Author's notes: This is something of a companion piece, not completely though, with Thank-You Diggory, by Soul of the Wind. I tried out a new style with the little snippets in the middle. It may not work, but it's just how this story progressed itself. Review?
A Broken Heart Still Beats
The fire was warm, but his body was cold.
Cedric stared into the crackling fire, wondering how it could be so happy as it danced about in licks of red, orange and yellow. How he longed for the brilliant blue or the occasional green that would suit him far better then these warm, happy colors. Anyone might be comforted by them, but they just irritated him. Nothing could be as carefree as a fire, leaning whichever way it pleases. It was weak, that's what it was, even the merest of breaths could change the course of a small fire.
He was a small fire. Oliver was the small breath that pushed him away.
The brunette sighed and let his head fall back onto the garish yellow couch, closing his eyes. It was late, all too late (at least by his count as he hadn't slept all night) and why was he reveling on past experiences? They didn't matter anymore. They shape a person and make them who they are, that was why he was here, sitting like a bump on a log, worthless, hopeless and broken.
He'd give it all up and risk being another person.
Eyelids slid open slowly to allow the stormy grey eyes to stare up at the ceiling of his home. This particular memory had happened long ago, years ago. It was a Quidditch game that he'd been anticipating, a match that weighed everything. A game between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.
How nervous he had been.
The game started all too quickly and he found that his search of the skies was always being distracted like they never had before as his gaze kept slipping to Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Keeper. Watching his fluent moves and catches. Even when he blocked the quaffle, it never occurred to him at that moment that he should be looking for the snitch.
Perhaps he thought he had something to prove.
As much as he wanted Oliver to be happy about a win, he didn't just want to hand it over. He was still a Hufflepuff. They had to show that they weren't a worthless house like everyone believed. They were here for a reason, if only that reason be for the Quidditch Cup. And maybe Oliver would be impressed? This was Harry Potter, Legendary Man as well as Seeker. Maybe.
A flash of gold out of his peripheral vision and he was gone.
He was streaking across the sky in no time, following the gold that had caught him from the side. Harry was on his tail now and they were spiraling through the air around each other, the other players and bludgers. All for this tiny little ball. It went on for ages it seemed, closer and closer until he felt a shock through his body as metal touched his hand. He snatched at it to an uproar from Hufflepuff.
He'd caught the snitch. He'd won.
Jordan wasn't as enthusiastic about the commentating as he was moments before where he'd been ushering Harry on with a series of "Get him Harry, Badgers can't catch snitches." Perhaps Lee should look up badgers in the Library sometime. Row D for Diggory.
He couldn't help but feel elated by his win.
When he touched down on the field they all lined up for the traditional line up and hand shakes before the students spilled onto the field and drown them all. One by one they shook hands. Oliver in the lead as Keeper for Gryffindor. Cedric bringing up the rear as Seeker for Hufflepuff. He was waiting with anticipation to shake the others hand, but when it came it was a mere brush of hand, the other averting his eyes and something sad lingering on his face.
His heart stopped and he swore it was ripping itself apart.
What had happened to make Oliver who was cheery and right as rain during the match suddenly this way? Did Quidditch mean that much to him? Sure he'd be devastated if he lost, but this look…the dead glint he'd caught just before he averted his eyes. That was much more then devastation, that was loathe, self-hate, a want and will to be anywhere but here.
Six handshakes washed the touch of Oliver away.
Cedric gave a soft sigh and reached up, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. He'd known something was wrong that night, but he'd stayed away from Oliver. Leaving him to himself. If it was because of the game, then it would be mildly his fault for winning it. And he'd be the last person Oliver wanted to see.
How he wished he'd ignored his Hufflepuff mannerisms.
Apparently Oliver was broken, far more then anyone would have known. There was a point of trying to drown ones while under the spray of a shower, as he'd heard it. And that was when his whole world flipped. Percy Weasley had been the one to find him, been the one to take care of him. Eventually, he'd been the one to have him.
Was it his fault they were together?
He gave something akin to a whimper and sighed. He remembered hoping that they would break up, but it never happened, even now they were together, happily as he'd last heard. How did he come to be so bitter? Then again, who wouldn't be bitter when a heart beat only for one person, and that person's heart beat for someone else?
Thud, thud, thud. A slow rhythmic beat he was tired of.
He'd been infatuated with Oliver at school, perhaps for the same reasons as everyone else, but those weren't his reasons now. He knew he loved Oliver like only one other person could. Not because he was on the Puddlemere United Qudditch team, but because he was Oliver Wood. And that's whose name was written upon his heart.
Thud, thud, tap, tap, tap. A rhythmic beat interrupted.
Cedric looked up to the window where a large owl was tapping it's beak against the window pane and fluttering its wings impatiently. He stood and walked over to the window, letting the beast of an owl in. "Hello Prothesis." Same owl that came everyday bearing a Daily Prophet. He put a Knut in the pouch, took the paper and set the owl off with a stroke of the feathers. He unfurled the newspaper and looked at the headline; Puddlemere United Beau Due to Marry.
Thud, thud...silence.
Below the bold black letters that were wiggling as if not happy with the way they were arranged (how could he blame them?) was a picture of Oliver Wood with Percy Weasley. They were both smiling and then Oliver leaned in and kissed Percy square on the lips. Without thinking he flung the paper straight into the fire.
A happy couple given to a happy fire.
He ran a hand through his hair, unwilling to believe the misfortune of the day. Was this International Grieve a Lost Love day with a sick new twist? He didn't have time to break down now as another owl, much smaller then the first fluttered down to the window and teetered on her feet, as if she were afraid to come in without permission.
What a Hufflepuff of a bird.
He walked over and held out his hand to her, coaxing her down. Only then then did she hop down and flutter to his arm where he took a tiny little scroll from her leg. It must be a small note. He led her to the perch in the corner that housed his own owl. One who looked balefully at the other. "Be nice." He warned, and then opened the note.
"Thank-you, Diggory."
Signed Oliver Wood. Cedric stared down at the words curling like serpents that he wished were poisonous so that he may die from the multiple bites from all of them. What was the world playing at? What had he done to cause the world to flip? What had he done for the world to remind him of his loss as if he didn't remember each morning he woke alone and each night he went to bed alone.
Several things broke in the span of seconds.
He knew the air was tingling with his magic, he knew he was on the edge of a break-down. All he had to do was let go and everything near to him would break. Maybe if he were lucky he would too. But that wasn't as satisfying as flinging them physically against walls or off mantles and tables. It wasn't until he flung the coffee table against a wall that he stopped and slipped to the ground.
Tears no longer held themselves back but fell freely.
He sighed a little and leaned forward, lying down in the rubble of his living room, on splinters and shards. He couldn't feel them anymore. "You're welcome."
…Thud, thud. And a broken heart still beats.