Simply_Yang

Lucius’ blonde platinum locks could be seen turning the final corner to the platform yet she allowed herself one final look back. The couple she’d been observing was talking to none other than Harry Potter… She turned the corner just in time to see the buck-toothed Granger girl head toward the boy who lived. The mud- The curse raised up her throat like bile but she bit it back down. It was Granger who she entrusted with helping Buckbeak the previous year. Her heart, which had turned into tense coils upon seeing two of the traitor trio, softened as she rejoined her family. 

“Are you ready, love?” Narcissa glanced at her. Her blue eyes, usually depicted as cold, still felt pretty as the ocean to her. “I am. Draco?” She asked, confirming with her younger brother. “Yes. Let’s go. I can’t stand this… filth anymore.” He scrunched his nose in disgust, glancing at the muggle travelers and their electricity-powered devices. With that, he stepped right through the fake brick wall.

She followed right behind, the dull environment shifting to the beautiful that homed the Hogwarts Express. Her parents stepped right after, Narcisa tenderly playing with Draco’s hair. “I’ll miss you both.” She said, a genuine smile overtaking her features as she wrapped her arms around the younger boy, then around the sister. “Here, I made these. Tell me if the house-elfs are not up to par with the food, alright?” She gave each a small box of what was undoubtedly a large supply of sweets. 

“The train will be leaving any minute, do make sure to honor the family name.” Lucius sent them away with a small ghost of a smile.

The train’s loud whistle warned them of the little time they had. Draco quickly climbed up and away toward the back – mostly taken by Slytherin students. She, meanwhile, walked toward the front where the prefect cabins resided. She peered over the panes, trying to find an empty cabin for her to go into. 

She was about to get to the end of the corridor until a door slid open and she felt someone gently wrap their hand around her arm. Glaring to her left, her gaze instantly softened as the undesired tension left her body. 

“Cedric.” She breathed out, as if the words were waiting a whole summer’s worth to be let out. 

Her eyes traveled to his dimples and the pure joy radiating off him. “Come in! How were your holidays?” She felt her heart skip a beat as Cedric pulled her inside, gaze still entranced with his smile. “...Good. We went to the Quidditch World Cup.” She said, sitting down. 

A small spark glistened in his iris for a second before it extinguished and with it the soul of his smile. “That’s good. I wanted to invite you to come with us but dad insisted there wasn’t enough time…” He trailed off, slightly veering away from her eyes and toward the outside scenery.

“I would’ve loved to.” She replied sincerely, following his gaze.  

Cedric sighed, looking up and falling silent for a few prolonged moments. “Im glad we didn’t go, though. It wouldn’t have been half as perfect as I’d hoped.” He continued somberly.

“Did you see it?” He finally locked eyes with her again. Her tongue slowly trailed over her lips which suddenly felt rather dry. An intense feeling of inadequacy took over her – she knew exactly what Cedric meant: Death Eaters ran amok harming muggles and instilling fear in Witches and Wizards alike. That, and the dark mark had been shot into the sky… She was the one to shy away from his orbs now – her father had been in the midst. Back then, she’d felt just the same, the only one that didn’t feel entertained by Lucius’ hanging of the muggle man. 

“I did…” She looked further down, now staring at her lap and her fidgeting hands. “Did you?” The train lurched forwards, she could hear the faint humming of the engine and the metallic sounds of the rails. “I’m sorry… It was awful. I felt sick for days afterward.” He said. 

Sick. She bit the inside of her cheek, staring at the palms of her hand.. Her family made him sick. “Hey…” He called out softly. A small ‘thump’ was all she heard before she dared to glance back up. 

“It’s okay. We’re here now – going to Hogwarts. It’s the safest place there is.” He affirmed and she now saw the source of the thump – Cedric had placed his hand palms-up on the table. His fingers twitched slightly and he glanced toward it, the soft smile easing back to his features. 

Her eyes glued to his hand – calloused from what must’ve been endless Quidditch training sessions, yet laid open in such a gentle manner that she wondered if that was how he tended the Herbology plants. 

Don’t overthink it. 

Closing her eyes and taking one deep breath, she placed her hand atop his. He closed his hand around hers, caressing it with his thumb. “Don’t think too much about… Well, about all of it. You-Know-Who’s been dead for a damn long time and Dumbledore will make sure it stays that way.” He tried to reassure her. 

All she managed back was a nod. She sure hoped so. It was, perhaps, the first time she was rooting for something she’d bet on to fail. Realizing that she was a bit out of it, Cedric filled the silence… She thanked him for it. “So… I heard we’re having something big this year. Dad says the Ministry’s been working on a Hogwarts project for the entire past year and that some dragon tamers were involved.” She laughed slightly, shaking her head. “Hopefully, we’ll get to see a fire show and not one of Hagrid’s lessons?” 

He laughed back, echoing within the small compartment and out of the window – taking her worries with it. She felt acutely aware of every brush of their fingers for the entire rest of the ride. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Sherbet Lemon… Sugar Quill…  Exploding Bonbons…

Her fingers curled around the small chocolate bonbon, taking it out of the metallic box her mother had stored the sweets in. An enormous dessert feast was laid in front of her – caramel pudding, crystalized pineapple, treacles… The food done by the house-elfs was plentiful, but she’d always had a soft spot for Narcissa’s cooking. She popped the chocolate delight into her mouth, it melted easily around her tongue, biting through the outer layer until small fireworks exploded inside her mouth. 

She closed her eyes appreciatively, feeling the last sizzling of the sweet as she swallowed it down. Opening her eyes again, she found the same imagery she’d been staring at for the past minutes awaiting her. Cedric Diggory was chatting animatedly among friends, a blonde boy was laughing and shaking him, likely excited about something – what, she wasn’t sure. Perhaps, she guessed, Cedric had told him about the dragons. Taking one more bonbon, she twirled it between her fingers skillfully before shutting the box and popping the other sweet into her mouth. He looked nice. The light from the chandelier shined on his hair, giving him a halo-like glow and, although she could barely see it from this far away, she could imagine how his wide grin crinkled his cheeks, causing her heart to lurch. 

Cedric turned to look at his friend, but met her eyes instead. They stood in a reverie, figuring out the other had been stealing glances the whole time. He raised his hand in a wave just seconds before the feast disappeared and Dumbledore’s calm yet commanding voice reverberated around them.

“To our newest students, welcome, to our old ones, welcome back.” Every gaze in the Great Hall turned toward him, waiting for his start-of-year speech. “This year Filch has added twenty new banned items which can be seen in the list beside the entrance door and, although It would bring me immense joy to list them out, I have a rather important announcement to make.” She could hear barely disguised grumbling from the side of the hall, he’d been looking forward to see the joy sucked out of students. 

“This year Hogwarts is proud to bring back and host the start of an exciting event: The Triwizard Tournament.” He paused, letting chatter take over for moments. She, too, gasped. The tournament had been canceled long ago due to its extreme mortality rate, she knew of a relative who died competing for the school when it was hosted at Beauxbaton. Dumbledore raised his hand, silently ordering everyone to calm down – they did. “It is an extremely dangerous event, as I’m sure all of you know. This year we will have one added rule: Only students above the age of 17 can enter their name for the event.” His gaze scanned the room, a few mischievous students looking away and scheming. “Do know that I have personally made sure no one below that threshold will be able to enter. Now that that is over with, have a great start of year, all.” She rose from her seat, joining the bustling crowd toward the exit. Students were battling each other to get to their common rooms, some stragglers trying to worm between the crowd toward the courtyards to discuss the Triwizard Tournament. Getting out of the mess of limbs, she was greeted by the chilly atmosphere of the dungeons.

Salazar, she hated the start of year.

“Hey!” Someone called after her. 

Sighing, she turned around. It was only by a miracle that she didn’t snap out a ‘What?!’ and instead took enough time to meet the soft grey eyes she’d come to love. Well, perhaps it was him who mellowed her attitude, too. “Hey… I thought you were heading out with your friends.” He shook his head negatively. “I wanted to walk you to your common room, is that alright?” Damn, he was too sweet. A small smile poked at the corner of her lips, this felt more like home than Malfoy Manor had done over the summer. “It is.” She confirmed almost immediately. “I think the dragons might be for the opening entrance of the tournament. They used to have a big show, so maybe I’m not too far off.” She shrugged, starting to walk down the steps toward the Slytherin common room. 

“I hope so, that would be an amazing start. Maybe It’ll be for when the other schools show up? Beauxbaton and Durmstrang are supposed to get here by the end of the month from what I’ve heard.” He offered, falling into step beside her.

“Pfft, I wouldn’t trust the rumors. Once, someone said I was a vampire and it stuck around for a whole month.” She chuckled.

“Well….” He trailed off, smirking devilishly. 

“Don’t.” She warned, looking him up and down.

“You do live in a Manor and you have a lair in the dungeons…. You also barely bother attending Quidditch– which is, suspiciously, under sunlight…” He grinned, finishing his vampire-esque analysis. 

“Oh, sod off.” Rolling her eyes, she snapped her gaze away from him, silently protesting his idiotic comparison. 

Cedric’s laugh echoed around the small halls of the dungeons, likely reaching the ears of the few Slytherin that had already reached the common room. “Maybe I’ll slip some garlic into your food-” He bit his tongue to keep from laughing harder, yet his smile was such that his cheeks were aching. 

“I swear to Salazar, if you do that I’ll kill you.” She threatened, finally turning back toward him as they halted right outside the hidden doors to the Slytherin common room. Shaking his head amusedly, he pointed toward the empty space. “You wouldn’t. I’m far too great a person for that.” 

Groaning, she muttered the password under her breath, causing the bricks to readjust themselves into an elegant archway. “You don’t know that!” She huffed, crossing the threshold without turning back.

“I do!” She heard him just before the bricks closed, muffling each sound afterward. Salazar, she’d be damned if she ever hurt that man. That stupid…ly kind hufflepuff was far too wrapped around her head for that. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Quite contrary to her defiance, Durmstrang and Beauxbaton were, in fact, set to arrive at the end of the month.

They were walking side-by-side amidst the Hogwarts crowd, the sharp night air biting against their skin as they marched outside the entrance doors and toward the Quidditch stadium. She barely squeezed past a few students to walk toward the bleachers, holding Cedric’s wrist all the while. 

“Finally!” She breathed out, sitting down as soon as she saw two free spaces. Hundreds of flags with the Hogwarts crest on it were placed throughout the stadium, live fireworks were moving around the sky taking the figure of the house mascots.

Ooo’s and Aaa’s were all she could hear from around her – if the Durmstrang or Beauxbaton were coming, they’d never hear it. Then again, they didn’t exactly know how they were arriving, perhaps it didn’t make any sound whatsoever. 

“I can’t wait to meet them! A whole other school – from a different country! Oh, and I’ve heard the champions will be sorted tonight!” Cedric threw one word after the other, excitement oozing off of his every syllable. 

“Just because you were right this time, it doesn’t mean the rumors are any better.” 

He turned toward her, his smile hopeful and terribly joyful. The starry night sky was reflected on his pupils, creating an angelic sight and further emphasizing his happiness. “Hey! You don’t know that. It has to be today, I can’t wait any longer.” That was… Anticipation…. True, wholehearted anticipation of which no one sane would have for an event who’d still likely take months to prepare. No, there was something else. 

Cedric Diggory was placing his name to be chosen. 

Her mouth hung agape, taking a sharp destabilizing breath. Surely, he knew of the danger? He couldn’t be really doing it? 

“Cedric-” She was interrupted by a loud chorus of ‘They’re here!’. She knew it too, from the depths of his irises a floating carriage could be seen over the horizon, growing larger and larger, yet she couldn’t bring herself to care at the moment. 

Cedric took her hand in his, she felt it enveloping her own in a careful embrace before her arm was moved to point toward the carriage - he thought she hadn’t seen it. 

“There!” He pointed out, smile as gleeful as the moment before, wholly unaware of the turmoil passing through her brain. Of course he’d do it. Cedric had been stressing about winning the Quidditch Cup last year due to his captaincy, yet it was taken from the Gryffindors… He wanted some other way to prove his house was equal to the others. 

Slightly disoriented, she glanced to the night sky, by the time she’d followed his gaze the carriage was already landing. Ten Abraxans with wingspans so groomed no feather came down led the giant carriage, trotting a few dozen meters before they halted at the ground. A scrawny blonde boy left the carriage, placing a red carpet over the stairs and bowing down immediately.

What if Cedric became the champion? Her mind whirled with the newfound information, stealing glances to the man beside her whilst attempting to keep her cool.

Out from the carriage came a woman twice the usual size, her luscious blonde hair floated behind her and her silvery dress sparkled beneath the moonlight. Any other day, it might’ve actually been a pretty sight. 

“ ‘Eadmaster Dumbledore! Pleased to see you, ‘as Karkaroff arrived yet?” The woman asked, her voice reaching all ears despite not being amplified by sound. Although, nonetheless, it seemed rather poised and elegant. 

“As am I, Maxime. I’m afraid Karkaroff’s ship is not yet here.” Dumbledore’s lower voice reached her. 

After the Headmaster left, about a dozen students exited the carriage, standing side-by-side next to her. Her gaze was momentarily stuck to a blonde woman, her hair waving behind her with the wind, as though the very elements revered her. Veela blood. Sighing, she turned to look at Cedric. Strangely, though, his gaze wasn’t stuck to the Veela, it was staring curiously at her. Huh. Was she wrong? No. There were at least a dozen men attempting to climb down the stands to get closer to the woman. 

Shaking the thought away, she started to ask again. “Cedric, are you going to try to compete?” She asked, attempting to sound as if it was a throwaway comment.

It wasn’t, though. When Cedric’s grin widened and a spark of pride welled within his eyes her own soul felt shattered into tiny pieces. “Of course! I don’t know how to explain it- I’m nervous, you know? But I’m excited to be able to represent Hufflepuff (and Hogwarts) in case I get picked.” She was rendered speechless, unsure how to respond to his glee when she couldn’t help but think of the terrors that lay ahead. “Are you?” He asked, cocking his head to the side with the same enthusiasm.

“Uhm- no… Dumbledore said it was terribly dangerous…” She said tentatively, trying to discreetly poke him in the opposite direction he was heading. 

“Well, yes, but-” It was his turn to get interrupted, however, for she didn’t find out what his objection was before a chant of ‘ON THE OCEAN!’ began. Durmstrang’s ship was massive, its wooden boards repelling the water around it ever so slightly to where they seemed to be floating. Their logo was displayed high on the mast, creating a sense of school pride. As it neared, people got closer and closer to the railings, attempting to get a better view of its students – and, of course, of the aforementioned Veela. 

“Anchors!” A loud but hoarse voice bellowed from the ship and two figures moved quickly and efficiently, untying them and throwing them in the water. At once, they left the confines of the black lake and marched toward the stadium in an organized single file line.

“VIKTOR KRUM!” She heard the stadium erupt around her, entranced just the same as they were with the beauxbaton student. The Quidditch star was leading the Durmstrang lot, right before who she assumed to be their Headmaster. 

“Karkaroff.” Dumbledore bowed as he approached, followed by an “Enchanted.” From Maxime.

“Now that their entrance is done, I ask that everyone head toward the Great Hall where I shall instruct all on how to place the name in the tournament. It is my wish, of course, that the three schools get along nicely – to mingle, one might say.” Dumbledore said.

An amused smile poked at the corner of her lips at hearing him say mingle. 

“Come on.” Cedric ushered, yet he remained calmly awaiting her, standing up and offering his hand for her to do the same. 

Softening her smile, she took his hand, getting up just a bit more slowly than was necessary. “Let’s go.” She agreed, walking just a bit upfront as Cedric insisted on shielding her from the trampling crowd.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

That night she’d barely got any sleep, tossing and turning due to the everpresent image of Cedric’s challenges if he got picked. Damn it, of course he’d be picked! Who else in that stupid school could one over the man who was a prefect, captain, and constantly on the top students of his year? He was doomed. The tournament was never meant to be in the contestant’s favor – it was supposed to appease the audience and unite the schools. Then again, it likely was in their best interests not to have a death in the reinauguration of the event. The lull of sleep wasn’t easy, it came in desperation around 4AM when her body fully shut down, deciding it wouldn’t be able to get up the next day if she decided not to rest. 

Just as sharply as she fell asleep, she woke up. Although she couldn’t remember her dreams, blocked by her own brain in an attempt to keep her calm, she woke up in a panic, gaze traveling around her room as if searching for some invisible threat. 

Salazar.

She plopped back into the mattress, having sat up straight in her panicked haze. Closing her eyes, she tried to fall back into the claws of sleep but it was impossible, her heart was racing and she felt her hands beginning to shake from what must’ve been remnants of adrenaline. 

Blinking herself awake, she rolled out of bed, staring at herself in the mirror. Her pupils were blown wide, her irises barely poking through the endless black. She exhaled deeply, moving toward her wardrobe and starting to slip on her uniform. 

“What happened…?” She muttered bemusedly, wrapping her scarf around her neck. The wardrobe door’s mirror stared back at her, chest heaving and mouth open trying to pump oxygen back into her lungs. She’d had nightmares before, sure, but it’d been years since she woke up so distressed. 

“It’s fine.” She reassured, slightly poking at her hair to make sure it was proper before she walked out of her dorm. “It was nothing, just head to breakfast.” 

Digging her hands into the soft fabric of her scarf, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, calming herself. Slowly, her heartbeat started to slow, matching the rhythm of her breathing as she walked out of the dorm and away from the common room. The place was mostly deserted – it usually was due to her early wake-up schedule. Plus, she must’ve been even earlier than usual given she wasn’t woken up by her alarm clock.

The dungeons were cold as usual, wrapping around her in an attempt to lure her back to her bed or, perhaps, simply annoy her just a bit further to snap at an unwilling passerby. Thankfully, however, she did neither. Though that couldn’t be much attributed to her given she’d found no one, she’d like to think that she was better than that. 

The Great Hall doors were already open once she got there, which she found a tad strange given she was almost certain there was at least an hour minutes until breakfast started. Still, she walked through the doors into the hall to find the bright blue light of the Goblet of Fire in the midst of the room. 

She could hear whispered chatter around her as she drew nearer, finding a few Durmstrang students huddled in a corner. There was another student there, too – a Hogwarts student. He was staring straight at the warm fire, a tiny paper in his hand and soft brown locks reflecting the lightest blue. 

Cedric.

Her heart plummeted.

Why did she have to be right?

Almost instinctively, she walked closer toward him. The warmth enveloped her as she neared, stopping only when she could see the minute movements of the fire reflected in his hair. “Too weak to throw in a bit of paper?” She quipped, yet her tone was affectionate and her pupils were locked to the side of his face, trying to judge his expressions. Cedric sighed, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth whilst his gaze was stuck to the firelight. She was sure that, by now, he’d forever see the ingrained blue of it if he closed his eyelids. “I don’t know…” He breathed out, one palm extending and stopping just short of the Goblet. “I want to but what if I fail? If I’m picked everything goes terribly?” He hesitated, concern plaguing his usually gentle and confident features. 

Maybe she could stop it…

Her mind selfishly whispered like an echoed hiss. That was what had her worried, was it not? Having Cedric compete in a tournament she knew was surely dangerous? This would be the perfect moment to dissuade him, to appease the hushed voice in her brain telling her that he would be safer, be better… And yet, her stomach lurched uncomfortably at the very thought of doing so – because she knew, too, that he'd be terribly regretful of not trying to make Hufflepuff proud. She heaved a heavy sigh, deciding that the thought of his saddened face was too much to bear. Her hand touched his own, giving it one firm squeeze. “Then you’ll know that you at least tried.” Her thumb circled his skin, pressing down gently. “But I trust you. I doubt it’ll go terribly – you’re one of the best wizards I’ve met.” She spoke soothingly, waiting for him to acknowledge her words.

Finally, he turned toward her, eyes swirling with doubt and anxiety. Cedric’s pupils dilated ever so slightly upon seeing her – someone who’d once have thought him to be nothing more than useless, but now spoke with deep respect. She saw as his gaze lowered, finding its home in her lips for a mere second… Nevertheless, enough to pump blood into her veins due to a racing heart. 

“Thank you…” He said softly, squeezing her hand back. Hesitantly, she let go of his hand, a creeping feeling of emptiness left in the wake of his warmth. “Alright…” Cedric took a deep breath. “Wish me luck.” His hand stretched out toward the fire, dropping the piece of paper into the fiery cup. She could barely make out the words ‘Cedric Diggory - Hogwarts’ before it was engulfed by the flames and dissolved into ash. 

“You’ll be picked.” She said with certainty, staring at the endless fire and its hypnotic pattern. The small hint of grey smoke could still be seen where Cedric’s paper had just been, a tiny reminder of her choice. There was no doubt in her mind that Cedric would be the champion. She just hoped it was the right decision for him to be so…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The sharp smell of a dozen different pumpkins wafted through the air and passed through her lungs. It was Halloween. 

Hagrid’s pumpkin had grown to twice the usual size this year, about quadruple the size of a normal human with its eerie and dim lights. Her gaze traveled throughout the hall – through the Slytherin table, where the Durmstrang students resided, through the Ravenclaws, where the Beauxbatons made themselves at home and finally to the Staff table, where Ludo Bagman and Bartemius Crouch were sitting. 

She bumped into Cedric slightly, shifting her and his attention to the Goblet of Fire – It had been relocated away from the center of the room and right ahead of the Headmaster. Its flames poking with a vibrant red. “It’ll choose you. I’m certain.” She said with conviction as they halted right outside the Great Hall doors, unsure if they should yet part paths. 

“Thank you.” He breathed out, gaze still stuck to the inanimate object. “But I’m afraid my fate’s in the hands of a flaming cup.” He attempted to joke yet she noticed a slight tremble to his words. 

Stepping forward so that he’d look at her, she rolled her eyes dramatically. “I’d like to think that I’m more intelligent than a stupid cup, you will get chosen.” She affirmed. 

A small crevice formed on his cheek as he rolled it back inside his mouth, chewing on the soft flesh. Unconsciously, his eyes trailed back to the haunting object, its flames seemed to almost mock him, flicking back and forth away from his gaze. “Hey!” She snapped indignantly, raising her arms to block his view from the Goblet and get his attention back toward her. 

“I’m sorry!” He replied slightly abashedly, scratching the back of his neck and staring at her. It was rather difficult not to contemplate the fire when the entire course of his next year rested with it. It’d already been announced that Quidditch would be discontinued due to the tournament – so it was doubly important that he get chosen, otherwise it would be one less shot at getting a trophy for his house. 

She knew that. Cedric’s eyes squinted ever so slightly when he was deep-in-thought. That, and his gaze was once again veering away from her, now concentrating on the polished marble tiles. It didn’t quite matter that she knew, though, when she could do nothing about it! It was infuriating to feel her pulse quickening with worry – both for the future ahead and Cedric’s current state – when anything she thought to do would be futile. 

Salazar, it would’ve been quite easier to merely ignore her empathy for him. To attempt a stoic expression and pretend the last year of their friendship meant nothing to her, as she’d done countless times before. But she didn’t want to. Sacrificing her peace to help him felt good. 

A soft sigh escaped her, not one of annoyance or exhaustion but one of sympathy. A short, tentative sigh that mirrored her own concern with his own. “Don’t apologize. We’re friends, alright? I’m here to help.” Her voice was low, trying to convey calmness through tone and gesture alone. Gently, her hands enveloped his own, placing pressure on it as a token of care.

Slipping away from the embrace, his hand wrapped around her own, tracing circles in her palm as if he needed to ground her just as much as himself. “It’ll be fine.” He attempted, finally locking eyes with her. She swore his eyes were a neverending pit – yet one she’d love to be surrounded by, submersed in the sheer warm infinity of it. 

“I believe the Goblet will be ready to choose the champions in a minute. Each champion should go past the hallway behind the Staff table, where they will receive further instructions…” Dumbledore’s calm and amplified voice reverberated around them as he got up from his seat. “Oh, and do take your seats.” He said, a slight hint of amusement poking through his speech as he once again sat down and the Great Hall fell to darkness, lit only by the giant pumpkins.

She blinked, embarrassment seeping in slightly at being called out. “Well- we should go.” Cedric chuckled. It was barely possible to see his outline in the dark, much less the faint trace of his smile – she did try, though, quite a lot. A hum was the only agreement she managed to get out, concentrating on trying to see his figure better in the warm, beautiful candlelight. His smile brightened – the most perfect crinkle of his cheeks and poke of his dimples showing itself like a tiny treasure. She would’ve missed it, had it not been for the fact that Cedric had gotten closer to her in the, a single step taking him inches away from her. 

His breath hit against her forehead, taking with it her ability to think rationally. Her mouth hung slightly agape, his body heat was tantalizingly close and she had the overwhelming urge to get closer. 

She didn’t, though, as her senses were clouded by a slow, affectionate kiss being placed on her forehead. Vision slightly blurred and rationale thrown out the window, she took one step closer toward him, yearning to feel it again. 

“Let’s go to our tables.” Cedric said, a ghost of a smile still present on his lips as he irritatingly turned his back and walked away. 

Letting go of a much-contained breath, she instantly walked toward the Slytherin table, pretending to have dignity she’d been left without. 

The instant she sat, Dumbledore stood up again, as if he’d been waiting for exactly that cue. Scrunching her nose, she nevertheless waited for the speech, slightly troubled that he might have somehow been watching them. “It is time.” He announced. 

The Goblet turned from a slight bit of red poking through to full blown scarlet. Ashes could be seen being reintegrated into a whole before a tongue of pure fire shot out and with it a charred paper. Calmly, as if it were the most mundane experience of his life, the Headmaster picked it up. 

“The Durmstrang Champion will be Viktor Krum.” The hall exploded in roaring applause from all around, muffled slaps could be heard and Krum’s friends pushed him forward and clapped him on the back. 

“That was expected!” A gryffindor student could be heard yelling or, rather, squealing. 

“The Beauxbaton Champion will be Fleur Delacour.” Dumbledore continued as yet another paper shot out with vigor. By contrast, very few celebrated the French woman, some Beauxbaton students sobbing due to their own failings. It would be up to her to prove them wrong, she supposed. 

“The Hogwarts Champion will be…” She took in a breath, clutching her fists under the table. “Cedric Diggory!” 

The Hufflepuff table screamed, voices raised to the point of breaking – somehow, they managed to surpass Krum’s entourage by sheer force of will. Of course, she wasn’t far behind, voice blending with the others in an endless cheer.

“I DID IT!”  Cedric’s loud bellow could barely be heard through the crowd, but she knew it was for her. His wide grin was the last thing she saw before he walked through to the next chamber. 

“I SAID THAT YOU WOULD!” She shouted back, an incredibly proud and joyful smile finding its home in her face, too.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Three tasks, huh?” She asked for the fourth time that day. It was nauseating being pulled between dread for the future to come and pride for Cedric’s achievement – how could she remember something in such a midst? 

“Exactly, and each task is supposed to be tougher than the last.” He re-explained, sounding caught in a similar dichotomy – wonder and fear. “But Dumbledore said the First Task will be a secret.” He continued, shifting his balance slightly so that he could stare into her eyes. 

