Title: "Comfort"
Author: Elske
Pairing: post Percy/Cedric
Rating: PG-13 [character death, (canon)]
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the world of Harry Potter belong to all sorts of people (notably JKRowling), not me. This is for fun, not profit, etcetera. You know how it goes.
Spoilers: GoF
Notes: This is the second chapter of "Grey". There is a CHANGE POV from the last chapter. :) Enjoy!
"comfort"
by Elske
There's nothing more annoying than waking up in the morning to the noises of someone trying desperately not to wake you up. He takes little hesitant steps, trying to walk quietly, trying to get on with his routines, as if this is all normal. As if there isn't someone else sleeping in his bed, as if he's not ashamed of having been the first to awake. As if nothing is different. But of course, you're there, and so everything is different, because you waking up in his bed is certainly not normal. If it was, he certainly wouldn't be trying not to wake you up, would he? He would still be in bed...at least, I would hope he would still be in bed, although I really wouldn't know, come to think of it.
I had those thoughts running through the back of my head as I lay there, in his bed, trying not to think of all the other thoughts that should, by rights, be much more important than my being annoyed with the little noises he was making that morning. He had every right to do whatever he wished - it was his right, after all, his bed, his flat, his morning routines. It was selfish of me to have been annoyed. He never asked me to stay, had never given me permission to interrupt his routines. Or maybe he had. I didn't really remember. I tried not to remember anything; as if I had been born just that very morning, come into the world annoyed and confused and sick and half-asleep, born at seventeen years old.
I opened my eyes a slit and tried to sit up, although it was a difficult task. My head was spinning; I was wrapped tightly in a million blankets. "Bugger..." I managed to croak, straining against the dryness in the back of my throat, feeling almost nauseated.
He jumped at that, turned around in a whirl, quickly crossing his one-room flat to my side. "Good morning." He said, almost cheerfully. "I'm sorry, I didn't wake you, did I?"
"No." I lied, yawning and closing my eyes. I felt horrible, no longer human, as if someone played an entire game of Quidditch using my body as the Quaffle. My head pounded, my stomach whirled, and I desperately needed to find the bathroom. "I wasn't...drinking last night, was I?" I asked, irrationally, although I already knew the answer. I'd never had a hangover, never been drunk - but from some of the accounts of my classmates and teammates, this was exactly what it would feel like.
He smiled a sad heart-breaking smile. "No, love. Just...crying." His voice faltered there, his blue eyes filling with tears, as he sat on the bed next to me, pulled me into his arms, lifted my hair out of the way and settled one of his arms around my thin shoulders. He held me tightly to him, comforting me, comforting himself.
And there it was, in a flash, I was remembering, being forced to remember.
The funeral was yesterday morning.
It started raining, unexpectedly...one of those summer storms, that happens suddenly, fiercely, beautifully...and then fades away, as suddenly as it began. Cedric's life was like that, like one of those summer storms, that's what I was thinking when I walked out from under the canopy they set up to protect us from the storm. The heels of my shoes sunk into the mud as I walked. They were fancy shoes, high-heeled shoes that I borrowed from Sybil Diggory, because I didn't have any dress shoes of my own. And I was ruining them, caking them in mud and strings of grass, but somehow, I didn't think that Sybil would have minded much. I doubt she even noticed. The ends of my best black dress robes had trailed in the mud as I walked to the edge of the hole that was dug into the ground. And suddenly, it had become impossible to ignore the reality of it anymore. Cedric was dead. Cedric Diggory was dead.
I was crying then, crying slowly...and then I noticed him, approaching me. He was crying too, of course. I turned to look at him, and our eyes met, and it was almost as though we started reading each other's thoughts. It was a sort of unspoken agreement that flashed between us in that instant, that we each realised that the other was the only person in the world who was feeling exactly the same as us, who could ever understand the depths of pain and of grief. He opened his arms and I stepped into them, still crying softly. We spent the rest of the funeral like that, standing out in the rain, in each other's arms, crying, taking comfort from the other. There were a hundred pairs of eyes on us, confused. It must have been a strange sight, of course - Cho Chang and Percy Weasley, an odd pair, holding each other and sobbing in the rain.
I couldn't remember leaving the funeral, and I couldn't remember arriving at Percy's flat. I could remember curling up in a little ball in bed and listening to the sound of the rain on the roof. I fell asleep to the calming sound of Percy's voice as he talked about Cedric, immortalized his lover in remembrances.
We both loved Cedric.
And now he was gone.
Percy sighed and, almost reluctantly, let go, stood up. "I was just...fixing breakfast. Would you like some...tea, or something?" His voice was cautious, measured; the whirlwind of crazy emotions he had just been feeling carefully hidden in a façade of calmness, as they always were.
"Coffee, please." I said softly. "If you've got it."
"I haven't." He replied, sheepishly, looking at me over his shoulder.
"Tea, then."
"Of course."
I sighed, and began trying to untangle the blankets, so I could get up, find the bathroom, eat breakfast, somehow manage to get on with my life.
