Tags : Phainon Needs a Hug, Hurt Phainon, Phainon-centric, Dreams and Nightmares, Prophetic Dreams, Childhood, Mentioned Chrysos Heir Members, Character Death, Heavy Angst, Blood and Violence, Mentioned Aglaea, Aedes Elysiae, Angst and Tragedy, Family.
Words : 647
Summary : Un enfant chuchote milles et une histoires aux blés qui dansent au vent. Pour l'accompagner, les beaux dessins suivent chacun de ses mots. Tout à coup, un rêve inconnu le rencontre...
i feel like the angst potential of “my world, my universe” (when referring to a significant other) is unexplored
TW: suicide is mentioned as well as stalking, obsession and generally unhealthy relationships and ideas/feelings about relationships, read with caution!!
what happens when your world crumbles?
maybe character A dies or leaves character B, how does B handle it? do they handle it?
what will they do to get their love back? do they do anything?
if A leaves, maybe B becomes obsessed with them - and not necessarily out of love. maybe B stalks A, out of determination to get them to fix their mistake or for revenge and a want to ruin A’s life just like they did to B
if A dies, maybe B does everything in their power to bring them back or is forever haunted by the memories of A - hell, B may want to move on but they can’t, A won’t let them (metaphorically)
or B could fall into a deep depression, they don’t want to live without A, they can’t live without them. maybe they want to join their love in death or just can’t fathom a world without A in it - they need them, A was the centre of everything and now a chunk is gone for good (or at least, B thinks it’s for good)
even in the relationship, how does A feel?
can A handle the pressure of being someone’s number one priority?
how does B expect A to behave? do they want perfection, comfort at all times, A to just be themself? does A know what they want?
how does B feel when their whole world is experiencing hardship? are they annoyed bc they want A to only care about them? are they overprotective and try to fix A’s problem for them? how does A react to B’s reaction?
<chapter 14< | >chapter 16> • story on ao3 • masterlist
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"LIESEL! LIESEL!!"
The shriek carried from the very top of the spiral stone staircase that led down from the concealed entrance into the Slytherin Common Room. A nearby third-year nearly sprang out of his seat and Liesel, who was laying on her stomach in the center of the Persian rug writing a Charms essay atop a hardback textbook, jerked her hand back. A thick splatter of black ink blotted from her quill onto her neatly written parchment.
The radiant youth on the girl's rested face twisted into sour distaste, "Pansy!"
Two figures appeared at the bottom of the staircase, the blonde figure in the back momentarily tripping up on her charcoal school shoes. The black-haired girl in front of her marched forward, her Slytherin robes billowing behind her.
Liesel watched them approach with furrowed brows, shoving her ruined essay forward and sitting up onto her legs. Pansy's dark bob was slightly ruffled, her cheeks flushed, and Daphne was practically vibrating with a breathless energy as she sprinted forward.
"Is it true?!" Daphne gasped out, arriving first.
Before Liesel could even part her lips to ask what 'it' was, Pansy shoved Daphne slightly to the side, planting her hands firmly on her hips. Pansy's eyes shot daggers into Liesel, profoundly offended, though the corners of her lips were twitching with what seemed to be a poor excuse for suppressed excitement.
"Why," Pansy demanded, her voice ringing out across the suddenly quiet common room, "did I have to hear from a second-year Ravenclaw that you are going to the Yule Ball with Cedric Diggory?!"
One of the older students that had paused their game of Gobstones to listen made an unpleasant coughing noise, having swallowed one of the stones like a piece of popcorn watching the scene in the center of the room.
Liesel's cheekbones bloomed with heat and flushed the color of crushed roses, feeling scrutinized under the gaze of her cousin. However, she couldn't help but smile. Beneath the embarrassment, there was an undeniable flutter of pride in her chest. Liesel's shame faded into nonexistence as she raised her chin to her friends, "I never got to mentioning it, I suppose."
"No, no, no." Pansy stared at her, utterly aghast, "'Never got to mentioning it?' Rubbish! … Merlin, Liesel… Cedric Diggory." She swooned, the fight completely leaving her body as she dragged out the syllables of his name. She twirled around, the pleats of her skirt flowing dangerously high, and flopped dramatically onto the velvet sofa beside her, hand thrown upon her forehead. A second later, she rolled over, propping herself up on her elbows to beg for more.
Daphne immediately dropped onto the very edge of the sofa cushions, leaning back against Pansy's waist. She was giggling so hard she had to cover her mouth with both hands, her shoulders shaking.
"When did he ask you?" Daphne asked, squealing. She did not wait for an answer to bombard her with more questions, "How did it happen? Did you feel like a princess or did he fumble like an idiot? Tell us exactly what he said. Do not leave out a single syllable."
Liesel leaned back in her armchair, her fingers idly trading the fluff of feathers where the calamus met the pen. The memory alone was enough to make her stomach fill with a whole swarm of butterflies wishing to break out from behind her ribs, "If you must know, he asked me after the dueling championship."
Pansy's elbows pushed up, nearly launching Daphne off of her backside. She gasped, her jaw dropping open so wide it was almost comical, "The duel- Liesel, that was a month and half ago!"
"I know," Liesel giggled.
Daphne quickly recovered from Pansy's burst of excitement and leaned her elbows forward on her knees, "How dare you sit on the biggest social coup of the century for six weeks?! You let me sit there at breakfast complaining about how all the good boys are already taken!"
"We should hex you," Pansy agreed, then looked at Daphne, "Just go with Blaise, dear."
"Ugh," The blonde rolled her eyes dramatically, "He's going with Luna Lovegood. Can you believe it?! I never thought he'd do as much as touch her"
Liesel began rolling up her ruined parchment, tucking it messily into her satchel, "I can believe it… Blood traitors are oh so sentimental. She's the least likely to slip poison into his tea."
Pansy chuckled, picking at her nails and raising her eyebrow conspiratorially, "Perhaps you're right. If he and Daphne got married, he'd be dead faster than Ms. Zabini could poison her last few husbands."
The three girls burst into a fit of laughter, clutching their stomachs and baring their perfectly white teeth in the center of the room. They had heard countless tales about Blaise's mother, the alleged crimes she committed merely a punchline between the girls. Liesel brushed her hair over her shoulder, exposing her neck. And this made Pansy's eyes brighten.
She pushed herself up from the sofa, her eyes narrowing as she kneeled before Liesel and assessed every small detail of her skin, her eyes, her neck, "Now, If you are walking into the Great Hall on the arm of the Hogwarts Champion, you are going to be photographed. You must look untouchable."
"Pansy, it's just a dance--" Liesel began, but she was immediately silenced by her cousin raising a single, authoritative finger.
"Do not insult me, Liesel. The Yule Ball stopped being 'just a dance' when you said yes to Diggory," Pansy snapped, though there was a viciously fond gleam in her eye, "You are representing us. They need to absolutely weep when you walk into that room. Let's talk hair."