The blades of grass prickled her as she moved to sit cross-legged, angling toward him, too. “Maybe they’ll explain it later, so that you won’t have as much time to prepare.” She offered, though she was barely sure she could trust her words at the moment, each second contributing to her dizziness. 

Leaning back, she found strength in the ancient tree they’d sat beside. Its bark was rough, likely damaging the expensive cloth her parents bought for her, but it sharpened her drowsy senses. She wanted to help him someway, to plan and theorize yet her mind wouldn’t let her – it felt heavy. 

“Maybe.” Cedric agreed, though slightly skeptically. 

Her eyes slowly closed, feeling a headache starting to form and throb against her skull. Breathing out a sigh, she found comfort in the soft breeze brushing against her skin and the stable bark behind her. 

“I’m worried about Potter, though.” He continued gloomily, pulling out bits of grass and rolling them around in his fingers. 

“Why?” She opened one eye, and raised an eyebrow quizzically. Surely, he wasn’t protective over the boy who managed to sneak past Dumbledore’s defenses to compete in the tournament? The Gryffindor was idiotic in his heroism but idiocy wasn’t something to be worth troubling over. “He didn’t put his name in.” His tone oozed conviction. Perhaps the most confidence he’d had the entire time they’d been talking. That, however, didn’t help. The corner of her lips curled in disbelief – Harry Potter was no saint, he’d been caught more than once going against curfew, against direct orders by staff, and endangering himself due to his perceived dangers inside the castle. It would be perfectly on brand for him to ignore the rules, as he was known to do, and join a competition that would be deemed heroic and grant fame to Gryffindor house. 

She opened her mouth, ready to disagree, but closed it back. She trusted him. Cedric shared something that seemed to be troubling him, it wouldn’t be fair to argue back-and-forth due to her own notions surrounding Potter. “How do you know?” She questioned, expression relaxing even as her tone stayed the same. She was listening, that was what mattered.

His face contorted, eyes veering away for a couple of seconds as if the memories were floating just a tad beside her, just within reach. “He just-” Cedric shifted his balance once more, placing one leg under the other. “He just looked confused. Incredibly confused. He stood there, in the middle of the three other champions, Dumbledore, Bagman, Crouch, Maxime and Karkaroff and he said it with his chest that he didn’t place his name in.” He shook his head, willing the memory away. 

“Harry’s fourteen! I doubt he’d be able to lie like that, especially with how much Karkaroff and Maxime were fuming.” He finished, placing his hands behind him and changing his view toward the sky. 

Her gaze followed his, busying herself with observing the tiniest movement of the clouds. “How could he have gotten in, then?” It couldn’t have been placed by anyone under seventeen and she knew very few over-age wizards who had it out for Harry Potter. He was the renowned savior of wizardkind – or, at the very least, England – afterall. 

“I’m not sure, but trouble always seems to find him, doesn’t it?” He furrowed his eyebrows and pursed his lips, concerned. 

Well, she’d describe it more as him finding trouble and not the contrary but it wouldn’t be the first time Cedric convinced her otherwise. “Yeah.” She hummed in agreement, not grasping at her beliefs as she’d once have done. 

“I’ll try to help where I can.” Cedric threw to the wind. 

Had it been anyone else, they’d have let Potter rot. Abandoned to his own wit to, likely, fail or die in the First Task. Really, what was a single, stupid boy in the face of a thousand galleons? In the face of pride for their own school? As Cedric said it, however, she placed her full faith in him. Cedric never was one for pride – he fought not for himself but for his friends and family. For their pride. Not his own. 

Really, she wondered how he could handle juggling his responsibilities, especially when he tended to downplay his own accomplishments. “I know.” She affirmed. 

Her cloth scratched against the bark as she slid sideways down the tree. Eyes not leaving the plush clouds, she rested her head against Cedric’s shoulder. “I’ll try to help you.” She emphasized, eyes closing as her head slid the tiniest bit closer to his chest – listening to the gentle beat of his heart. She heard only the faint chirping of birds at the Forbidden Forest, singing a melodic tune that could barely compare to Cedric’s slightly jagged breaths. Their silence spoke more than a thousand rhymes. 

It didn’t take long for him to rest his head atop hers, both stood in a beautiful and timeless hush. 

‘I love you’ The nagging words echoed inside her brain. 

It was true. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Dragonology: Habits and Habitats.

The leather-bound book was laid open atop the dingy library table, the paper was yellowed and dust-filled – it hadn’t seen the light of day in quite some time. Strange, given Dragons were quite revered and well-liked in the Wizarding World, but most young wizards and witches wouldn’t stray off topic, and no class explored them in depth. 

That didn’t stop her from being in this empty room, skimming through pages about the Swedish Short Snout and attempting to decipher the words that were worn out through time. 

The Swedish Short Snout is known for its unique fire-breathing method – they don’t usually breathe through their mouth, although it nonetheless poses danger – their nostrils emit an icy-blue fire believed to be one of the hottest ever recorded, turning organic matter to ash in a matter of instants. 

She let out a deep breath through her mouth, unease settling deep within her chest. “You’re sure the First Task will be facing off a dragon?” 

“More or less.” Cedric replied, flipping toward the next dragon breed – Chinese Fireball.  “We’re supposed to retrieve a golden egg it's guarding. I don’t think we should hurt it, or any other eggs for that matter.” It was Saturday, a Hogsmeade weekend, in fact. Yet they had been reading Draconic lore for three hours at the very least. There was little more than two weeks until the start of the tournament, afterall – they couldn’t spare any time when Dragons were what Cedric would be facing off against. 

“A nesting mother is thrice – perhaps more – as territorial. How can they want you to pass through without injuring her?” She stressed, opening a copy of Advanced Technique on Defensive Spells. 

“I’m not really sure, but I wouldn’t want to hurt her either way.” He said with the utmost sincerity. Annoying, really. To have a stupid moral code to abide by – very troubling, if she were to offer her own two cents. Then again, she couldn’t much yap about her opinions when her heart did a little leap of admiration. 

“Better days when we thought it was only a fire show, huh?” She joked, a low laugh escaping her.

The smile reached Cedric’s face before the chuckle bubbled in his chest, glee poking through the concentration behind his eyes. “A little bit more thrilling, though?” His tongue stuck out the tiniest bit through his teeth, trying to contain his rather silly smile from the dumb joke. 

“I suppose.” She shook her head amusedly. “I thought you would be the one helping, anyway? What happened?” 

Cedric scrunched his nose, as though he didn’t quite understand it either. “He thought it was only fair, I think? Harry said that Krum and Delacour already knew it, so he didn’t want me to be at a disadvantage. Still, he wouldn’t tell me how he found out.” 

Potter was competing in a game that was skewed against him, of which the Champions likely hated him for breaking tradition. It was odd that he’d try to play fair in an unbalanced game, but she wouldn’t be the one to complain. “You don’t think he’s lying?” She prodded, dropping her hold from the Charms book and fixing him with an unwavering gaze.

“No.” He responded immediately, grey orbs matching the fire she bore. “Ever since he got into the school he’s been getting hate but he usually has his mind in the right spot. I trust him.” 

“Don’t you?” Cedric questioned, shutting down his own book with a loud thump. 

Although she didn’t answer, the squinting of her eyes told everything he needed to know. Then again, it shouldn’t come as a shock when she’d always been distrusting of the school’s ‘Golden Trio.’. They always managed to get themselves into a mess, aggravate problems for everyone – especially the Ministry of Magic – then come out in a heroic fashion with shiny Gryffindor points. A small frown formed on his face, yet it was quickly covered up by a soft and understanding expression. “I don’t blame you. More than half the school thinks he’s gone a bit mad, I just wish they’d stop distributing those disgusting pins.” 

Of course, Cedric would never get behind Potter’s smear campaign. Support Cedric – Potter Stinks badges were distributed to half the school by now. And, similarly obviously, it could be traced back to the Malfoy’s – Draco. 

“Just trust me, help me learn more about Dragons and some way to get through the task, then you’ll see he’s alright.” She nodded, gaze turning back to the book – the pages had already turned away from the spells she was looking at and toward a different section entirely. “I can do that.” 

Her mind slipped back into study-mode, fingers clutching the pages and attempting to find where she’d left off. 

Expelliarmus and Impendimenta were the last ones she’d seen, she was quite sure. The page was halfway closed as she worked to find herself in the giant literature when her hand stopped. “Wait!” 

Eyes widened, she turned to Cedric to find a cheerful expression taking home in his face. “That’s it!” His grip on her wrist softened as he guided her back to the page she was attempting to leave. 

Transfiguration and its use in Strategic Distraction. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The stadium was more crowded than it was for generations. Each seat and more was taken by students struggling to fit into an overly eager mob. Students who were renowned for their nonchalant attitude toward Quidditch were cheering at the top of their lungs. Houses were more united than ever before, standing together yelling for a single man rather than opposite teams. 

The First Task was about to begin.

The gigantic beast in the middle of the stadium opened its wings – A Swedish Short Snout. The dragon’s movement threw a few students off balance due to its sheer size commanding the surrounding wind. 

“The first contender is…” Ludo Bagman would be the commentator for the challenge, his voice amplified tenfold to reach each of the audience. He was sat atop a high floating chair right above the contestants’ entrance. “Cedric Diggory!” The entire school erupted in shouts of support, a circular show of students standing and raising pumping their fists high into the air.

Just beside Ludo Bagman, the judges pulled out notebooks and placed them atop their lap, each one holding an equally fancy quill to score Diggory. She got up on the concrete seat so she’d be able to see Cedric over the crowd, he had just entered. His robes were Hufflepuff yellow but the crest imbued within it was Hogwarts’ – She’d seen it just moments prior. 

“GO CEDRIC!” She shouted over the ruckus, certain he wouldn’t be able to hear her but satisfied that she’d said it just the same. 

.

.

.

“You’ll do great out there. Breathe, remember what we practiced, and get out of there with five 10’s.” 

Cedric might not have heard her shout for him, but the instant he stepped foot into that arena her encouraging words were replayed inside his mind. The sand – used to cushion falls during quidditch – dispersed beneath his feet easily. His eyes met with the Dragon’s silvery blue, it – her, the mother – opened her maw to display blade-sharp teeth and a rumbling roar. 

“You’ll do great out there.”

He exhaled one, calming, breath and raised his wand up high just in view of the enormous creature – taunting it. In an instant, he lowered the wooden object and pointed it right below the dragon’s head. He didn’t need to say anything, he’d mastered the charm nonverbally – it would be more useful if the beast had little to no warning. 

A large rock rested just below it squeezed and twirled around itself, the mold traces turning into black fuzz – then fur. In the place of two small slits on the stone appeared two brown eyes – a dog. 

The Labrador was twice the size of an usual one, its bark resounded twentyfold. The beast snapped its gaze toward the dog, it was far too close to her eggs. “That’s it…” He muttered, seeing the distraction work as intended. 

The barked another booming sound and advanced on the eggs, the mother couldn’t resist. Her nostrils flared with blue flame as she snapped toward the creature and attempted to stomp it in its path. 

“Ascendio!” Cedric shouted. Instantly, the black animal soared into the sky, just before it managed to bite one of the dragon’s eggs. It had been enough to provoke it, however, the mother opened the full of her wingspan, sending students practically soaring themselves. As the dog and Dragon played a game of chase, Cedric bolted toward the shiny egg. Its glitter could be seen even from hundreds of meters away – he ran like his life depended on it, and it very well could. 

Dust rose to the air with each step on his sprint, his ears were starting to hurt due to being this close to the Dragon’s roar, but he pushed forward. Cedric’s pants scratched against the nest as he quickly grabbed the Golden Egg, the same moment pushing himself upright to run away.

He’d done it!

“You’ll do great out there.”

His worried, widened eyes shifted to a soft remembrance as he scanned the crowd, trying to find the familiar face he’d grown to love. There were hundreds of students, he’d take hours to find a single face among the many. But he wanted to… He wanted to celebrate with her. 

“CEDRIC, WATCH OUT!” Somehow, he heard the single shout among a hundred Ooo’s. His eyes snapped toward the source, grinning widely at the face he’d been searching for – he barely realized the content of her words.

 Then he felt it, burning hot fire striking the side of his face and boiling his skin alive. He felt and heard an agonizing pop of exploding flesh before he darted away from the Dragon. The fire followed him, the dragon’s jaw snapping shut inches before it could break him in half.

“SHUT THE CAGE!”  

.

.

.

Metal barriers fell atop the dragon the moment the words were uttered, its fire shot still for minutes turning the iron blue-hot and almost melting. That didn’t matter to her, she didn’t care about the dragon tamers or their issues with the beast – she cared about Cedric. About the agony she’d seen in his eyes and the instant peeling of his skin 

Most of the crowd parted for her and those foolish enough not to do so were bumped into, thrown to the side, or levitated away. Her vision was blurry, becoming a small circle of blackened and nauseous sight. Her own feet wobbled as she ran but she pushed past it, jumping off of the stands and crossing the threshold to the Champion’s hut. The path for non-participants was from behind, but in her panic she fell through the middle of the stadium and burst through the room, tripping over her own feet and scraping her knee against the cold, tiled floor. Amidst the adrenaline, she didn’t even register the pain, pushing herself back upright and frantically scanning the room for the familiar head of brown hair. “Oh, Merlin, boy you’ve got to be more careful!” Pomfrey’s worried voice reached her from her left. 

There he was. Her feet guided her before her mind caught up, it didn’t take seconds before she was standing at the foot of his bed whilst Pomfrey applied a green viscous ointment to Cedric’s charred part of his face. “Drink this and it should heal within the next hour.” The mediwitch gave a blue translucid mixture which Cedric drank in one large gulp.

He winced in clear discontentment with the taste then winced harder at having moved the still-hurting burn. “Hey-” Cedric tried to talk, but hissed in pain. “Sorry, uh–” He furrowed his eyebrows sheepishly. “Hi…” 

Slowly, her heartbeat started to get into semi-normal range. At the very least, her vision was whole again. “Merlin, Cedric. Are you alright? Can I help.” She took a step forward, standing right beside him. She felt the urge to hold his hand, or arm, but stopped mid-way. “It’s okay, I’ll manage…” He trailed off, seeming slightly odd. Then again, he’d just been hit by dragon-fire, she couldn’t exactly expect him to be picture perfect. “Uh–” Alright that was a bit strange, Cedric didn’t usually use too many filler words. “Didn’t you notice anything?” She raised an eyebrow, confused. As far as she’d noticed there wasn’t anything wrong with him – bar the obvious burn marks. Shifting her gaze away from him, she studied a golden mirror on the wall, built with delicate rose details, then the mediwitch picture beside it – bearing an unwavering stare at Cedric… Finally, she found the antique wooden nightstand. It was white and old enough to where the wood was slightly poking out at places – what mattered, though, was that atop it was a beautiful bouquet of cornflowers and dahlias. 

Her gaze turned wistful, staring a bit too long at the object. It was a while before she dropped her gaze unto her feet and back up to Cedric’s grey orbs. “Someone stopped by?” She asked with a steely tone. 

Cedric’s own gaze softened, his lips curling into the sweetest most genuine smile – it wasn’t big enough to where his dimples appeared, that would have hurt too much, but it was the widest smile he could manage. “It’s for you.” He slowly got up, contorting his face in pain but pushing through – quite against Pomfrey’s recommendations – until he was face-to-face with her. “I wanted to ask you  if you’d go on a date with me, you know, after I dealt with a dragon and all?” He balanced his weight on one hand, the other he extended out palms-up. “Seems I’ve made quite a fool of myself, though.” He chuckled, then coughed out a puff of black smoke. 

It was hers. The arrangement, the soft tones of blue and pink were meant for her eyes only. Some loved grandeur in the display of affection, she quite enjoyed the delicate moment that Cedric had crafted – it was romantic and honeyed, just like him. Not that she didn’t believe him to be Grandeur, she just enjoyed the softness of the start. 

Well, she hadn’t accepted yet. Her hand closed around the bouquet, bringing it up to her nose and smelling the fresh earthy scent mixed with the sweetness of the Dahlias. She’d be lying to herself if she thought she wouldn’t, though. “You didn’t look like a fool. You got the egg even after being attacked – most people would just quit.”

She took in another breath of the flowers, a smile settling on her face – one that wouldn’t leave so soon. “Thank you.” She almost whispered, her pupils dilated as she maintained eye contact with him – happy. 

“I’d give you a thousand more.” He grinned, equally happy to see the joy in her face. 

The laugh that escaped her was like a perfect harmony to him, and the instinctive closing of her eyes felt like the only art he’d ever need. “I know you would.” She bit down on her lower lip, failing to contain her smile. 

She reached out, closing her hand around his outstretched one. 

“Is that a yes?” He asked, eyes lowering to their now intertwined fingers. 

“Of course.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Cedric had owed her a Hogsmeade weekend – given that the last one they spent well into the night studying different dragon breeds. 

It wasn’t any surprise, then, that Cedric was standing outside the entrance hall with a white dress shirt, formal black trousers and a buttoned brown vest. Oh, and holding an equally beautiful bouquet to the one she’d been entranced by just a couple days prior. Her cheeks warmed slightly – it was a bit off-putting to have someone waiting so eagerly for your arrival – but she walked toward him and took the bouquet into her hands. 

“Thank you.” She said, a bit louder than their previous encounter. 

“Nine hundred and ninety nine more to go.” He joked, placing his hand at her upper back, guiding them toward the thestral-led carriages. 

She rolled her eyes at him but smiled all the same. As cheesy as it was, she’d love to receive the thousand bouquets. “Any plans for the date?” 

“A few ideas, actually. I wanted to make sure it was perfect for you.” His smile was lopsided – abashed. “Theres a potion shop in Hogsmeade – I know you love potions class so I reserved it for a couple of minutes, we can see new ingredients and recipes… I thought you'd like it…” He trailed off for a moment, then started again in the same breath “But that's not all! I talked with Madam Rosmerta and got us those comfortable cushioned seats in the Three Broomsticks.” They stopped just short of an incoming carriage, Cedric slowing it down with his wand until it stopped right in front of her. “And I… I thought we could stop by the florist shop. Maybe recommend some flowers other than Dahlias and Cornflowers? I don't want you to get bored of them in the thousandth time, after all.”

She stepped into the carriage, sitting down as Cedric stepped into it, too. As soon as they were both seated the vehicle started to move, although it seemed rather strange to have a horseless carriage, Thestrals were merely invisible. “I'd love it… All of it.” She said softly. 

“Great! I'm glad! That you liked the ideas, I mean–” He coughed, face flushing the tiniest bit. “We should have enough time, just won't be able to drink as much butterbeer – or firewhisky.” 

“Trying to get me drunk already?” She laughed.

“What? No-” He stopped himself, grinning mischievously. “Well, unless you want to, of course.” He teased. 

“Buzz off!” She joke-bumped him.

“I said unless you want to!” Cedric raised his arms in defense, mock-throwing his non-existent weapon away. 

The Hogwarts-division archway was now long behind them, the carriage was roaming around natural environment through a dirt path. The road was bumpy, throwing them against each other every once in a while. The forests that surrounded were beautiful, a deep, saturated green with soft white flowers that swayed with the wind. Neither of them noticed much, though, stuck to each other's gaze.

“Did you figure out the clue yet? The egg, I mean.” She asked.

The carriage halted just before the Hogsmeade bridge. The stone pathway wasn't enough for the transport, nor did the Thestral like to go through the confined arch. 

“Not yet. As soon as I turn it on it screeches and I have to turn it back.” He stepped down first, offering his hand to help her get down. “Thats all I'll say, though. You're here to have fun and I'd love a second date – I don't want you to worry about the tournament.”

She held his hand for support, stepping down. “Who says I don't like talking about your heroic feats as Hogwarts champion?” She cocked her head to the side, feigning confusion even as her words were clearly exaggerated and teasing. “Then we'll have a great time deciphering the clue after we're done with the date.” Cedric clicked his tongue and chuckled, walking side-by-side with her into Hogsmeade. “Potions first?” He asked, head angling to his right, checking the path to J. Pippin's shop. 

She nodded, turning right to follow the cobbled path. Pippins was the only potions shop in Hogsmeade – she'd visited it plenty of times. Albeit, she never had the shop wholly to herself. Much less expected someone to rent it out for her. 

“Did you pay for a booth in the Three Broomsticks?” She asked suddenly.

Cedric glanced at her with bemusement. “I tried to, but no. Rosmerta wouldn't take it… Why?”

“I was wondering if, instead of very brashly getting me drunk, we could do something you liked? I know you like studying magical creatures… Let's stop at Brood and Peck and we can check the animals for a bit.” She suggested. 

“But-” He protested, even as they arrived at the shop and he easily held the door open for her. 

“Ah!” She interjected, walking through the door. “No buts.” Weird… She didn't feel the tiniest feelings of remorse at giving rather than receiving. Well, she was being treated quite well but Narcissa had always told her to take all a man provides – to know her value and let him prove his. It was the first date, she could let him give and give, yet it felt good to believe he'd be getting something, too. 

“Fine.” He replied, dramatically sighing in a ridiculous act of defiance.

The door shut behind the both of them with a ‘Ding!’ “Welcome to Pippin’s Potion Wares, how may-” The elderly man, who was cleaning a vial of a translucid liquid, stopped in his tracks as his eyes landed on the duo. “Diggory! Hogwarts’ famous champion. I’ll close the shop right away!” He walked hastily toward a shelf, grabbing a grey wand and locking the door. Garry Pippin spoke with the enthusiasm of someone who had been paid very well for his time.

“Is there anything new around? Not for me– she’s the one you want to impress” He chuckled, softly tapping her between her shoulder blades.

“Ah-” Pippin’s smile dropped the tiniest bit. “Malfoy… Your family does know quite a lot about the subject.” He hummed.

“For generations.” She confirmed. “It’s something we’re proud of.” The tone with which she spoke to him was much more reserved and tight-lipped. 

“No matter!” Pippin clasped his hands together, walking away from the balcony and through the aisles. “Plenty of rare ingredients.” 

She walked behind him, gently touching vials on the way. “Those are Bursting Shrooms…” She avoided it, the red cap was hot enough to melt metal and it burst in large bubbles. “They’re used in explosive potions, mostly.” She added, smiling. From beside her, Cedric stared at her adoringly. “Really?” He asked, more as a means to keep her talking. “Yes, the stems don’t matter, though, only the cap.” She turned toward him as she explained, sparkles in her eyes. “And those-” she pointed behind him. “Are Chizpurfle carapaces, they’re used in most antidotes.” “Yes indeed, my girl.” Pippin interrupted, halting in the middle of an aisle. “And these-” He did a tiny spin. “Are the most precious of my collection.”

She let her gaze travel around the shelves, checking each product and its condition. “Unicorn hair… Dragon claw… Acromantula venom…” She mumbled – they were incredible in quality, not to mention the rarity of them all. 

“What do you want?” Cedric asked, seemingly entranced with the magical ingredients, too. Invisibility potions… 

“How much is the Acromantula venom?” She felt around her robe for the bag of galleons – there should be enough for it on there. As for Unicorn hair – the other option – she wasn’t quite sure, they were terribly elusive creatures. 

“100 galleons” Pippin grinned ear-to-ear, grabbing the neon-green vial before she even confirmed her intention to buy it. “I’ll put it in a leather container for you – quite elegant!” He walked toward the back. She shook her head but did nothing of it – she was planning to buy it, anyway. “Don’t.” Cedric placed his hand atop hers, pushing the dragonskin money-bag back toward her robes. “I’ll pay.” He affirmed. 

Silence befell her for a single beat – it was rather customary for pureblood… Slytherin pureblood families to buy expensive gifts for women on the first date, but she was quite sure the Diggories didn’t have the same amount of galleons as the high families. “No.” She decided, attempting to pull out her bag yet again. 

“Yes.” He insisted, battling against her. 

“Here it is, my lady!” Pippin cheerfully arrived, he carried a small leather box – rich brown with bits of blue-pearly spikes, imbued with dragonhide. Clearly, he wanted to keep their business. “And here’s the money!” Cedric said quickly, handing his own – pre-prepared – bag of 100 galleons. 

Salazar be damned. He must’ve asked for the prices beforehand. 

“Oh, how wonderful!” His eyes glistened. “Do you see the hide? It's from an Antipodean Opaleye – beautiful, isn’t it? There’s more in stock, if you’d like!” He offered – rather, hoped. 

She remained quiet for a few more seconds, narrowed eyes glaring at Cedric – who bore a feign-confused look. “Not today.” She bit back, turning on her heels to walk toward the door. 

“Thank you.” She said right before she stepped out of the store. “The venom seems to be in perfect condition” She complimented, yet let the door creep shut. 

“Rude.” Cedric huffed, opening the door with the familiar ‘Ding!’ and stopping beside her. 

“I could’ve bought it.” She said simply. slowly turning the box over in her hand – the vial didn’t seem to be moving, it was likely strapped down inside the container. “Yes but I wouldn’t be very gentlemanly then, would I?” 

Her right eye twitched – annoyed. It wasn’t the sentiment she disagreed with, it was the fact that he wans’t… As fortunate as the Malfoys. She did at least know that. “It’s alright.” He softened his voice. “It’s not because of customs or anything – I just wanted to give you something you liked.” The door dinged once more behind her… Then again… It repeated in her mind infuriatingly enough for her to believe him. It shouldn’t even be a good defense – Malfoys thrived upon tradition. Still, she had broken quite a few norms over the last year. “Fine, I’ll just have to buy something for you – come on, we’ll get to The Three Broomsticks later.”

They’d spent quite a bit of time roaming Pippin’s – she hoped they’d spend just the same on Brood and Peck. Actually, she hoped they’d do this time and time again – to where time did not really matter.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Argh. Dumbledore always has been a very strange man – submerging it in water, though. Hmmpf, I hadn’t expected that for a clue – clever. Especially when it’s in the Black Lake” Mad-Eye said rather loudly, McGonagall’s heels clicking beside him. Perhaps his ear was failing him, too – he did cough and emphasize ‘The Black Lake’ and ‘Water’

Her back was pressed against a wall, hearing each word exchanged between the two even as they were walking toward her. She had no reason to fear, of course, as she had managed to put the Acromentula venom to use – an Invisibility potion.

“Certainly, Moody. Dumbledore is a rather clever man.” The two of them turned into the corridor she was hiding, Minerva’s cloak rustling beside her and Moody’s cane clicking just as her shoes had been.

“Hrrmh… Smartest there is, the world says.” Moody agreed. Slowly, their figures waned into the background until she was barely able to distinguish their figures in the darkness. 

Giving one final glance toward them, she walked away. Cedric was supposed to be patrolling this hallway – that was why she’d taken the invisibility potion, in fact. It wasn’t her turn to patrol – and she quite wanted to meet him. A little curfew-breaking, as they’d done once before to study Arithmancy.

Cedric’s steps could be heard not too far from her. She quickened her pace, starting to make noise of her own, but she doubted anyone would find footsteps odd when there were so many prefects out every night. 

“Cedric!” She whisper-yelled, finally seeing him around the corner. His relaxed posture turned slightly alert, looking around at a talking nothingness. 

