"Books! And cleverness! There are more important things – friendship and bravery." ~ Hermione Granger


I switched to Hermione's perspective in this part and I'm playing with the idea of doing the last chapter from Cedric's perspective, but I haven't entirely decided on that just yet.

Anyway, without further ado, here comes the second part;)


How I got to know him (Part 2 of 3)

I wasn't exactly sure what to expect when I met up with Cedric the next day. He wasn't ready to tell me about the things he yet had to do – or at least was convinced he yet had to do.

So if anything I expected awkwardness, as neither of us would know what to say. And maybe, in the beginning, it was awkward, for a while.

What I do remember is that for the first time in my life, I had a totally honest conversation with someone. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was dead. I know that sounds horrible and probably I should be ashamed of myself. But somehow I could tell him things I had never told anyone before.

And then again, Cedric made it easy for you to trust him. He never seemed to be judging you, he just sat there, opposite of you, listening, his blue eyes penetrating but yet not disturbingly so.

So I told him. Told him about my childhood, about the way I always felt left out when I was young, how I never seemed to fit anywhere, but how I didn't really mind. How I had never really understood what real friendship meant until I met Harry and Ron.

And he told me in return. Told me about his upbringing, what it meant to be a pureblood child. Told me about the traditions he had grown up with. How he had looked so very forward to coming to Hogwarts, to proving his worth to both him and his parents.

Then I got on the topic of Muggle traditions, I was surprised how much he knew about them. It seemed that Cedric Diggory was one of the very few purebloods who weren't completely ignorant about the Muggle world. Sometimes we would have little arguments about whether the Muggle or wizard tradition of a certain event (Christmas, weddings, …) was better. And it wouldn't always be me picking the Muggle side either. Sometimes he would defend the Muggle tradition most vehemently while I would represent the wizard one just as keenly.

They were always much fun, those little arguments of ours, and we usually ended up with some compromise, admittedly grudgingly and both of us thinking we were in the right anyway. And then, sometimes he would have me convinced or I him but would keep up appearances just to be able to go on with our little banter.

These daily meetings had become the one hour of the day, when I could truly relax, when I didn't feel the urge to worry about either Ron or Harry or school or Umbridge or life in general. It was the one hour of the day I could completely tune out and just enjoy myself.

Three weeks had passed with us meeting up every day for at least an hour without either of us really taking notice of it. I still cannot imagine how he could through the rest of the day, having nothing to do and unable to talk to anybody. When I once asked him about it he said: "I watch people. It makes me feel close to them in some way." He sounded sad when he said that, so I never asked him about it again.

If anyone was ever to ask me what we talked about in all those hours, I'm sure I couldn't recount most of the things. We talked about everything and nothing, things which seemed important at the moment and things we simply talked about to amuse ourselves.

Slowly but surely our topics where moving on to more present matters, and somehow became more personal. We both talked about our respective ambitions – we were quite similar in that way, he talked how proud he had been to be chosen as the Hogwarts' champion for the Triwizard Tournament. He told me about his friends and I told him about mine. We talked about school, favourite subjects, teachers, anything really.

And then, one day, we talked about the Yule Ball. It started harmless enough, the usual banter about whom we went with, how the band was, the whole evening. He told me that I looked beautiful in my dress and I blushed furiously and he just smirked at me. I told him he had looked quite handsome himself, but he just laughed it off, while my cheeks remained reddened.

He was laughing quite often these days, and the sadness in his eyes had somehow diminished, yet it was still present, lingering in the deepness of his eyes.

And he loved to make fun of me and to make me blush, and he more often succeeded than not, while I yet had to ever achieve that goal. In a way, we were flirting, yet it was not earnest flirting, just the playful kind.

And then, all of a sudden, he mentioned Cho. I had avoided mentioning her before and so had he. So when he talked about her in a voice that sounded like he desperately tried to keep it casually, I knew something was up. But I didn't ask him and rather waited for him to tell me. And, after a long pause, he did.

"You know, I watched her the other day. Well, to be honest, I've been watching her for quite a while now. And she seems to be, well, sad. And…" Here he stopped for a while, probably not knowing how to put into words what he meant.

"I've seen her with Harry."

I was about to say something, try to make him feel better, but he made a parrying hand gesture.

"No, that's fine." He took a long breath, well, I'm not entirely sure whether it was a breath, for do spirits breath. But it was his equivalent of the sort anyway.

"That's just it. She looked so – guilty. And I don't want her to feel that way. I want her to be able to move on." His eyes were glittering treacherously.

"I – Could you do something for me? I really wouldn't ask, but…"

"Sure, what is it?", I interrupted him.

"I need you to write a letter to Cho for me." Somehow this didn't sound like he had just come up with this plan, but like he had thought it over for quite a while and he probably had.

"Sure. But wouldn't she recognize that it wasn't your handwriting?" I asked somewhat helplessly.