"Up," Daphne joined the other two on the floor, standing and politely floating down onto her knees beside Pansy. She chimed in, leaning forward and taking Liesel by the chin, "You have such gorgeous bone structure. It must be up."
"Agreed," Pansy said, twirling a lock of Liesel's hair, "If you hide that neck behind your hair, you'll look like you're drowning in your robes. Perhaps not a tight bun, though. We don't want you looking like Professor McGonagall."
Liesel giggled as the others doted on her, poking her skin and puffing up her hair at random angles. She had expected this, the complete monitoring of her appearance at the Yule Ball, but she didn't mind it.
Pansy continued muttering on about her hair, "You already have this lovely volume, but I think we use some Smoothing Serum the night before. These curls simply won't do. I can owl my mother for some tonight."
"And your skin… We must do a rosewater brew every morning and night starting today. And perhaps a plumping charm on your lips… Just a small one, with a berry tinted gloss. Nothing sticky, or Diggory will end up wearing half of it by the end of the night."
"Pansy!" Liesel choked out, biting her fingernail in excitement rather than mortification.
"Oh, please, he's a boy. You think he just wants to hold your hand?"
"It's sweet, how much faith you have in me."
Pansy rolled her eyes as she swept herself back onto her feet, taking Liesel with her by her hands, "Faith has nothing to do with it. Now for the dress… Say it with me, Daph."
"Black." The two girls said in unison, their gazes scanning Liesel's figure simultaneously. Daphne continued, "It's the only logical choice, really. It compliments your complexion perfectly, it's elegant, and it will coordinate impeccably with Cedric, I'm sure."
As the girls chattered on about the black dress and how they hope Cedric wouldn't show up in a ghastly yellow, Liesel bit her lower lip, suppressing a smile as she smoothed her hands over the grey pleated skirt of her uniform.
"Actually," Liesel murmured, her voice carrying a soft lyrical tone, "Cedric said that he would love it if I wore maroon."
Pansy froze. Her hand, which had been gesturing toward Liesel's waist, dropped to her side as if all the bones in her arm had suddenly vanished. She stared at Liesel, her mouth opening and closing like some trout that had been fished out of the Black Lake. The Parkinson Green eyes shone at Liesel, wide with horror. The girl beside her, Daphne, was not quite as horrified, but seemed to almost cower behind the former as if the mention of wearing maroon would reappear in her nightmares, and simply stared.
"… Maroon…" Pansy breathed, the word scraping out of her throat as if it were coated in shattered glass, "You cannot be serious. Maroon? Like… like a Weasley?"
"Goodness, no!" Liesel exclaimed, offended at the comparison, "More like a very deep maroon… Like a dark wine."
All hell broke loose.
"Liesel, I don't care if it is the color of Merlin's blood!" Pansy threw her hands up in the air, and gripped at her hair dramatically, "Have you lost your mind? Gryffindor colors to the most highly publicized social event of the decade?!"
"It's just a color-"
"I will simply not allow it!" Pansy declared. She looked genuinely distressed, placing a hand on her heart and doubling over, "Oh, Liesel, you will be the death of me… You are my cousin. We share blood. Please tell me you didn't already have the dress made!"
"Oh, for Salazar's sake, Pansy, sit down before you shatter every mirror in the room." Daphne groaned, reaching out to tug her friend to the velvet sofa once again. She rolled her blue eyes, though she was still grinning widely, "I do hope you rethink the color. A nice emerald would look lovely, too, I think. But enough about that. I want to hear more about Cedric."
Liesel allowed a massive, radiant smile break across her face. The memory of Cedric asking her to the Yule Ball and the night following was so clear, replaying in her mind like a perfectly preserved photograph, "Well-"
"LIESEL ANNE OLLIVANDER!"
For the second time in twenty minutes, Liesel's name was roared from the top of the spiral staircase, bouncing violently off the dungeon walls. But this time, the voice was clearly male, incredibly familiar, and almost instantly made Liesel's eyes roll out of instinct.
Marching down the stone steps was Draco Malfoy. His pale, pointed face was twisted into a scowl, his silver-blonde hair slightly disheveled, and his green and silver tie was loosened at his collar. He looked as though he had hastily stomped all the way from the ground floor just to yell at her. Trailing heavily behind him, their massive shoulders bumbling around and crashing into each other in an attempt to keep up with Draco, were Crabbe and Goyle. The two large boys looked remarkably out of breath and entirely confused, but they lumbered after Draco like faithful, hulking shadows.
Liesel glanced at the girls before her, "Everyone's quite loud today, aren't they?"
Draco crossed the expanse of the common room in brisk strides, bypassing Pansy and Daphne altogether and stopping directly in front of Liesel. He didn't even acknowledge the other students in the room, who had stopped paying attention to the girls' fashion talk, but became thoroughly interested once again when more drama ensued.
"Care to explain?" Draco demanded.
Liesel scoffed at him and sat down on the velvet sofa beside Pansy, entirely unphased. After all, she had been raised with him and knew perfectly that a serene smile did more to him than anything else, "Good afternoon, Draco. You've finished your Charms essay, then?"
"Do not play coy with me, Ollivander," he hissed, planting his hands firmly on his hips, his school robes flaring out around him. He looked utterly ridiculous, "How long have you been hiding the fact that you are attending the Yule Ball with Diggory?"
"A month and a half," Pansy chimed in helpfully from the side, sounding immensely smug.
Draco whipped his head around to glare at Pansy, looking completely scandalized. "A month and a half? Are you daft?" He turned his incredulous gaze back to Liesel, pointing an accusing finger at her, "How on earth did you get Cedric Diggory to ask you?"
"Excuse me?"
"And why didn't I know?!"
"You didn't ask," Liesel replied reasonably, her tone surprisingly even and devoid of malice despite the previous comment.
"Simmer down, Draco," Pansy smirked, attentively cleaning her perfectly manicured fingernails, "I'm sure some strong lad from Durmstrang will ask you soon. No need to be jealous."
Draco's eyebrows shot up and his arms stretched outward as if his feet were planted on a soapbox, about to preach about the end times, "If anyone still cares… I'm not gay!"
"I don't." Pansy said, perfectly musical, using her aristocratic accent as a weapon in the playful tone.
"I don't." Liesel joined in, mischievously smiling.
Goyle was the next to speak, "Neither do I."
Everyone stopped and turned their heads toward the broad boy still playing hot hands with Crabbe, though the former had taken a beat as well and peeked up between his eyebrows incredulously. Draco clearly took this personally, his mouth twisting up toward his nose in a furious glare and grey eyes shooting daggers at his goon. After a few moments of silence, Goyle's ears perked up, realizing his mistake, and continued.
"I wouldn't care if you were, I mean. Plenty of wizards are into buggery, I've learned."