“It’s me.” She stopped next to him, enunciating her words so he’d recognize her voice. Furrowing his eyebrows, Cedric spun in his spot, trying to locate her. “I’ve found out something about the egg, let’s go to the prefect’s bath.” 

“Okay…” He agreed, hesitantly. 

“You’re- Where are you?” 

She laughed, poking his sides. “That’s a secret.” “Hey!” He protested, swatting the place he’d been prodded at. “Come on!” He groaned, being tickled at his other side. 

She relented, holding unto his arm so he could know where she was – but only after much amusement. “Why’re we headed to the bathroom, again?” Cedric asked in a teasing tone.

“I think we need to put the egg under water for the clue. Remember how it screeches when you open it? If it is underwater that might change.” She tried to explain, although she wasn’t exactly sure of it herself – she hadn’t had a lot of time to mull over, given she had just heard it from Moody. 

“Alright… Well, here we go then.” They reached the bathroom, it had golden hues with a Hogwarts crest laid right in the middle. “Pine Fresh.” He murmured the password. Instantly, the crest broke into the four different houses, each going to the corner of the door until it swung open. 

She slipped right through, opening the hot and cold valves so it would be comfortable for them, too. They’d need to retrieve the egg after it was thrown under the bath. 

“Accio Golden Egg.” Cedric recited, raising his wand. “How did you figure that out, anyway?” He questioned, closing the door and walking toward the bathtub. 

“I…” She fell silent, uncomfortable. If he knew where the information came from – eavesdropping – he likely wouldn’t want to use the information. Cedric was far too just for that. “Heard it.” Is what she landed on. 

“How-” He was about to interject, when a whirring sound echoed around them. Both of them stared out at the window, it was a wall made out of colored glass panes. It was laid out in a rainbow gradient in columns and lines, divided only by a golden metal that resembled a snake. The glass shattered into a million pieces, the golden egg burst through it in high velocity, floating right next to Cedric. “That was an entrance.” She said, surprised. “And a great way to call attention to us, too.”

“I’m pretty sure there aren’t any prefects in the area, and if there were, it's not a crime to try and figure out this thing.” He grabbed the egg, holding it with both his hands and placing it underwater. 

“Reparo.” She murmured, flicking her wand so the glass would restore itself, then turned toward the bath.

The water bubbled around the egg, a small current swirling with it as the screech turned into a distorted, but melodic voice. “Drop it.” She said, and he did. The egg submerged to the bottom of the bath, a small cyclone forming around it and amplifying the voice.

It changed into a song, a chorus of female voices singing along each other. “Come seek us where our voices sound, we cannot sing above the ground. And while you’re searching ponder this: We’ve taken what you’ll sorely miss. An hour long you’ll have to look, and to recover what we took. But past an hour the prospect’s black, too late, it’s gone, it won’t come back.”

“Sirens!” Cedric said, grinning widely. “The second task’s about merpeople! To retrieve something from them.”

She was taken aback – they’d just heard the song, she hadn’t even begun to think what could be the intricacies of the task. “How-” She was thrown off-balance by a full-force hug. Her Invisibility had worn off…

“We did it! Now I just have to master the… Bubble-Head charm!” Cedric tightened his arms around her, leaving just enough room so they could look at each other’s eyes. She felt the urge to ask about how he figured it out, but the excited grin he held lured her to simply stare at his grey-blue orbs. 

“Yeah… We did.” 

His eyes lowered… Slowly… She saw as his smile lessened into a small ‘o’, as his eyes fell from her eyes, to her cheek, then to her lips. It was quite difficult to resist the pull towards his lips, too – and she didn’t. Her gaze dropped, noticing how soft they looked. 

Cedric blinked… Once… Twice… His hands loosened around her, entranced in the moment. He grew closer, their foreheads daring to touch as he once more stared into her eyes. A question swirled in his eyes – should he? “Yes.” She answered even as no words left him.

She tilted her head to the side, closing her eyes and inching ever closer. Her arms snaked around him, fingers intertwining behind his neck and pulling him closer still. Their lips met with their mouths still half-open, closing only to feel each other better. His own hand moved to the small of her back for stability and to bring her nearer. Each small movement of their lips matching their own moving hips – not sexual, but intimate.  His hands were wet from the bath, sinking into her cloth yet barely changing her temperature, whatever cold the water brought the warmth of his lips and body replenished. She pushed him away, taking in a large sum of air. Cedric wobbled backwards but didn’t complain, his pupils were dilated, his chest was heaving but by Salazar did he look good. She blinked, regaining her senses – they felt enhanced to feel his body only. “You still need to get the egg.” She said suddenly. 

He stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. Clearly not expecting that to be the first thing she said after the kiss. “And you need to go to the Yule Ball with me” He threw, off topic, but quite closer to it than she had been. 

The laugh that came from her was both parts flabbergasted and mirthful. “I will if you get the egg.” 

Cedric never ran, or would run, faster in his life.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Draco! This is not the time.” 

The Slytherin common room was packed full of people, men in dark suits and dress pants, girls in varying shades and fabrics of dresses – albeit, mostly green. Belonging to a Slytherin tended to make people more favorable to the color green, especially when most were purebloods belonging to it for generations. She wasn’t much different, wearing a shoulderless light green and flowy dress.

Draco, for one, held a deep green tie that matched Parkinson’s cloth and black attire. “It’s always the time for this!” He continued, his tone held unmatched eagerness. “You heard me! There’s been two strange disappearances the Ministry has already traced, not to mention…” He dropped a few pegs for the next part. “Crouch’s ‘sickness’.” 

The sigh that escaped her was unparalleled. Due to Draco’s desperate news, Cedric was likely waiting outside the dungeon doors. “Later!” She hissed, narrowing her eyes. 

Draco, unfortunately, was never one to pick up on cues. Much less one to be defied. “I’m telling you, this is the year.” 

She rolled her eyes. affectionately– he had no idea of no but she still loved him dearly. “Goobye, Draco.” 

“We’re going to win the bet!” He called out as she left the room, the stone wall opening itself as it had done about twelve times already. 

She slipped between two men talking animatedly at the door – both ravenclaws, waiting for their partners. Quite unaware that they should open space at the door. Clicking her tongue, she left them behind. “There you are!” Cedric’s honeyed voice rang out, he was leaning against a torch pillar at the bottom of the stairs – not unlike the first time they’d truly met. He wore a dark blue suit with a buttoned shirt and light green tie – matching her attire. She smiled, approaching him. “Let’s go, the ceremony should start at any minute.” “Oomf..” He breathed out. “I’m quite a good dancer but leading a ballad in front of the whole school?” He offered her his arm, interlocking them and leading the path toward the Great Hall. “I’ll be there.” She reasoned, trying to comfort him. Not that she believed he would have any trouble – Cedric was amazing at almost anything he put his mind to. Cedric chuckled, shaking his head back and forth in amusement. “That doesn’t help, I’ll get stuck admiring you and then what?”

She couldn’t quite argue with that – so she didn’t. They walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way, a stupid grin stuck to her face. Students were piling through the doors in a big crowd, one pushing the other yet seeming elegant just the same – it would be impossible not to when the ballroom itself looked as it did. The chandeliers were made of transparent crystal, reflecting the soft blue flames atop it. The statues were carved of pure ice to resemble magical creatures – a Veela had been chosen to honor Krum’s Quidditch team.

Her eyes were entranced to the decorations, Hogwarts had never been this beautiful. “Champions! This way!” McGonagall sternly called out. “Mr Diggory, Ms Malfoy.” She ushered.

Trance broken, she followed McGonagall. The champions were going to receive a special entrance, as Cedric had so mentioned. They’d be leading the first ball dance, setting the pace and rhythm. Almost instinctively, she straightened her posture, preparing to be viewed and placed under scrutiny wasn’t quite in her to-do list but she was nevertheless prepared. 

Taking in a deep breath, she took place as first in line, beside Cedric – Hogwarts’ Champion. Krum and Delacour were already there, the first followed by… Hermione. And the second followed by Roger Davies – Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain. 

“Fleur, lead them with grace, girl.” Maxime encouraged, patting her in the shoulder, then whispering something by her ear. Karkaroff had been doing the same since the start, uttering unheard words in another language. “You have been trained for this at Durmstrang, Viktor.” He repeated it a few times, his hand placed on Krum’s back. 

“I cannot be happier for the champion the cup has chosen.” McGonagall said with a small smile. She did not touch Cedric as the others did, but she gave a curt bow. “And you too.” The professor turned to her, albeit her words seemed to carry less warmth than before. 

“Champions!” McGonagall’s voice raised. “Have a great time.” The Great Hall doors opened for them, having been closed moments before after all of the attendees arrived. Icy wind reached her, contained in the room purely to maintain the ice sculptures, it hit her lungs and begged her to cough… She didn’t. Cedric took a step forward, bringing her with him due to their connected arms. 

Nonetheless, she matched his rhythm, the Champions behind matched it too. Hundreds were watching as she stepped onto the stage. A soft, formal tune began to play at the hands of The Weird Sisters, opening the night. 

Cedric led them to the rightmost corner, gently moving her upfront so they were face-to-face. His grin was calm and sweet, letting go of their locked arms and instead taking her hand in his. “You look lovely.” He whispered, his head right next to hers as they began the dance. One Two Three… One Two Three… Her other hand was in his shoulder, she squeezed it. “So do you.” She whispered back.

One Two Three… One Two Three… “You look better” He murmured, a humorous smile creeping on his face. She opened her mouth to counterargue, biting her tongue to contain her giggle, but she suddenly felt weightless. Cedric’s hand slipped from hers and clutched her side, raising her in beat with the song. 

A carefree laugh escaped her, head raised to the ceiling as the icy wind combed through her hair. The next second, she was on the ground. One Two Three… One Two Three…  “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.” He teased. 

“Fine, I do look better.”  She quipped in a sarcastic tone. If he wanted to be ugly that bad, she’d let him. 

One… Two… Her gaze fell upon the staff table – Dumbledore and McGonagall were staring at them, an intense sort of satisfied expression coating their faces. Something had just clicked inside their minds, she did not know what. 

She lingered on them for a moment longer, before being pulled back to Cedric’s embrace and the lull of the song. “Yes, you do.” Cedric hummed. “And after the ball, there will be only 989 bouquets to go.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It took two months for her to figure out why McGonagall and Dumbledore were staring. 

And when she did, it was too late for her to remember. As soon as the words left McGonagall’s mouth so did a spell, placing her under the soft lull of sleep. Her body went numb, feeling only a tingling sensation under her arm as someone… McGonagall? Carried her out of the room. She couldn’t know, her eyelids had sealed shut, too heavy to open.

The ground beneath her shifted from concrete to grass to dirt. “They’re all ready, Headmaster.” someone said… A woman, she was quite sure. 

“Wonderful. Please, hand them to the merpeople.”  Another said… An old man. 

She only just realized that they’d stopped when they began to move again, dirt turning to mud. Gentle waves hit her feet as she was led deeper and deeper into the water. The hand that was guiding her let go, opening space for another. She felt grime on her shoulder, a slimy substance coating the hand that held her and pulled her ever forward. 

Water.

It surrounded her mere seconds later, she was fully pulled under. Still, she felt cold for but a moment before warmth enveloped her, her very blood felt warmer compared to the frigidness she’d been in. She sank… And sank… And sank… In her warped perception, she believed to be about an hour before she fell upon firm soil. The slimy hand didn’t feel terrible under water, the scales on its skin were much more prominent than the slime… She was pulled backward, the touch was gentle compared to the sharpness of the creature’s skin. A rope was tied around her hands, her back placed against a pole. Her breathing was slower than usual, taking small bubbles of air that somehow formed through the water. 

Her consciousness was growing ever thinner. 

She couldn’t quite feel her breath and her eyes were rolling backward, begging her to shut down, to sleep fully. Her mouth drew open, trying to take more oxygen even though her body didn’t need as much… Salazar, she was tired. A headache was beginning to form due to resisting the charm’s effects… Cedric was coming… Images were starting to pop into her brain… Dreams…

It was too hard… Couldn’t… Resis– Resist…

.

.

.

Cedric’s chest was heaving, sweat threatening to spill down his face as his eyes quivered. Any treasure. Anything. Except her. Helga, he needed to get her out of there.  The Bubble-Head charm served only to help him breathe underwater, his skin still felt ice-cold and frostbitten, but he pushed through. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins, afterall, it was just enough for him not to cry out due to the pain. 

He couldn’t cry out. Not when her life was in his hands. She didn’t place her name in the Goblet – he did. So he pushed through. The current was working against him, trying to push him back to the surface as he fought to stay submerged. The Black Lake… There were folktales about the creatures that lived beneath it, most innocent of all was the Giant Squid, and still it terrified younger students. 

He squinted his eyes, it was almost impossible to see underwater even when the salt wasn’t invading his eyes. It truly was pitch-black, even at the bottom of the lake he could barely feel around. Time and time again he was surprised by a clump of seaweeds brushing against his skin or fallen twigs scratching at his cloth. 

Where is she?

Looking from left to right, he could see nothing over two meters in front of himself. He swam farther and lower, the weeds grew only taller and denser, enveloping him and pulling him under. And under… They ensnared him, their leaves like spikes digging into his skin…

Grindylows. 

Cedric drew a sharp breath, beating his legs one after the other as the creatures pulled him under. They cackled, a screeching sort of noise done in an excited trill for they had food. Human flesh. The cackling pierced his ears, drawing blood and disorienting him. He beat harder, kicking the hand that pulled him under and squirming from its grasp.

His vision grew fainter, blurring and forcing his eyelids closed… 

No…

No.

The Grindylow’s grasp was too tight for him to free himself, but it was loose enough for him to turn around, facing it. There were at least four Grindylow’s within vision, their green, scaly skin distorted into a maniacal smile at capturing their prey. Nausea… He shook his head and pointed his wand at the demonic beast, a red spark shot from it and burned the Grindylow’s hand, giving him leeway to free himself. 

He kicked against the grasp, pressing farther into the burn as the creature screeched in agony. They let him go. Getting as far away from the kelp biome, he heard the faintest hum of a melody. His head was still aching, blood still oozing from where the creature grasped his ankle, but he swam to it with vigor. 

Come seek us where our voices sound…

His lungs hurt from battling against the Grindylows, the air bubble was holding but even as he drew breath it didn’t seem enough. His cough was dry, almost a wheeze as he forced his body to push on. 

We cannot sing above the ground…

The chorus was nearer, he could feel vibrations in the water itself coming from the centerpoint of the song. The lake was clearer as he approached, a small blue hue poking through the endless black and grey undertones. He was almost there. A group of merpeople surrounded three giant stakes, houses built from mud and teal metal surrounding them, too. A merpeople city.   Cedric slipped between two of them, clutching his wand but hoping he would not have to fight. They let him through.

An hour long you’ll have to look…She was tied down, her head swinging with the current, rolled to the side and gently bobbing. Please… It can’t have been an hour yet. He slipped a knife from his pocket, cutting through the ropes. He’d barely noticed that Harry was already there, trying to untie Ron. He only did notice when he was already holding onto her, starting to head toward the surface. 

It was clear that Harry was desperately trying to call his attention, but only bubbles left his mouth. Anyone else would’ve let him deal with it… Cedric threw his knife toward Harry, and gathered all his strength to swim upward.

.

.

.

What…?What happened…?

The anchor that bound her eyelids together lifted, letting her slowly blink back to consciousness. Daylight hurt her eyes, stretching and blinding her momentarily. Someone was holding her below her arms, swimming with her to shore. 

“Cedric Diggory is the first to surface at exactly 55 minutes!”

Slowly, she regained her senses – she could feel the cold water hitting her arm, could feel someone’s… Cedric’s hand clutching at her side and pulling her along. She slipped in and out of consciousness, the after effects of the charm lingering and dissipating. Her eyes closed even as her pupils rolled upward, trying to open the eyelids and see something. 

The next time she felt something was sand specks moving below her shoes. Cedric had made it. “Get her a towel, please!” Cedric pleaded, panic coating each syllable. 

“I’m…” Her voice felt hoarse, odd to her own ears. “I’m alright…” She coughed out, limping after Cedric, relying on him for balance. It wasn’t due to pain… It didn’t hurt, but her limbs still felt numb and unreliable. 

Cedric lowered her unto the sand, helping her sit down. “Pomfrey!” Cedric asked again. She heard the Mediwitch answering but couldn’t discern what, her words were jumbled inside her mind. Whatever she said, though, must’ve been good because she felt two towels placed over her. 

“Helga, I was worried sick.” Cedric stressed, placing his arms around her in a hug. He burrowed his head in her neck, his hot breath hitting against her skin, trying to somehow exchange heat.  

“I’m alright, Cedric. Now, we should celebrate… You made it.” She smiled – a low, tired smile, but a smile nonetheless.  

His laugh vibrated against her skin, it was ticklish. Still, she didn’t move, only widened her soft smile. “We have months to celebrate, focus on getting better.” Cedric’s thumb traced circles on her lower back. 

“Oh, come on. You can’t win the task and do nothing.” She drawled out, laughing just as he had, against his skin, just as he had. 

For a few instants, he said nothing. She felt only his breath against her neck, the soft brush of his thumb against her back. It felt like heaven. Then she felt his muscle twitch against her, his smile widening, his lips brushing the base of her neck… “I love you.”  

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“What is this?” 

Her laugh was both amused and disbelieving.  The smooth fabric under her thighs moved as she shifted her weight, cocking her head to the side. Cedric, sitting opposite of her in the red-white cloth stifled a chuckle. “It’s clay, love.” 

The look on her face was rather deadly, scrunching her face in discontent and huffing through her nose. “I meant what is it doing here? Why did you bring clay?” 

Cedric smiled, pushing the box full of clay forward. “It’s a muggle thing, they don’t have spells so they make their pots by hand.” He explained, setting up a ceramic platform to place the clay in. “Allan said it was fun.” He added, enchanting the platform to spin around its center. 

A muggle thing… Her eyebrows knitted together, staring at the clay blob spinning around and around. A muggle thing… The phrase tasted bitter in her mouth, but she let it simmer. She’d try it, it couldn’t be so bad. “Okay, how does… That. Turn into a pot.” She crossed her legs, peering over the moving blob to try and understand how it’d change its shape, or heat it without magic. 

“From what I understand…” He squinted his eyes, placing his hands around the clay and slowly getting closer. “It’s like this.” Cedric said, as confident as someone could be doing an activity for the first time. She straightened her posture, leaning forward to try and understand what he was doing – he placed his hands on the blob, putting pressure on it so it stretched on the top whilst remaining larger on the base. 

Clay stuck to his hand as he molded it, the ‘pot’ bent as he placed too much pressure with his thumb. It was wobbly, and slightly misshapen, but it did mold. “It worked!” He grinned happily. 

“It did, if we want a pot with your handshape on it.” She laughed as a visible mark of his hand spun around every couple of seconds. 

“You do better, then.” He grumbled theatrically, swatting toward the clay and crossing his arms. “I will.” She nodded, grinning. She had never even touched wet clay but by Salazar she was going to do the best clay pot there was. Uncrossing her legs, she sat on her knees and placed her weight on the clay, turning it back into an undiscernible blob. Her touch was more gentle than Cedric’s, placing full concentration into trying to create a worthy pot. It was harder than she’d thought, the clay was malleable, so much so that it would sometimes sink or protrude randomly – she kept going, though. 

Her tongue stuck out to the side, gnawing on it to try and keep focused. She managed to keep the pot fairly round and symmetrical, although her fingers did leave marks on the clay. “Aha!” She smiled, using her wand to poke at Cedric with the ceramic platform, showing him the pot. 

“Alright, alright! You won.” Cedric laughed, prying the ceramic away from him and back to the picnic towel.

Cedric leaned forward, placing his thumb diagonally on the, now still, clay. “Hey!” She protested, swatting at his hand. “Don’t ruin my masterpiece!” “I’m not!” He raised his hands – a peace treaty. Cautiously, she lowered her attack, too, though with narrowed eyes. Then he attacked. 

He placed his thumb again, in the opposite diagonal. Blasphemy! “You didn’t!” His laugh was louder than ever, and as contagious. Swiftly, he flicked his wand and heated the clay, turning it to firm solid. “Calm down! Calm down!” He laughed harder still, clutching the vase. “Hit me and the pot breaks!” He threatened.

She stopped her hands mid-air, eyes locked with Cedric in a battle of will. “Fine.” 

Slowly, Cedric turned the pot around. Where he prodded the clay were two small fingerprint indents – forming a heart. 

It was only a small indent in the vase, no more than the ones she’d left in her handling of the clay. A little reminder of their date and love. She traced the heart with her own thumb, feeling the small bumps of his fingerprint. “I’ll forgive you… This time.”

“Only this time?” He chuckled, inching closer to her until they were side by side. “Only this time.” She confirmed, even as she leaned her head on his shoulder, smiling. 

Cedric leaned against her, too, placing his head atop hers and his arm around her back. He closed his eyes, kissing the top of her head. “That’s fine by me.” 

“You know…” He started, squeezing her side gently. “The third task is a week from now. I’m in first place – tied with Harry…” He trailed off. She felt his head shift, staring into the sky. “The prize is 1000 galleons.” Cedric chuckled softly. “How many bouquets do you think that’ll buy?”

“Too many…” She murmured. 

“Not enough…” He said. 

“I’ve got a whole life to spend it.” He continued, tightening his arm around her before releasing it. “Maybe we could go to Pippin’s after. I’ll buy you more Acromantula venom, and… We can break curfew again.” He whispered.

“That isn’t very prefect-y of you” She burrowed her head in the crook of his neck, feeling his warmth and pulse. 

“You’re a prefect too.” He countered.

Humming in agreement, she turned around, kneeling in front of Cedric. “Yeah, well, you’re the better one.” She locked her hands behind his head, pulling him closer. “And the best Champion.” She murmured against his lips, smiling into the kiss.

“You’ll do great out there.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Everyone, pay attention to the southeast exit, the Hogwarts Champions are about to head into the maze.”   Bagman announced from outside the hedges. The bushes were thick, obstructing most of the vision of the dirtpath, much more the creatures within it. They barely knew what was awaiting the champions in the maze – she swore she’d seen one of Hagrid’s experimental creatures strolling through the northeast path, but it was gone the minute she took a longer glance. By now, all she could do was hope that Cedric made it out well.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter are now into the maze!” 

The two southeast exits opened at once, she could barely see Cedric for a moment before he was enveloped by the plants and darkness. Afterall, the Headmasters had decided that the maze was to be started in the night, when their vision would be most dim and the perils would be heightened. 

“Good luck.” She whispered, for no one to hear but herself. Even then, she could barely hear her own words over the ruckus that was hundreds of Hogwarts students cheering for Cedric and Harry. A chorus of three houses shouting Cedric’s name and the remaining one attempting to be louder than the other three. 

Just one task left. 

Her hand clutched at her robes, finding something to occupy herself with whilst she couldn’t see any sign of Cedric. Or Potter, for that matter. She found solace in the fact that, should they ever throw a red spark into the air, there was a team of professors ready to rescue them. It was dangerous, but not outright lunacy. She knew Cedric – he could make it. 

Afterall, he’d been through two tasks so far and came out at the top, tied only with Potter. He would make it. Her eyes closed for a single second as she took in a deep breath. The next, she was back to scanning the maze for any sign of Cedric. 

“Viktor Krum is now in the maze!”

.

.

.

The hedges were far too thick to blow through. Cedric had tried about three explosive spells, trying to cut corners and buy time, but as soon as a small hole opened, the roots expanded and bloomed once more. He could hear footsteps far behind him – he knew Krum was out before the announcement was done. Krum was headed in the same path he was. 

He cursed at the plants, turning a corner into a circular area. If Krum was headed his way, he wouldn’t find much, the issue was that he wasn’t going to find much either. Keeping his wand outstretched, he looked from left to right, trying to see if there were any creatures hiding amongst the lower bushes. When he didn’t find anything, he moved.

His step was rushed, heading straight through the circle and into a narrow pathway. The roots acted like thorned vines, protruding out of the bushes and scratching at his clothes, trying to keep him still. He pulled through, opening holes in his cloth and irritating his skin, but nothing worth quitting for.

Where was the trophy, anyway? They were placed under a charm made to keep them confused about their directions before the maze, he had no idea where he was headed. The pathway was slowly opening up, giving way to a bigger corridor and, he thought, a left-right turn at the end. It didn’t really matter, when he didn’t know where to go. 

Right at the end, a giant tail attempted to attack him. It barely missed, but it kept moving, trying to find a way to connect the stinger. Helga… 

Going underneath it was too risky, and firing at the hedges had been ruled out long ago… He scanned the roots – they held thorns but they were far apart, enough so for him to try and climb through and attack the creature. He managed to find two roots in range for him to climb, placing one foot on the lower and his arm on the higher – it’d have to work. 

He climbed the hedge, poking his head through. At the other side was a Scorpion-like beast, it had another tail ready to sting with, a shell to defend it from spells, and no head in sight – A Blast-Ended Skrewt, Hagrid’s fused beast. As soon as the Skrewt sensed his presence, it threw the stinger toward him, missing by mere inches. 

Cedric just managed to dodge the next attack, propelling himself upward and landing on the tail, but the tail was also protected. He looked around for somewhere to run, balancing on a moving tail that was desperately trying to throw him away. There! Cedric spotted the glittering trophy in the distance, it was hidden to the northwest. Great. 

Fuck! He was thrown away from the tail, the creature was strong enough to have hin 10 meters up and 20 meters across. “LEVIOSO!” He shouted desperately, pointed the wand at himself to slow down his fall.

“Cedric Diggory is flying across the maze – quite literally!” Bagman’s voice, which was muffled whilst in the maze, reached his ears. 

Northwest. He reminded himself, falling in a square clearing. 

“AHHH!” Harry’s panicked scream reached him just as his feet touched the ground. 

His heart raced – there was both a corridor to his left and his right, there was no way to know which one would lead to Harry, since his voice came from straight across. He had to choose one. Quickly, he ran through the right hall, it was wider than the one he’d been in but it still tugged at his sleeve in his hasty state. 

“IMPEDIMENTA!” He yelled, getting the spell right at the Acromantula’s stomach. He chose the right path. Harry’s chest was heaving up and down, hand clutching his heart as he bent over. “Thank you…” Harry breathed out, staring at Cedric.

“D’you need help? Can you still compete?” Cedric pointed his wand upward, ready to throw the red sparks if it was necessary. 

“No… No… I’m fine, keep going.” Harry got to his feet, taking the left pathway and disappearing behind the bushes. 

“Okay… That’s good.” Cedric murmured, before sprinting through the north path, hoping it also led to the west.

.

.

.

“ARGHHHH!” It was the second time someone screamed in agony, but this felt excruciating, it was high enough to breach the muffling from within the hedges and it seemed high enough to tear the person’s vocal cords apart. 

“STOP! PLEASE! STOP!” She winced, closing her eyes. She couldn’t distinguish who the voice was from, it was far too distorted for that, but Salazar she hoped it wasn’t Cedric. The professors were staring deeply to the sky, waiting for the red sparks, but they hadn’t come, and it had been 10 minutes since the screaming started.

