Title - Just Stacey
Author - 4give4get
Rated - T
Pairing – CedricxOC
Disclaimer- Joanne Rowling is truly an inspiration for all young, (usually female) writers with a dream to become a novelist. I… heh, heh, not so much.
Serena- You all are truly a joy.
And Then, And Then, And Then…
…And the Ellyllons are important to Wales because of the deep roots of elven culture and civilization. Darkshade's ambitions to overthrow Rdogus XVII…
This textbook is boring as hell. I wish I could just open the window of our dorm and toss it out into the courtyard below, but that is not possible since I still need to use this book for a few more weeks before school ends.
I hate goblins. Why do they have to start wars and be stupid and make history, which us poor suckers have to study? Why couldn't they just sit around all day and have bloody tea parties, instead? Are goblin children forced to learn about wizards? I think not!
I hate the Ellyllons too.
I hate history.
I hate Professor Binns. Screw the little bastard and his threatening me! Indeed, four days ago he approached me after class and said that unless I get a perfect score on these exams he'll be forced to give me a D which is technically a failing grade.
So I am currently studying my rear end off trying to shove it all down my throat before next week, otherwise known as the week where we all have exams. Including Magical History exams.
"If you find this hard, wait until OWLS, young lady," Professor Binns sniffed as he dismissed me.
"That miserable cur," I mutter.
Who keeps teaching after they die anyway? I wish he had decided to move on when he died so that all of the people in wherever dead people go would have to listen to him lecture on the significance of a Welsh elven culture instead of us.
He could be in league with the devil. Imagine it:
"Sure, Mr. Devil," I imagine Professor Binns saying to a red man with horns, "You can set fires and stab people with your fork-like staff, while I enlighten everyone with stupid, pointless goblin wars! What a torture duo we make, buddy!"
And then Professor Moody can mortify them beyond their mortal comprehension. Make that a torture trio.
I will burn this book as soon as school is out, I decide. I will burn it and enjoy doing so. I flip through the notebook where I record my homework and instantly wish that I hadn't. A potions essay.
Bloody Snape. That stupid slimeball. Did his mother drop him on his head when he was a baby? Twelve inches long? My eyes go wide as I read the notebook further. God-damn Snape! That stupid, used-tampon Snape!
If I had to spend time in a prison cell, and I had a choice of cell mates between Severus bloody Snape, and a pack of wild, rabid, man-eating dogs (I am terrified of dogs remember.) I would choose the dogs.
I throw down my notebook and find a piece of parchment and quill in order to begin this essay. I'm going to seriously kill that man someday.
.x.X.x.
Cedric looks at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He sees himself as he always looked. Nothing out of the ordinary. His forehead is creased with worry. The third task. Just thinking of it makes him feel scared out of his mind.
No, this isn't Quiditch.
Well, hadn't he defeated a dragon? And after that swam down to the bottom on the lake and back pulling the excess weight of Cho? One more task to go. He had put his name in after all. No going back.
"I will finish this," he says aloud, just in hopes of helping him believe it himself.
"I will finish this."
The thoughts he has been working so hard to keep out of his head come flooding in. What if this one last task is the one that does it? The one that's too much? What if he doesn't survive this one?
He breathes, hoping to shift some of the weight off of his chest. It doesn't work. He then thinks of what people would think. He can see his parent's overjoyed faces. Cedric can see Stacey's black eyes looking up at him, so proud of him…
I'll do it.
And he would—he swiftly walks out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him. Firmly.
.x.X.x.
"STACEY!" the dorm door is flung wide open and Summer and Bethany sprint in, 100 percent out of breath.
I am propped in the window seat where I have my school back across from me as company. My hand aches from holding this quill for so long. I'm only at seven inches of this essay too.
"What?" I moan, letting the general public (Summer and Bethany) know of my discomfort at the present time.
"What do you mean, 'What?'" Bethany shrieks, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me, "The Third Task is starting NOW. And where are you? You're doing fucking homework in the dorm!"
"Excuse me," I sniff, putting down my quill and stretching out the joints in my hand. Each and every knuckle cracks, "But I have a few tests to cram for—"
"Stace," Summer puts in, "No one is doing that essay, you know."