Draco's ears were progressively turning more and more rosy, then to a wild cherry red all over.
But Goyle continued, "My Uncle Albert told me Dumbledore's queer. He also said he's a fairy, though, so I don't know how true--."
"Shut up, Goyle," Draco snapped, as his friend clearly had no end in mind in order to cover his tracks, "It's a miracle you're still alive with that empty skull of yours."
Pansy let out a shrieking laugh, clutching onto Daphne's arm and leaning in, "How I'd love to hear about the Headmaster's love stories. I bet him and Professor Snape have some history. A scandalous age gap, perhaps."
"Ewww!" Daphne squealed, giggling and kicking her legs up onto the sofa.
"Anyway, Liesel… I shouldn't have to ask!" Draco exploded, beginning to pace a strip of the Persian rug that they were kneeling on moments ago, "Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for me? Do you know how I found out?" He stopped, his face twisting into disgust. "I had to hear it from Neville. Longbottom."
Pansy and Liesel both let out a sudden, loud snort of laughter, quickly slapping their hands over their mouths in unison, their shared blood clearly in sync. Daphne bit her lip so hard it turned white. The image of the usually terrified Neville Longbottom inadvertently breaking the news of the century to Draco Malfoy was too delightfully absurd to ignore.
"Longbottom?" Liesel asked, "However did he know?"
"Because everyone knows, Liesel! Apparently Cedric told McGonagall during class this morning and we're the last to find out." Draco mimicked a trembling, terrified voice, "I-I-I'm sorry I spilled my pot of bouncing bulbs on your shoes, but you shouldn't be so mean! Surely Liesel wouldn't like it, with Cedric taking her to the Yule Ball and all!"
Draco dropped the impression, looking as though he had just swallowed a lemon, "At this rate, my own father will probably hear about it from Arthur Weasley at the Ministry before I get a chance to write to him! It's not funny!"
Liesel let out a soft, chiming laugh. She reached out, her delicate fingers wrapping gently around Draco's wrist. She looked up at him, her mossy eyes warm. Draco could never help but melt ever since he was a child, his anger deflating, no matter how hard he tried to cling to it.
Draco let out a long sigh, looking up at the stone ceiling as if asking the late Salazar Slytherin himself for the patience to deal with her. But he relented. He dropped onto the sofa on Liesel's other side, allowing himself to sink in. Crabbe and Goyle, having no idea what to do with themselves now that the shouting war was over, started playing a game where they slapped each other's hands until one of them flinched in pain.
Pansy interrupted the newfound quiet moment, "Though… speaking of the Weasleys… Tell him what color you're wearing."
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The Yule Ball had come faster than anyone had expected. Between the thrill of becoming somewhat of a Queen Bee by Cedric's side in the corridors and the late nights of studying between the golden egg and catching up with her mid-year exams, Liesel found herself shocked by the sudden thrust of the Yuletide season before them.
The door of the Slytherin Common Room entrance scraped shut with a foreboding finality, sealing off the damp chill of the outer dungeon corridors and opening them up to the humidity of fountains of Liesel's Hogwarts living quarters. Hermione Granger stood completely frozen at the threshold, her shoulders drawn up to her ears, looking as though she was a few fleeting nerves away from giving up on their rule-breaking and scampering off back to her dormitory.
"Breathe, Granger," Liesel whispered, her voice a soft, echoing murmur in the emerald-lit space. She reached out, catching Hermione gently by the shoulder to guide her down the spiral staircase. "I promise there's no one here to see you. Everyone's getting ready elsewhere."
The sprawling Slytherin Common Room was a ghost town, abandoned to the crackling fires and the sloshing of the Black Lake against the enchanted windows. Anyone who hadn't gone home for the Christmas holidays was already dedicating their time to getting ready for the Yule Ball in prefect bathrooms. Some, including Liesel's friends, booked appointments in Hogsmeade and planned to bring carriages up later on. Liesel led Hermione swiftly past the empty leather sofas and down a narrow, winding corridor that branched off from the main living area.
"We'll get ready in the first-year girls' room. Just in case," Liesel smiled at Hermione, hoping to calm her nerves, "Come, come."
When they entered, the room was perfectly still, smelling faintly of pine needles. The four four-poster beds, draped heavily with the silver velvet that Liesel remembered from her first year were impeccably made, their occupants safely tucked away in various manors across Britain for the winter holiday.
"Sit, darling," Liesel instructed, gesturing toward a plush, velvet-cushioned stool situated in front of a sprawling, ornate vanity mirror framed by silver serpents.
Hermione obeyed, setting her suitcase carefully on the floor as to not throw around the dress inside. She clearly felt out of place in the luxurious dungeons, with her busy hair wild and frizzy from the humidity, her hands twisting nervously in the lap of her casual woolen jumper. But as Liesel moved behind her, only wearing her forest green Slytherin nightgown, she tried her best to calm the Gryffindor girl with a loving touch on the shoulder.
For years, Liesel and Hermione had been locked in a hardcore academic rivalry that bordered on blood sport. They had practically waged war fighting for the top marks in their year, and Liesel couldn't help but admit she had always been horribly jealous of how naturally magic came to Hermione. Liesel had been raised in intellectual circles surrounding wandmaking and the lore of magic for as long as she lived, even casting spells before receiving her very own wand. But when Hermione entered Hogwarts, a muggleborn with no experience with magic besides the books she could get her hands on in the few weeks after meeting Dumbledore for the first time… Liesel saw red.
But Liesel had been walking with Cedric a week earlier and said with a warm, oblivious sort of amusement, that Viktor Krum had asked her to the Yule Ball. While Cedric had only found the pairing surprising, how the jock had chosen the nerd in the corner, he tucked his rosy nose into his scarf, and the revelation that Hermione had no idea what she was in for nearly knocked the wind out of her. Liesel knew the brutal workings of the Wizarding Elite better than anyone. And Hermione was walking right into it with no experience, walking into the Great Hall on the arm of one of the most famous Quidditch players in the world.
Pansy and Daphne would tear her to pieces with their rumors. Who knew who else. The whole room, surely, if she showed up with her rats nest of hair and a muggle prom gown.
Liesel couldn't stand idly by and watch a massive guillotine fall onto Harry's friend's neck.
Now, standing behind the Gryffindor in the dungeon, Liesel uncorked a small crystal vial. "Right then," Liesel said softly, pouring a shimmering, pearl-colored droplet of the potion into the palm of her hand and rubbing her palms together to activate the enchantment, "Let's tame this, shall we?"
"Will we be putting this in your hair, too?" Hermione asked, her eyes shining in the mirror, wide with intrigue.
"Merlin, no." Liesel giggled, pressing her hands into Hermione's thick hair, "I don't let anyone touch my curls, Miss Granger. They're sacred."