It didn’t seem as though the staff was moving in until they were sure the person couldn’t compete anymore – until the red sign was released. Would it ever? 

The scream was fearful and anguished, it had started to shake and break five minutes ago – whomever it was, was in a terrible situation. Really, she had no idea who was hurt, but she found her heart twisting and turning. She hoped they were alright.

.

.

.

Cedric had never felt this much pain in his life, and he wasn’t someone to be careful during Quidditch. His muscles were on fire, stretching and condensing then stretching again. His heartbeat was high enough to give someone a heart attack. He couldn’t even hear his own screams, only feel the strain on his throat to know he was still alive and still begging for help.

He coughed for what must’ve been a hundred times, he could feel blood coming through his throat and taste iron on his tongue. “Krum… stop… please…”  He wouldn’t be able to scream for long, he could barely see due to the sheer pain erupting on each cell of his body

The pain had stopped for a moment, letting him breathe and clutch at the grass blades, touching anything to feel alive. “You will not win the tournament.” Krum said in disgust, his wand still pointed at Cedric.

Then he saw it, again, the red jet of Crucio.  “PLEASE! STOP!” He coughed with each syllable, tears streaming down his face as he arched his back, eyes staring at the sky as his tears laid on his eyes, unable to fall. Krum dropped it again and he fell forward, elbows to the ground in the wet dirt. “Why…” He mumbled, blinking the tears away. 

“I don’t know either, Cedric. But he’s down.” Harry said. Cedric’s head snapped up, lighting each of his nerves on fire meanwhile. “Oh, thank Helga.” He coughed out blood, forcing himself to his feet. 

He breathed deeply, staring at Krum’s limp body – stunned. Cedric shot red sparks to the air. “Thank you… Go on, I think I’ll be fine.” He blinked slowly, trying to numb his senses to the pain, staring only at the muddy soil – not a pretty sight. 

“I’ll stay… Until you’re better.” Harry said, moving closer. 

“I’m fine. If you stay they’ll think you shot the spark – you still have a shot.” Cedric argued. 

He clutched his head, the pain made him nauseous and aching. “I’m going. Please go too, don’t take yourself out of the competition.” Cedric managed to go through the left exit, even though he was limping and pressing his thumb to his temples, trying to ease the pressure.

He had to push through. He had to. For Hufflepuff… For his dad… For her… 

His eyes blinked slowly, he was exhausted. Push through. He shook his head, it hurt to do so but the pain was enough to keep him awake – he moved forward. It shouldn’t be long, he’d been headed in the right direction, he was sure of that.

It shouldn’t be long, but it was. If his timing was right it took about one hour before he finally thought he was actually close to the trophy. The hedges around it were a deeper green than the rest, likely the only clue they were supposed to get that they were getting nearer. Then again, he had been walking in circles for at least ten minutes and he was yet to find the entrance. 

He turned a right corner, one of the few he was quite sure he hadn’t yet gone through. 

“AHHH!” 

Harry.

Cedric quickened his pace, his thighs begged for mercy, for him to stop for a single second. He didn’t. 

“HARRY!” He yelled, trying to hear him again to pinpoint his location. All he got was another agonizing scream from the boy. He was only fourteen… The path he chose led to a dead end, but the yells were louder – he was on the other side. 

He took a deep breath. He’d done it once. Cedric held firmly to one of the roots and placed his foot on another. His consciousness faded in and out, the pain was too much for his body to handle – if he wasn’t going to obey, he would faint. Ever the same, he pushed through. Cedric managed to climb over the hedge, throwing his body over it and falling on the ground with immense pain. 

“Stupefy!” The bluish beam hit the Acromantula, but its skin was too thick, it screeched and clicked its piercers, letting go of Harry but turning toward him. 

He could hear the crack of Harry’s bones as he fell to the ground, wincing for him. “STUPEFY!” Harry shouted. 

The giant spider curled into itself, its legs twitching involuntarily as it gave one, final, screech. “Good job, mate.” He smiled slightly, letting himself fall backward into the ground, taking desperate breaths. 

“Get the trophy.” Cedric said, closing his eyes – Helga, he should rest. 

He heard and felt Harry moving, erratically in small jumps – limping. But he stopped. Right at the trophy. “No…” He mumbled. “No, you deserve it too. They can’t stop us from taking it together.” Harry said, confidently. 

Cedric laughed, coughing as his lungs throbbed. “You go.” He repeated. 

“No.” Harry, too, repeated. 

Again, Cedric laughed blood oozing down his lips as he did so. “Alright, come on.” He rolled over, using his elbow to push himself forward and leaning against the hedge for balance. He stopped beside Harry, placing Harry’s hand around him to help him move. Or rather, the both of them help each other. 

“3… 2… 1…” 

.

.

.

“Harry and Cedric reached the trophy! And… What is that?” Bagman mumbled at the end, as if he couldn’t believe it. “They’re sharing the prize!” 

Her eyes widened in disbelief…They’re sharing the… A shocked laugh escaped her. Of course, it was Cedric after all. 

Her gaze, as well as everyone else’s, turned to the start of the Stadium. Dumbledore had said that the champion would be portkeyed to the start and the rest would be taken away from the maze. As expected, the professors moved into the maze as soon as Bagman gave the cue, but neither Harry nor Cedric teleported back.

What happened? Her eyebrows knitted together, staring intently at the spot they were supposed to appear. Portkeys weren’t supposed to take long, they were immediate, save for a pre-planned countdown.

A knot formed in her throat, her tongue felt too thick for her mouth, everything felt horrible. She got up from her seat, moving through the sea of whispering people to the rails, steps followed her. Something was wrong. 

“Did something happen…?”“Why aren’t they here yet?”“Is there another challenge?” Rumors were beginning to spark, she wished she heard none of them. “Where are they?!” She yelled, clutching the rails for her life. 

“They’re coming, I’m sure…” Karkaroff said, but his tone was hesitant, almost asking, too. 

“Where is precious Potter?” Draco was the one who had followed her. He was leaning against the rails undisturbed, a grin on his face. 

“Coming.” She affirmed, trying to sound more confident than she felt. 

“Shame.” Draco drawled out, barely paying attention to the stadium.

“THEY’RE HERE!” The crowd cheered, almost all Hogwarts students raising their arms, especially those farther back who couldn’t see the situation. 

She slipped between the rails, running across wet solid to the two champions. Dumbledore was blocking her sight, between her and the two of them…

“VOLDEMORT IS BACK! HE’S BACK!” Harry sobbed out, his yell more anguished than the ones she’d heard at the maze. 

“Seems we won our bet.” She heard Draco’s voice behind her, surely smirking with gleaming eyes. 

No. 

It can’t be. 

“YOU’RE WRONG!” She yelled out through the bile in her throat. He had to be. She slipped, falling to her knees and sliding the rest of the way, ripping her clothes and bruising her flesh. But he wasn’t wrong. 

She stopped just beside them. But it wasn’t them. Cedric was limp, his skin was turning blue, she clutched his hand and it was as cold as the night air.

“NO!” She cried out, tears flowing freely from her face. Harry was staring at her, disgusted, he could see fire behind his eyes in the way he tore her hand away from Cedric. 

“DON’T TOUCH HIM!” He shouted, closing his hands into a fist. “HE DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!” 

She fell backward into the mud, whatever dignity she had, gone. “NO HE DIDN’T!” She choked back a sob.

“I LOVED HIM, I WOULDN’T EVER DO THIS!” Her lips trembled, eyes starting to redden. “I wouldn’t…” She whispered. 

“Yeah, right, Malfoy.” He spat, pure contempt in each inch of his face.

“Please…” She begged, crawling to Cedric’s body. She just wanted to hold him. 

“Let her.” Dumbledore said calmly. 

“But- Headmaster!” 

“MY BOY!!” Amos’ voice echoed as he, too, knelt beside Cedric. 

She buried her head into his chest, her tears staining his cloth and her nails digging into his injured back. It couldn’t be.

“Ms. Malfoy.” Dumbledore said again. A year past, she would’ve ignored it. Right now, she wanted to ignore it, but she inched her head enough to see him. 

“He is gone.” He stated. “By your family’s hands, I’m sure. Or, to your family’s pleasure.” He threw salt to the wound. 

“don’t… DON’T!” She cried out, clutching harder at her beloved’s body. “You have a choice. Ignore what has happened, and fight against him, or fight against Voldemort. And bring him peace.” Dumbledore stated, staring at her for only a second before turning toward Harry. 

Amos was sitting beside her, holding Cedric’s hand and sobbing. His cries reverberated across the entire stadium – grief. She’d do anything… Anything for Cedric. She’d defy her family – she’d done it before, with him. But now… Now she just wanted to hold him. 

She should’ve stopped him from placing his name in that goddamned Goblet… 

“I’m sorry…” She sobbed, her whole body shaking, she could barely hold him… His eyes were lifeless, everything… Fuck. 

She wanted him back…

The instant she sat, Dumbledore stood up again, as if he’d been waiting for exactly that cue. Scrunching her nose, she nevertheless waited for the speech, slightly troubled that he might have somehow been watching them. “It is time.” He announced. 

The Goblet turned from a slight bits of red poking through to full blown scarlet. Ashes could be seen being reintegrated into a whole before a tongue of pure fire shot out and with it a charred paper. Calmly, as if it were the most mundane experience of his life, the Headmaster picked it up. 

“The Durmstrang Champion will be Viktor Krum.” The hall exploded in roaring applause from all around, muffled slaps could be heard and Krum’s friends pushed him forward and clapped him on the back. 

“That was expected!” A gryffindor student could be heard yelling or, rather, squealing. 

“The Beauxbaton Champion will be Fleur Delacour.” Dumbledore continued as yet another paper shot out with vigor. By contrast, very few celebrated the french woman, some Beauxbaton students sobbing due to their own failings. It would be up to her to prove them wrong, she supposed. 

“The Hogwarts Champion will be…” She took in a breath, clutching her fists under the table. “Cedric Diggory!” 

The Hufflepuff table screamed, voices raised to the point of breaking – somehow, they managed to surpass Krum’s entourage by sheer force of will. Of course, she wasn’t far behind, voice blending with the others in an endless cheer.

“I DID IT!”  Cedric’s loud bellow could barely be heard through the crowd, but she knew it was for her. His wide grin was the last thing she saw before he walked through to the next chamber. 

Lucius’ blonde platinum locks could be seen turning the final corner to the platform yet she allowed herself one final look back. The couple she’d been observing was talking to none other than Harry Potter… She turned the corner just in time to see the buck-toothed Granger girl head toward the boy who lived. The mud- The curse raised up her throat like bile but she bit it back down. It was Granger who she entrusted with helping Buckbeak the previous year. Her heart, which had turned into tense coils upon seeing two of the traitor trio, softened as she rejoined her family. 

“Are you ready, love?” Narcissa glanced at her. Her blue eyes, usually depicted as cold, still felt pretty as the ocean to her. “I am. Draco?” She asked, confirming with her younger brother. “Yes. Let’s go. I can’t stand this… filth anymore.” He scrunched his nose in disgust, glancing at the muggle travelers and their electricity-powered devices. With that, he stepped right through the fake brick wall.

She followed right behind, the dull environment shifting to the beautiful that homed the Hogwarts Express. Her parents stepped right after, Narcisa tenderly playing with Draco’s hair. “I’ll miss you both.” She said, a genuine smile overtaking her features as she wrapped her arms around the younger boy, then around the sister. “Here, I made these. Tell me if the house-elfs are not up to par with the food, alright?” She gave each a small box of what was undoubtedly a large supply of sweets. 

“The train will be leaving any minute, do make sure to honor the family name.” Lucius sent them away with a small ghost of a smile.

The train’s loud whistle warned them of the little time they had. Draco quickly climbed up and away toward the back – mostly taken by Slytherin students. She, meanwhile, walked toward the front where the prefect cabins resided. She peered over the panes, trying to find an empty cabin for her to go into. 

She was about to get to the end of the corridor until a door slid open and she felt someone gently wrap their hand around her arm. Glaring to her left, her gaze instantly softened as the undesired tension left her body. 

“Cedric.” She breathed out, as if the words were waiting a whole summer’s worth to be let out. 

Her eyes traveled to his dimples and the pure joy radiating off him. “Come in! How were your holidays?” She felt her heart skip a beat as Cedric pulled her inside, gaze still entranced with his smile. “...Good. We went to the Quidditch World Cup.” She said, sitting down. 

A small spark glistened in his iris for a second before it extinguished and with it the soul of his smile. “That’s good. I wanted to invite you to come with us but dad insisted there wasn’t enough time…” He trailed off, slightly veering away from her eyes and toward the outside scenery.

“I would’ve loved to.” She replied sincerely, following his gaze.  

Cedric sighed, looking up and falling silent for a few prolonged moments. “Im glad we didn’t go, though. It wouldn’t have been half as perfect as I’d hoped.” He continued somberly.

“Did you see it?” He finally locked eyes with her again. Her tongue slowly trailed over her lips which suddenly felt rather dry. An intense feeling of inadequacy took over her – she knew exactly what Cedric meant: Death Eaters ran amok harming muggles and instilling fear in Witches and Wizards alike. That, and the dark mark had been shot into the sky… She was the one to shy away from his orbs now – her father had been in the midst. Back then, she’d felt just the same, the only one that didn’t feel entertained by Lucius’ hanging of the muggle man. 

“I did…” She looked further down, now staring at her lap and her fidgeting hands. “Did you?” The train lurched forwards, she could hear the faint humming of the engine and the metallic sounds of the rails. “I’m sorry… It was awful. I felt sick for days afterward.” He said. 

Sick. She bit the inside of her cheek, staring at the palms of her hand.. Her family made him sick. “Hey…” He called out softly. A small ‘thump’ was all she heard before she dared to glance back up. 

“It’s okay. We’re here now – going to Hogwarts. It’s the safest place there is.” He affirmed and she now saw the source of the thump – Cedric had placed his hand palms-up on the table. His fingers twitched slightly and he glanced toward it, the soft smile easing back to his features. 

Her eyes glued to his hand – calloused from what must’ve been endless Quidditch training sessions, yet laid open in such a gentle manner that she wondered if that was how he tended the Herbology plants. 

Don’t overthink it. 

Closing her eyes and taking one deep breath, she placed her hand atop his. He closed his hand around hers, caressing it with his thumb. “Don’t think too much about… Well, about all of it. You-Know-Who’s been dead for a damn long time and Dumbledore will make sure it stays that way.” He tried to reassure her. 

All she managed back was a nod. She sure hoped so. It was, perhaps, the first time she was rooting for something she’d bet on to fail. Realizing that she was a bit out of it, Cedric filled the silence… She thanked him for it. “So… I heard we’re having something big this year. Dad says the Ministry’s been working on a Hogwarts project for the entire past year and that some dragon tamers were involved.” She laughed slightly, shaking her head. “Hopefully, we’ll get to see a fire show and not one of Hagrid’s lessons?” 

Ah, but that was mere daydream. Had it been any other night, she might have managed to sneak past the barriers, but, unfortunately, her duties had to be done in a pair for the night. For, of course, it was the gravest news that Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban… Please. At best, Black might give some muggleborns a scare. No Death Eater would dare to show face until The Dark Lord had come back. This was pointless, as always.

Hushed whispers followed her with each click of her heels. Each portrait, most undeserving of the fine paint and technique of which they were formed, gossiped about nonsensical sightings of out-of-bed students. They were, in a pitiful attempt at self-amusement, lying. It hadn’t been hard to separate the truthful ones from the miserable from the point she’d been appointed prefect. Being apt at reading expressions and body language, was, after all, quite useful when one was of such a prestigious family as the Malfoys.

That is why, as the whispers became nothing more than a faint buzz of the past, she could guess exactly who was waiting by the entrance doors. Although his face was pointed away from her, the man’s open arms, leaned back posture and slight head-tilt told her all she needed to know – Cedric Diggory. Willingly, she let the silence stretch for a moment longer, absorbed in her own thoughts. That was better. She was worried that she’d end up with the Weasley Head Boy. 

Although she did have a slight aversion for Hufflepuff House and their far-too-lenient punishments, she supposed it was a small victory. “Diggory.” She announced her presence, taking one step forward. It wasn’t unexpected, but it was still strange that Diggory didn’t straighten his posture at the sign of company. Instead, he merely pushed himself off the pedestal he’d been leaning on and, stranger still, smiled warmly. 

“Malfoy. You’re doing rounds with me, then?” He asked, walking closer toward her. She had the faintest thought to take a step back, but knew better than to do so. He extended his hand, the gesture hanging mid-air for seconds as she processed the offer. The shadow cast from his arm flickered slightly under the fire that emanated from the braziers near the main door. Soon, her own arm joined the slightly wobbly grey cast atop the ground as she shook his hand, curling her lips in a pleasant smile. “Seems so. Hopefully it’ll be round not rounds, though, I’m sure? We’re supposed to be temporarily filling in near the Library, is all.”

“That’s great! You’re the only prefect I still haven’t met.” He hummed peacefully as they fell into an easy pace together. “How’s prefect life going for you? I’ve been juggling around with the new duties.” He chuckled, his eyes bore to the side of her face, waiting for an answer.

The only one? It wasn’t for nothing that Diggory was considered popular, was it? Her gaze landed on him, seeing the expectancy behind his stare yet offering him only a shrug. “It’s been fine. Arithmancy’s been bothering me now that I can’t study as much at night but other than that no complaints.” Her tone was steely – keeping him at bay. Not for any deep-rooted issue, she merely preferred to work quietly. 

That didn’t seem to stop him, however. Unshaken by her icy behavior, Cedric nodded in agreement, grinning. “Hats off to you, I could never keep up with Arithmancy. How’s Professor Vector, anyway? Allan – he’s my friend – took the class once but he dropped it so…” He trailed off. 

Flattery was, indeed, very effective. Her shoulders eased the tiniest bit and she allowed herself to tilt her head upward, staring at his soft gray eyes. “Well, Vector is fine as long as you don’t disrupt her class. She can get a bit overly excited and go off-topic, though…” She intended to leave it at that but, for some reason, her brain refused to allow it. “What about you? You’re Captain now, right?” 

As they reached the Library, her steps slowed, the enticing doors to the Restricted Section just within range of her peripheral view. “I am!” He exclaimed gleefully. “I’m really happy, you know? To be able to lead the team. Hopefully we’ll be able to win the cup this year. It’s been a while since Hufflepuff wins any…” Almost imperceptibly, his smile dimmed. 

It must’ve hurt to not have any accomplishments within his house. Still, she felt the odd pull to learn more. Why it affected him specifically. Especially when his smile bounced back to a full beam with such ease – as if radiating joy was second nature to him. Subtly, she scanned his features – his grey irises had red hues due to the torches and were slightly hidden due to the narrowing of his eyes, a genuine smile… Her own eyes narrowed, albeit due to apprehension, she’d always thought his smile was faked – curated for public attention. 

“I’m afraid Slytherin’s winning it again, Diggory.” She answered, a cheeky smile gracing her. 

That didn’t dim his spirits at all. In fact, he laughed and shook his head amusedly. “Well, I bet Hufflepuff’s winning.”  

She furrowed her eyebrows, scoffing. All the same, she found her lips curling upward. “Didn’t peg you for the competitive type.” Under the soft torchlight, she was the one to extend her hand. “Bet.” 

As if he hadn’t just been challenged to what must’ve been akin to a deadly duel, he gave her hand one firm shake and quickened his pace, finally actually starting on their rounds. Falling into pace beside him, she felt like something was amiss. There was a tingling sensation in her throat – wanting to fill the silence. Yet she didn’t need to – he did. “Why do you think they’re having more people in the Library, anyway?” Well…. He didn’t need to know that. But, unlike usual, she didn’t feel the need to drop the conversation entirely. She swiftly changed the topic, adding her own. For the first time in, perhaps, her life, she didn’t mind doing a ‘group project’ with someone she did not know. Actually, she found herself wondering if doing paired rounds might not be so terrible after all.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦  

The soft orange glow of the outside sunlight was the only thing letting her study. Her gaze trailed up to the pinkish-red hues on the horizon, hidden only by the Forbidden Forest in the slow descent of the sun. An hour was the maximum time she guessed she could stay before complete darkness befell the library and the loud ringing of the curfew bell filled the halls. Still, it was better than nothing. 

Her eyes fell back to the book, Intelligent Objects: A Comprehensive Guide into Constructs. As she scanned the page her lip curled into a frown, eyelids narrowing in irritation at the lack of explanation for the phenomena she needed. The Dark Lord’s diary… It had been in her father’s possession ever since the Wizarding War until he slipped it back into Hogwarts. Almost immediately, the Chamber of Secrets was opened – how could an object have such power? Did it hold the Lord’s conscience? Fingers tightening around the book’s cover, she sighed. It was useless – nothing in this castle would prove of use. Nothing that wasn’t forbidden, at least.  Nonetheless, giving up wasn’t an option. Father had entrusted her with figuring out the intricacies of the Lord’s soul – would it perhaps resurface? Whether it would or not, she wouldn’t disappoint him. 

The faint sound of a flicking page signalled her unwillingness to give up, eyes once more scouring the page from top to bottom like a hungry beast. She was terribly attentive to detail, keen to learn more – each slight mishap on the ink, each deeper dot, everything was wholly examined as if it was a tiny clue. Her immersion in the literature, however, led her to be unaware of her own surroundings. 

Her shoulders tensed, body jolting upward as a voice cut through her inner thoughts. “Hey, Malfoy! Still having trouble with Arithmancy?” Soft grey eyes met her as she looked up, the same ones which dangerously veered toward the novel in her hands. At once, she flicked her wand, causing the book to fly away toward its shelf. 

“Well, I was but I’m about to get back to the common room, It’s almost curfew.” She offered as an attempt to get his attention away from her scare. Unlike her younger brother, she was not particularly fond of announcing to the whole school her family’s secrets. Much less their affiliation with the Dark Lord. Unshaken by her slightly strange behavior, he sat down opposite to her, keeping the positive attitude. “Don’t worry about that, there’s still forty minutes until curfew.” Entirely unbothered, he started taking his own school supplies away from his backpack. She observed curiously, unsure why he had chosen to sit by her so suddenly. For a split second, he tore his gaze away from his bag, locking eyes with her – she swore she could see a trace of mischievousness in his irises. “Also, I just so happen to be the one patrolling the library tonight.” He added cheekily. 

An amused grin played at her face – she didn’t know Pretty Boy Diggory had it in him. “Oh?” She raised an eyebrow, her expression still betraying her in her attempt to appear stoic. Cedric laughed, the sound interrupted only by the soft thump of books hitting the table. “Oh, yes. And I happen to have found out that you’re fantastic at potions.” He slid a copy of Advanced Potion-Making by Libatius Borage toward her.

“So you’re offering to overlook my curfew break if I help you?” She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes, calling him out on his implications. With the calmness of someone who did nothing wrong, he answered. “Yes.” His facade was as good as hers, however, for the corner of his lips turned upward into the same amused smile. “But I have a trade offer. You’ve been having trouble with Arithmancy so I thought I could help you.”

“You don’t even take Arithmancy, Diggory. You expect me to believe you’re good at it?” She crossed her arms, entirely doubtful of his schemes. “You’ll see that I’m good at it once you let me help! I’ve been studying.” His poorly hidden smile bloomed back into a grin, clearly excited to share this information. “And you can call me Cedric.” “What for? As I’ve said, Arithmancy doesn’t concern you.” The whole meeting seemed rather dubious. Why did he think she would help him? Why did he want to help her? 

She saw his shoulders twitch slightly – the smallest hint of a shrug – before he stilled them. “To help you…” The next phrase was added almost as an afterthought. “So you could help me.”

He offered nothing else as explanation, only pointing toward the potions textbook and waiting for her final verdict. Annoyingly, she felt compelled to accept. Really, aiding someone was the farthest thing from her mind when she stepped foot into the library that day, but, at the moment, it felt correct. “Alright. What are you having issues with? The Draught of Peace?” Slipping back into study-mode, her brain wracked itself for information on their newest lesson. The Draught of Peace was particularly difficult, any mistakes could take it from a soothing concoction to an irreversible sleep. 

“We can get to that later.” With ease, the previous potions book was moved aside, replaced with Cedric’s copy of Numerology and Grammatica. “I wouldn’t have learned it for nothing, would I?” Almost unconsciously, she shook her head – Cedric got odder by the minute. Somehow, though, she didn’t regret her decision whatsoever. 

With his presence, Arithmancy became twice as fun, and productive. He wasn’t lying when he said he was knowledgeable in the subject – he managed to keep up with her train of thoughts, suggesting answers to her doubts. She found herself laughing along to his awkward jokes, focusing less on the textbook at hand and more on the way his smile crinkled at the corners. How his dimples grew more pronounced with each awful numerology joke she shared… The light dimmed, sunset turning into sundown into night as they shared hypotheses back and forth. Time stretched like a thin veil around them, warping her perception until even the castle’s torches were fighting to stay upright. By the time she thought to get back to the common room, she could hear whispering house-elves wondering what time they’d have to clean the table. She blinked herself away from the daze, as if getting away from a long reverie – which wasn’t true, each quip of theirs was quite real. “I should get going, Diggory. Thank you for helping.” A frown threatened to show itself in Cedric’s face, but was stopped just in time, being replaced by the gentle smile she’d grown to expect on him. “No need to thank me, I’m happy to help.” “Well, I take back my thanks, then.” She rolled her eyes, slowly packing her supplies back into her bag. “Ungrateful.” She pretended to mutter, though it was still loud enough for him to listen. 

He chuckled, starting to pack his textbooks. “Well, thank you for thanking me, ma’am.” Laughing along, she threw her backpack strap over her shoulders, preparing to leave. “That’s better. But I’ve got to go. See you around?” “See you.” He confirmed.

Both of them walked out of the library together. She took care not to look at him – if he had, she was sure she’d strike up another endless chat. It was only after they’d already parted ways, meters away from each other, that she heard Cedric semi-yelling. “Good night!” as if he’d forgotten something terribly important. 

A strange feeling of warmth settled on her chest as she looked back. “Good night, Cedric!” She could see his copy of Advanced Potion-Making poking out of his haphazardly zipped backpack. They hadn’t touched the book. She was starting to wonder if he had any intentions of being helped in the first place.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦  

The slightly bitter scent of dittany wafted throughout the potions classroom. Her movements were delicate, handling the glass vial with endless care as she scooped the swirly green liquid – Wiggenweld. Around her, peers were dispersing away from the dungeons, sighing with relief that the two hour class was done. Some of them, she noticed, had orange vials – imbeciles. 

“Very good work, Ms.” Snape’s low voice cut through her thoughts, congratulating her. A proud smile bloomed across her face, glad that one of the greatest potioneers complimented her work. “Thank you, Sir.” Her back curved in a small bow before she, too, joined the messy crowd. The size expanded, merging with other years in a chaotic back-and-forth of sweat and limbs. 

