Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all recognizable characters are not mine, I just like to play in JKR's sandbox.
Author's Notes: Thanks to elvisvf101, who gave me this prompt. And if any of the people reading this enjoy the story, please make my day and comment. If you don't enjoy it, comment and tell me what I got wrong so that I can fix it for my next story!
It seemed impossible when we trudged back to our gaily-decorated common room that we could be the same people who had spent hours hanging the large banners and the yellow and black streamers. Hannah, who three hours ago had been laughing merrily as she charmed the paint on the largest banner to flash and sparkle, her cheeks flushed a deep rose, was practically unrecognizable, pale as a wraith, eyes red-rimmed and glassy from her tears. Ernie, who had been joking as he tacked the streamers to the ceiling, seemed oddly deflated, as if he was a Muggle balloon that had been punctured. A few Support Cedric Diggory buttons still littered the tables around the room, and I remembered Cedric, his gray eyes graver than I'd ever seen them before, telling us that if we wanted to wear them we had to charm them so that they wouldn't flash to the Potter Stinks side. He'd always been like that, scrupulously fair, and now it hurt to be reminded of that part of him.
And me? I stood with the others of my year, but I felt closed off and separated. It didn't seem real to me yet, Cedric couldn't actually be dead. My mind couldn't focus on that loss, and it kept throwing details of the room at me, as if trying to latch onto something that would serve as a distraction from the images that seemed to be engraved into my mind. I didn't want to remember the way his body had looked, so limp and still as Harry had dragged it forward. I didn't want to remember the sobs that had filled the air, as one person after another in the crowd had realized what they were looking at. I didn't want to remember the stricken looks on the faces of the teachers, to remember that in that instant I'd lost my illusions that the adults were in charge and could protect us from everything bad.
It was Justin who finally broke the eerie silence that had enveloped our group. In stumbling, halting words, in a hoarse and choked voice that shook as he spoke, he started telling us a story of how Cedric had shown him a shortcut to class when Justin had been a first year and terrified that he would be late to Potions. That story seemed to cut through the tension and grief that filled the room, and one after another, we talked about things that we would remember about Cedric. All through the night, we curled up on the overstuffed armchairs and sofas near the fire, leaning against one another for the comfort of a human touch, as we listened to the stories unfold.
In the morning our voices were hoarse from all the stories we'd told, and we were desperately tired from staying up through the night, but the worst outpouring of our grief had been purged. We would still mourn Cedric, but now we could at least move on and help the others. It would be what he would have wanted us to do.