Hermione let out a small gasp as the warm magic seeped into her scalp, the frizzy mass on her head instantly relaxing under Liesel's touch. Working methodically, Liesel began to comb the potion through. With every pass of the comb, the girl's hair transformed into sleek heavy waves that caught the firelight like the polished mahogany surrounding them.
"You know," Liesel murmured, breaking the silence as she glanced into the mirror, pulling Hermione's hair back just below her ears, "You have incredible bone structure. When your hair is pulled back from your face like this, it makes you absolutely shine. Shall I put it up?"
She couldn't help but repeat the compliment Daphne had given her. A realization settled on Liesel of just how similar the two of them looked to one another.
Hermione nodded with a suppressed grin, "Yes. And… Thank you for doing this. Ronald and Harry wouldn't have the faintest idea of how to help me."
Liesel smiled, her eyes focused deeply on the sweeping hair of the girl before her: tucking, pinning, twirling… The mention of the Gryffindor boys caused pause in Liesel's mind, however, and she found herself with wandering thoughts as her hands moved.
"Hermione," Liesel said, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper, "Can I tell you a secret?"
Hermione's posture straightened instantly, her breath hitching. In both of their minds, the academic rivalry was forgotten, and their bond was simply two teenage girls gossiping. Hermione had often wondered what it was like to have a girl friend, and Liesel provided her the sneak peek she always wanted. "Yes," she breathed, entirely captivated, "Of course you can."
Liesel leaned in slightly, an irrepressible giggle escaping her lips before she could stop it. "Harry asked me to the Yule Ball, too."
Hermione's jaw practically unhinged at the prospect. She spun around on the velvet stool, nearly causing Liesel to tug on a section of pinned hair and ruining the look. Her eyes shot open, wide as saucers. She stared at Liesel for three solid seconds before a burst of laughter tore from her throat.
"Harry?!" Hermione gasped, "Oh, Ronald would have a coronary! When? What did you say to him?!"
"I told him the truth, that Cedric had already asked me," Liesel said laughing along with her, gently pushing Hermione's shoulder to force her to turn back toward the mirror so she could finish styling, "He asked me in the library a few weeks ago. I feel awful."
"Oh, don't feel awful," Hermione scoffed, waving a dismissive hand, though she was still grinning widely, "He was absolutely desperate. He asked Cho Chang last week, but she was already going with a boy from Beauxbatons."
Liesel giggled, the sound light and airy as she pinned a section of Hermione's hair back to frame her face perfectly, "I'll tell you another secret… I wish he would've asked me before Cedric did. He's so sweet and those lovely green puppy dog eyes-“
Hermione rolled her own eyes dramatically, though her smile reached all the way to her cheeks. She was clearly thrilled by the idea of Harry asking out one of Malfoy's best friends. It was a scandal waiting to drop, "Oh, he's rotten! Do you want to know what your sweet Harry was doing last week in the corridor?"
"What?"
"I caught him staring at your backside while you were walking up the Grand Staircase!"
Liesel shrieked, both of her hands landing on Hermione's shoulders and looking at their reflection in the mirror, her jaw agape, "What?! Harry?!"
"And when I was about to say something, I saw Neville staring, too!" Hermione grabbed Liesel's hand on her shoulder, "I had to smack them with my book to stop them from falling into a trick step! He's not the innocent little puppy you think he is!"
The Ollivander heiress felt a flush of heat rise to her cheeks, a sudden thrill of embarrassment washing over her, but she covered it the best she could with one of Pansy’s trademarked theatrical sighs. She smoothed down the last bit of Hermione’s pinned hair, “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You know what Draco’s mother always says?”
Hermione cocked her head, deeply curious.
"All men are dogs!" Liesel bent down beside Hermione’s head, whispering in her ear with a large grin, her nose scrunching in faux disgust and mimicking Narcissa Malfoy's aristocratic drawl “My own son would lap from a puddle if I let him.”
For a moment, the room was entirely silent as the girls' jaws dropped. And then, simultaneously, both girls broke, falling into uncontrollable, breathless giggles, the sound echoing brightly off the shadowed walls of the dungeon dormitory. Hermione sat and found that her bushy hair no longer fell into her eyes as she doubled over in the stool below her, and that the girl she had always rivaled had a knack for twisting hair and an eye for good bones and the humor of the girls she had befriended long ago at her muggle school. The tension released from her body, shuttering out through the laughing. Laughing, and laughing, until Liesel had to clutch her ribs, the absurdity of the teenage boys closest to them uniting the two.
"Right," Liesel breathed finally, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of her eyes. She took a stop back, pointing her newly manicured fingers at the green and silver embroidered changing screen in the corner of the room, "Time for the dress. Go behind the screen. If you need help, shout."
Hermione, her smile shining with more light than any of the stars in the Great Hall ever could, gathered her suitcase and ducked behind the wall of fabric in the corner of the room. Liesel sat herself down at the vanity to assess the work she will have to do on her own hair for the coming evening of dance and Prophet photos. A frustrated sigh broke through the silence.
"This zipper!" Hermione huffed.
Liesel spoke without looking away from her reflection, "Come out, dear. I'll help."
"I’ve got it." Hermione's voice drifted over the screen, suddenly sounding like a mouse squeaking in a wall. "… I don’t know. It feels… It feels like too much, Liesel. What if they laugh at me?"
"No one is going to laugh at you," Liesel said firmly, "Come out. Let me see."
Slowly, a figure stepped out from behind the velvet curtain, and Liesel turned to look.
Hermione Granger stood before Liesel in stunning periwinkle dress robes, each layer of fabric catching in the dim light and seemed to shimmer with a light from within. It was elegantly tailored, wrapping beautifully around Hermione's bodice before flowing into a cascading skirt that brushed the stone floor, but not before leaving just a taste of her glittering midnight blue slippers. Combined with the sleek hair pinned up by the nape of her neck and her posture, seemingly straightened by the cut of the fabric along her collarbone, Liesel found Hermione unrecognizable from the frizzy-haired girl buried in Gryffindor wear just hours prior. Yet, the look in her eyes, the intelligent glance that observed everything in its path, remained. The heart of Hermione would truly be on Viktor Krum's arm.
Liesel grinned and commanded softly, "Spin."
Hermione obliged, executing a hesitant, nervous little twirl. The periwinkle tulle flared out, catching the air and flowing like the waves of the ocean, the lining bubbling like foam.
"Hermione, darling, you look absolutely perfect! Viktor will be drooling over you," Liesel squealed, stepping forward and reaching out to adjust the sleeve of her dress to be symmetrical. She took a step back, offering an exaggerated curtsy, dipping her head low. "You are no longer Hermione Granger. Tonight, you are Lady Hermia of Family Granger."
A radiant grin broke across Hermione's face, confidence finally settling into her chest. She caught the foam of the ocean surrounding her, returning the gesture with a flawless, sweeping curtsy of her own. "It is a pleasure to be of acquaintance, Lady Liesel of the Noble House of Ollivander."