"You'll have to practice, I'm sure you'll do just fine. And then, we'll just have to include some events no one else knew about, so she'll know that it came from me." Definitely thought through.

"But, wouldn't it be just easier if I told her that you're still around? I could act as a sort of mediator between the two of you."

"And how do you think that would make her feel? That you can see me, you, who had absolutely no connection with me, but she, who was my girlfriend, can't."

I was somewhat hurt by his words, but I knew that he hadn't meant them as harsh as they sounded. So I swallowed down the anger that was rising within me and said, "when do we start?"

"Now, if you're willing to?" His eyes were pleading with me and if I hadn't already decided to help him, I would have right then and there. I don't think anyone could refuse to do as he asked when confronted with that look.

So for the next few days I spent all the time writing when we were together, while we talked about other things. We would be talking about Umbridge when he would suddenly throw in a "not like that, more curved like that" and he would draw in the air. It was art to imitate his writing, especially since I didn't have anything to compare it with, but eventually, I seemed to have gotten it correctly, or at least, close enough, close enough that it would pass without further suspicion.

So one evening I got down to write the letter for Cho with him watching over it, carefully correcting my writing. I think I wrote at least ten drafts until it was finally done.

"Dear Cho,

This probably comes as a shock to you, hearing from me after all this time.

I have always known that entering the Triwizard Tournament would be dangerous, and people have died before, so I've taken all the precautions in case that the worst of all cases should actually occur. I know, you'd call me a damn pessimist; I'd call myself a realist, really. We had an argument about that once, do you remember? You told me I should stop being so pessimistic about school, the tournament, life in general and I told you that you were just too optimistic for your own good. We probably made quite the good mixture, didn't we?

But I'm digressing, not really typical of me.

Well, anyway, maybe you're wondering why this letter is coming just now, why you didn't get it right after my death. The answer is, I terminated it, I wanted to give you some time, so that you would be able to look at it from a distance, maybe look at it more rationally.

First of all, I want to say, that I really, really liked you and in the beginning I thought that I might come to love you. But now, I'm not so sure anymore. You're a great girl, Cho, you really are, but I just don't think we're right for one another, never were. I don't mean to hurt you and yet I feel like I have to tell you this, I owe you the truth. I think, in the long run I would have broken up with you, and it would have hurt like hell to do so, because I think very highly of you and your opinion of me matters greatly to me.

What I'm trying to say is that you have to move on. You're free to date whoever you want, don't feel guilty about me. We probably would have broken up if I were still alive, so it would not be fair to you to keep mourning me. I'm not saying, forget all about me, because I truly hope I'll stay in your memory, but I'm saying go live your life. You deserve it and you deserve somebody who can truly love you back, something I've come to think of that I would have never been able to.

With all my love (not that of a boyfriend or a lover, but rather that of a very good friend),

Cedric"

I put down the pen after signing with his name and just looked at him. His face was turned away, and he was staring at the wall next to us, tracing the patterns of the tapestry with his eyes.

"Cedric", I carefully addressed him. "I don't mean to pry. But did you really mean that? Were you never in love with Cho?" I know I sounded astonished, they had seemed so in love to me.

He kept on staring at the tapestry for a long while. Eventually he started talking to me, but didn't turn around to face me. "I didn't love her, not yet. But I think I might have come to love her if we had been given more time."

I didn't understand. Obviously, it pained Cedric to see Cho with other boys. How could he lie to her like that about his true feelings!

"Then - why are you lying to her? Doesn't she deserve to know the truth."

"Hermione", he turned around to face me then. "The problem is, I will never know for sure. I will never know whether I would ever have come to love her or not. And it's not fair to her to make her stay alone for the rest of her life, just because there might have been a chance of me and her being happy together."

He paused for a moment and I didn't really know what to say to that. He was right, somehow, yet it didn't feel right. Sure, it wouldn't be fair to Cho, if she never had the chance to move on, but this wasn't fair to him either. Without realizing had started to cry lightly, shedding the tears he was so desperate to blink away. I felt miserable for him and yet I know that there was nothing I could do, nothing to make this situation any better.

"I think", he continued after a long pause, "sometimes people deserve to be lied to. Sometimes they deserve not to know the truth, if the truth would only unsettle their peace of mind."

He was right, I realized. And yet it was so painful, so very painful for him.

I was just sitting with him for another while, neither of us saying a word. There wasn't anything left to say.

I posted the letter to Cho the next day. I watched her at breakfast as she got the message and out of the corner of my eye I could see that Cedric was just standing a few feet away from her, looking at her while she read 'his' note. She blanched while she read it, and I saw Cedric looking at her probably for the last time, his way of saying goodbye. Shortly after he had left the hall, Cho was rushing out of the hall as well, with the letter tightly pressed to her chest and tears streaming down her face. I saw that one of her friends was following her and sighed. This was all I could do for either of them, they would have to work out the rest for themselves.