Author: Elske
Pairing: post Percy/Cedric
Rating: PG-13 [character death, (canon)]
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and the world of Harry Potter belong to all sorts of people (notably JKRowling), not me. This is for fun, not profit, etcetera. You know how it goes.
Spoilers: GoF
Notes: This is the second chapter of "Grey". There is a CHANGE POV from the last chapter. :) Enjoy!
"comfort"
by Elske
There's nothing more annoying than waking up in the morning to the noises of someone trying desperately not to wake you up. He takes little hesitant steps, trying to walk quietly, trying to get on with his routines, as if this is all normal. As if there isn't someone else sleeping in his bed, as if he's not ashamed of having been the first to awake. As if nothing is different. But of course, you're there, and so everything is different, because you waking up in his bed is certainly not normal. If it was, he certainly wouldn't be trying not to wake you up, would he? He would still be in bed...at least, I would hope he would still be in bed, although I really wouldn't know, come to think of it.
I had those thoughts running through the back of my head as I lay there, in his bed, trying not to think of all the other thoughts that should, by rights, be much more important than my being annoyed with the little noises he was making that morning. He had every right to do whatever he wished - it was his right, after all, his bed, his flat, his morning routines. It was selfish of me to have been annoyed. He never asked me to stay, had never given me permission to interrupt his routines. Or maybe he had. I didn't really remember. I tried not to remember anything; as if I had been born just that very morning, come into the world annoyed and confused and sick and half-asleep, born at seventeen years old.
I opened my eyes a slit and tried to sit up, although it was a difficult task. My head was spinning; I was wrapped tightly in a million blankets. "Bugger..." I managed to croak, straining against the dryness in the back of my throat, feeling almost nauseated.
He jumped at that, turned around in a whirl, quickly crossing his one-room flat to my side. "Good morning." He said, almost cheerfully. "I'm sorry, I didn't wake you, did I?"
"No." I lied, yawning and closing my eyes. I felt horrible, no longer human, as if someone played an entire game of Quidditch using my body as the Quaffle. My head pounded, my stomach whirled, and I desperately needed to find the bathroom. "I wasn't...drinking last night, was I?" I asked, irrationally, although I already knew the answer. I'd never had a hangover, never been drunk - but from some of the accounts of my classmates and teammates, this was exactly what it would feel like.
He smiled a sad heart-breaking smile. "No, love. Just...crying." His voice faltered there, his blue eyes filling with tears, as he sat on the bed next to me, pulled me into his arms, lifted my hair out of the way and settled one of his arms around my thin shoulders. He held me tightly to him, comforting me, comforting himself.
And there it was, in a flash, I was remembering, being forced to remember.
The funeral was yesterday morning.
It started raining, unexpectedly...one of those summer storms, that happens suddenly, fiercely, beautifully...and then fades away, as suddenly as it began. Cedric's life was like that, like one of those summer storms, that's what I was thinking when I walked out from under the canopy they set up to protect us from the storm. The heels of my shoes sunk into the mud as I walked. They were fancy shoes, high-heeled shoes that I borrowed from Sybil Diggory, because I didn't have any dress shoes of my own. And I was ruining them, caking them in mud and strings of grass, but somehow, I didn't think that Sybil would have minded much. I doubt she even noticed. The ends of my best black dress robes had trailed in the mud as I walked to the edge of the hole that was dug into the ground. And suddenly, it had become impossible to ignore the reality of it anymore. Cedric was dead. Cedric Diggory was dead.
I was crying then, crying slowly...and then I noticed him, approaching me. He was crying too, of course. I turned to look at him, and our eyes met, and it was almost as though we started reading each other's thoughts. It was a sort of unspoken agreement that flashed between us in that instant, that we each realised that the other was the only person in the world who was feeling exactly the same as us, who could ever understand the depths of pain and of grief. He opened his arms and I stepped into them, still crying softly. We spent the rest of the funeral like that, standing out in the rain, in each other's arms, crying, taking comfort from the other. There were a hundred pairs of eyes on us, confused. It must have been a strange sight, of course - Cho Chang and Percy Weasley, an odd pair, holding each other and sobbing in the rain.
I couldn't remember leaving the funeral, and I couldn't remember arriving at Percy's flat. I could remember curling up in a little ball in bed and listening to the sound of the rain on the roof. I fell asleep to the calming sound of Percy's voice as he talked about Cedric, immortalized his lover in remembrances.
We both loved Cedric.
And now he was gone.
Percy sighed and, almost reluctantly, let go, stood up. "I was just...fixing breakfast. Would you like some...tea, or something?" His voice was cautious, measured; the whirlwind of crazy emotions he had just been feeling carefully hidden in a façade of calmness, as they always were.
"Coffee, please." I said softly. "If you've got it."
"I haven't." He replied, sheepishly, looking at me over his shoulder.
"Tea, then."
"Of course."
I sighed, and began trying to untangle the blankets, so I could get up, find the bathroom, eat breakfast, somehow manage to get on with my life.