“Did you hear that Malfoy…?” A female voice rang out – gossip. Ah, what had she done to spark Hogwarts’ mill this time around? “Oh my- you’re lying-” She rolled her eyes, deeming the incessant whispering to be beneath her. She halted, letting the swarm leave her vision before she grew a headache. Each person that passed was deep in conversation, talking in hushed tones of woes she could care less about… Merlin, was there an infinite number of them? “Malfoy!” She barely held in a groan at having heard yet another mention of her name – of whatever rumor had sparked about her. It only served to keep her gaze dug firmly to the ceiling, unwilling to entertain it. Still, the voice didn’t stop – it wasn’t a whisper, either. “Hey, Malfoy!” Heaving a deep sigh, she let her gaze fall down at a painstakingly slow pace. Practically mocking the voice’s bearer. In an instant, however, her tension dissolved. Each lock of soft brown hair and each sparkle on warm grey eyes served to calm her. 

“I thought we were on a first-name basis?” The corners of her lip pulled in an amused smirk. Entirely too far a question, if she were to be asked – had Cedric Diggory not insisted she call him ‘Cedric’? Equally amused, Cedric let out a mock-scoff. “Well, you didn’t seem to get a hang of it so I’m making a point.”

“Alright, fine, Cedric. Now what are you doing here?” A grin seemed to be the main explanation he wanted to provide – that seemed to be a recurrence. She was quite sure that she’d never seen the man without his smile. “I had some free time – figured I’d walk you to your next class.” “Why?” She replied, baffled. 

Cedric raised his eyebrow, bemused. For him, the answer appeared to be obvious. “Because I’m free. And I’d like to walk a friend to her next class.” Friend? Was he crazy? “We’re not friends.” She shot back instantly and matter-of-factly. 

“I’d like to walk my first-name-basis acquaintance to class, then.” He corrected, nose slightly scrunched like someone who did not care for this label back and forth. 

“You’re strange.” She added rather bluntly, although the faintest hint of a smile was creeping on her expression as she started to walk toward the Charms classroom. Cedric hummed, seeming pleased at what should’ve been an insult. Shooting him a look of playful indignancy, she continued. “That’s not a compliment.” Compliment or not, the serene expression stamped across Cedric’s face had her doubting her own words. “Yes, it is.” He contradicted, yet offered nothing else. 

“Ugh, you’re impossible.” She huffed out, quickening her pace. 

“Impossible to insult?” He laughed, matching her with ease. 

“Yes!.” She uttered, semi-assuredly and semi-bemused. 

Cedric laughed harder still and she found herself staring at how the sunlight reflected on his grey pupils. Or were they blue? She hadn’t realized before, but they were more of a hazy blue than a dull grey. “I’ll continue to take it as a compliment, then.” he added confidently. 

Neither of them looked away, walking forward only by their knowledge of school grounds and the peripheral vision of approaching students. There was a soft lull to his gaze, to the dimples that poked when he laughed too hard. Where was she walking again? The thought oozed into her conscience and back out, starstruck by… Something. 

What the? At once, her mind slipped back into normalcy – not because of her own will, but because he looked away. She was forced out of her reverie, and that felt dangerous. “Ms Malfoy! Ms Malfoy!” She finally registered reality, the shrill voice of a girl calling out for her echoing in her ears. Parkinson. Draco’s friend that was always orbiting around him – she was the one yelling her name in panic. “It’s–” Pansy took a big breath mid sentence. “Draco! He’s– He’s–” Her eyes moved wildly, snapping from Cedric to her and back again. “He’s hurt!” 

“What?!” Her shoulders, which had been slightly hunched due to her calm, tensed at once. “Where is he??” She took one step forward, towering over the poor girl. A million different thoughts raced through her mind at once, flickering images of Draco’s platinum hair smeared in blood, of fearful eyes and silent shouts. “Hospital wing!” Pansy breathed out. The next moment, she ran. The castle’s brick walls blurred together in a haze, be it due to her own dazed mind or the velocity of which she traveled. She could not care less at the moment. The important part was that she could feel the hardened floor beneath her feet, could see the stairs approaching – she needed to get there. Now. Each stair seemed to abide by her very command, mounting itself at her pace. If there was a speed limit to which the stairs could follow, she’d find out very quickly. Or not. 

She could see the blur of Hufflepuff’s Black and Yellow surpassing her, running ahead and into the void below that formed into staircases just in time. 

They ran together. She pushed through the unbearable ache in her chest, the begging of her lungs and the jab to her sides until they were at the blank white doors of the infirmary. 

She coughed out, whole body aching from sprinting up three floors and endless corridors. Desperately, she reached for the handle, trying to fumble across the wood – splinters be damned – to reach the metal knob.

She felt nauseous but to hell with it! Her brother was through that damn door! Once she finally reached it, though, she found flesh instead of metal. Cedric had reached it first, seeing her panic-induced haze. Her hand twisted with his own and she swore her heart skipped a beat but to hells with that. 

The white lights felt blinding as the door opened, yet she pushed through, getting back into a sprint to try and find her brother. “DRACO!” She shouted, her words shaky and raspy from the sheer stress her lung was placed through. 

“DRACO!” Her voice meshed with Cedric’s mellower one, both searching for her brother. 

“SHUSH!” The plump old mediwitch came out from one of the cubicles. Pomfrey. “He’s in here. He’ll be fine.” Immediately, she slipped past her and through the curtains. Draco’s shirt was tossed aside, dried blood contorting it to an unsightly view. The rich metallic scent, too, invaded her senses. 

“Draco! What happened?” There was no wound in sight – likely already healed, but it was still with difficulty that he raised his head and looked at her. “Hagrid’s what happened.” He grumbled, yet there was a crack in his voice to indicate fear. 

“A hippogriff– It attacked me.” He clarified, grimacing at the memory. “A hippo-?” She felt the urge to look back, to confirm with Cedric that she had heard correctly. He was still there. Her heartbeat slowed the tiniest bit, warmth seeping through her veins as she saw him, leaning against the wall silently. He mouthed ‘Everything okay?’ and she felt like it just might be. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦  

“Do you think he’ll be alright?” “He already is alright.” Her erratic heart calmed just enough to where she could maintain eye contact with Cedric. 

“Calm down.” Tiny jolts shot throughout her shoulder as Cedric’s hand squeezed it comfortingly. She bit the inside of her cheek – how could she calm down when her brother’s injury hadn’t yet healed? Injuries didn’t usually leave remnants of pain, but Draco had been complaining of it for weeks. “Okay…” She breathed out.

“Alright.” She gave a tiny nod of her head, trying to somehow get herself to actually believe the words she said. 

Almost instinctively, she mumbled. “At least the beast’s under scrutiny now…” 

The same second she said it, however, she felt guilt clawing at her heart. Regret, It sizzled and simmered like a lava bubble waiting to burst and explode. But she shouldn’t be regretful – the beast hurt Draco.

Oh, but she should. Because the instant frown that plagued Cedric’s lips had her heart twisting uncomfortably. “It wasn’t the hippogriff’s fault. The ministry’s using it as a scapegoat.” She’d never much cared about being confronted. About her beliefs being defied… But as Cedric did so, her mind felt a turmoil similar to the raging storm outside. Each thunder that shook her very core felt mirrored by her own mind and emotions. “Hagrid should take responsibility, then.” She quickly diverted.

If there was one thing she was, it would be observative. Nonetheless, she chose to believe that she was wrong to think she saw a slight furrowing of his brows – not quite agreeing with her, but choosing to stay silent. 

“Alright, then. I should get going…” He trailed off with a hint of awkwardness. “Wish me luck?” 

Stuck in her brother’s condition and Cedric’s arguments, she practically forgot where they were. The archway entrance to the Quidditch Pitch was the only thing protecting them from the rain downpour. Thousands of excited yells and cheers blended together into one big belt of “GRYFFINDOR!” and “HUFFLEPUF!” 

“Good lu-” She almost finished, but caught herself. “What? No! The bet’s still on. I hope you lose a horrible, terrible loss.” “Ouch! Don’t break my heart like that.” He dramatically placed his hands over his heart and heaved a big, theatrical sigh before he turned around to venture into the depths of the soaked pitch. “Oh-” He slightly angled back, face slightly saddened as if he forgot something terribly important. “Be safe, alright? I just- I don’t know. Be careful if Black shows up.” And with concern written to every corner of his face – each crinkle of worry a desperate poem – he sprinted into the storm. 

Sirius Black.Sirius Black had managed to enter Hogwarts just a few days prior. Sirius Black was a renowned Death Eater. Sirius Black would never hurt her. 

But Cedric thought he might. And his worry for her felt like chains wrapped around her legs, binding her. Because she hadn’t felt a drop of care for anyone who Sirius Black might have gone after. 

Stop.

“FIVE MINUTES UNTIL THE GAME STARTS!”

Lee Jordan’s sing-song shout snapped her back. Sirius Black goes after muggleborns – leeches to wizardkind. The same mantra she’d been taught repeated in her mind as she, too, ventured into the storm until she could get to the protected bleachers. The heavy droplets felt like knives, pelting from every direction. The soil was muddy, making each step require more force than necessary. Had she not thought to wish Cedric goodbye, she would’ve been fine. There were protected areas for the audience – yet she did think to do so. And if she’d been given the chance to change her outcome, she wouldn’t have taken it. Finally, she managed to get into the confines of the protection charm. She could hear the muffled sound of droplets hitting against the barrier over the relentless cheering. A fierce shiver ran through her spine as the warm air contrasted with the cold of her clothes. She exhaled, flicking her wand so that a ticklish air spread throughout her body, drying her. 

“Salazar.” She grumbled. 

The mere sound of her voice got some Slytherin students to snap their gaze away from the pitch and toward her. Her name demanded attention – demanded recognition and oozed power. A single glance was all it took for the few closest to her to scoot away, making space for her to walk through. With a satisfied smirk, she looked up, trying to find where Draco was. It didn’t take long for her to spot the familiar head of platinum-blonde hair followed by two hulking figures and a dainty girl. “GRYFFINDOR AND HUFFLEPUFF ARE GETTING INTO THE PITCH!” 

Jordan’s loud voice announced just as she sat down beside her brother. “Does it still hurt?” She asked worriedly, scanning over his arm and chest, where the creature had clawed and bit him. 

Draco, who was in the middle of pointing to his arm, clamoring for pity from Pansy, turned toward her. “Yeah, a lot.” He emphasized, wobbling his injured arm as if it were boneless. 

Shouldn’t it hurt to wobble it? There wasn’t a single sign of a grimace, of pain in his expression. His face was nothing but smug, 

“Captains, please shake hands!” Madam Hooch broke through her thought. Instantly, her eyes snapped back to the pitch, had it not been for the repelling charm placed on the barrier the figures would be indistinguishable. And, even still, it was tough to differentiate which member was which. 

Each member kicked off the ground, flying up and gathering a small circle to wait for their respective captains. Wood’s hand held Cedric’s, shaking it once before they were left staring fiercely at each other. 

A loud, piercing whistle blew signalling the start of the game. At once, the captains separated, Wood flying toward the hoops and Cedric overviewing the pitch from above. She could only imagine how painful the storm must feel whilst flying, she’d barely handled being in it for the seconds it took to get inside the barrier… Hopefully, it would be a quick match. 

“Angelina in possession! Godric that woman is beautiful– Oop- Sorry professor! I meant talented! Talented!” Jordan started with his usual flirty remarks, and McGonagall with her irritated corrections. 

She doubted it would be, though. 

If anything, the current conditions indicated that it might last for hours – perhaps days. Draco constantly complained about stormy matches, saying they were lengthy due to the low-visibility of the snitch and the constant threat of slipping. 

“Ugh, it hurts so much, Pansy, I need a massage!” Her eyes twitched slightly. Draco might not have been hurt after all. 

Any annoyance left her as Cedric darted across the pitch, however. His eyes followed his path, trying to see if he’d found the glittering ball. 

“Absolutely spectacular save from Wood! Seems like the Hufflepuff chasers have to play catch up!” 

Any thoughts of their bet left her mind as she saw Cedric whizzing by, his brown locks drenched and sticking to his face, eyes fiercely concentrated on something up ahead. Her lungs tightened around nothing, air being the furthest thing from her mind as she focused on keeping her… Friend. Within view. 

“Diggory spotted the snitch! Oooh but Potter’s tailing him!” The commentary entered through one ear and left through the other. She only realized that Potter was, in fact, tailing Cedric when the whirl of scarlet and gold got right beside him. The two seemed to be neck-and-neck, yet Potter’s Nimbus 2000 far outshined Cedric’s broom – he was going to lose. 

A deep sadness welled within her, a sort of desperate plea for the destiny to change. For Cedric to succeed. That sadness shifted from ache for her friend into pure dread – sheer panic for the outcome of the game. The weight of the world seemed to rest on the shoulders of this match and, as the fate veered ever closer to a loss, she felt morose. An intense feeling of pure emptiness erasing each of her emotions from deep within her. 

Nothingness…

Deep, black, endless… Nothingness…Her vision seemed to blur for a moment, stuck in her own despair. Oh. Her eyes snapped to the bottom of the stadium, hundreds of dementors floated beneath the pair she’d been watching, their eyes transfixed on both the players and the audience. Some of them had skeletal hands pulling down their cloaks to reveal a large open mouth of rotten teeth. 

“HARRY!” The Gryffindor stand shouted in unison with similar dread to that she’d been feeling. But it didn’t feel fabricated as before.

Her gaze snapped back toward Cedric, but Potter wasn’t there. Instead, his broom was flying mid-air for a few tantalizing seconds before it, too, slipped away. The top-notch model was taken away by the wind, out of bound and toward the Forbidden Forest. Cedric. 

He held one hand raised clutching the tiny fluttering object, a wide proud grin on his face as the Hufflepuff stands roared in applause. She saw as he angled back toward the Slytherin stands, their eyes met over the downpour… She must not have looked as gleeful as he hoped. 

Cedric’s expression fell, staring around her to try and find anything that justified her lack of joy. Then he looked down. And then he, too, joined the chorus. 

Potter’s limp body was taken away by a group of mediwitches after Dumbledore personally made the Dementors flee. Salazar, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wanted the golden boy’s golden smile back. 

“NO! This can’t have counted, professor! I demand a rematch!” Cedric’s panicked, guilty voice resonated all around the stadium. She saw as the Huffepuff stands became crestfallen – unsure how to celebrate or even if they should do so. 

“Hufflepuff won, Diggory.” Hooch affirmed, standing face-to-face with the man. 

Barely conscious of her own movements, she ran down the stands – a wave of students opening up space for her, more frantically than before.  “She’s right, Diggory. You’ve won. Fairly.” Wood said, bitterly. 

She reached the railings, sipping between them and jumping down into the pitch. The hail-like rain hit her again, bruises likely to form on her back as she sprinted across the stadium toward them. 

“What?! It wasn’t fair, Wood, and you know it!” Cedric pleaded with anguish, gaze travelling between Hooch and the Gryffindor Captain desperately. “You had to endure the Dementors too, Diggory. It was fair.” Hooch said with a tone of finality.

Cedric opened his mouth, about to argue. Then she reached him. 

Her hands closed around his, hands clutching at his clothes like her last lifeline. Or perhaps, trying to be his. It took moments, but he embraced her back, arms closing around her tightly, too. 

“The match is decided.” Hooch continued. “HUFFLEPUFF WON!” Her voice was enhanced, echoing all around for every stadium member to hear. Hufflepuff won under his captaincy, yet Cedric didn’t look half as happy as he should have. “You’ve won! You’re winning the bet, yeah?” She attempted to cheer him up, head pressed against his chest and trying to hold him tighter still. 

The bet could be tossed aside, for all she cared – her friend was hurting.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦  

Pride.

It was something that flowed deep within the Malfoy’s veins. An almost genetic air of superiority, of believing – knowing – their opinions to be above others. Elegance and etiquette, too, were ingrained into their every thought and miniscule change of posture. Cedric Diggory was great at cracking down both.

“Did you see the news?” Cedric asked, expression full of intrigue. 

Unable to contain the jab at their ongoing bet, she responded. “That Slytherin beat Hufflepuff? Of course.” Her smirk was irritatingly self-assured. 

Always the good sport, Cedric chuckled. “Only because Flint kept ramming into me. And the bet was to win the House Cup – Slytherin still has Ravenclaw and Gryffindor to go up against.” About to continue, he was interrupted. 

“Please, you think either of them have any shot against Slytherin?” 

“Yes, and that’s not the point. I’m not talking about Quidditch – did you see The Daily Prophet?” He questioned. “How is that not the point? They’ll never beat Slytherin!” She argued. 

“You don’t even like Quidditch that much.” He stressed, trying to get back to the topic. 

He was right. Unlike her younger brother, she much preferred duels and charms over the dangerous Wizarding sport. Still, though. Her eyes twitched slightly – that wasn’t the point! “Yes, but I’m not losing the bet!” 

Cedric leaned his head sideways, raising one eyebrow. His locks bounced ever so slightly with his deep breaths… Warmth spread across her face – his grey eyes seemed rather intense when looking at her. “You’re done?” Cedric hummed out jokingly. 

She crossed her arms defensively, indignant that he’d suggest Wood’s half-assed team would best Slytherin’s. “Did you see the Daily Prophet?” He repeated. 

Her face scrunched in distaste – she knew of The Daily Prophet’s inability to stick with the truth. Truly, she couldn’t count on both of her hands the amount of scandals she knew that were pushed under wraps due to the newspaper’s love of bribes. As such, she preferred to stay well away from the literature unless told otherwise by her family who, too, played with the strings behind the agency. 

“No.” She said simply. 

For the faintest second, she saw his eyelids droop, his face soften… Pity. Instinctively, her body tensed – why would he feel pity? “Buckbeak had a trial – did you know that?” He asked tentatively, albeit still prodding. 

Buckbeak…? She wracked her brain for the name but nothing came to mind… It didn’t feel like anyone’s last name, nor any creature she knew of – was there something in the ministry regarding a new species? That couldn’t be it, if there was it wouldn’t be first aired on The Daily Prophet. 

“No…?” It came out more as a question than a statement. That instant, however, Draco’s voice echoed within her mind. 

“Father finally got a hold of the Wizengamot! That great oaf won’t step foot inside Hogwarts again.” 

Oh.

Salazar…

It was the hippogriff’s name. Her eyes widened upon her realization, mouth hanging ajar due to empathy she never should have for such a beast. Surprise must’ve been etched into her face as Cedric did not mention it further until minutes later, letting her soak with the weight of the newfound information. 

“He lost. They say the Ministry will send someone to…” He trailed off, unwilling to actually admit what the Ministry would do to the creature. A creature of which she’d come to accept held no guilt in her brother’s injury – only a weapon of his own incompetence. They’d kill the beast. “...Soon.” Cedric concluded.

It shouldn’t affect her this much. Not to the point where a weight seemed to be placed upon her shoulders – as if she, personally, contributed to its demise. Or perhaps it was deserved. She knew her father was the one to move the pieces, to guarantee the creature’s death be it innocent or not. She was the daughter of the man who had that innocent’s blood on his hands – and she did nothing. The bitter metallic taste of blood dripped into her mouth as she bit down on her cheek, an overwhelming sense of responsibility washed over her – she could’ve stopped this. She should stop this somehow. “Hey-” Cedric’s voice felt soothing, like a gentle wave crashing upon her shore. “It’s alright. We’ll just- hope he’ll be okay. Hippogriffs are smart, right? He’ll escape.” She felt his hand wrap around her wrist, a firm squeeze attempting to keep her grounded. 

“Right…” She tried to believe it – truly, she did. But it felt wrong to sit around and do nothing. To let fate weave itself around Buckbeak’s neck without a shred of resistance. Fate was sharp, relentless and desperately vengeful – but it could be cut. “I don’t think Arithmancy is my biggest issue anymore.” Her gaze locked with his, attempting to convey her thoughts through mere expression. Something she should keep guarded but had long since unraveled to him. 

Arithmancy…  It was how they first came to be friends. Cedric’s kind offer to help her with a subject she’d offhandedly mentioned having trouble on. They’d spent the day well after curfew sharing their own understandings, flipping through books for the one particular equation that would solve her problems… She needed that now. And Arithmancy wasn’t her biggest issue anymore. 

Their thoughts felt interwoven together like the same strings she’d be trying to cut. The silence that hung from her words – the unspoken suggestion – it took no more than half a second for Cedric to soften his grip around her and give a single nod. A nod filled with understanding for he was the one to first instill the thin thread of doubt in her mind toward the fairness of the creature’s sentence. Cedric opened a sweet smile, one that was laced with a silent agreement and a thousand of leftover ramifications. Because it wasn’t just the Hippogriff. It was a small crack in her terribly sheltered life and point of view. She smiled back, trying to convey the same sentiment she received.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The smell of old books was always comforting to her. It reminded her of the libraries back at Malfoy Manor, at the hundreds of books she’d flip through time and time again searching for knowledge – for anything to help her father, her mother. Hogwarts’ library was much more vibrant than the one back home — the vibrant elm a sharp contrast to the dull ebony she’d sifted through thousands of times. Besides, she wasn’t trying to help her family. She was defying them. 

In 1795, a Bowtruckle – kept as a pet by Mister Graham Wadsworth – was placed under trial for the injuring of the witch Pamela Abbot. The trial lasted a whole of one day, fourteen hours and seventeen minutes. Clause 73 (Each wizarding governing body will be responsible for the concealment, care, and control of all magical beasts, beings, and spirits dwelling within its territory's borders.) had only been introduced for 45 years at that point – lots of wizards and witches still highly valued a Wizard’s or Witch’s life above other magical beings… Her eyes were starting to lose focus, she’d been through at least ten different books regarding laws about magical beings and interruption of sentencing. She sighed, already skimming forward in her exhaustion, moving over to the results of the trial. 

…The defense ended with a simple closing argument: The Bowtruckle was doing nothing more than defending itself and its owner’s possession – would it be better, then for it to ignore the stealing attempt at its owner’s wand? Would any of the Wizengamot sentence a fellow Wizard or Witch to death for protecting their rightful belongings? The trial ended in favor of the defense’s side – the Bowtruckle was sent away, scot-free. Many regard this trial as being the start to stricter protection laws surrounding Magical Creatures as well as to the gradual shift on Wizard’s view of them. Though, of course it remains quite skewed to this day, even after the later contributions of Magizoologist Newt Scamander…

It was the slightest glimpse of hope, yet instantly she traveled back to the start, starting to re-read the whole trial. 

Slow, leveled footsteps sounded ever closer to her – Cedric. She’d learned to know him by the weight of his steps long ago ever since being holed up among books. “Did you find anything new?” He sat beside her, a sweet scent of pastries following soon after. 

“I did but I’m not sure if It’ll be enough.” She was not gullible enough to think mere proof would trump bribery of the Malfoy’s level. Nonetheless, she had to at least try. She slid a small pile of paper toward him – all of the evidence she had managed to gather thus far. It felt… Correct, to do so but at the same time nauseating. She knew to whom those sheets would be passed over and it was exactly the person she was taught to hate. Hermi-... Unwillingly, her lips curled into a disgusted scowl before she could control it back. Granger. It would end up in the muggleborn’s hand along with her precious trio of blood-traitors. She softened her grip on the pile – she hadn’t even realized she’d been clutching them… “Give them to her, please.” She said in an almost robotic tone. “I heard Dumbledore managed to get a second trial – perhaps they will have a better shot this time.” Cedric nodded, placing the evidence in his bag. As he did so, the sweet aroma grew stronger – Lime, blueberries, chocolate… Her scowl grew less intense just as swiftly as it appeared, the corners of her lips grew softer as she looked at the bag. “I told you Pince wouldn’t allow it.” She let her gaze rest on the half-open bag, seeing the faintest trace of a chocolate mousse in a plastic container. 

His grey orbs landed on the librarian’s table and traveled back toward hers, masked mischief beneath it. His pointer finger raised to his mouth, shushing her. “What’s the harm if she never finds out?” He grinned. “Besides, you weren’t coming down for meals so what could I do? Watch you starve? Never.” Cedric’s gaze trailed from one aisle to the next, making sure Pince was out of sight before fully unzipping his backpack. Almost the whole of the kitchen’s sweets were there. “C’mon! Eat!” Joy radiated off him – accomplished at getting her to take better care of herself. 

“Fine.” She grumbled theatrically, grabbing a bite-sized pie and swiftly munching on it. She’d rather die than be caught eating in the library under Pince’s care. Taking care not to leave any crumbs, she delighted in the sweet treat. At once, she felt her stomach aching, finally tasting food after hours of neglect. She stayed silent for a moment, staring wishfully at the bagged heaven in front of her. “Alright, I relent – let’s go eat outside.” Sliding the books closest to her away, she got up and urged Cedric to do the same. After thoroughly checking the area for any crumbs, they walked outside together. With Cedric bearing a prideful expression all the while.

“I knew that would work.” He said confidently, posture straight and smile bright. 

“Just like you knew you’d win the bet?” She raised an eyebrow and glanced sideways toward him, challenging him on his assurance. There was the smallest trace of deflation before he, too, glanced at her with matched fire. “You didn’t win the bet, either, big mouth.” He stuck his tongue out childishly as they walked together, neither staring ahead as usual. 

“Yeah? Well you made the bet. And technically the bet was that Hufflepuff would win – I never said anything about Slytherin winning.” She, too, poked her tongue out – very mature. 

It was funny, really. How a Malfoy could feel so at ease after just deviating from their family’s traditions, after just losing the Quidditch Cup to Gryffindor of all houses… Oh, and losing a bet on top of it all. Then again, she’d rather have lost a bet ten times over than go back to being strangers with him. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Robes… Leftover phials… Winter coat… 

The end of fifth year was rapidly approaching and with it the rushing of students trying to retrieve lost belongings. As far as she was aware, everything she brought from home was now neatly packed inside her suitcase – everything she wouldn’t still use for classes, at least. She placed her weight upon the suitcase, zipping it shut and sitting atop it. 

There was still 30 minutes until Potions class, until then she was free to do whatever she liked. She let her hands fall backwards, resting on the suitcase and serving to balance her as she glanced upward, unsure what to do. 

She’d scoured just about every book in the library that could help with the hippogriff’s sentence. Cedric assured her that every ounce of information had ended up with the muggleborn Gryffindor. Now, she could only hope, but the trial had gone by and each day lessened the sentiment… It was difficult to believe the trial went well when, before each Care of Magical Creatures class, Hagrid could be heard sniffling in his cottage.

Draco’s joy seemed to be picking up by the day, too. 

In 1842 an Ashwinder was pardoned for its attack of the summoner under the pretenses of the Wizard infringing on its natural habitat – fire. 

She licked her lips, dry due to breathing through her mouth for the past moments. Would it all be useless? The days of research? Weeks, even. 

Sorrow was spelled in the droop of her eyes. In how she stared wistfully at the intricate chandelier above her – why did she think it would change? She’d known from the start that the Ministry was rotten from the inside, corrupted at the slightest sign of money and fame. 

