Author's Note:
I have absolutely no idea where this came from. It just came to me in the shower. I love showers-they always give me great ideas.
I do not own Harry Potter or any of it's characters.
She doesn't, can't, believe it. It's simple, really. She refuses to, and therefore deludes herself into thinking that it isn't true. She can't believe that he is dead.
It catches up with her on the train ride home. Marietta is of little comfort, holding her and letting her cry the entire train ride home. Her parents are worse; they know that the two of them were close, but they don't know how close. They never had the pleasure of meeting him, nor will they ever be able to. She spends most of the summer as a shell of herself, hollow and fragile.
When she goes back to school, she is followed by looks of pity and sympathetic glances. But no one knows what she is going through. No one can know, nor should they ever be able to feel the pain that she feels.
So she cries in the bathroom, away from the stares of her dorm-mates, but even then she is not allowed to wallow in her pity. Girls routinely check on her to make sure that she is okay. She is not okay, but she can't bring herself to tell them the truth, she can't bear to see the pity in their eyes. So she lies, but they can tell that all is not well.
And then Umbridge starts spreading her great, ugly, lies. And she can't stand it. So she thinks of the one person who doesn't show her pity, the one person who has always been nice to her. The one person who she can remember out of the haze that was the ending of last school year. So she does the next logical thing, and pursues Harry.
She convinces Marietta to join Dumbledore's Army with her, and her friends think that maybe, just maybe, she is moving in the right direction. She and Harry kiss, and she starts to return to normal, to gain feeling. They date for a bit, but it is never the same as it was with Cedric, and her jealousy towards Hermione is only half-hearted, at best. She moves on to Michael, another kind boy, but their feelings aren't real. He is using her to get over Ginny, whom he will always remember, and she is using him. She knows this, but she's not sure why she does it anyway. At long last, they break up, and she feels a strange emotion: relief.
She doesn't withdraw into her shell again, because she can hear him, in her head, urging her on. And she knows that she can't give up, because his death would be in vain. She has to keep fighting.
So she returns, and helps to kill Voldemort. After the battle, she is more than confused. Harry seems happy with Ginny, and Michael has disappeared. She no longer knows where to go. She no longer knows what to do.
She moves to America, and meets a muggle, who looks a bit like Cedric. She knows that she can never forget him, and their plans that they made once they graduated. To buy a farmhouse, and have a family. To die at the age of 104, with loads of grandchildren. Slowly, but surely, the pain lessens though.
She doesn't forget Cedric completely, but she starts to feel happy. She and the muggle marry, and she cuts off all contact with the Wizarding world. But she knows, the second she holds her infant daughter, that to remain in isolation would be fruitless.
So she introduces her husband to the Wizarding world, and their daughter grows up as a half-blood.
She can never forget Cedric, but she is able to thank him. She thanks Cedric for the love that they had, and the fact that she is able to move on.
Sometimes she has dreams, where he is still alive, and they live out their fantasies. But they are only that: fantasies. Sometimes she still pretends that he is alive; she deludes herself into thinking that he still has a presence on this earth. But it is only that: a delusion.