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"There he is," Hermione whispered, nudging Liesel's elbow.
Standing near the base of the marble staircase, navigating the swell of the growing crowd, was Cedric Diggory.
Liesel reeled at the spectacular looking boy before her, how his charcoal dress robes hugged his athletic shoulders, emphasizing the strength he had built up while competing in Quidditch. She studied his immaculate shoes, the tail of his coat, and, most unnervingly, his hazel eyes that scanned each and every person around the room that eventually landed on her very own form.
As Cedric's eyes brightened and his feet began guiding him toward her, she couldn't help but become self-conscious of her custom dress. The deep, bruised maroon he had chosen himself when Liesel brought him a catalogue for fabric matched her skin tone well, although she was worried the adornment was taken too far. Pearls lined her collarbones, stretching toward her back, and forward brought the eye to the decorative straight bodice, complex with slightly lighter red laced designs. Pinned to the lace were droplets of iridescent pearl. Liesel knew her face would be plastered in pureblood haute couture gossip sections, but was it too much for a boy as humble as Cedric Diggory?
And her hair, swept up into a caul, leaving the illusion of a bob with chosen pieces plastered onto her cheekbones and jaw to line her face. This certainly complimented her makeup, the Pansy-approved smokey eye and berry lip, but how much was too much? Cedric had mentioned how he so loved her natural beauty, how her freckles were the only paint she needed on her face.
Liesel gripped Hermione's hand one last time with her scarlet gloves and stepped forward to meet Cedric.
"My, my, Ced. You look dashing," Liesel said, her voice rising and falling in the age-old pureblood accent. It almost felt wrong speaking any other way dressed as such.
Cedric finally reached her, taking her hand in his, "Liesel, my dear, even the most beautiful of Veelas could never hold a candle to your beauty… May I?"
He brought up his left hand as if he were brushing something off of her cheekbone, then fell into a gentle caress. Liesel, falling deeper and deeper under his spell, nervously chuckled, "How many times did you practice that in the mirror?"
"Too many times," the boy leaned forward and whispered, laughing in return, "When the mirror got annoyed and stopped showing my reflection, I used Newton. He didn't appreciate being my test dummy. Was it that bad?"
"No, darling," Liesel kissed his cheek, "It was very sweet."
Cedric turned to his side, offering up his arm as music began to play, "Shall we?"
A creeping of rose reached up Liesel's cheeks as she nodded, taking his arm.
The Great Hall had been immaculately transformed into a winter forest: silver and white, wooden benches replaced with cocktail tables of ice, trees encircling the attendees. Above them the sky reflected the treacherous weather outside, swirling snow and howling wind just barely audible above the music.
The only thing more treacherous than the weather outside was the opening dance of the Champions within.
The waltz began with a sweeping, orchestral swell in which Cedric and Liesel led the four couples into the center, one by one. Along the way, the two of them happily greeted their friends and peers, and Liesel forced a smile on her face until she reached Pansy and Draco, arm in arm. Someone, undoubtedly Pansy's father, had forced the poor girl into a frilly pink dress, though she managed to make it look perfectly herself with a red lip and broken hearts lining her eyes. As they passed, Pansy lightly hopped in excitement, causing Liesel's nose to scrunch in giggles. Her head turned behind the couple, and only then did Pansy's face drop in horror at the sight on Viktor Krum's arm.
Cedric did not step on Liesel's foot once. In fact, he managed to guide Liesel through the complex footwork as if he had been dancing all his life, his hand firm on her waist. However, their immediate neighbors on the floor were faring poorly. Harry Potter and Parvati Patil were dancing directly to their left. Harry frantically moved around, stiff as a petrified gargoyle, his eyes glued to his feet, expecting the floorboards to turn to quicksand. All the while, Parvati gamely tried to forcefully lead him through the steps. The two of them lost their footing, sending him and Parvati careening wildly into Cedric and Liesel's orbit.
"Sorry!" Harry choked out, his face burning a violent shade of red, a red so pigmented that it could fit right in with the fabric of Liesel's maroon train, of which he narrowly avoided stepping directly onto.
Cedric effortlessly swept Liesel out of the collision course, shooting Harry a good-natured smile over his shoulder. "Keep your weight on your toes, Harry! You're doing fine!"
Liesel bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a giggle as Cedric pulled her back to his chest, unbothered by the near-miss, "He's going to kill someone," she whispered against Cedric's shoulder.
"If Parvati is anything like my dance partner," Cedric chuckled, his breath warm against her temple, "he'll sure get a beating after this dance."
Midway through the evening, the Weird Sisters took the stage, turning everything and everyone around them electric. They ate from silver platters laden with enchanted food, drank sparkling cider enchanted with singing bubbles, and danced until Liesel's feet ached, and they found themselves resting near a towering ice sculpture of a hippogriff, chatting amiably with Hermione and Viktor Krum. Hermione looked flushed and remarkably happy and, though Viktor remained a pillar of fur and muscle by her side, was glowing with an equally heightened sense of glee.
Cedric, ever the polite conversationalist, turned to the Quidditch star with an easy smile, "I imagine winter here is rather mild compared to what you grew up with in Bulgaria, Viktor?"
Krum took a slow sip from his goblet, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes settling on Cedric, "It is sunnier in Bulgaria, but the cold is harsh, yes," Krum rumbled, his accent incredibly thick, "But I truly grew up in Hungary. Those vinters… You could not imagine the bite."
Liesel's head snapped up. She stared at the towering Seeker in shock, "You are from Hungary?"
Krum blinked, surprised by her sudden intensity, "Yes. I lived there until I was ten."
Without missing a beat, Liesel's face lit up with a radiance that filled the whole room, gasping and gripping Cedric's coat arm. She immediately shifted languages, the complexities rolling off her tongue fluently, "A nagymamám fehérvári volt! Slughorn a vezetékneve – talán hallott már róla?" (My grandmother was from Fehérvár! Her surname was Slughorn—perhaps you’ve heard of her?)
Krum's permanently scowling expression instantly vanished, replaced by a massive grin that transformed his entire face. For the first time all evening, the sullen Quidditch star looked like the eager, enthusiastic teenager that he truly was inside, "Imádom! És ő tanított meg a nyelvre?" (I love it! And did she teach you the language?)
"Nem, apám tanított meg rá." Liesel's face lowered into one of deep respect, but then gestured over to where she had seen her friend stand just moments ago, "De látod azt a szőke hajú fiút ott? Az ő családja is beszél magyarul." (No, my father taught me. But do you see that blond-haired boy over there? His family speaks Hungarian too.)
Krum followed her gesture and nodded, "Ó, Draco Malfoy. Ja, találkoztam vele. Nagyon merész." (Oh, Draco Malfoy. Yeah, I met him. He's very bold.)