The dull grey of the chandelier, pale and lifeless, mirrored her changing perception toward her family. She loved them dearly, Narcissa and Lucius were endlessly kind to her and shaped her growth in a way she could never repay them for… But good parents could nevertheless be horrible individuals. She was the golden apple, chosen amidst the sea of forgotten slightly different ones. They doted on her because she was one of them, pure of blood and of great heritage – their heritage. What if she’d been anyone else? What if she'd been bitten by a werewolf as a young child… What then? If her stems had been slightly misshapen, what would’ve happened? The empty grey of the chandelier was nothing compared to the warm grey she’d come to cherish over the past year. “WHERE IS IT?” A man’s muffled cry resounded. 

“WHERE IS THE BEAST?”   She sprung to her feet, almost tripping over the suitcase as she leaned against the window. In the distance, through the slightly distorted window panel, four figures could be seen outside Hagrid’s hut – Hagrid, Dumbledore, and two hooded men. 

“SOMEONE UNTIED HIM!” She finally recognized the voice – Macnair. One of Father’s Death Eater friends. The same one who happened to work for the ‘Committee for the Disposal of Magical Creatures’. 

The skies were free of any hooked-beaked grey hippogriff, but it wasn’t in the Ministry’s hands, either. Buckbeak was saved. A smile bloomed across her – there was hope after all. 

Frantically, she pulled robes over herself, slipping into shoes and attempting to jog without seeming desperate. Because she’d heard the greatest news in a while and, though the dull grey of her family would never reciprocate her sentiment, the warm grey she wished to see would sneak her into the kitchens and create a cheesy tune with the house elves to celebrate their little hidden treasure. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Usually, she looked forward to going back home – to reunite with her parents and the endless mysteries of the manor. This time, however, she’d felt a pang in her chest to say goodbye to Cedric and the ebony walls felt less inviting…The Malfoy Manor had felt off ever since he came back from Hogwarts. 

So, as she sat on the leather couch at the Malfoy’s library – legs crossed with proper posture – she felt inadequate. A book lay open on her lap yet she wasn’t reading it, merely tracing its spine and dazing off to somewhere else deep inside her mind. The previous year, she’d started hunting for signs of The Dark Lord and how his essence could lay within a mere diary… She’d been proud of her work, of hiding amidst shadows and deciphering how to sneak into the forbidden section. Still… Now, with The Depths Between Bearer and Painting: How a Wizard’s Soul Can Live Post-Death, she showed no signs of interest. In fact, her mind had long since taken her to the suitcase she’d already packed – She wanted to be back to Hogwarts. Her father and mother had treated with the same gentleness they always had – the same admiration. But she felt out of place in their pride… She didn’t feel prideful of what they supposedly enjoyed about her. 

It didn’t help that everywhere she looked reminded her of what she left behind that year. Of the sweetest yellow of Cedric’s scarf – the same one she’d called disgusting mustard-colored just a few years prior… Of the lightest blueish grey of his eyes which brought her comfort in the guilt that ate her alive… Of his defiances – soft and tentative, challenging her to think anew. 

Her vision blurred ever so slightly, Cedric’s figure appearing behind her eyelids as they slowly closed. Somehow that was what ignited a warmth inside her. The faintest of smiles in her lips. 

“Hey! Father is calling you.” Draco peeked inside the room, he bore the genuine smile she failed to replicate. 

“Tell him I’m coming.” She replied, dusting off her finely woven silver dress and placing the book aside, not bothering to mark the page she’d dropped it off on. Draco did not obey, instead waiting for her to cross the door and walking beside her. “What do you think he wants you for?” He asked curiously. 

She rolled her eyes, Draco had always been a rather nosy kid. “He’d tell you if he wanted you to know.” She quipped, though slightly affectionately as she bumped into him. 

Draco groaned, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. “But I want to know! Why’d you get to keep secrets?” She was spared from answering the question as they reached the dining room. Her father was sitting at the grand table beside her mother, a chair had already been pulled out at the other side of Lucius for her. Ignoring Draco, she walked into the room and closed the door behind her.

“Ah, there you are.” Lucius acknowledged, pointing toward the empty seat beside him. At once, she walked toward the ebony chair, sitting down and waiting for what was the meaning of this meeting. “Has the new servant been treating you nicely?” He asked, albeit it quite certainly was not the subject at hand. 

The servant in question was a stout squib. Having been cast away from the Carrow family long ago, she gladly took the job opportunity. Not that father or mother treated her well – squibs disgusted them just as they had done to the Carrows. Unfortunately, It’d been rather difficult to employ a new house-elf after Dobby’s release in her fourth year.

“Very much so.” She responded. 

Finally, Lucius angled his body toward her, curiosity displayed in his face. “Have you managed to find anything about the diary yet?” She shook her head – nothing of interest. It was quite difficult researching its content when she remembered a Death Eater had threatened a pureblood just the year before. Ronald Weasley was not in alliance with the pureblood ideals in any way, but he was still one, and was supposed to be protected. “I’ve only figured that a small replica of a Wizard’s soul stays within the mortal realm – possessing their paintings with their knowledge and personality.” She added, attempting to be somewhat helpful. 

“Hm… That’s alright, dear, do let me know if you need any forbidden book. I will buy it.” Lucius waved his hand, casting her away. 

With a small bow and a pleasant smile, she walked back toward the door. Really, she knew that her father had no interest in resurrecting the Dark Lord. Death Eaters themselves feared the man – but it would be intelligent to hold helpful information should he ever return. The wooden door creaked open, as she walked through, revealing the small pale boy staring at her with wondrous eyes. 

“So? What was it?” Draco matched her pace, prodding her for any slip-ups.

Just as she’d done moments before, she shook her head. Attempting to get him to drop the matter. That seemed impossible for her younger brother, however. “Is it about him? About the Dark Lord? I’ve heard Goyle – the buffoon – saying he showed up at Hogwarts in my first year.” He questioned. Draco had a habit of taking over Father’s language – Lucius was the one usually calling Mr Goyle idiotic. “Has father not told you?” She asked, deeming the information irrelevant and fine to give up. Draco’s eyes lit up, holding onto her every word. “He did show up in your first year. But he was terribly weakened. Father’s unsure if he will return.” His lips pulled up into a full blown grin, satisfied. “Well I bet he will return this year. It’s about time someone puts Granger and the other mudbloods in their place. Don’t get me started on the filthy Weasley and Potter, either.” The blonde bounced up and down – gleeful. “Don’t you think so too?” Her face contorted ever so slightly, an out-of-place scowl attempting to form in her expression. The glee from her younger brother seemed visceral to her, saddening the whole of her essence. Nevertheless, she corrected the scowl into a smirk. “I bet so.”

It was strange, too, how such inferior knowledge had to be sealed away from others. The invisible barrier to the Restricted Section of the Library was ingrained to her memory – its electric touch both inviting and frightening. It had been so terribly close, the faint scent of old books had invaded her senses, each one contributing to her thirst for the unknown, the forbidden. Surely, if they were forbidden by Dumbledore they were of interest. Ah, but that was mere daydream. Had it been any other night, she might have managed to sneak past the barriers, but, unfortunately, her duties had to be done in a pair for the night. For, of course, it was the gravest news that Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban… Please. At best, Black might give some muggleborns a scare. No Death Eater would dare to show face until The Dark Lord had come back. This was pointless, as always.

Hushed whispers followed her with each click of her heels. Each portrait, most undeserving of the fine paint and technique of which they were formed, gossiped about nonsensical sightings of out-of-bed students. They were, in a pitiful attempt at self-amusement, lying. It hadn’t been hard to separate the truthful ones from the miserable from the point she’d been appointed prefect. Being apt at reading expressions and body language, was, after all, quite useful when one was of such a prestigious family as the Malfoys.

That is why, as the whispers became nothing more than a faint buzz of the past, she could guess exactly who was waiting by the entrance doors. Although his face was pointed away from her, the man’s open arms, leaned back posture and slight head-tilt told her all she needed to know – Cedric Diggory. Willingly, she let the silence stretch for a moment longer, absorbed in her own thoughts. That was better. She was worried that she’d end up with the Weasley Head Boy. 

Although she did have a slight aversion for Hufflepuff House and their far-too-lenient punishments, she supposed it was a small victory. “Diggory.” She announced her presence, taking one step forward. It wasn’t unexpected, but it was still strange that Diggory didn’t straighten his posture at the sign of company. Instead, he merely pushed himself off the pedestal he’d been leaning on and, stranger still, smiled warmly. 

“Malfoy. You’re doing rounds with me, then?” He asked, walking closer toward her. She had the faintest thought to take a step back, but knew better than to do so. He extended his hand, the gesture hanging mid-air for seconds as she processed the offer. The shadow cast from his arm flickered slightly under the fire that emanated from the braziers near the main door. Soon, her own arm joined the slightly wobbly grey cast atop the ground as she shook his hand, curling her lips in a pleasant smile. “Seems so. Hopefully it’ll be round not rounds, though, I’m sure? We’re supposed to be temporarily filling in near the Library, is all.”

“That’s great! You’re the only prefect I still haven’t met.” He hummed peacefully as they fell into an easy pace together. “How’s prefect life going for you? I’ve been juggling around with the new duties.” He chuckled, his eyes bore to the side of her face, waiting for an answer.

The only one? It wasn’t for nothing that Diggory was considered popular, was it? Her gaze landed on him, seeing the expectancy behind his stare yet offering him only a shrug. “It’s been fine. Arithmancy’s been bothering me now that I can’t study as much at night but other than that no complaints.” Her tone was steely – keeping him at bay. Not for any deep-rooted issue, she merely preferred to work quietly. 

That didn’t seem to stop him, however. Unshaken by her icy behavior, Cedric nodded in agreement, grinning. “Hats off to you, I could never keep up with Arithmancy. How’s Vector, anyway? Allan – he’s my friend – took the class once but he dropped it so…” He trailed off. 

Flattery was, indeed, very effective. Her shoulders eased the tiniest bit and she allowed herself to tilt her head upward, staring at his soft gray eyes. “Well, Vector is fine as long as you don’t disrupt her class. She can get a bit overly excited and go off-topic, though…” She intended to leave it at that but, for some reason, her brain refused to allow it. “What about you? You’re Captain now, right?” 

As they reached the Library, her steps slowed, the enticing doors to the Restricted Section just within range of her peripheral view. “I am!” He exclaimed gleefully. “I’m really happy, you know? To be able to lead the team. Hopefully we’ll be able to win the cup this year, It’s been a while since Hufflepuff wins any…” Almost imperceptibly, his smile dimmed. 

It must’ve hurt to not have any accomplishments within his house. Still, she felt the odd pull to learn more. Why it affected him specifically. Especially when his smile bounced back to a full beam with such ease – as if radiating joy was second nature to him. Subtly, she scanned his features – his grey irises had red hues due to the torches and were slightly hidden due to the narrowing of his eyes, a genuine smile… Her own eyes narrowed, albeit due to apprehension, she’d always thought his smile was faked – curated for public attention. 

“I’m afraid Slytherin’s winning it again, Diggory.” She answered, a cheeky smile gracing her. 

That didn’t dim his spirits at all. In fact, he laughed and shook his head amusedly. “Well, I bet Hufflepuff’s winning.”  

She furrowed her eyebrows, scoffing. All the same, she found her lips curling upward. “Didn’t peg you for the competitive type.” Under the soft torchlight, she was the one to extend her hand. “Bet.” 

“It’s a sweets shop, dear. Do you want to buy some?” Oh. She glanced back at the trolley with a strange face for an 11 year old. Did they have ducks made of honey? Surely not.

“Uhm… No, thank you. Is there any open cabin around?” She tried not to think too hard on if the honeyducks were living. She had more important matters at hand – the train was threatening to move and she would not like to experience a mini earthquake.  “Actually…” The old lady looked back, slightly tilting the cart. “There’s one with four first years I passed, right over there!” As soon as she saw the direction, she squeezed right past the lady and away from the strange sweets. Truly, she hadn’t really seen exactly which compartment the lady pointed at – only the general direction. So, she had to keep getting on her tip-toes to see into cabins and receive some very confused glances from the people within. Not there either. She huffed, still carrying the heavy weight of her suitcase. Just as the train lurched and she thought she was surely doomed, however, the cabin she was just about to check swung the door open. Inside was a boy with unruly black hair and lopsided glasses, another boy with black hair who, honestly, felt like a real-life prince and a ginger girl pulling another black-haired boy away from the cabin. 

The two girls came face to face, the red-haired one seemed positively furious. “Don’t go there! They’re petty and annoying!” she huffed out before stomping out of there.

Weird.

She looked back inside, the two boys were laughing together and the compartment door was yet to be closed. Oh, well. She never was one to take others’ words for something. Slightly apprehensively, she stepped into the cabin and closed the door behind her. 

“Hi…” She said cautiously.

“Hey! Where are you hoping to go?” The one with the askew glasses asked with a hint of importance. Unsure what he meant, she looked at the other boy but he didn’t offer any help. In fact, he seemed a bit more gloomy. 

Feeling a bit out of place, she shifted her balance back and forth. “I’m not sure what you mean.” Lurch. 

She was thrown off balance and landed down right next to the joyous boy. “The houses! Which one do you want to go to?” This new change of events didn’t seem to bother him at all. Actually, he leaned forward as if this single exchange would change the course of their lives. 

“Oh-” She knew of the house system. She’d read about it in the list of books they’d sent over. “Uh- I’m not sure… But I think the Sorting Hat will know, right?” That seemed to satisfy him somewhat. At least enough to talk about himself. “Well I want to be in Gryffindor! As long as you don’t want to be in Slytherin we’ll be good. Although I do like being brave.” He had a dreamy sort of look to him, like he’d stopped paying attention to reality for a moment. Carefully maneuvering past the dazed boy, she placed her suitcase up on the little shelf. “I don’t think you’ll be in Slytherin.” The boy said with conviction and she turned to him, trying to see if he’d say anything more. He was looking at the other boy, however… Oh this was getting annoying. 

“What’s your name?” She butted in. “Why not?” Asked the prince-like also black-haired boy. This was getting very confusing. “Well, you’re too cool for that. You’re nothing like that Snivellus.” He raised his head with confidence. Blimey, this was getting nowhere. “Oh and I’m James!” He added as an afterthought, turning back around to her. Although she wanted to hear the other boy’s name, he seemed a bit deep in thought. “Y/N. Why do you hate Slytherin so much?” 

“They’re evil. Almost all dark wizards come out of Slytherin.” James crossed his arms and made a disgusted face. “Well, hopefully, you’ll be right.” The unnamed boy finally snapped out of his daze. In an instant, he had a big grin playing on his face. “And I’m Sirius, by the way.” The compartment doors slid open with a woosh and two boys stood awkwardly at the entrance. “Can we come in?” Said one of them, the other had his head poking out from behind the first, clearly unsure of this exchange. Neither had black hair. Finally.

“Sure!” Piped up James.

They weren’t that bad. She did good not to listen to that girl.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

Warmth spread across her body, occasionally having her scoot away from the fire. Eventually, though, she found herself right back to it –  it was the only source of light in the common room, afterall. She flicked the page, learning about the intricate wand-movements on how to turn a match into a needle. There wasn’t any test coming up but the whole thing was just so interesting.

McGonagall had told them that, in more advanced classes, they would eventually learn to turn inanimate objects into animals. It was insane! Her normal school couldn’t begin to compare to Hogwarts. Everything was entirely new for her and each bit of information a professor gave was enough to fuel a fire within her to know more. Not because she needed to, but because she wanted to.

Like a fairytale. Yeah, that was a good explanation. She didn’t have to read fairytales, but the story kept her coming back for more and more even if it didn’t have any applications to her. 

By now, the flames had lost a bit of their life. It must’ve been quite late since, as she looked around, she was the only one in the common room. It felt so soon, though, she didn’t want to stop! Her hand closed around her wand, eyes squinting at the fire with annoyance. Maybe…? Professor Flitwick had recently demonstrated a spell that could produce or reignite fire, but they hadn’t actually tried it yet.

Well… It was worth a shot. Carefully placing her book aside, she took a deep breath and pointed her wand forwards.

“Are you sure it’s here?” The noise startled her, immediately snapping back to the room’s entrance door. 

“I’m sure! There’s only three towers in Hogwarts… I think… And we’ve already been to both Gryffindor Tower and the Astronomy Tower so this must be it!” What in the…?“And the eagle-shaped knob does help, doesn’t it?” Said a slightly deadpan third voice. 

All of them were whispering, making it hard for her to figure out who was on the other side. Was someone locked outside? Well… Yes, but it couldn’t be a Ravenclaw – they wouldn’t be asking if this was the tower, would they? Closing her book, she placed it aside on a nearby stool before getting closer to the door. 

“I’ve heard that they have to solve a riddle to get in. The door won’t see us if we’re invisible, James!” James…? That third voice sounded an awful lot like Remus… Oh no.

“Okay… Alright! Sirius, Peter, take the cloak and go check if there’s any prefect coming. We’ll try to solve the riddle.” At once, she heard a squeaky ‘Yes!’ from Peter and the shuffling of feet. 

That didn’t sound good at all. Looking frantically from the stairs to the dorm rooms and back to the door, she sighed. Okay. She couldn’t leave them there. As soon as she heard the start of a riddle she swung the door open and heard panicked moving. “Come on, let’s go!” James whisper-yelled at Remus. The state they found her friends in was nothing short of comical. Remus had clearly slipped due to his panic and fell back, James was holding him up under his arms and attempting to drag him down the stairs whilst both boys looked like a deer caught in headlights. 

Unable to stop herself, she giggled at how much they looked like scaredy cats. “It’s me. What are you guys doing here? It’s past curfew.” Remus was still shocked but James managed to compose himself enough to push the boy back to standing straight. “Well we know that. What do you think the cloak is for.” “James. There isn’t a cloak.” She rolled her eyes at the boy’s stupidity. Besides, he hadn’t even answered her question! “Oh, right. Sirius! Peter!” He whisper-yelled again and the duo appeared. Or, rather, their heads appeared. “Did you manage to break in?” Sirius’ head popped slightly around the curve, trying to see if the door had been open yet. “We should really get going! I think I hear footsteps!” Peter’s head seemed proper terrified, glancing back behind him constantly. Now she was the deer caught in headlights. Her mouth hung half-open, staring at the empty space where their body should’ve been. But really, really, wasn’t. “Guys, what-” she was only able to get half of the sentence out before James covered her mouth. Right, she didn’t think about controlling her tone whilst her friends were floating heads. “It’s an invisibility cloak! Come on!” An arm appeared. Sirius’ arm! It opened a small gap where she could finally see where their bodies were and could see the inside of a cloak. She barely had time to think before James ushered her in and she was crammed between the others. It really wasn’t made for four people let alone five. 

“You said you wanted to go to Honeydukes, we think we’ve found a way to get there.” Was the only explanation James offered before they started to, very clumsily, walk back down the stairs. She paused for a single beat to look at him. This was insane. He’d snuck out just to take her to that dang sweet shop? “What? But Hogsmeade visits aren’t allowed until third year. We’re not third year James. And it’s past curfew!” Her tone got progressively higher-pitched as she understood the stupidity of their plan.  “He’s right. His father said something about ‘Dissendium’ and he’s been saying it non-stop ever since. We found a secret passage.” Remus explained, awkwardly bumping into her as they walked. 

“Right!” Admiration was laced in James’ tone. “Besides, you said you wanted to see if they had honey ducks. So, we’re going there!” Right. That was the only logical conclusion to her wanting to see the honey ducks.

Nonetheless… 

She felt slightly compelled to follow – not that she had a choice, but if she did, she would. They were a chaotic bunch, but, hey, they did all this to show her a bit more magic. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

That high had worn off by the third time Peter’s elbow dug into her back and Sirius stepped over her foot.

“Ow! Watch it!” She hissed as Remus hopped on the bandwagon and bumped into her, almost throwing her forward.

“Sorry! How long until we get there, James?” Remus’ face was a grimace – likely facing the same issues she had been. 

They had been walking for far too long and she was starting to think that they were lost. Looking around, still slightly amazed that they could see everything through the cloak’s fabric, she added to the question pile. “Where are we even going?” “It’s here somewhere… It’s a statue of an old one-eyed witch… I’m sure it was on the third floor…” He vaguely answered, seeming to be talking more to himself than the other two. Slightly exasperated, she tried to think of where the statue might be. The third floor didn’t have anything particularly interesting. In fact, it was mostly empty of rooms and the only thing they’d passed by now were portraits and decorations. Quite honestly, she hadn’t even ventured too far into the third floor other than using it to get to the upper floors but she still thought she saw that witch statue somewhere… “Let’s check near the stairs. Maybe we missed it?” She offered, glancing at James in the crowded space. It didn’t take long for them to find the statue after that. The five of them scooted over behind the statue, almost tripping over the cloak as James walked closer and raised his wand. “Dissendium.”. As soon as the wand touched the marble the statue slid over, making way for a dark tunnel. James was the first to climb down the entrance, his figure slowly being engulfed by the darkness as he semi-whispered. “Come on!” “We’re going!” Sirius answered, climbing down right after James. Since James had taken the invisibility cloak with him, Remus was looking out for any prefects and, thus, it was either her or Peter to climb down the empty void next. Peter’s eyes snapped between her and the passage, cogs turning in his brain before he finally gulped and went right after. “I’m coming! You’re next Remus.” Her voice slightly echoed as her hands gripped around the stairs, eyes glancing down in a futile manner since she could barely see where she was stepping. “Woah, this is crazy…” Sirius said, awestruck. His voice echoed from one place to the next so that it felt like his voice went over her at least thrice. It felt comforting to hear her friends, but her heart still felt heavy and the climb down, daunting. With every misplaced foot her heart did a little lurch. “Guys, help… Please…?” Her words shook the tiniest bit from apprehension. Still, as she heard a tiny ‘Oh, sorry!’ coming from James, warmth seeped back to her and it felt like everything would be okay. In an instant, she felt the stairs become less shaky and she could see a tiny source of light below her barely lighting James’ features whilst he held the stairs in place. 

She breathed a sigh of relief as she finally composed herself, reaching solid ground just a bit before Remus. After each of them muttered ‘Lumos’, they walked through the narrow and slightly fallen tunnel. It was time-worn, its stones covered with moss and thick with cobwebs. It felt like an incredibly long time of twisting and turning hopelessly until the tunnel slowly creeped upward in an abandoned staircase. The steps were slightly broken and slippery due to their age, that didn’t thwart them, however.

“Careful, Peter!” She called out, grabbing onto Peter’s robe whilst the boy almost slipped and fell. Peter never managed to thank her, though, as she felt herself be stopped by someone. Confused, she glanced behind her to see James had grabbed the back of her robes. “There's a trapdoor right there.” He clarified before pushing the space right above her, where a small amount of light seeped through a room. “It’s here!” He continued excitedly before jumping and pulling himself up to the room. One by one, they got in - it was a small room with shelves and barrels full of products. The packages themselves were incredibly colorful and the sweets themselves seemed magical. There were candies whizzing through the air in thrilling loops, others spewing small amounts of spark around them that dissolved right before hitting any wood – each crevice and nook was the opposite of ‘normal’. Her mouth opened slightly in awe, spinning around to check everything she could. 

She barely noticed as Sirius jumped, trying to get one of the flying wrappers, a cheerful laugh escaping him. Or as Peter picked up a handful of lollipops and placed them into his pocket, mischievous glee present on his every feature.. Not even when Remus, slightly hesitantly, picked up a chocolate frog and curiously examined it. “Awesome, right?” She startled slightly at James suddenly being right next to her. Still silently, she locked eyes with him. James had a wide, beaming grin that felt like it would be never-ending. His messy hair was slightly worse as a wrapper flew by and tangled itself in it before leaving. “I didn’t find honey ducks when I was here… But maybe we’ll find it now! It’ll be fun either way.” “Yeah… Okay. Let’s find some honey ducks!” She smiled back. She hoped her smile was as pretty as his. 

After their interaction, she felt slightly calmer. Even as James grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward, it felt calm. The room hadn’t lost its spark, it had just momentarily dimmed under something new that bubbled within her. Something that had her following him without question. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

Second year had approached irritatingly slowly. Even as she crossed through the Great Hall doors, each house table and banners displayed, the sorting hat placed neatly on a stool, it still felt unreal. She could still feel the longing to come back, the sleepless nights she spent glued to the window in case one of her friends had sent her an owl. She could still recite James’ letters word by word about his experience at home, about his excitement to be able to play quidditch the upcoming year… “Y/N!” The familiar, slightly playful, voice called out. The sound was replayed around her mind like a mantra just before she felt someone throwing themselves at her. The weight of it all had her stumbling backwards but she managed to catch herself. She laughed, jokingly pushing the person away even though she didn’t truly want to. “James!” She responded, smiling up at him and wrapping her own arms around him in a hug. Although she attempted to crush him just as he had her, it merely got a chuckle out of him – good enough. “Hey guys!” She added soon after with Sirius, Remus and Peter popping up behind the messy black-haired boy. 

“Why didn’t you join us on the train?” James grumbled, crossing his arms indignantly and demandingly. It was slightly funny. Her amusement poked a cheeky smile into her expression. “There wasn’t enough space, you all weren’t alone this time. But why? Did you miss me?” She teased. 

“Of course I did! We all did!” He replied seriously, arms still crossed and a frown starting to curl at his lips. “True.” Remus added helpfully, although he did seem slightly awkward, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yes, yes, very true. The sorting ceremony’s about to start though, come on!” Sirius pulled Peter along, the tiny blonde boy attempting, and failing, to match his steps. “Bye! Nice to see you again!” His voice got slightly squeaky as he stumbled after Sirius. That did nothing to help Remus’ awkwardness. His gaze went from her, to James, to the duo that had just fled as if trying to see what to do. “Uhm…” His eyes finally landed on her – had he managed to solve whatever the problem was? “We have a lot to talk about, but I’m happy we’re back. Bye!” His tone was rapid as he took a few rushed steps forwards, hugged her, and semi-jogged toward the Gryffindor table. “What are they on about?” She asked, gaze locked with Remus’ back until he sat down.

“Well…” He started rather guiltily. “Sirius found a crup puppy and wants to keep him as a pet.” “What?!” Her eyes widened, quickly snapping to Sirius Black trying to find a little magical dog. 

“We’ll deal with it! But that’s not the point!” James’ hands shot out in front of him , wiggling slightly trying to sign her to stop her from panicking. As if that would work. “How in the world is that not the point?!!” Her own hands rose to the air, baffled.

“It’s just a little puppy! Remus thinks it shouldn’t be too hard to keep it behaved and I think there might be a way to sneak into the kitchens to get it some meat.” He explained. “We’ll… Find a way, I don’t know! We will, trust me.”

The single sigh that left her might have carried more weight than she’d ever carried in her little child life. “Ok, what is it then?” 

“Just talk! It wasn’t half as fun back home thinking I could be here with you and the others.” She agreed. She’d felt that way all throughout summer, but it felt slightly comforting to hear it coming from James. A strange warmth spread across her cheeks and she felt somehow at ease. “But we have the ceremony to watch, James!” She attempted to reason, however stupid doing so still sounded in her brain. 

“Yeah… and?” He rolled his eyes theatrically, like that really was a very dumb thought process and he could care less about the ceremony-watching rules. 