"I can't fail Potions!" I wail, picking the quill back up again and continuing to write, "Do you know how much my grades are slipping as of the past few months?"
"Everyone gets a few D's, Stace," Bethany sighs, "It would be normal-person-ish if you got a D or two."
"I have no idea what sort of future career I'm aiming at," I inform her, "But I would prefer to keep my choices open."
She opens her mouth to speak, but I speak first, "Meaning no D's."
"Fine," Summer shakes her head, "Be a poop."
"I will," I smile, "Have fun though!"
"Yeah, yeah, we'll take pictures for you!"
"Great, I'll frame them!" I call as they close the door behind them as they leave.
I turn the quill over in my hand and finish the sentence I had started.
Bloody Snape.
.x.X.x.
"You know," Naomi begins, utterly annoyed, "This is exactly like the last task."
"Yeah," Summer agrees.
"Great! We can just stare at some maze for a half an hour until a winner is announced. We cannot even see any of the action! Only the First Task was any good!" she continues.
"Yeah, and that freaked Stacey out."
"Poor Stace…"
"This blows," Naomi spits on the ground and a Beauxbatons girl glares at her and turns away with a sniff, "Let's get out of here."
"I want to be here when it ends," Bethany whines.
"We can be—let's just skip this."
The four of them sit under the bleachers and pass the time by writing and drawing all over the insides of the bleachers with a sharpie marker. Naomi hopes Snape never happens to come down here and read what they wrote about him.
.x.X.x.
As Cedric touches the Goblet of Fire, he is suddenly whizzing off into who knows where. A port key. When they land, they fall on hard, cold ground. Cedric quickly picks himself back up and glances at Harry.
"Amazing," he whispers, "This must be the next step in this task."
"No," Harry says loudly, "No, this isn't right…"
Cedric bites the inside of his mouth—he is confident.
.x.X.x.
Suddenly, music starts up. Naomi suddenly perks up from coloring in a drawing of Snape as a ball of sludge. All four girls look at each other—acknowledging that it must be over and scramble to their feet and run.
She sees the cheering crowd, and the two figures lying in the field, with the Goblet of fire. What?
"Why are they just lying on each other?" Ella asks quietly.
"Errr… they're having a moment," Summer suggests.
Naomi frowns—it really doesn't look right. She turns to look over her shoulder and sees Stacey making her way through the crowd. She is wearing the same thing she was in the dorm—a pair of pajama pants, a tank top and bare feet. Something funny is in her eye. Naomi doesn't blame her.
.x.X.x.
I push through the crowd—a bold statement for me. I shove a sixth year boy, a Beauxbatons girl, a short, pallid middle aged woman, and a small Hufflepuff girl—pretty much everyone in my path.
Why? I don't know why. It's one of those unexplainable things that you do and they don't really make sense, but you know somehow that you should be doing them. If that makes sense.
Every now and then in life you do things that don't really make sense. But they're the right things to do. You just know it.
And right now, the right thing to do was push my way to the field. When I eventually do get to my destination, I see just Harry and Cedric lying on the ground. Harry is screaming with teachers all over him and Cedric… what's wrong with Cedric?
I continue walking out into the field. My whole body is growing more numb with each step. I feel more like a ghost than a girl. And other people seem to notice it to. No one tries to stop me from approaching them.
I see people shaking their heads in disbelief, their eyes wide in horror. Cedric's dead, isn't he?
"Only one can win," I whisper to myself, and then I begin laughing. Loudly. My laughs are so high pitched and shrill that it sounds unnatural. I don't even know what's wrong with me. Perhaps I've simply gone insane.
"Isn't it damn funny?" I laugh.
Professor McGonagall looks at me with a worried expression and briskly lifts her emerald robes and walks up to me, slapping me over the face before I can blink. It stings, but I'm instantly sobered.
"Thank you," I murmur to her, as it was definitely called for.
And then I look down.
And I don't know how to describe what it's like when you look down into the wide eyes of the boy you love and discover that they really are lifeless.
And then I feel my hands begin to sweat. And then my head is full of air. And then my lips part. And then I think I'm falling. And then, and then, and then—ohh.
End Chapter
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