by Komillia (komillia@hotmail.com)
A/N: Thanks for the reviews everyone! I have currently put up Harry to Cho, Snape to Sirius and Lucius to Draco on my list of letters to write. They will be written as soon as inspiration allows. In the mean time, here's the latest one. Keep in mind that it was written after 12 hours in a bus, so it might be a little weird.
June 30th, 1996
Dear Cedric,
I bet you hate me. I know what people think. I went out with Harry Potter of all people. After Harry, there was Michael Corner. After Michael, there will be dozens of others. I am a shame to the good memory of you. They think that I did not deserve you. I bet you agree. I bet you hate me for what I have become. But you know what?
I hate you too.
I do, I really do. Don't be surprised. After all that has happened, I do hate you. If I could speak to you again, I would yell at you. Yell all those things that I wish that I could have asked you.
How dare you?
How dare you leave me like this?
How dare you leave me all alone like this to fend for myself?
How could you think that I could move on and live without you?
I keep asking you those questions, bitterly in the night when I lie alone and can't sleep. But no matter how many times I ask I never get an answer from you. You will not answer me. You will not come back again. You are gone, removed from existence and simply vanished from my world, my life. Where are you now? Where are you now when I'm crying and I need you?
Sometimes I just can't stop myself from crying. I know what people say, it's been a year. I have moved on, moved on to Harry and from him to Michael. So why am I crying? But they don't understand. They say they do, but they can't. Not unless they change lives with me, or change heart because it is my heart that keeps hurting at night. My heart that trembles at the sight of something that reminds me of you. My heart that hates you for leaving and for not coming back.
I still wonder how you could do this to me. How could you go and die so easily? You were so alive, smiling and laughing last time I saw you. How could you, in just a few hours, be so pale, silent and cold? How could you be gone? I had just seen you. Hugged you. Kissed you. Laughed and talked with you. How was it possible that all that could change and that I would be crying and crying?
Do you know how many nights I've cried? How many hours I spend each day thinking about you and mourning you? It is not right. They say that I am in the best years of my life. I am alive, healthy, surrounded by friends and safe. I should be laughing, smiling, enjoying the years everyone longs for when they grow old and grey. Why can't I stop crying? Why can't I be like the other girls? The ones who say they love someone and then the next week curse and damn them because they happened to look affectionately at another girl.
But people think I am. They see how quickly I turned from you to another guy. They saw how quickly I could forget that you are gone, that you were so horribly ripped away from my life. But were you here, you would probably asked why I did what I have done. How I could let people think that I forgot about you. I don't know if there is an answer to that. But if there is a slight chance of a momentarily happiness, I will grab it. I don't want to cry. I don't want to keep mourning you forever. I saw Harry on the train the day I went back to school. I saw you. Michael comforted me after Ginny Weasley caught the snitch right in front of it. You comforted me.
Perhaps I am going insane. But you haunt me. You haunt me in my dreams, my thoughts and in people I see. Sometimes I see someone who happens to walk the way you did and I run after him. But when the person turns around it is never you. It is never you smiling back at me or pulling me into your arms. It is always someone else. But sometimes, I give in. I let myself pretend that it is really you that I see or I cling to whatever it is that reminds me of you.
Perhaps you shouldn't have treated me so well. Perhaps I wouldn't have felt this way if you had been a horrible first love. My sister told me of her first boyfriend once. He was immature, selfish and didn't care for her much, so when he broke up with her she didn't mind. Perhaps if you had been as horrible as him I wouldn't have missed you or cried for you. Perhaps if you hadn't treated me that well I wouldn't be crying now or dream that you are alive and waiting for me somewhere.
But you were like a dream, a wonderful dream I never wanted to wake up from. From the very beginning you placed me on a pedestal and treasured me. Never even close to the point of suffocating or worshipping me, but always sweet, caring and placing me above everything else. You never said it out loud, but I knew. I knew that if you had to choose between school, Quidditch or friends you would throw all of them away and choose me. I never had to worry about being rejected or ignored when I was with you. And I loved you for it, I loved and treasured you equally. I never imagined how cruel the awakening from the dream would be. I never imagined that it would hurt this much to be without you.
So why do I hate you? I can't really explain. Maybe it was because you were too good to me. You should have never made me love you, never made me care this much. Perhaps then I wouldn't have mourned and missed you. Perhaps then I would be enjoying what people claim to be the best years of my life. But instead of doing that, I'm crying. Truthfully, it is the only thing that I can do properly these days.
Your Cho