As Liesel and Viktor eagerly launched into a rapid-fire animated conversation in Hungarian, Cedric and Hermione were left standing on the periphery, completely shut out of the discussion.
Cedric glanced down at Hermione, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, "Do you know what they're saying?"
The girl shook her head, "No bloody idea."
The two of them broke into affectionate chuckles at the sheer excitement radiating from their dates.
It was at this moment that Harry Potter pushed his way through the crowd, looking deeply relieved to have finally escaped Parvati, who stomped off to dance with a boy from Ravenclaw. Harry approached the group, his green eyes darting in confusion between Liesel and Krum as they loudly debated something in a language that sounded to Harry like a collection of meticulously written spells.
"What are they talking about?" Harry asked, standing beside Cedric and staring at Liesel in bewilderment.
Cedric laughed, and gestured casually toward Liesel with the glass in his hand, "I haven't the faintest idea what she's saying, but she seems quite passionate about it… She looks lovely while doing it, so she could go on like that forever if she wanted."
And Liesel, who had taken a pause during a recount of Krum's childhood story, smiled at Harry. Harry looked up at Cedric. He looked at Cedric's tall, athletic frame, his relaxed, effortless confidence, his incredibly handsome, smiling face. Harry's bruised ego simmered below the surface, jealousy taking him. He wanted to take Liesel, wanted to be the one standing and holding her hand. But as Harry looked at Cedric, he couldn't help but collapse into resigned awe.
Cedric was just too nice. He was too genuine, too kind, too undeniably perfect to hate. And he was a better dancer. Harry'd only make Liesel look like a fool.
Harry offered a weak, defeated smile, running a hand through his messy hair. "She looks brilliant. You look great together tonight." This statement received a warm smile from Hermione, who knew more than she let on.
"Don't we?" Cedric agreed softly, his eyes returning to Liesel with a look of such profound adoration that it made Harry awkwardly clear his throat and shuffle away toward the punch bowl.
Eventually, Krum lowered his chest to the ground in a deep bow to Liesel, offering a final farewell in Hungarian before leading Hermione away to get a breath of fresh air.
The moment they were alone, the Weird Sisters transitioned into a slow, haunting ballad. The lights in the Great Hall dimmed slightly, and enchanted snow began falling softly from the ceiling and landed elegantly in Cedric and Liesel's hair.
Cedric didn't ask her, but simply reached out, his hand settling warmly against the bodice surrounding her waist, and pulled her flush against his chest. Liesel stepped into his embrace without hesitation, her arm wrapping around his neck, and her eyes staring into his.
As they swayed together in the center of the room, surrounded by hundreds of other couples, Liesel felt alone in the room wrapped up in Cedric's arm. She closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of him: cedarwood, the citrusy tang of his shampoo, and the earth of the Hufflepuff common room.
It was infuriating, almost. She looked up at him through her lashes, mapping the flawless lines in the dim silvery light, and she tried to find a single flaw. Everyone had a flaw. Draco was cruel and arrogant, despite being her best friend. Harry was emotionally stunted and reckless, despite being the Chosen One. Theodore was an outlier, simply because he didn't have a single redeeming quality about him. Could the opposite be true? Could someone not have any flaws?
Perhaps Cedric was walking evidence of such being a ruse. He was too handsome, kind to everyone he met. He was relentlessly fair… intelligent without being arrogant, athletic without being a brute. His hazel eyes chased away any cold in Liesel's body, in her heart, and the way he held her… firmly, securely, as if she were the most precious thing in the castle… It made her heart hammer painfully against her ribs. Fear shocked into her. It was terrifying to be this close to someone who was so utterly, undeniably perfect.
Liesel was entirely at Cedric's mercy, melting, falling away into an emotion she hadn't felt before. Love. True love, perhaps. Liesel didn't believe in it before, but now…?
"I was thinking," Cedric whispered, his voice humming against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine, "As wonderful as this is… it's rather crowded. And loud. And I haven't really had you to myself all night."
Liesel tilted her head back, meeting his gaze, though her cheeks flushed, "And you.. You want me… to yourself? Cedric, I shouldn't-"
Cedric threw his head back and laughed, then locked eyes with her once again, "That's not what I mean," his hand slid just a fraction lower on the small of her back, pressing her closer, "I was thinking that, perhaps, we should go on a proper date. Just the two of us."
Liesel exhaled her anxiety, letting out an anxious giggle as he ensured her that he wasn't implying anything further, "I don't know, Cedric. With how popular you are these days, do you even have the time to plan a date?"
Cedric lifted his free hand, gently brushing a mousy stray curl that had lifted itself from its place on her jawline, his fingertips lingering against her skin.
"I would make time for you any day, Liesel," he whispered softly, "You name the hour, and I'll be there."
They stayed together for the rest of the night, their arms unwilling to separate from one another. When the Weird Sisters finally played their final chord at midnight and the exhausted student body began to filter out of the Great Hall, Cedric draped his charcoal cloak over Liesel's shoulder to protect her from the chill of the dungeons.
When they reached the door of the Slytherin Common Room, the effortless charm of the Hogwarts Champion seemed to falter. Cedric shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels. He looked down at the stone floor, a faint, boyish flush creeping up the back of his neck.
"I, erm… I didn't practice this part in the mirror, nor on Newton, for that matter," Cedric started, his voice suddenly lacking its usual smooth confidence. He stumbled over his words, offering a self deprecating little laugh, "I suppose I should say thank you… for coming with me, and giving me such a wonderful night. You were…" He looked at her, his eyes searching hers, "You were everything."
Liesel's heart ached with how intensely endearing the stumbling was. He surely thought he was making a fool of himself, rambling awkwardly in the dark, but to Liesel, it was the most charming thing she had ever witnessed. A man as perfect as Cedric being imperfect in front of her. Domestic bliss before the first date.
It was the only crack in his perfect armor… the fact that she made him nervous.
She didn't let him ramble any further.
Liesel stepped forward, her hands coming up to rest flat against the lapels of his dress robes. She rose slightly to the tips of her toes, her gaze locked on his, "Did you practice this part with Newton?" she smiled playfully.
Cedric gulped, lightly shaking his head before she closed the distance and pressed her lips to his.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
The air outside of the walls of Hogwarts Castle was viciously cold, biting at the exposed skin of Liesel's cheeks, scraping down her windpipe with every inhale. And yet, she did not feel the chill.
Walking beside Cedric Diggory was akin to standing beside an open furnace. Her hand was tucked securely into the crook of his elbow, her fingers resting against the dense knit of his sweater. She stared straight ahead, trying not to spend every second of her time gazing at his handsome appearance.
There was a desperate, clawing need in her chest to be his. To be his beautiful, untroubled thing. To be walking arm-in-arm with perfection, you must be perfect, right?
Without a word of warning, Cedric's hands abandoned his pockets. His palms clamped firmly on either side of her waist, the grip shockingly strong, his long fingers pressing into her ribs through layers of wool and silk. Before she could draw a breath, he hoisted her completely off the ground.
