Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I only own my OC, Camille. Furthermore, any similarities to other fanfics are completely unintended.
[1]
. . .
Harry craved the return to Hogwarts. Although things were still mildly rocky between him, Ron, and Hermione for their silence throughout the summer, he looked forward to the red walls, the blazing fireplace, and the warm atmosphere of the Gryffindor common room. Hogwarts, after all, was his home.
He continued his musings as he left the loo, walking down the cramped corridor filled with loitering students catching up with friends. He had been dodging them skillfully for the past few minutes until he collided with a girl a few compartments away from his destination.
The girl stumbled slightly, and Harry automatically reached out his hands to gently grab her shoulders and steady her.
"Sorry about that, I—" the sentence died in his throat as he gazed at hazel eyes. He hurriedly let go of the girl's shoulders, a hand moving up to rub his neck as he dealt with the awkwardness of the situation.
In front of him stood Camille Diggory.
His first memory of the girl was that he found her cute, her brown hair almost gleaming with a red-like shine under fhe sunlight. That day, four years ago, he and Dean had been teaching the others how to play Muggle football when he accidentally kicked the ball towards her head as she walked by. He remembered Draco Malfoy scowling at him and preparing to sneer at him, but she had gripped Draco's arm and shook her head. The pair of Slytherins went about their day and ignored the approaching Harry, who had picked up the stray ball but continued to gaze after her retreating back.
She was cute, he had thought, but since she's a Slytherin, she probably doesn't like me.
Yet, she had never mocked him or laughed at him, not when the whole school thought he was the Heir of Slytherin, not when Draco would be harassing him and his friends in front of her, and not when...
His fingers curled into a fist.
...not even when he brought back her brother's body did she ever look at him differently.
But he knew there had always been a hint of warmth in those cold, hazel eyes, yet looking at her now, with her emotionless expression, he felt his heart tighten.
"Camille... I—"
She raised an eyebrow at him.
He looked down. What was he even going to tell her anyways? I'm sorry I couldn't save your brother? I'm sorry I made him take the Cup with me? I'm sorry—
"If you have nothing to say, Potter..." she trailed off with a hint of uncertainty, slowly stepping to the side and beginning to walk away when he made no move to continue.
All he could stare at was her retreating back, her hair swaying with her movements.
The afternoon sunlight poured into the corridor from the glass windows, illuminating her hair and giving it a fiery glow.
Seeing Potter was mildly painful for Camille, though it hadn't always been this way. As a magical child, she had grown up listening to the mildly exaggerated stories about him and his 'adventures', so she was naturally a little bit curious about the boy. When she saw him being Sorted, all she could see was a skinny boy with beautiful emerald eyes looking as if the old castle was the one good thing that had happened to him thus far.
He looked just like a regular kid, and that quickly dispelled any notion she had of those childhood tales being right.
Further into their years together, she saw how the school was hot and cold with their reception of him, depending on what was the latest piece of gossip, and it made her throw an annoyed glance towards the lions every now and then. Regardless of what he had done, he was still one of their own, and they should have treated him as such.
She never got to interact with him as much, preferring to stay away from his class because she knew Draco would do anything to provoke him, and she didn't need boys and their squabbles in her academic life, thank you very much.
When he was chosen to be the fourth Champion, she felt a little angered by it because her brother deserved the glory of being the sole Hogwarts champion, but this began to fizzle out when Harry Potter stood up when his name was called, looking confused and distressed. Three and so years of being in a house of manipulative people made her knowledgeable of whether or not someone was faking it, and he certainly wasn't. When her brother confirmed her thoughts later that day, she went back on with her life, refusing a 'Potter Stinks' badge and opting to hole herself up in the library to study.
The rest of that year had been uneventful until... until...
Camille grimaced as she walked back to her compartment. She could remember that day clearly, the loud trumpets and drums eagerly awaiting a Champion, the cheers and laughter of the students who placed bets on a winner, her father's smug grin as he boasted that the task would be a piece of cake for his boy...
...but his boy never really made it back. Not truly.
Camille inhaled deeply to calm herself before entering her compartment. Daphne and Tracey were in a heated discussion over some Russian model, Theo and Draco were reading books, and Blaise looked half-asleep.
She smiled to herself — seeing her friends made her feel like everything was still normal, that they would be messing around, and sooner or later, with chocolates from the trolley in hand, he'd enter — as she sat next to a bleary-eyed Blaise. She lifted his right arm before tucking herself into the warm space and using his shoulder as a pillow. Unlady-like as it may have been, no one in the compartment ever minded, because this compartment served as their own world, their little utopia. Nothing could go wrong or break their peace.
Beside her, Blaise wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer.
She would be okay.
A/N: Hi, and welcome to my first fanfic! I wasn't so sure about posting this to be honest, but I figured not sharing it with everyone would bother me more xD Please do let me know your thoughts in a review, and I'll see you in the next chapter! Hope your day is going great : D