Unused
She needed a walk.
She needed to clear her head. There was the fog that hung in her thoughts brought on by too much to process. Too much to understand. Too much she wanted to forget.
First Cedric, and now.
It was always difficult.
But sometimes it was hard.
Hard to believe.
Hard to accept.
Hard to take.
Hard to comprehend.
He was dead.
He was dead and she hadn't loved him. She knew at least one person who would have traded places with her in a heartbeat to have a chance with The Boy Who Lived. She dismissed him as an obnoxious Gryffindor. After all, he'd find someone else, being who he was. He'd get over it. He didn't know her. He was just in lust with her, not love. Infatuation was Fool's Gold.
She wondered why she missed him. They were almost strangers. He didn't know her. She didn't know him. But this ache clung to her and wouldn't let go.
Like the Ravenclaw she was, at first she took the comfort of ripping the situation apart and analyzing it to smithereens. If you could make sense of it then it went away. It made it okay.
But if it was okay; if it was alright, then he really was dead.
And that couldn't be right. Ever.
She hadn't noticed where she was going, but when the grass tickled her sandaled feet, she noticed she was out on the Quidditch Pitch. The ruffling of the school flags in the breeze
Then she heard someone sniffling. A brilliant flash of red gave someone's hiding place away.
Cho had a good guess as to whom she had found.
Weasley doesn't want company. She wouldn't be alone if she wanted company. I should go.
A glimpse of her profile confirmed her suspicions.
Deciding that she was an interloper there, she tried to step away, but found she couldn't.
This girl was almost a stranger. She knew as much about Ginny Weasley as the rest of Hogwarts knew about her. Cho knew that she was a sixth-year Weasley and she had a crush on the boy she herself had turned down.
She couldn't see her face, but the way she was unmoving and the fact that not even her head had bobbed to the effects of sobbing told her that Weasley thought this was difficult to fathom, too.
Ravenclaws weren't known for courage. That was the Gryffindor trademark. But Cho reasoned that everyone in Hogwarts had the qualities of all the houses, just the one trait that took over when you were most raw was the one in which you were most at home. So just then, she summoned every ounce of Gryffindor in her, and spoke. So softly that she wasn't sure she was heard.
"Who's going to save you from the Basilisk now?"
Weasley whipped around to glare murderously at Cho. So she could regard her as an intruder.
"Let me alone," she glowered.
She was not living up to her reputation as a Weasley now. She was quiet. She was threatening. She was alone. Although, Cho thought, perhaps if any of that story about her standing up to Lucius Malfoy in Flourish and Blots is true, perhaps there's just a trace.
Stupid Gryffindors.
One foot in front of the other. It's the best thing to do. She doesn't want anyone here. She told herself. But her feet had a different idea and stayed firmly planted to the ground.
Weasley gave her a contemptuous glare.
Cho propped back against one of the flagpoles and slid down it till she was sitting on the grass and curled her legs underneath herself.
"I remember when that stupid tournament was over," she began without knowing why. "I was mad at Potter. I was mad because he was the one who lived that day. I wanted to beat Voldemort to the punch when he brought Cedric back. I could barely be in the same room with him after the tournament. Then summer came and went. Before fifth year started again, I took King's Cross to the churchyard where I knew Cedric was buried. I said good-bye to him. It didn't make it better that day, or even now. But it helped. I still visit him every year before school begins. It makes it easier to start another year, somehow. To let him know he's still with me. To remind myself he's still with me. I don't know what I would have done this year if I couldn't have said good-bye. I don't think I'd be here now if I couldn't have done that. Potter made that happen, and I am grateful for it." It was then that she knew exactly why she missed him.
"Why are you telling me this?" Ginny asked. There was more curiosity than malice in her tone, but the malice still lingered.
Cho suddenly didn't know what to do with her hands.
"Because it needs to be said."
"Quit trying to help me."
"I'm not saying it to help you." Cho faltered. "You think that if you get over it, that makes it real."
At some point, Ginny must have sat on the ground next to her, because she was eye-level with her now.
"You don't know. He loved you."
Cho shook her head and impulsively took the other girls' hand in hers. Weasley didn't notice. "It wasn't love. I was an object to him. I liked the way Harry looked at me, but he only looked at me like that because he knew he couldn't have me. I let him on for a while. I thought he could make up for Cedric. But I was kidding myself. We both were."
"I barely knew Harry. I knew he was my brother's best friend. I knew he beat Voldemort. I knew he saved my life. But I did love him. He wasn't an object. Even if he didn't love me back. You don't just forget someone like Harry. It doesn't work like that."
Ginny handed her a handkerchief with an embroidered 'VMW' on it.
"It's the only one that isn't used," she said with a sheepish grin.
Cho nodded a thanks. "I'll give it back when I wash it," she said, shoving it in her pocket.
"Before Ginny knew what she was doing, she took Cho's other hand in hers. "And don't worry about the handkerchief, I get them every year for Christmas from my Aunt Mary." Then, eyes downcast, her voice trembled with her next question. "So it gets better?"
"I don't know," Cho said, lifting Ginny's chin so that she could be eye- level with her. "Does it?"
Yes, Ginny decided as she felt her own lips on Cho's. It does.