Liesel let out a sharp, breathless squeal, the sound echoing across the empty, frozen courtyard.
Cedric spun her in a fluid, dizzying arch and the world blurred into streaks of white snow and a bruised-indigo sky. When he finally set her down, he didn't release her waist, but stood entirely too close, looking down at her. A boyish grin broke across his jaw and he pointed at the fractured flagstone path behind them.
"You step on a crack, you break Merlin's back," Cedric murmured.
Liesel burst into a fit of giggles, completely and utterly drunk off of the adrenaline from Cedric's touch. She pressed a gloved hand to his chest, feeling the thrumming of his own heart beneath the coat, "Are you normally superstitious?" she breathed, tilting her chin up, playing her part of the untroubled beautiful coy girl to perfection.
"Come on," he changed the subject as he took her hand, lacing their fingers together, and dragged her toward the greenhouse, "You must be freezing."
The girl was relieved to transition from the biting winter air to the interior of the earthy enclosure. Cedric dragged the heavy wooden door shut behind them, closing them in the lung-clogging soup of humidity and fierce smell of the orchid petals and dragon dung fertilizer brewing beneath the slatted floorboards.
Liesel unfastened the silver clasp of her cloak, letting the wool slide from her shoulders, where Cedric was right behind her to catch it.
"Sprout left the far corner open for us," Cedric said, taking her cloak and draping it carefully over a dormant Venomous Tentacula tub, " She usually keeps it locked on the weekends, but I promised I'd prune the Fanged Geraniums on Tuesday."
He led her through a dense thicket of twisting, rope like creepers and broad weeping leaves. Nestled in a small clearing at the back of the pavilion was a thick Hufflepuff-themed blanket spread over the damp floorboards. A wicker basket sat in the center.
Liesel grinned as she sank onto the blanket, folding her legs beneath her and smoothing the dark fabric of her skirt. Cedric sat opposite her, crossing his long legs, breathing in the air of the suffocating greenhouse musk and smiling lightly. He reached into the wicker basket, his movements slow and deliberate, and as his knuckles brushed the woven edge, he pressed his index finger flat against his lips. His eyes darted toward the frosted glass of the entrance door before withdrawing a dark green glass bottle with no label.
"Shh," he whispered, producing a small silver corkscrew from his pocket with a conspiratorial smirk, "Muggle wine. A bordeaux, I think. I bribed Newton to smuggle it up from Hogsmeade."
"A smuggler, Mr Diggory?" Liesel asked softly, leaning forward. She watched the tendons in his forearms flex as he drove the metal spiral into the cork, "The prefect badges mean remarkably little these days, don't they?"
"Desperate times, Miss Ollivander."
With a wet, hollow pop, the cork gave way. Cedric poured the liquid into two mismatched glass chalices, undoubtedly grabbed from the kitchens prior to the date. The wine, thick and viscous as it settled into the cups, was the color of coagulated blood, and he handed one to her. Their fingers brushed, sending a spark of heat up her arm.
Liesel took a sip. It was tart, leaving an astringent dry film on the back of her tongue, smelling faintly of berries and copper. She swallowed, letting the burn slide down her throat, settling the restless, buzzing static in her skull from being in the Golden Boy's vicinity.
"Now," Cedric said, setting his chalice down on the floorboards. He reached into his trousers and withdrew a small, rectangular object wrapped in paper. He peeled it back to reveal a deck of standard playing cards, the edges soft, the glossy finish rubbed away by the oils of human skin.
"Watch," he instructed, intimately whispering to the girl opposite of him.
He split the neck with one hand. The cards made a dry, sharp clack-flick-clack sound as he cascaded them between his palms. The manual dexterity of his large hands were startling, manipulating the thin cards with grace.
Cedric fanned the deck out in a perfect, overlapping crescent and extended it toward her, "Pick one. Don't let me see it."
Liesel reached out. The air in the greenhouse was so thick she could feel the moisture beading on her eyelashes, and she hoped no wet would show through her silk shirt. Her index finger glided over the word paper until she selected a card near the center. She pulled it free and pressed it flat against her thigh, shyly peeking at the face.
A crowned figure stared up at her in faded black ink. The queen of spades.
"Put it back," he said, cutting the deck.
She slid the card into the stack. With a quick, deceptive twist of his wrist, Cedric closed the deck. His palm hovered over the top card for a fraction of a second, a shadow passing over the word backing.
He leaned across the small space separating them. The movement was slow, nearly predatory with the dilating of his pupils locking onto her lips. He reached out, his thumb catching the edge of her jawline.
Liesel froze as he approached, joining him in staring delightfully at his lips, her breath catching in her throat. The heat of his skin pressed against the cool porcelain of her cheek, causing her heart to flutter in her chest, beating, beating, beating, threatening to find a life of its own. His thumb trailed slowly down the line of her neck, tracing the delicate architecture of her collarbone, before his fingers dipped into her mousy hair.
With a small, triumphant flourish, he drew the queen of spades from behind her ear.
"Is this your card?"
Liesel laughed through her painted lips, "Fantastic! What conjuration spell did you use for that? I didn't even hear you say it?"
"Ah, ah. No magic. Well, not our magic," Cedric wiggled his fingers, placing the card back into the deck, "Muggle magic…"
"Muggle magic?"
"Muggles can be fascinating, can't they?" Cedric whispered. His face was far too close. She could see the tiny, golden flecks swimming in his hazel eyes, and a shocking imperfection: the slight uneven ridge of his nose. The cards remained pinched between his fingers, but his gaze had dropped, fixing on her mouth once again.
But he pulled back slowly, the loss of his heat leaving a void against Liesel's jaw. He began to turn the remaining cards over, one by one. The snap of the paper was the only sound cutting through the continuous pat-pat-pat of condensation dripping from the glass ceiling.
"If you keep shuffling like that, the kings will lose their heads," Liesel noted, picking up her silver chalice, letting the tart wine wash the dry feeling from her mouth.
Cedric let out a low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated the room and dropped the deck into a messy pile on the wool.
"My mother would like you," he said.
Liesel set down her drink, "And when will I get to meet her?"
The words hung in the air, unanswered for several moments. He leaned back, resting his broad shoulders against the wooden leg of a potting bench. The flirtation bled out of his posture, replaced by a clear unwelcome nostalgia that softened nearly every angle of his face.
The Slytherin girl stilled. The Diggory family had been heavily publicized since the Goblet of Fire had blown Cedric's name from its rim. But in the gossip columns, she realized a maternal presence had never been mentioned.
"… What was her name?" Liesel asked gently.
Cedric's gaze dropped to the scattered cards. His index finger reached out, lightly tracing the faded black ink of the spade.