“And you have a table to go to, Potter.” McGonagall’s icy words cut through them, popping behind the Great Hall doors with the new first-years. “Awh, Ma’am, It’ll be fine.” James drawled out, turning on his heels with courage that he definitely did not deserve to talk to the Headmistress. 

“Ignore him, Ma’am!! We’ll be leaving.” She shrieked, trying not to get a hundred points deducted from both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. “That is rather wise, Ms. You’d do well to listen to her, Potter.”  “Unfair.” He bit back, albeit in a whisper. “Meet us when the ceremony ends, then! Oh- here!” James searched around his robes until he extended a paper toward her. A honey duck… She shook her head and giggled. “I know there aren’t honey ducks, you know!” Knowing that they were fake or not, she still loved the drawing. It was roughly made and a shade of yellow that didn’t quite match honey but the drawing moved around. More than that, she could see that James made it in the way the duck’s steps were almost stomps… In the way it didn’t have arms but carried a knight helmet…. It was cute. “Okay, ungrateful!” James mocked. “I wanted to give you something after the holidays.” He fake-pouted, blinking his eyes as if about to tear up. “Fine! Thank you.” She laughed, nevertheless giving him a quick hug before turning back. “It was very sweet, James.” And thus, she walked toward the Ravenclaw table. The blue and bronze of her house were welcoming and they warmed her heart, her friends smiling and waving at her as she approached. It was nothing compared to the small smile she saw on James before she left, though. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

“Hurry up!” “Okay! I’m going! I’m going!”  

Ever since Quidditch tryouts had been announced, James would not stop talking about them.  The fact that he could now join the Gryffindor team was his number one priority and he’d shout it at the hills if he needed to. At the moment, she was sprinting after James because they had a free period together and he absolutely needed to practice before the tryouts. “James, you're already confident that you’re getting into the team, why are we doing this??” She complained, barely able to keep up with him in this desperate state to get to the pitch. 

“Well, I can be even more certain!” He answered, emphasizing the word as if it were life or death. “Fine! Just… Slow down!”  She begged, chest starting to ache from running all the way from the castle up to the field. 

James sighed but relented, slowing down slightly so she could match his pace, though his walk was still clearly hurried. The field felt incredibly daunting as they approached, she could not understand how he didn’t seem overly anxious. The empty bleachers, who would soon fill up with Gryffindor students, and perhaps even other houses, did nothing to put down his spirits. Looking at him, a sparkle in his eyes and his head held high even through what would soon be his entire career in quidditch – or not. It was… She admired it. Her eyes stuck to him, his messy hair shaking with the wind, his feet practically begging to kick him off the ground. He looked like he belonged there and he would not let anyone tell him otherwise. 

“I’m going to practice my aim, okay?” He said, finally mounting on the broomstick and starting to fly up. His movements felt almost instinctive, body leaning forward for more balance and agility. She let out a breath, snapping out of her reverie before asking a question that had been plaguing her mind since he begged her to follow him. “And how am I supposed to help?” “Well… You’re smart! I just… trust your opinion. Maybe if I have a bad grip or something…?” She didn’t really get how she would do that, but she could certainly try. “Okay.” There was a slight hesitancy in her tone, yet James opened the biggest smile and her nerves melted away. 

“Thank you! Okay, I’ll start now!” His voice was slightly muffled from the wind yet it somehow made the moment feel more real. Squinting her eyes from concentration, she paid attention to each tiny detail from James’ throw. The quaffle went straight through the hoop, even though slightly off-center. 

“Whoo!” She cheered, happy for each sign that her friend might make it into the team as he so desperately wanted. “That was great!” “I love the cheering!” He laughed, waving down at her as if he was a little star. “But I need it to be better! I didn’t want it to go to the right.” He said, slightly annoyedly. 

“Uhm…” She tried to wrack her brain for an explanation. Being muggleborn, she wasn’t particularly versed in Quidditch rules or strategies but there was a very simple phenomena that made sense for his off shot. “I think you might be swinging a bit too much when you make the throw? And are you aiming against the wind?” She tried, still a bit unsure, but happy to try and help anyhow. 

“I have aimed against it but maybe it’s the swinging thing? Let me try-” And he did. Again and again. Time passed with them laughing at dumb suggestions and even dumber mistakes. With James laughing about the hair stuck to her mouth and her laughing about his robes getting caught in the broomstick. Harmless fun, genuine joy, and just a few skipped beats from her heart. Slowly, the Gryffindor team filed in, the only glaring change being that two Chasers were missing - they’d graduated last year. James jumped up as soon as the team, mumbling everything they’d gone through under his breath. “You’ll be alright. Good luck, James!” 

He let out a deep breath then smiled at her. “Thanks! Your advice will really help.” He nodded with complete self-assurance. There was a single beat where they simply stared at each other, but the next he turned around. At the same moment, Evans was talking animatedly with Mckinnon, both of Evans’ hands on the others’ shoulders giving a pep speech. 

“Oh, hey Evans! Come to cheer for me?” James teased, already squeezing past her and down the stands. “Please, Potter, get your head out of your arse!” Lily hissed out, promptly returning to Mckinnon. 

“Too bad!” He quipped back sarcastically before jumping down onto the field. Something tightened within her chest. A strange, uncomfortable feeling that had her staring at the back of Evans’ head in contemplation of something her mind couldn’t even figure out. It was a joke. James was simply joking because Evans detested him. She was here cheering for him, anyway! “Go, James!” She shouted after him only to catch a glimpse of his smile. Of his fondness. She got that, and along with it a disgusted scowl from Evans. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

Fear. 

It had sizzled within her throughout the rest of second year, as if something terrible was always just around the corner. She felt twitchy at times, most of them when she was near James. An intense sense of dread washed over her at random intervals, making her snappy and angry when, really, she had no reason to be. But it would pass.

Was the lie she kept repeating. Each time her heart twisted painfully and her mind told her to run she lied to herself. It was temporary. But it really wasn’t. It didn’t stop when she was back home, trying to enjoy her summer holidays. It lurched within her like a caged animal whenever she received letters from him. 

But she still had time.

She meekly lied again. But the months passed by against her will and she still felt it when she was back at Hogwarts. The feeling bubbled within her chest now, worse than ever before, as she walked with her four friends. As James’ arm brushed against hers and his laugh echoed around her head in a distorted melody. It was a war of good and bad discomfort. Because, whilst her cheeks warmed and comfort attempted to wash over her, that deep fear took over and she was sure there was something deeply wrong. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t like before. This happiness would end and she didn't know why.

“Miss Bella is getting a good home, Sirius, I’m surprised McGonagall didn’t skin you alive after finding out about the crup.”

“But! I took great care of her and nothing bad happened!” Sirius protested, huffing. 

“Bella was against the rules, mate. I’m sure she loved staying with us but she’ll love her new place just as much.” Remus tried to console him, placing his hand on Sirius’ shoulder with a slight look of pity in his eyes. 

Still, Sirius grumbled, running his hands through his hair. “You can’t know that for sure though!” 

“I think she’ll be fine! McGonagall wouldn’t hurt her.” Peter piped up.

Even as their words registered in her brain they felt like mush. An intense sense of foreboding clouding her thoughts and blurring her vision as she walked with them in an almost robotic rhythm. Not quite aware of where they were going or what was happening.

“Well, yeah, but-” 

Her mind slowly drowned them out, as if it was impossible to tune into their conversation. Each step they took forward, each glimpse she got of James felt overwhelming. She knew why. It had been only logical to deduce that she had a crush on him after the infinite small reactions her body gave when interacting with him. She’d tried to deny it, truly, she had, but it was impossible to do so when she found herself wishing for his letters during the summer. Not Remus’. Not Sirius’. Not Peter’s. His.

But that couldn’t be all. Something deep within her had become unbearably afraid of losing him. Uncomfortably, irrationally, afraid. 

“Hey, are you alright?” James' voice was soft, sweet. Of course he’d cut through the turmoil. “You’ve been quiet this whole time.” She hadn’t even known for how long she’d been dazed, hadn’t known what topics had changed. She should’ve managed to disguise it even a little bit but it was futile. No, she couldn’t do that. The only thing she could do was play pretend now, open a gentle smile and answer him. “Yeah. I think so, don’t worry.” “Of course I worry. C’mon, do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?” He wasn’t lying. There was such concern etched into his face that her heart twisted in a painful knot and she, again, felt the comfort and discomfort that had been plaguing her. Because of him.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

She was smart.

Sometimes, though, that could be a curse.

It hadn’t taken long for her to figure out why she had been feeling like her friendship with James could suddenly fall apart. That, however, didn’t help at all. In fact, as she stood beside James, hand clutching her quill with much intensity that the object did not deserve, it felt worse to know. Because, while she was desperately trying to focus on Slughorn’s assignment, her eyes kept veering toward him. His eyes, however, kept shifting toward another. 

And knowing she was the reason for her fear merely helped thrust the knife deeper into her heart.

Lily Evans. The one Gryffindor who had hated him from the start. Who had warned her not to join his compartment that day. Back then, she thought she was wrong. Now, she thought Evans might have had a point, even if for the wrong reasons.

“Good work, Evans, McKinnon!” Slughorn’s compliment cut through her barriers, earning an annoyed scowl as she dropped the quill and stirred her own cauldron, trying to get it to Evans’ potions’ perfect shade of purple. It didn’t matter that, as James passed her the cut mandrakes, their hands brushed together and tiny jolts spread through her, because he was still glancing at her. As if Evans was somehow magnetic and his pupils were the opposite of her – if she was positive, he was negative, and he was hopelessly drawing nearer. 

But maybe just maybe she was wrong. 

She wanted to be wrong. Perhaps she was extrapolating their interactions because of her own hopeless crush. “Great job, Potter, L/N!” Maybe.

Because James still looked gleefully at her, still raised his hand to high five her. His cheeks still crinkled slightly from his genuine smile and, for a tiny bit, he didn’t turn back toward the beautiful red-haired girl. “We make a great team!” He said, pushing her slightly and playfully. Like the contact felt normal to him even when it felt electric to her. “Bet your potion didn’t come out half as good, Sirius.” James teased, torso turning around to show his tongue and mock his friend. Of course he’d turn. She was just his friend, afterall, and so were they. Slightly downcast, she turned around too, faking a smile as she prepared to join the chatting smoothly. “Oh, shut up, James! She carried all the work.” Sirius rolled his eyes.

“And Remus carried yours!” He bit back. 

At his name, her eyes unconsciously traveled over to the boy. Remus seemed deep in thought, yet his gaze was stuck to her. Like she was the center of his thoughts somehow. It felt slightly uneasy, as if she was being examined. 

What? Did she do something? She shifted uncomfortably in the chair, tilting her head and raising an eyebrow – silently asking him if something was wrong. That seemed to snap him out of his reverie, slowly shaking his head ‘no’ but nevertheless not taking his eyes off her. 

“Remus! Wasn’t Sirius a dumbass in the project?” James’ voice broke through – it always did. It took a few seconds before it broke through to Remus, though. He looked around between Sirius and James, as if analyzing the situation before scoffing. “Of course he was. That’s a stupid question.”

“James was a dumbass too.” She finally slipped into the conversation, mocking the one person who had been on her mind the whole assignment. “Aha!” Sirius puffed his chest with pride, as if he had somehow won even after being called idiotic. Peter, not having contributed to the joke, but likely glad not to be the one accused of being dumb, laughed along. With Peter’s snickering, Remus’ careful joking, and Sirius’/James’ banter, she managed to fake being fine.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

Cowardice.

Remus was a coward. But could she really accuse him when she, too, was one? She saw as James slowly got more and more interested in Evans, trying to chat with her in the hallways, trying to find common ground between them – doing anything, just to get closer. Yet, even though it pained her, even though she thought many times about distancing… She didn’t. So could she really blame him for keeping the same behavior as she had? No… Even as her anger threatened to boil within her, to snap and yell because he wasn’t there for her. He cowered. She couldn’t. She could only feel happy that she was alone. That someone else saw what she saw even if unspoken.

Y/N, 

I’m sorry. I knew you were hurt this last year. A lot, actually. But I didn’t do anything. I still feel like this helps, somehow. Even if it’s the middle of summer and you’ve been dealing with this for a while… I just felt like it was better late than never. Look, James is an idiot. A genuine git for trying to get with Lily. She hates him, you know? At least that might help? They’ll never get together, it’s just a stupid crush and… I don’t know how to explain it, really. It’ll go away, I think. Just don’t let his idiocy get to you, okay? Stay well, Remus. Her fingers curled around the letter, threatening to crumple it yet ending up merely tracing its edges. It was sweet. She appreciated him for understanding, for reaching out. Still, that didn’t stop the tears from blurring her vision, from slowly and agonizingly falling and damaging the paper. Blurring Remus’ handwriting because she couldn’t look away even in her sadness. 

It wasn’t even sadness.

It was the explosion of years of words unspoken. Of feelings hidden. Of twisted memories that haunted her mind, breaking down each slight detail from her interactions with James. Trying, desperately, to believe that he felt the same. But he didn’t. And Remus’ letter was merely a crack in the dam, exposing the poorly laid foundation of which she’d operated for the last year. A lump caught in her throat, she felt the deep need to sob and choke it back at the same time because this was stupid. She shouldn’t be crying over a stupid boy with his own stupid crushes and her parents didn’t deserve to hear her breaking down. As she laid down, her mattress seemed to be made of bricks, her neck seemed to be strained and unwilling to look anywhere but the ceiling. Everything felt terribly heavy around her. 

Stop it! Her mind begged. The woes of a 13 year old girl. It then mocked. Most times, it would’ve worked. Bullied her into shape. But she did have woes and, as ridiculous as they might have seemed, they felt like shackles binding her to her bed. 

One month. A whole month of her summer she’d fantasized about everything changing the next year. Her crush remaining somewhat feasible. Lily Evans somehow disappearing – moving school, maybe? But no. That would never happen and Lily Evans would always be better than her. More popular, prettier, smarter… No matter the veracity, it felt like she couldn’t compare to the girl in any way. And for a whole month she felt like it might have been possible for James to change his mind. But now? Reading Remus’ letter and unleashing the thousands of liters of water and feelings that had been trapped within her dam? It felt impossible. Remus’ letter felt like one of pity, like he, himself, didn’t really believe James could change his heart. 

She hates him, you know? At least that might help?

She felt truly pitiful to be rejoicing in that one thing. To be clutching at it like it was her last lifeline – Lily Evans was too good for James Potter. They would never be together. But cheering for that fact was bitter. She would be the second option, then? What good was that? Still, even through the sour taste in her mouth, she did find relief in it. Because James was perfect. Him. With his soft messy hair. His amber eyes that swirled like honey in the sun. His cheeky smile whenever he won a Quidditch match. She could never think ill of him. And it felt bitter, frightening, sad… But slightly like poetic justice that whilst she’d be lost in his amber, he’d be just as pitifully lost in her green.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

For the first time since they’d been friends, she sat next to Remus, not James. 

And, as pathetic as that sounded, it felt like an accomplishment. 

The faint, constant sound of the splashing fountain was the only thing keeping her grounded. Stopping her from slipping into her own mind to escape James’ laughs. Each and every time she hung out with them she felt horrible, she wanted to flee and never look back. But, still, she couldn’t. They had been a staple in her life at Hogwarts and it felt entirely too wrong to move on without them.

Tap…. Tap… Tap…

Her gaze slowly traveled down to her arms, unsure what had happened. She found a hand – Remus’ hand, softly tapping against her arm, pulling her back to reality and away from the slippery slope that was her mind. Offering him a small smile, she tried to focus back on the group. “Woah! Do it again!” Peter’s excited voice was the first thing she registered. Then, her eyes hesitantly landed on James, who held a walnut-sized glittering object in his hand. The snitch fluttered, trying to escape, but his hands were tight around it. Then he laughed, softening his grip so that the tiny ball fled to freedom for a few, fleeting seconds, only to be caught mid-air and contribute to his growing cocky smirk. “How did you get it??” Peter continued, awed. It was strange to think that not long ago she would have her own mouth open, impressed by his every move. Not that she wasn’t impressed. Her chest still swelled with the familiar, warm sensation of admiration but she, unlike him, managed to push it back down and not act upon it. 

“Fetched it from the cupboard – there’s more there, I doubt they’ll notice.” James bragged, once more letting go of and catching the snitch with remarkable precision. 

“Nice one, James! Hey, fetch some more and we can release them in the Slytherin common room - doubt any of them could catch it.” Sirius suggested, snickering. 

“I bet one of them will be hit in the head with the Snitch” Peter joined, an amused and slightly gleeful smile already making its home in his face. 

“What d’you think?” James finally asked, including her in the conversation. “I bet we could get into the Slytherin common room and throw the snitches there – cause a bit of chaos.” Her face contorted slightly, a bit uncomfortable with being asked her opinion. “Maybe?” She said simply. 

“Well, with your help we could.” He added matter-of-factly before his grin widened as if the plan had been set. 

Why? Why did his every word have to feel like melody to her ears? Like honey softly making its way into her bloodstream, gentle, but lethal in the way it reached her heart and made it race? She found her gaze stuck to him, to the lingering echo of his voice and the soft, beautiful curl of his lips.

Tap… Tap… Tap…

Remus. 

“Thank you…” She muttered under her breath. She truly was thankful. Because even though he never talked with James, never interrupted what he deemed to be ‘idiotic’, he was still there. For her. Silently, heartachingly, there. So, when she heard Remus’ first words in a while, she knew that it was only to distract her. “You’ve been researching bowtruckles, right? Has Professor Kettleburn allowed you to go into the Forbidden Forest yet?” “Well, not alone, obviously, but we’ve been there once. The bowtruckles aren’t too deep in so it’s mostly harmless – at least that’s what he said…”

Lily. 

“Great!” Remus continued, his voice slightly higher pitched and more panicked. “What have you found out?” “I have… They’re guarding the…” Lily Evans had sat down on a nearby bench. Not close enough to where they could hear her – just enough to where she was visible. Her and Severus Snape, both chatting happily. Her hair swung slightly with the breeze, making her look like an enchanting Veela. “What does she see in him anyway?” James rolled his eyes, a deep, jealous scowl replacing his previous carefree expression. “She’s told you, mate. You’re an arrogant arse, Potter!” Sirius attempted to mimic Evans, though quite badly and mockingly – Evans’ voice wasn’t half as shrill as he’d made it to be. Peter laughed at Sirius’ terrible joke and James’ predicament. Remus remained looking at her. Everything felt like a whirlwind of emotions as James crossed his arms and continued. “I’m not an arrogant arse… He’s evil doesn’t she see it?” So terribly self-centered.

And, just like always, Lily spotted them. She turned her nose upward like she was above them – because she was. And she walked away… Lily made it look so incredibly easy. 

Finally, she laughed along with them. Even when James looked like he wanted to chase Lily. Even when, beside her, Remus’ brows furrowed with worry. She laughed even when she didn’t want to because she wasn’t as strong as Lily. 

And perhaps that’s why James liked her more. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

At no point in her life had she only been friends with the troublemaker group. At the same time, at no point of her life did she actively seek to stay with her Ravenclaw friends. 

That changed, however, ever since getting back to Hogwarts for her fourth year and constantly being reminded of James’ love for Lily.

So now, sitting in the Ravenclaw common room well after curfew hours, she forced herself to laugh along. To not think of how different everything would play out if she were with her other group. 

“Oh, come on! I’m sure that Barty’s been flirting with Korrine!” giggled Siena, a brunette with thick curls and large, observant eyes.

Korrine, with her deep blue irises, shook her head in a fond but amused manner. “I couldn’t care less if he loved me, Sie!”  

“They’re a bit crazy, aren’t they?” giggled Yasmine from her side. She smiled, nodding in agreement with her friend. Yasmine was the one person in that group that made her enjoy being away from James and the others. Well… Enjoy was a strong word, but she did love her. 

“Korr! Don’t talk like that! Barty’s dreamy…” Siena drawled out, stars practically visible in her eyes.

“Then go after him yourself! He’s not all there in the head.” Korrine quipped, crossing her arms. 

At some point, she tuned out their voices, concentrating only on the blonde right beside her. “What about you? Don’t want to let me slap Lover Boy yet?” She laughed – a genuine one for once. “Not yet. But that offer sounds more tempting each time.” Yasmine grinned and shrugged her shoulders. “Hooray! I’ll have a lot of fun wiping that grin off his face.” “His face is too pretty to be smacked.” She rolled her eyes at her friend’s shenanigans, nevertheless grateful for the small bit of humor. 

“Eh, I’ve seen prettier faces. I’m sure we could find someone way prettier that isn’t half as much of a git for you to date.” Yasmine affirmed. “Plus, I’m always available and I’m very pretty.” “Fuck off!” Her cheeks hurt from her smile. Even as she kicked Yasmine and shook her head, she could not have appreciated her more. 

Truly, she loved their dynamic. She could spend hours talking, bickering, or simply studying in Yasmine’s presence without a second thought. Without a care in the world. At least she had that – a tiny sliver of escapism from her disaster of a friendship with James Potter. It was comforting to know that, at the end of the day, she’d have Yasmine in her dormitory to vent about her problems and her terrible choices. Ouch, what was that for?? She was suddenly pulled away from her reverie by a sharp jab to her calf. Her expression turned into bafflement until she noticed that her friend was looking toward the other two girls. 

“We’re heading back to the dorm, you two want to come with?” Korrine asked with a gentle smile. “it’s alright, we’re not sleepy yet. Good night, though!” Yasmine answered for her. She barely managed to give a small wave before the duo walked upstairs and they were left alone in the common room. “Do you think Barty likes Korr, though?” Yasmine slipped back into the conversation in a slightly gossipy manner. “Yasmine! You heard Korr – she could care less about Barty. I mean, I think he’s okay but he is a bit crazy sometimes.” She stated. 

“Well, yeah, but being too normal is boring.” Yasmine bit back, making a gagging motion.

Just as she was about to answer, however, whispered voices could be heard from outside. Worse yet, she was quite sure she recognized the voices. At once, her expression morphed into a faint, soft smile only to drop into an annoyed scowl. Yasmine recognized her emotions at once, slightly pushing her to bring her back to reality. “Slap now?”

She snorted, snapping out of her thoughts. “Maybe.” “I mean, the riddle could be a chicken, technically!” Peter’s muffled voice entered the room. 

“Peter, no, it can’t!” Remus answered and she was sure he was dragging his hand across his face.

Yasmine gave her a look of ‘just let them outside.’ but she sighed and squinted her eyes in a clear ‘I can’t, they’re my idiots to deal with.’. Thus, she opened the wall to be met with four floating heads. “Hullo!” Greeted Peter, who was being wobbled around by Sirius. 

“Remember that prank?” Stared James, grinning as always. “We’re doing it now.” “And he’s adamant that it be to Severus instead.” Added Remus, face slightly contorted with what must’ve been disguised annoyance. “Snivellus.” Corrected James. 

 She hesitated, turning around to find Yasmine looking at her with intensity behind her eyes. Should she refuse? Her gaze drifted back toward James, expression eager, happy with just a hint of mischievousness that always lurked underneath. She should. But would she? She wouldn’t. 

“Okay…” She breathed out, seeing Yasmine’s lips curl into a disappointed scowl akin to that of a parent figure. She knew it was wrong. She was sorry.

Truly.

But she would go anyway.

“Great! Let’s go!” 

So she did. She snuck under the cloak – it felt just as crammed as the first time she’d done it, if not worse. Yet it still felt somewhat comforting to know that James had thought to invite her. 

But she was headed to prank the bloke he was jealous of.

Bittersweet.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

That hadn’t been the only time James had targeted Snape in his pranks. In fact, they only worsened by time and still she was persuaded to join. 

Join his incessant and needless pranking of Lily’s friend. 

So much so that now, in 5th year, she found herself with her head down being lectured by her best friend. 

“You have to stop following his every whim! Rowena, let him go! He doesn’t deserve you! He just has you going around like a sad puppy hexing Snape!” Yasmine’s arms rose in frustration, releasing pent up anger from years of her friend pining for James.

“But- Well- You know how Snape is with the Dark Arts. He’s been calling students mudbloods left and right, too, Yasmine! I’m a muggleborn, too!” She tried to reason, even when her tone came out rather meek. 

“Oh, please! Snape being You-Know-Who’s boy toy is not the reason for Potter going after him and you know that! There’s plenty of idiotic budding Death Eaters and they aren’t Potter’s main obsession!” Yasmine let out in one, annoyed, breath. 

Shifting her weight uncomfortably, she tried to argue, but words seemed to fail her. “Well- Yes- But-” “Buts my arse! Stop trying to justify it! He doesn’t like you and you know it!” 

It felt nauseous, each word her friend uttered was like an open wound to her flesh and soul. It cut deep and it felt personal. She physically recoiled from what should’ve been an emotional blow, as if she’d been slapped in the face because the truths she knew for years were finally being said aloud. James didn’t like her. Almost instinctively, her usual, mental answer, formed – a defense mechanism to protect herself from her own thoughts but, now, from her best friend. 

“But she doesn’t like him either…”

The entire atmosphere shifted at once. She could feel even though she couldn’t see, Yasmine’s pity emanating off her. The pity of someone who could only imagine what it was like to be in that situation. To have to be brave – Gryffindor, even – and cut ties with someone you’d known from the start. Someone who’d embodied the Wizarding World and Hogwarts. Someone who you’d loved. Truly, deeply, loved. 

She hated it.

Hated being placed under that scrutiny. Because she knew what came next: “It’s hard – but it’s what needs to be done”. She should try it herself then! To be placed under the situation she was in and behave in tandem to the moral high ground. It wasn’t easy, hell it didn’t seem feasible! She felt wrong. Terrible, even, each time she joined Snape’s teasing. That didn’t mean it was difficult to break from the shackles of friendship, love, or even the societal expectations of ‘putting down the Death Eater.’. 

“But you need to do it.” Yasmine said, finally. “Why?" "ANSWER ME, WHY?!" "WHY DO I HAVE TO BE LITTLE MISS PERFECT? THEY’RE IMPERFECT! SNAPE’S IMPERFECT! THE WHOLE SCHOOL’S IMPERFECT, YASMINE!” She cried out. Her thoughts felt far too loud, her emotions too impactful – everything felt too overwhelming. Why her? Couldn’t she be the normal, flawed teenager? For a moment, she could see surprise flicker across Yasmine’s eyes and she felt horrible. Absolutely vile for lashing out at the one person genuinely trying to help. 

“Because it’s breaking you. Little by little, piece by piece – you’re losing yourself to be this perfect moldable little piece that he can love. He’s flawed. Terribly flawed. And that would be fine if it didn’t break you. But it does.” “He saved Snape…” She tried again, eyes downcast in a futile attempt to, somehow, get away from the limelight. 

“So? You’re still here, practically crying, over a man who doesn’t like you.” Yasmine took a few steps closer and she found herself flinching, afraid – of what, she wasn’t sure. Of her emotions, perhaps. Of vulnerability. 

The moment Yasmine hugged her was the moment the tears started dripping. One by one until they became too many to count and too few to express the full extent of heartbreak. 

Of course he saved Snape. She knew, too, from what. Remus was a werewolf. She’d spent enough time around him to deduce so. The issue was – James Potter knew that Remus was a werewolf. He knew Remus went to the shrieking shack every full moon. Knew enough to save Severus Snape. And still he had never once mentioned it to her. 

