I will not feel. I will not feel. I will not feel; a continuous loop of the same thought goes through my mind. I will not feel. Everything is numb; the closer this battle draws to its end, the closer I am to succumbing to my darkest secret…him.
My lips burn from the offense of kissing another; I thought I could move on. I know now I need to grieve before I put the past behind me. I'm not sure it will ever actually be in the past. Everywhere I look here, I see him; in the way the lake glistens, the wind sweeps across my face and the light guiding my way towards him.
I need to keep my head out of the clouds and focus; any minute now this will all be over. I'm not positive which battle I want to end; the one on this field or the one in my head and heart. I think both options are favorable.
There's an unforgettable smell in the air; rancid, sweat, tears, and death. It makes my stomach roll. Screams, curses and multi-color lights fill the air; could one of those beautiful, life ending lights be my salvation; my prayer.
He would never forgive me for giving up, abandoning my friends, my family, my comrades. He always said fight with every atom in my body, change the world. It would be easier if my mind would shut down and reboot to automatic. No, I have to numb myself, just like I have every day since his death. Fake my emotions, battle evil, bury myself in piles of research.
Something is happening the sky is brighter than before, dark shadows are retreating; it's over. We won. I'm not positive where the energy comes from but I shuffle my way towards the great hall. I just need some place safe to collapse. I'm afraid the rush of oncoming emotions will overload my system.
Finding a small, exclusive corner, I bury my head into my pointy knees and let the hurricane inside myself loose. It's powerful, squeezing the breath, the very life out of me. Something is shaking me, trying to get through to me; I won't let it. This is my fucking time to be weak, please just let me break. Don't try to fix me.
So I continue to cry, scream, choke back tears, hyperventilate; all because of him. Two years, ten months, and nine bloody, awful days. I held everything in. I told myself when he died, I wouldn't cry until this war was over, whether I lived or died; won or lost, I'd keep myself together. Combining calming draughts, cigarettes and a little Firewhiskey was a blessing.
Now though, I've erupted, come to shore, collapsed; a volcano, a hurricane, a supernova. I'll never be the same. I've morphed, shifted into some new person. I'm drowning; how does a hurricane choke on its own salty water?
Harry is the something; he keeps trying to hold me while I implode. Doesn't he understand, I don't deserve his comfort. I feel the need to rub my skin raw, scratch away the dirt, smear the blood; make myself as unrecognizable as I feel.
"Stop," he screams, over and over trying to peel my hands from my body. I cry more; please, don't sympathize for me.
"It's over, Hermione, you're safe. You're fine," he repeats to me. He doesn't realize why I'm breaking down. I have yet to tell him. Maybe it will make him go away, he'll be disgusted by the lies I've kept.
"He's dead, I love him and he's dead," I cry, my breath stinging my esophagus. It burns so deep down inside.
"Hermione," Harry began rubbing circles on my back, "Ron's fine, he's with his family. He's not dead." I cry harder, of course he was fooled by my facade. He takes this as a sign of relief instead of the last wall of the damn.
"Not Ron," I choke out, definitely not fucking Ronald Weasley, "I don't love him." Harry's face contorts into confusion. "I loved him, still do, so much. I—I never told you," I pause looking for the words, more tears burning a trail down my face, "Cedric, he's dead, I never told anyone."
I've taken him by surprise but instead of turning away he wraps his arms around me tighter, and so I cry. My ribs ache, my heart breaks even further, I wither away inside. I cry until the tears stop producing and the ache in my body becomes too much to bear; with that I continue to shake, all of the emotions inside continue echoing off my skin. All of this until I welcome the black; it's peaceful, and within it I find happiness, even though it's brief.
It was the Quidditch World Cup again. The background shifted to St Ottery Catchpole, mid-summer, early morning. I was headed with Mr. Weasley, Fred, George, Ron, Ginny and Harry to the biggest event of the year, the Quidditch World Cup, Bulgaria vs Ireland. We were on our way towards the portkey we were sharing with Amos Diggory and his son, Cedric.
Making our way up the treacherous hill, I spotted Amos Diggory, alone, holding a mangy, old boot, "Found the portkey, Arthur, we have about a good five minutes until we can transport everyone."
Mr. Weasley introduced each one of us to Amos, I waved in acknowledgement. "Where's your boy Cedric, Amos?" Mr. Weasley asked.
At the mention of his name, Cedric, presumably, dropped from a branch, only a few feet in front of me, sporting a half crooked smile. His grey eyes danced merrily with delight at having surprised the majority of us.
"Hi, Cedric Diggory at your service," He said with an exaggerated bow. I turn to Ginny, who is putting shame to tomatoes, and roll my eyes at the boy trying to charm everyone.
"He's gorgeous," Ginny whispered. I shake my head and roll my eyes. Turning towards Cedric I notice him eavesdropping on our conversation. Ginny must have noticed too, since her face is even redder than before. He's smirking, not the evil little cockroach Malfoy's smirk, but a smug I'm so good-looking smirk.
Starring at him, I do a double take of his appearance, sandy blonde hair, grey eyes, pale, creamy skin and over six feet with a slim build. Nice, overall. Yet, I'd never let him know.
"I've seen better," I say to Ginny, in a not so whisper, "Not much brains, either, jumping out trees. He could have squashed one of us." His smirk only increases from there.
"Well, I must apologize to thy fair lady for almost decapitating her with my ginormous arse," He said walking up beside me, "and for not being the finest specimen she's ever laid eyes upon." He's charming I'd have to give him that.
"Ah, words of a gentleman," I replied, the corners of my lips twitching, "yet, I do believe in the gentleman's handbook rule number 192 'A gentleman must never eavesdrop upon a ladies conversation or he must pay the price'."
"Oh my, not rule number 192, How could I forget that one so easily?" He feigned hurt, holding his hand to his heart and got down on one knee in front of me, "My lady, I ask of thy, what price shall I pay?"
"Thy lady's legs are tired, carry her to her tent when required," I said in my most haughty voice.
Cedric's eyes twinkled with mirth, "As you wish." We both busted out, doubling over with laughter. Once our laughter subsided, I curtsied as he bowed.
"Hermione Granger," I introduced myself, sticking my right hand out.
"Cedric Diggory," He replied, grasping my hand, "I think this is the beginning to a beautiful friendship."
And it was, that and so much more. He even kept his promise and carried me to my tent. The same tent he later sneaked into. The tent where we became best friends. It wasn't until after the Yule Ball where we became more. Fate is funny sometimes, some are destined to be friends, siblings, lovers and others are destined to break your heart, your body, your soul.
Cedric was the latter; he tore me into pieces when he died. Pieces I hurriedly taped; sometimes tape stops sticking, sometimes you're in such a rush you miss pieces and sometimes something isn't meant to be fixed. That's how I ended up blacking out for a week. I guess I scared the piss out everyone.
Only Harry knew now, Ron and the rest of Weasleys thought it was sheer exhaustion, lack of food, sleep and the strain on my magic. Harry knew; I was making myself sick with a broken heart. Ron tried to comfort me, love me but I told him we were a mistake. I've never seen him so upset. He kept trying to persuade me; but he can't, I just can't love anyone else. I'll only love him and at night, in the darkness, I can almost hear him calling out to me, catching me in the air, twirling me around, kissing me with his soft lips and saying 'I'll love only you for the rest of my days.'
I wish it was dark all the time.
A/N: This story started from a single thought and not enough Cedric/Hermione fanfiction to fuel my new found obsession. I should have added this from the start but at the time I was overly joyed at the fact that this evolved from more than a few lines. So for everyone out there who stumbles upon this, drop a review, I'd like to hear your thoughts.