She needed a walk.
She needed to clear her head. There was the fog that hung in her thoughts brought on by too much to process. Too much to understand. Too much she wanted to forget.
First Cedric, and now.
It was always difficult.
But sometimes it was hard.
Hard to believe.
Hard to accept.
Hard to take.
Hard to comprehend.
He was dead.
He was dead and she hadn't loved him. She knew at least one person who would have traded places with her in a heartbeat to have a chance with The Boy Who Lived. She dismissed him as an obnoxious Gryffindor. After all, he'd find someone else, being who he was. He'd get over it. He didn't know her. He was just in lust with her, not love. Infatuation was Fool's Gold.
She wondered why she missed him. They were almost strangers. He didn't know her. She didn't know him. But this ache clung to her and wouldn't let go.
Like the Ravenclaw she was, at first she took the comfort of ripping the situation apart and analyzing it to smithereens. If you could make sense of it then it went away. It made it okay.
But if it was okay; if it was alright, then he really was dead.
And that couldn't be right. Ever.
She hadn't noticed where she was going, but when the grass tickled her sandaled feet, she noticed she was out on the Quidditch Pitch. The ruffling of the school flags in the breeze
Then she heard someone sniffling. A brilliant flash of red gave someone's hiding place away.
Cho had a good guess as to whom she had found.
Weasley doesn't want company. She wouldn't be alone if she wanted company. I should go.
A glimpse of her profile confirmed her suspicions.
Deciding that she was an interloper there, she tried to step away, but found she couldn't.
This girl was almost a stranger. She knew as much about Ginny Weasley as the rest of Hogwarts knew about her. Cho knew that she was a sixth-year Weasley and she had a crush on the boy she herself had turned down.
She couldn't see her face, but the way she was unmoving and the fact that not even her head had bobbed to the effects of sobbing told her that Weasley thought this was difficult to fathom, too.
Ravenclaws weren't known for courage. That was the Gryffindor trademark. But Cho reasoned that everyone in Hogwarts had the qualities of all the houses, just the one trait that took over when you were most raw was the one in which you were most at home. So just then, she summoned every ounce of Gryffindor in her, and spoke. So softly that she wasn't sure she was heard.
"Who's going to save you from the Basilisk now?"
Weasley whipped around to glare murderously at Cho. So she could regard her as an intruder.
"Let me alone," she glowered.
She was not living up to her reputation as a Weasley now. She was quiet. She was threatening. She was alone. Although, Cho thought, perhaps if any of that story about her standing up to Lucius Malfoy in Flourish and Blots is true, perhaps there's just a trace.
Stupid Gryffindors.
One foot in front of the other. It's the best thing to do. She doesn't want anyone here. She told herself. But her feet had a different idea and stayed firmly planted to the ground.
Weasley gave her a contemptuous glare.
Cho propped back against one of the flagpoles and slid down it till she was sitting on the grass and curled her legs underneath herself.
"I remember when that stupid tournament was over," she began without knowing why. "I was mad at Potter. I was mad because he was the one who lived that day. I wanted to beat Voldemort to the punch when he brought Cedric back. I could barely be in the same room with him after the tournament. Then summer came and went. Before fifth year started again, I took King's Cross to the churchyard where I knew Cedric was buried. I said good-bye to him. It didn't make it better that day, or even now. But it helped. I still visit him every year before school begins. It makes it easier to start another year, somehow. To let him know he's still with me. To remind myself he's still with me. I don't know what I would have done this year if I couldn't have said good-bye. I don't think I'd be here now if I couldn't have done that. Potter made that happen, and I am grateful for it." It was then that she knew exactly why she missed him.
"Why are you telling me this?" Ginny asked. There was more curiosity than malice in her tone, but the malice still lingered.
Cho suddenly didn't know what to do with her hands.
"Because it needs to be said."
"Quit trying to help me."
"I'm not saying it to help you." Cho faltered. "You think that if you get over it, that makes it real."
At some point, Ginny must have sat on the ground next to her, because she was eye-level with her now.
"You don't know. He loved you."
Cho shook her head and impulsively took the other girls' hand in hers. Weasley didn't notice. "It wasn't love. I was an object to him. I liked the way Harry looked at me, but he only looked at me like that because he knew he couldn't have me. I let him on for a while. I thought he could make up for Cedric. But I was kidding myself. We both were."
"I barely knew Harry. I knew he was my brother's best friend. I knew he beat Voldemort. I knew he saved my life. But I did love him. He wasn't an object. Even if he didn't love me back. You don't just forget someone like Harry. It doesn't work like that."
Ginny handed her a handkerchief with an embroidered 'VMW' on it.
"It's the only one that isn't used," she said with a sheepish grin.
Cho nodded a thanks. "I'll give it back when I wash it," she said, shoving it in her pocket.
"Before Ginny knew what she was doing, she took Cho's other hand in hers. "And don't worry about the handkerchief, I get them every year for Christmas from my Aunt Mary." Then, eyes downcast, her voice trembled with her next question. "So it gets better?"
"I don't know," Cho said, lifting Ginny's chin so that she could be eye- level with her. "Does it?"
Yes, Ginny decided as she felt her own lips on Cho's. It does.