?
Sure, Cedric hates racism, sexism, homophobia, ableism, et cetera et cetera. But Malfoy was so much more than that. He was funny, and sarcastic, and smooth, and defiant, and brave, and all sorts of things. And really, if you saw Malfoy alone, or with Crabbe and Goyle, he wasn't a bigot. He was thoughtful, and kind, and sweet and shy. And Cedric was utterly and completely gone.
When Malfoy was boasting about Pigfarts, the Hufflepuff in Cedric wondered how much attention the boy received at home. The larger and gayer part of him just wanted to talk with him. He cleared his throat. "So. What's Pigfarts like?"
When Draco looked up at him, Cedric swears he blushed. Wishful thinking, he supposes, but it never hurts to dream. Malfoy starts on a tirade about the incredibility of Pigfarts, and Cedric knows he should be listening, but he's focused on Draco's face as it lights up, and he looks like the sun, which is a total cliche but he can't help it. It's filled with a warmth he's never seen in him before, and he can feel a tug on his heartstrings.
Malfoy's over before he know it, and Cedric's heart feels like a sponge, dark and heavy.
To be fair, again, he's not a Ravenclaw. He can't write poetry for shit.
It isn't until later that Cedric meets up with Malfoy again, and Malfoy actually approaches him this time, stopping him with a wave of his hand and a "Diggory," in an accent that feels pretentious even in Britain. Crabbe and Goyle are following him, but Malfoy flicks a hand behind him and they stalk off, to wherever they go when they're not following Malfoy's every move. Probably to a Body Builder's club.
Malfoy's standing in front of him and crossing his arms, and if Malfoy had any other facial expressions than contempt and apathy, Cedric would say he looked nervous. "So," Malfoy drawled, though it lacked his usual holier-than-thou feel "You asked me about Pigfarts."
"Yes?" Cedric didn't know where he was going with this, but he never really did with Malfoy.
"Right then." Malfoy looked like he'd just decided the fate of humanity; like he has no idea what he was doing, but fuck it anyways. "You're going to the Yule Ball with me."
"I am?" Cedric felt heat rush to his cheeks. Malfoy-Draco Malfoy, was actually asking him out? If not out, at least to a ball? Miracles do come true, it seems.
"Yes." Malfoy tilted his chin up, but Cedric was still able to catch the red blooming in his cheeks.
"Oh. That's cool."
"You," Malfoy said, but there was no malice in his voice, "Are really, really terrible with words."