"Alameda." Cedric muttered, the name bittersweet on his tongue, "It's Spanish. Her grandfather was a wine merchant in Jerez. It means a grove of poplar trees. A place where people go to walk in the shade." His thumb rubbed the soft paper of the card until the ink began to chip beneath the pressure, "She died a few years ago. In childbirth. I was twelve."
Liesel's chest constricted. In Cedric's eyes she could see the pits of pain he had done so well to mask. He then reached into his pocket, pulled out a worn photo, and handed it to her.
"It was a freak accident. Her magic just… exploded."
Sitting within the palm of Cedric's love was his first true love. A young woman: wild, untamed dark curls… loose cotton flowing from her skin, and a young boy on her hip.
"The healers at St. Mungo's said I was supposed to have a little sister."
For a moment, Liesel wondered if it was a cruel joke, the photo. The woman looked exactly like Cedric, right down to the crooked nose bridge that Liesel had only just discovered. She moved, waving at Liesel through the film, bouncing the toddler on her waist. For every ounce of Cedric's goodness, his grace, the gentle way he held the world around him, the woman before her had tenfold. It hadn't been born from nothing.
"But the bleeding wouldn't stop and…"
The woman's eyes radiated such a strong energy that Liesel had never seen from her own parents. Not even from Molly Weasley. Here, in this photo, was such a deep kindness, a deep love. A woman who loved life and lived her life with love. To look into Alameda Diggory's eyes was to look at a sun that would never burn you, only nurture and shine unto its children for warmth.
"We never even decided on a name for the baby."
Cedric paused, gazing at Liesel as she analyzed the moving photo, watching it replay over and over again, "My dad had this massive book of old wizarding names. Hideous, suffocating things like Euphemia or Andromeda. But my mother wanted something simple. Clara, I think. To match mine. I helped them paint her nursery ceiling to look like the night sky."
They sat in silence for a long time, the weight of the unnamed baby girl and Cedric's gentle late mother hovering between them. Liesel didn't offer any empty platitudes or forced condolences… she knew better than to try to fill the silence with meaningless apologies. She didn't know if she could, completely entranced with the woman before her in the image.
After awhile, she spoke, her voice weak, breaking under the pressure, "You look just like her."
Cedric's eyes broke from Liesel's face and fell to the photo in her hands, "And I hope to be even a fraction of the person she was."
Liesel's head snapped up to look at Cedric, the words falling out of his mouth so profound, so shockingly sweet. She couldn't imagine saying the same about her own mother. To wish to be a fraction of a mother's grace… he worshiped the ground she walked on, and Liesel would worship his. With a slow movement, Liesel crawled forward, her fingers gently placing the photo of Alameda on Cedric's lap. However, instead of retreating, she tilted his chin up and placed her lips on his, delivering one final close touch.
Cedric's hand moved from the deck of cards, sliding up her arm to cup the side of her face. His thumb brushed over her cheekbone, his touch impossibly tender.
Then, the temperature in the greenhouse plummeted. The heat of Cedric's hand on her cheek vanished, replaced by an unnatural freezing cold. Liesel forced her eyes open, pulling back slightly, just enough to see a hand had crawled onto Cedric's shoulder.
It was not a human hand, Liesel was sure of it. The skin was a sickly, translucent grey, pulled taut over the jutting bones of the knuckles. Its fingernails were cracked, blackened, and caked with the wet dirt of the pots surrounding them. Between its thumb and forefinger read the words 'I must not do harm'.
It gripped the thick, cream colored wool of Cedric's sweater with a rigid strength, immediately turning the threads rotten and black beneath the touch.
Liesel's entire body went rigid. A scream clawed its way up her throat, but she was completely paralyzed. Her vocal chords were frozen, her lungs seized in a suffocating grip. And Cedric didn't notice. He was still before her, his eyes closed, a loving smile on his lips as he continued to lean in for the kiss. He couldn't feel the cold, nor the rot. Or the smoke that had risen from his lap, where Liesel glanced down and saw the photo of Alameda bursting into flames, the woman and child crying out in brutal pain, their mouths open without screams.
Another hand appeared.
It slithered up from the shadows beneath the blanket, wrapping its decaying fingers tightly around Cedric's forearm. Then another clamped onto his waist. Onto his ankle. Onto his neck.
MOVE, Liesel's brain screamed at her. PUSH HIM! SAVE HIM! But she couldn't do as much as blink, nor breathe.
Cedric's eyes finally fluttered open, confusion breaking through his romantic haze as he noticed her paralyzing terror. "Liesel? What's wrong?" he whispered, his brow furrowing, "Don't you love me?"
He finally looked down, seeing the dead, rotting hands gripping his body.
KILL THE SPARE!
A voice hissed from everywhere around them at once, a high and cold and merciless hiss that vibrated the inside of Liesel's skull, louder than thunder.
The hands tore into him savagely, the fingers shredding the wool of his sweater and sinking deep into his chest, gouging blood from below his skin. Blood, so much blood. Cedric's mouth opened in a silent, agonizing scream as Alameda did in the burning photograph, his beautiful hazel eyes rolling back in his head as the hands ripped into him. The blood poured from him, never seeing end, across the picnic basket, across the deck of cards, and across Liesel's face.
It wasn't until Cedric's eyes turned completely black that Liesel finally found her voice, a raw, blood curdling shriek tearing out of her throat. He leaned forward, his voice a million songs over one another whispering, "Have me, Liesel. Just a kiss."
She threw her hands forward, shoving hard against his shoulders as a green light enveloped them.
But she pushed nothing but empty air as she snapped awake with nothing escaping her. Not even a scream, nor a jolt. She snapped her hand to the stained emerald ribbon on her wrist, the dirty laundry, as Theodore had called it. The leftover Hufflepuff clinging onto the girl’s skin, haunting her every step of the way.
Have me, Liesel.
Cedric wouldn’t speak to her like that. Never.
But this thought didn’t linger, as it drifted to the photograph she had in her hand, of the bright young thing holding tiny Cedric. Of Alameda, the bright sun of Godric’s Hollow, shining in every life she encountered, and in every life her son encountered. A light that has now been snuffed out by evil, a useless death, never to be seen nor passed down ever again.
Dead with Liesel’s darling love, Cedric Diggory, six feet underground, as the bugs gnaw at his skin.
✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧
Ao3 Notes:
Alameda - Elliot Smith
I hope you enjoy this loooong flashback chapter! There's a few things I want to let you know :)
I've started posting discussion posts on tumblr if you'd like to check them out: @spiritbubbles-ao3 ! It may take awhile to catch up, but I will make sure to post the discussion post for this chapter soon. These posts will also add some insight into the changes I'm making and the process I go through for writing each chapter with sources, etc.
I also have a tiktok I've been posting on here and there: @spiritbubbles
Please let me know what you think! This song is so incredibly special to me and when I listened to it a bit ago I realized just how much it relates to Cedric <3
