Disclaimer: The Harry Potter series and all its characters are copyrighted and belong to J.K. Rowling. I am simply playing in her sandbox and receive no financial gain from this.
CHAPTER THREE
8th May 1999
Cedric,
You haven't been answering my owls and I am becoming deeply worried. You promised me we'll keep in touch after you graduate, but the last time I heard from you was a short greeting card for Christmas. And that was five months ago.
I don't understand why you are ignoring me. This pains me so. Just a simple hi would have been acceptable… But this?
I really don't want to do this through an owl… But I can't do this anymore. Enclosed is your family ring. I don't know why you gave it to me in the first place, because I don't feel so important to you at the moment.
Do take care of yourself. I miss you… I really do. And you will always hold a special place in my heart.
Always,
Pansy
(Present day)
Cedric arrived at the Wickedly Magical restaurant a good fifteen minutes earlier than scheduled. He was ushered to a private dining area, a small yet extravagant room with a big chandelier that was lit by candles. The candlelight even changed colours every few seconds.
He sat on his own as he tapped on his parchment with his quill. He looked at his watch impatiently. He's been waiting for an hour now. Apparently, the former prince of Slytherin still has his very selfish attitude.
He shook his head, and tried to compose himself. He had to be patient after all. That's what defines a good journalist.
"My apologies for being late," a slightly familiar voice said curtly from behind him. He took a look around and dropped his quill.
The woman in front of her was busy scrimmaging for something on her bag, but there was no mistaking it. It was her. Pansy Parkinson.
He watched in awe as the woman walked towards one of the seats across him, totally oblivious of his presence. Not him though, his heart was beating like mad, it felt like it was trying to find a way out of his chest.
Please, don't let it be her, he thought desperately. Anyone but her.
"Draco's not coming. He had this urgent meeting at the Ministry, completely unavoidable," the woman continued and zipped her bag before looking at him.
She gasped and stared at him in disbelief. "C-Cedric..."
He cleared his throat and tried to compose himself, "P-Pansy, i-it's good to see you."
Of all the times for his voice to fail him, why now? He ran a shaking hand through his hair and stared at her.
She looked the same, yet different at the same time. There was something he can't put his finger on… This was his Pansy. He could just lean a little and reach for her, but she felt too far away.
Pansy was the first one to break their gaze. "Mr. Diggory," she said, quite too formally. "I haven't expected to see you here."
"M-Mr. Diggory?" he repeated in a daze. Pansy never called him that. It felt too… Formal. Like they have never known each other all these years.
Pansy arched an eyebrow, her eyes cold as ice. "Do you want me to repeat it again? Or should we just get down to business?"
She raised the small bell in front of her and shook it. Luxurious food that can feed about ten people immediately appeared on the table and she started putting some on her plate. "Aren't you going to eat?"
He sighed and started serving food on his plate. Scratch that front page article. He can't do this.
He watched as Pansy started eating. He could watch her forever. How was she doing it? He yearned to know. She seemed so unaffected, while here he was, a complete and utter mess.
The silence was deafening. All he could hear was the clatter of forks and knives and he didn't know how to begin.
Come on, Cedric, he said to himself. You're a journalist. You can do this.
"So…" he began, trying to sound nonchalant. "You and Malfoy? When did you start seeing each other?"
He really wanted to know. He watched as Pansy put down her cutleries and looked directly at him.
"We've been arranged for two years now," Pansy said in a cold tone. "I do believe that is public record, Mr. Diggory."
Cedric's forehead creased in frustration. Her coldness was unnerving. Does she hate him that much? Her eyes were as sharp as daggers, and it wounded him. Deeply.
"I'm sorry, Pans – err, Ms. Parkinson," he managed to say. "I didn't know."
"Surely The Daily Prophet can find a more suitable journalist than you," she said dryly, before taking a sip from her wine goblet. "It looks like you haven't done your homework."
He wanted to say that the project was just given to him earlier today, but he knew that it wouldn't matter. He sighed. "I'll make a good article, I promise."
"I no longer believe in promises. I'll just believe it when I see it," she said testily as she picked up the bell once more. She shook it and remaining food disappeared, the table back to its elegant setup.
A waiter apparated in front of them and handed her the bill. Pansy barely looked at the small piece of parchment and immediately handed the man a few Galleons.
She stood up from her seat, and approached him. He couldn't help but look at her in awe. Five years… He hasn't seen her in five whole years. He had been waiting for this, but now that she's here, he couldn't even utter a word.
She handed him a piece of parchment. "This is the schedule of our activities prior to our wedding next month. Madam Narcissa promised a full coverage for The Daily Prophet so I expect to see you again, Mr. Diggory."
"N-next month?" he repeated. Surely he heard wrong. It can't be next month. He looked at the parchment and saw at the end of the list, 23rd November – Wedding Day.
"Yes, next month," she said, and started to turn away. He grabbed her arm and stood up, facing her. He felt a bit of static as his skin grazed into hers. He was still a head taller than her and for awhile, it felt like they were at Hogwarts once more.
"The 23rd of November," he said, his grey eyes boring into her brown ones. "You do know what that date is, right?"
"I- I don't remember," she said as she pulled her arm away. "And don't you dare touch me again." With that, she looked away and walked out the door.