“It’s not fair for you to sob about him, then go back and do his every wish for another woman.” Yasmine continued, ever truthful. 

Each sob took over her body forcefully and roughly. They were anguished from years of lament for a friendship that was meant to be lost far too long ago. For a love that was never meant to be. For each and every quality of him she’d ever thought was beautiful that warped over time, turning toxic and harmful for her. Deteriorating her self-worth, self-love, and sense of self.

How could something so wonderful turn so sour just because his eyes were for another.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

“I just- I don’t think I can deal with it anymore.” It’d been weeks since her conversation with Yasmine yet the wounds still felt freshly cut. Her voice broke and she felt the overwhelming need to choke back a sob – to fall down on her knees and cry into the arms of a trusted friend just as she’d done all those nights ago. But she kept her composure as best she could, because she knew better than to share her woes to the person who knew of them, but did nothing. 

“Alright…” Remus’ eyes flew around as if trying to wrack his brain around the newfound information. “That’s okay… I just- don’t think James will understand it if you stop showing up all of a sudden.” It shouldn’t be about him. Nevertheless, she sighed – she, too, cared about James. Even though she, very clearly, shouldn’t. “I won’t do it from day to night. I’ll just… Slowly, you know, ‘drift apart’.” Remus, too, sighed. There were bags under his eyes – she knew that the full moon was approaching, he must be exhausted. Still. It felt terribly important for her to at least convey her feelings, somewhat, to the one person who’d tried to comfort her. Nonetheless, he seemed deeply troubled. As though he hadn’t expected her to suddenly leave. Really, could she blame him? She’d stuck around for five years and counting. Then again, he’d known she’d been hurting for at least one and was yet to actively help her.

“I-” He shook his head, Remus truly looked shaken by this revelation. Her. The one who’d been there from the start. Gone. “Okay. If that helps you I understand.”

That was all she asked. 

Not long ago, she would have stayed to chat – to catch up with one of her best friends. Now, however, the very image of him reminded her of the pain James had caused her. Of the ache her heart still felt to be leaving the one group she’d been a part of from the start. The one who’d, in her first year, broke various rules just to make her laugh and see more magic. 

That was the start of a goodbye. 

A single, polite nod, and a turn of her heels.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

She stood away from all of the others, quiet.

A ghost of the kid that used to wonder about the endless mysteries of the Wizarding World. A shell of the wondrous, curious child that would challenge James on his beliefs. That would quip with Sirius over the Slytherin house. That would share knowledge with Remus. Or that would laugh along with Peter’s clumsiness. 

No. None of that.

Whilst James shared his latest accomplishment on the Quidditch field, she silently read a book needed for their latest History of Magic assignment. She never even felt the tap… tap.. tap… of Remus Lupin. Because he, likely, was the one dazed from the situation they found themselves in. But, unobservant as always, James Potter did not notice. He did not notice how her legs would slightly bob whenever he spoke – reminiscing on old memories of the two of them. Anxious to have to leave. 

He did not notice that Remus’ eyes would sometimes twitch toward her, knowing of what was to slowly, arduously, happen within their friend group. Because James Potter did not care. And she should learn not to care, too.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

James Potter did not notice. 

Not how she seemingly disappeared from their life, not how Remus grew more and more saddened.

But that was her plan, wasn’t it?She shouldn’t be thinking about that, anyway.

Her hand tightened around the quill, ink leaving a tiny blotch on the paper she otherwise wouldn’t have had she not been distracted. Annoyed, her nose scrunched at her idiotic mistake and even more foolish thoughts. The five ways to differentiate a werewolf from a wolf. That was easy. Her writing flew easily across the paper, with perfectly dotted i’s and crossed t’s that formed an elegantly and perfectly crafted answer.

Surely, she’d get an ‘O’ in Defence against the Dark Arts.

Satisfied, she stacked her papers neatly atop the other just as the bell rang to signal the end of the exam – the O.W.Ls. “Thank you, Ms L/N. You’re dismissed.” The proctor said, taking her exam and shooing her away. Offering him a polite smile, she made her trek toward the courtyard. Yasmine should be ending her Astronomy exam any minute now – they’d meet there. Her heart had felt slightly lighter after distancing herself from her old friends – they weren’t toxic, she didn’t think… But it was a toxic environment for her. She did well to cut them off without a huge scandal. 

The whole path toward the courtyard her head was buzzing with leftover information from the exam. Mind muddled and slightly unattentive even as the concrete and marble turned to grass beneath her feet. She was guided by instincts alone, sitting on a bench and staring downward trying to gather her thoughts and check if her answers had been wholly correct. 

But there were always things that could trouble someone in the depths of their minds.

“Excellent” She heard him say. “Snivellus.”

Chills ran down her spine as if she was a rat who’d just been spotted by a cat. She hadn’t meant to be this close to him. She heard even the tiniest rustling of grass as both Sirius and James got up… Her relief at their departure, however, was gone in matter of instants – they were headed toward Snape. Unwillingly, her gaze followed them, their postures straight and confident as they marched toward him, both laughing under their breaths. It took some time… Perhaps too long. But Snape saw them and instantly drew his wand.

He was too slow.

His wand flew away before he could mutter half his curse, “How’d the exam go, Snivelly?” James’ jeer drew the attention of nearby students, joining in an entertained crowd around him to check the commotion. “I was watching him, his nose was touching the parchment.” Sirius said, viciously. “There’ll be great grease marks all over it, they won’t be able to read a word.” And Remus?He stood to the sidelines, just as he’d done when she was hurt all these years. What she felt wasn’t sympathy – not quite, but her own pain relayed in that of another. Another who was terrible but who mimicked her own trauma. The people laughed at Snape, fallen to the ground with his arms scraped and bruised. “You – wait!” Snape threatened. 

She saw the way James’ eyes veered toward the water’s edge – toward Lily. Because, of course, this was for her.

“Wait for what?” Sirius said, coolly. “What’re you going to do, Snivelly, wipe your nose on us?” What Snape said, she couldn’t hear – but she was sure was a mixture of curse words and hexes that never quite came to fruition. “Wash your mouth.” Each word left James’ own mouth with disdain and malice. “Scourgify!”Pink soap bubbles came out of Snape’s mouth, his terror was visible, his gag undeniable – this was cruel. 

“Leave him ALONE!” Lily said. The one who was brave enough to step up, to challenge them like she’d never done. At once, James ruffled his hair… She didn’t want to listen to their conversation. Her mind tuned out the two of them in a miserable act of self-preservation, trying to pretend like they weren’t talking – even if not amicably. Want it or not, her heart still ached for him. It did not matter if his would ever ache for hers. 

Everything seemed to blur together – their talking, Sirius’ laughing, Snape’s… Snape? Snape had gotten free of the hex and cast something toward James. A deep, gnarly gash appeared on James’ cheek, blood instantly oozing off it and unto his clothes. In a second, Snape was hanging upside down, robes fallen over his head to reveal his grey underpants. The crowd cheered. She felt sick. But she saw it. For a single, fleeting second, Lily Evans had a flicker of a smile. She wasn’t friends with Snape as she’d been before. For a single moment – she found it amusing. And it didn’t seem impossible that Lily Evans would end up with James Potter anymore. What happened for Snape to be let down, she did not know – she knew only that he yelled “MUDBLOOD!” and she grew even sicker. At once, Lily Evans, who had her wand raised ready to fight James Potter, lowered it, and turned away. James looked after Lily, shouted after her, and she thought she saw, for the same sliver of a second his eyes landing on hers. Seeing her fear. Recognizing the distance she’d grown over the years… It terrified her.

But then he turned around, cursed under his breath, and rose Snape back to the air upside down.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 

“Don’t go.” Yasmine said firmly.

She shouldn’t.

She’d gone her entire year without interacting with James. Why, now, did he want to see her? It didn’t matter. She knew, deep down, that she’d be livid with herself if she didn’t hear him. Not to forgive him, but to give closure to the five years of unrelenting hopelessness of her love. James Potter was waiting outside the Ravenclaw Tower, asking students to get in and it didn’t seem like he was leaving anytime soon. 

“But- I want to… I feel like I need to.” She attempted to translate her feelings into words that would get Yasmine to comprehend her. It seemed impossible to do so, as the girl looked critically and, once more, disappointedly toward her. 

“You’ll only get hurt.” Yasmine affirmed, arms crossed and posture stiff. 

“I know… What’s one more moment of hurt to… I don’t know… Stop this?” She couldn’t bear to make eye contact with Yasmine, afraid of truly seeing the depth of how much she’d be betraying her. It’d been a year and here she was, accepting to talk to him at the first opportunity. 

“Did you see what happened today?” Yasmine’s tone fell to desperation, begging her friend not to commit a mistake. 

She gulped, remembering everything. “I did.” She nodded for emphasis. “It was horrible.” “And you’re still going?” She sighed, looking up, then down, before finally meeting Yasmine’s eyes. “I have to.” Their eyes explored each others’, trying to convey what words couldn’t through each tiny movement of their pupils. The eyes were the window to the soul, it was said. 

“Okay.” Yasmine relented, albeit hesitantly. “Go.” Still… Even after receiving her friend’s ‘blessing’ it felt hard to move. Her feet felt heavy and her heart was like a boa snake constricting around itself – sure that it was its prey. But… She did it. One tough step to the next, she walked, opened the door, and trekked through the common room of which James had seen so many times under his invisibility cloak. The deep blue of Ravenclaw’s rugs felt deep and nauseating, like an ocean welcoming her in and then throwing her out at the next beat.

 Everything felt wrong because she felt like walking to certain doom and clarity at the same time. 

She opened the door.

There stood James. It was strange to see him like this – he was slightly hunched, leaning on the wall for support and running his hand through his hair not for aesthetic, but due to stress. His every movement stopped once she showed up, hand stuck halfway through the beautiful void-like black of his hair, eyes stopped like they were entranced to her…

“You’ve been gone.” He finally breathed out as if it’d been plaguing him for centuries… But it hadn’t. She knew that. “You’ve been distancing yourself.” He continued, finally pushing himself away from the wall and standing in front of her. 

“I have.” She said simply, though it felt like overcoming a thousand different barriers just to have the courage to talk to him. 

“Why?” For once, it felt like it pained him. Perhaps just a fraction of what he’d made her feel. 

“I- I don’t need to talk about it.” Even now, it felt extremely uncomfortable to share what she’d been through. What he put her through. 

“But you’ve been gone.” He stressed, taking one step forward and lowering himself as if trying to express his own anguish through closeness. It didn’t help. It only made her feel smaller, more vulnerable – and she didn’t want to be vulnerable to him. At all.

“And you didn’t care.” She snapped back almost defensively, taking one step back and fiddling with the hem of her shirt awkwardly.  It felt so terribly strange. To look at the man she’d liked – loved – for so many years and see feel anxiety she’d never felt before. Feel backed against a wall, uncomfortable – miserable, even. The silence that befell them wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. Its edges were sharp and unrelenting, cutting through her chest straight toward her rapidly beating heart. It made her want to fill it and answer it out of pure need for it to end. She didn’t want to stay there in silence, with James starting dumbfounded at her. 

“I’m sorry…” He answered finally, taking his own step backward as if realising she was somehow frightened. “I am. Just- How can I – we – get you back?” 

Oncoming tears blurred her vision – she wanted this for so so long. But now… She couldn’t accept it. She knew that James’ heart lay with Lily. And she knew that he finally had a shot with her. A tear fell down her face and she could see his eyes following it, frown deepening at her distress. 

“You’ve chosen her for five years.” Each word came out shaky but with purpose. “Choose her one more time. It can’t be that difficult.” And, at once, she entered the common room and closed the door behind her. She could see Yasmine at the corner, waiting to hug her. Could hear James’ “Y/N! Please! No!” from behind her… It hurt. Badly. But she needed to move on.

And perhaps it was destined to be. Because that night, just as James had been rejected by her, begging on a different common room’s door, Snape also had been, begging for Lily’s forgiveness. 

The weaves of fate are ironic. For two loves, opposite of each other, were broken that day, under the same, worst memory. 

Her vision fell further into the darkness, nothing seemed to matter. Not at that moment. Not when the darkness was slowly dissipating and every sensation in her body told her she was being pulled away from this trance and toward something better. The void shifted into soft yellow and murky black and everything felt just… so… so–oothing.

.

.

.

“Viktor!” A voice called out, the name leaving the person’s lips slightly shaky as she could hear a laugh interrupting each syllable. The sound filled her chest with warmth as the imagery clicked into place. Suddenly, the sound was coming from her. It wasn’t from outside - it had been her all along. The voice, the laugh, the slightly hurt sensation that plagued her lungs from laughing too much and too loudly. Her cheeks were aching from her grin but it felt somehow imaginary. She could and couldn’t feel it at the same time - somewhere in between. 

“Viktor, you’re going to freeze!” She said. By now, she could feel the warm sand beneath her feet, feel the sharp breeze that enveloped her or, rather, tried. Why did it try again?As her shoulder moved to gesture at the man - at Viktor - she could feel a heavy fabric wrapped around her. Viktor’s coat. She knew that.“I vill not. You might.” Viktor’s voice was gruff yet slightly higher-pitched than usual - more relaxed. She loved that. How he felt comfortable around her. Her arms clung to the coat, wrapping it tighter around herself as if she could feel Viktor’s own cold for him. As if she was the one submersed in the Black Lake, swimming around like it wasn’t frigid. 

“I will if we don’t get up to the castle pretty soon.” She grumbled, but her tone was soft - she wasn’t really irritated. Viktor laughed and that had her stomach twisting into knots that were somehow most pleasant and uncomfortable. His laugh always did that to her. His voice, too. “You are very dramatic.” 

“Dramat- Viktor I will leave you here with no coat and walk back to the castle myself.” The sand moved beneath her feet as she walked backwards threateningly. It didn’t seem to affect Viktor, who was actively calling her bluff. 

His grin only turned into a playful smirk as he splashed the tiniest bit of water in her direction - not even reaching her, but warning. “Dramatic.” He said in a self-assured, single beat. At that, she let out an indignant huff and walked closer. Viktor seemed pleased, swimming a bit closer to shore before she tapped her feet against the water and splashed a disproportionate amount of water toward him. “Goodbye.” She turned on her heel, ground slowly shifting from sand to grass as she walked away from the man. Nonetheless, something within her wanted him to stop her. She didn’t want the moment to be over, each second with Viktor brought joy to her different than any other. It - he - felt warm, safe, it was an addicting feeling that had her begging for more. 

“Vait!” He called out, she could hear the soft pitter-patter of water droplets falling from him onto the sand as he left the lake. Instantly, her body halted, having already been waiting for a cue. “Do not leave.” The words left more slowly from his lips, more tentative - struggling to be let out but needing to be all the same. “I enjoy your company.” 

Each sentence made home within her heart - perhaps within her very soul. “Alright…” She turned around, fingers fiddling with the fur from his coat. “Me too- I enjoy your company, too.” It felt awkward to say so, her eyes were stuck to the ground like glue and she could see the exact moment the sand surrounding Viktor stopped turning brown - the moment he dried himself with a charm. She saw, too, his feet moving a single step forward. The action was so mundane, so calm, yet it had her heart lurching and her hands closing harder around the coat. Looking up, she was flooded with a thousand different sensations from the simple calculating gaze held within his eyes. The one examining every inch of her face in a way that had warmth spreading to her cheeks. 

“Can I hug you?” The words seemed to surprise Viktor himself, as if his thoughts came to life not out of his own volition and he had to play it off. Still, he didn’t go back on it. 

“I- Sure. Yeah.” She agreed, taking a step of her own toward him until they were inches apart. Until his arms opened and wrapped around her like the last piece of an unfinished puzzle. She breathed out, her breath coming out in a small puff as she hugged him back and their bodies traded warmth. He was colder than her - she knew that must be true - but the simple proximity they shared was enough to ward away any cold she might’ve been feeling. 

“Warmer?” He questioned, arms tightening a bit more around her. She could only find it within herself to hum back affirmatively. “I vas vondering…” The silence stretched around them as Viktor failed to continue the sentence, instead basking in her presence - their presence together. “Vould you-” She was so close that she could practically feel his inhale. “There will be a Hogsmeade visit this veekend. Vould you like to go vith me?” Their heartbeats mingled together in a race of whose was beating faster. Sharpening, twisting, then falling back to the same rhythm, matching each other’s.

“Of- Of course.”

.

.

.

In the tenderness of their embrace, she slowly felt like the body was not her own anymore. Viktor’s hand didn’t feel warm - it felt distant and otherworldly. For a moment, she could see herself hugging him from up above, then the yellow and black blended together with their figures and disappeared to make way for the endless void she’d previously been placed in. 

Voices.

She could hear singing. It was faint, muffled, but it was there. Or, rather, here? it felt like an endless chorus of beautiful harmonies surrounded her yet she couldn’t quite make out the words. As though it was in a language she did not understand - or, simply, gibberish. Beautiful gibberish, nonetheless. Her eyes remained shut tight but she could feel better than the last time. Water. There was certainly water around her, she could feel her feet swinging slightly with the current even as her torso stayed in place.

Then, faintly, she could hear a voice. It belonged to a boy, she didn’t understand him, didn’t know who he was, but she heard it. It sounded frantic - panicked, even. Some voices of the chorus then broke off, laughing - laughing at the boy? Why? 

Why laugh…Why… The bo–ooy. 

The singers rejoined united and the soft, beautiful, song lulled her back to the deep trance. 

.

.

.

Water… Why had she been thinking about water, again? Snow was the only thing that surrounded her, the pearly white bothering her eyesight due to the reflecting rays. The mounds of snow were so deep that she had difficulty traversing the small amount of path that hadn’t yet been cleared. 

Warmth.She could feel warmth from her right hand. Although she didn’t look at it, she knew that she was holding Viktor’s hand underneath his glove. With each step she took, she could feel a gentle squeeze from Viktor, trying to help her through the snow. Hogsmeade always managed to ease her nerves, the quaint and comfortable atmosphere welcoming her with open arms. Now, however, it felt slightly jarring.

Hogsmeade was always bustling with energy, students walking left to right and almost never stopping their trek. Yet here they were, a small crowd perfectly still and staring straight at them. Some awed, others murmuring - none wavering their gaze. 

“It is rude to stare.” Viktor snapped, his voice echoing around them and closing in on each prying eye. That seemed to do the trick – at least for those of them who had shame. The crowd dispersed, each headed their own way until, finally, Viktor and her were left slightly unobserved. “Thank you.” She breathed out, relieved that the tension had dissipated. As she looked up at him, she found him already staring, a smile poking at the corners of his lips. She didn’t mind him staring. “It is my pleasure. Now, you vere saying something about a ‘Honeydukes’?” 

“Right!” She pulled him forward, the excitement bubbling back up within her chest. “It’s a sweet shop! Most of them are enchanted, though. For example, if you eat the Fizzing Whizzbee you’ll be floating in the air for a little while.” It felt easy to talk to him, to rant about Hogwarts’ culture and stupid tiny sweets. Whatever she rambled about, Viktor clung to her every word and it only encouraged her further. 

“Most of the time they’re harmless fun. But there are some that you really shouldn’t try unless you know healing spells. Acid Pops will have a hole dug through your tongue in instants.” She finished, delighted to explain more about Hogsmeade to him.

Giving him a quick glance, she saw that his eyebrows were furrowed and and amused smile poked at his expression. “Vhy vould you vant to eat something that injures? I do not see vhy to buy something hurtful.” Shrugging her shoulders, she tried to offer an explanation. “For the thrill, I think? They also don’t taste too bad. It’s citric.” The bell chimed above them signalling that they had reached their destination. The place was vibrant, painted cyan and pink with neon colors splashed throughout the interior. It was a strange combination, but so were many surrounding houses. 

“You have eaten the candy?” He held a hint of surprise before chuckling. “You are insane.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll get you some safe candy you coward.” She traversed the shelves, grabbing a fistful of Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizzbees and Pepper Imps. “I vill not be lured into eating the dangerous candy by such methods.” He affirmed, following right beside her into every aisle. 

“Oh, come on! You’re a seeker! You do dangerous stuff all the time.”  She shoulder-bumped him, trying to get her point across but merely succeeding in dropping a couple of Chocolate Frogs. 

Viktor crouched down to retrieve the sweets, giving them back to her and only then responding. “That is different.” Deciding that this was a losing battle, she walked up to the cashier, placing the items in front of him. “1 galleon and 12 sickles.” the man said instantly, already bagging the goods for them. Instantly, Viktor got the money out of his pocket and went to pay. Had she even wanted to pay, it would be futile, for the man quickly clutched his hand around the money and gave them their bag. “Thank you for shopping at Honeydukes, have a wonderful evening!” “I could’ve paid for that.” She defied, already walking out of the store. “I do not doubt it. But I paid first. Now, vhat death candy vill you give me?” His eyes fell to the bag as she looked inside, searching for the one she wanted. Chocolate frog! She grinned mischievously - he was a seeker, afterall, there was no need to warn him of their jumping. Giving him her best sweet smile, she extended the chocolate with both her hands. Viktor furrowed his eyebrows suspiciously, but still picked it up. Upon rotating the wrapper at least thrice, he deemed it safe. At once, the sound of tearing plastic filled the silent space and the frog leaped in in its singular ‘Hurrah!’. Surprise flickered across Viktor’s expression yet his hand still stretched out immediately, grabbing the frog mid-air with practiced ease.

The frog squirmed in his grip before finally quitting its attempt at freedom. Narrowing his eyes at her, he munched on the chocolate. “Very funny.” “Yes, I thought so.” Her voice came out in a sing-song taunt that had Viktor shaking his head fondly. “The chocolate is good, at least.” He admitted, but his attention was elsewhere. His hand closed around the wrapper, the crinkling sound serving as a sort of anchor. “Y/N?” Her name fell easily off his lips and her heart tightened in her chest. Butterflies flew inside her stomach. “Hmm?” “Your company is good, too. Thank you for accepting to come. It makes me happy.” His tone was so incredibly sincere it hurt. It cut through her like a knife releasing the thousand butterflies at once and disorienting her entirely. She blinked herself away from the feeling. “I love your company too, Viktor. Thank you for asking me to come.”

.

.

.

Her heart did tiny somersaults staring into his eyes. The next second, however, she heard the boy’s voice again. The singing. Something brushing against her hands. The scenery changed abruptly rather than softly as was the last memory. Their figures were there, and then they weren’t, and she was back into the pitch black of her closed eyelids. 

The beautiful chorus had turned slightly melancholic and hurried. Were they reaching an end? Why so? She felt something sharp touching her hand. Touching something else, too.

Ropes.

She was tied down. Was she a hostage? She thought so. Triumph bubbled back in her like she’d discovered the secret of the millenia. Whatever the case, it felt like someone or something was cutting through the ropes. Still, the process was slow and it felt like whatever or whomever it was was experiencing a great deal of difficulty. The boy.

He said something, his voice still muffled, still undecipherable. The cutting stopped, though, and soon it restarted with newfound precision. A knife. The cut was swift enough that she couldn’t help but think the boy had offered her savior a knife. She felt disorientated, like the lull of the song was attempting to pull her back under. Like each voice joined together in a frantic plea - or was it a threat? - that had her world whirring again.

Snow. 

But it wasn’t like the previous imagery. The snow wasn’t rough and messy, it was falling in beautiful flakes and then disappearing right before it hit the ground. She was entering the Great Hall, ice sculptures were perfectly carved in a beautiful symbol of Hogwarts’ prowess and culture. Chandeliers were placed over them and polished as she had never before seen them. Her arm was hooked around Viktor’s and they walked together to the center stage. 

It was the Yule Ball, and they were entering together with the other champions…

No!

Her vision blurred and went back to the familiar black as she fought against the song’s pull. She could now feel that the person was pulling her up, she wasn’t tied anymore. The song was becoming more and more faded by the minute as the person pulled her closer and closer to the surface. Air! She’d never known how much she’d miss it. Air entered her lungs desperately, she gasped, breathing through her mouth frantically. 

Black… It wasn’t black anymore. Her eyelids felt lighter and she could open them to the sudden income of light. It felt like the snow-reflected rays all over again. The second task! Viktor! The true memories flooded back to her in a dizzying manner. She wobbled but someone held to her waist, steadying her. 

“Y/N?” The voice was terribly familiar, it belonged to the person she loved. That accent, that gruff and slightly raspy voice that sung her name like a melody of which the previous singing could not compare. She turned to him, vision slightly blurry and opened up a fond smile. 

“V-Vik–...” The words couldn’t leave her lips, she felt slightly nauseous on the onslaught of sensations after being stuck underwater for so long. After being stuck in a sleep-like trance that would not end. “Pomfrey! The effects aren’t vearing off!” Viktor stressed, words sharp and direct as she slowly felt herself being lifted off her feet and carried toward Pomfrey. The mediwitch was looking at her, she could tell, but she couldn’t bear to take her eyes off of Viktor. She loved him. He was perfect. “Wait a few minutes, Mr Krum. It’s likely that the spell has just affected her a bit more than the rest. If nothing changes, I’ll cancel the spell myself.” The sweet, caring voice of the mediwitch traveled around them. “You are sure?” His tone was more of a statement than a question, but she could still see Pomfrey nodding from her peripheral. “Vikt–” She tested her voice, still staring at his angelic figure, concern etched on his very being. In a second, he was looking down at her. “Y/N?” He said her name again. It twisted a knot into her stomach and had her heart yearning to be closer. 

“Say– Say it… Again. Say it again.” She said, slowly regaining her senses enough to form a coherent sentence. “I– like the way you say it. My name. Say it again.” Viktor seemed confused, but soon opened up a soft smile that had her melting and widening a giddy smile of her own. “Y/N. Y/N.” He repeated, each time tightening his hold of her. Her hands wrapped around his neck, perfectly content with just being there for however long time permitted. “Viktor?” She hummed out as he finally placed her down. Her hands did not leave his neck. “Hmm?” His hands found home in her lower back, pulling her closer and feeling the warmth of her embrace he had once felt long ago. “I love the way you say my name. I love you.” He squeezed her sides slightly as if words couldn’t really convey his happiness. Suddenly, she found her head leaning up and Viktor’s getting closer.

Her eyes closed in anticipation, tilting her head slightly and relishing in the feeling of his lips against hers. The kiss was soft, yearning, moving to each other’s rhythm without ever having to say anything. It was easy. Easy to love him. Easy to match him. She could taste the saltiness of the water on his lips, so could he. At the moment, however, she could care less if his lips dehydrated her as long as they never dared to part. Til death do us apart and all. This was the meaning of the phrase, she’d rather stay here forever even if it hurt her. Because every fiber in her being was begging her to stay.

She felt Viktor give a single, soft nip to her lower lip before they parted. It felt impossible to catch up on her breathing, her eyes were glossed over by the sheer love she held for him. They hadn’t parted embrace yet she still desperately wanted to get closer. Like he could put her in a charm of his own without any magic. “I love you too, Y/N.” 

It felt like he’d use the knowledge that she loved her name on his lips to his advantage quite often.