Rotten. It was the only word Oriane could use to describe the terrible throbbing in her chest. Like with everything else she had experienced her whole life, she tried to push down the insidious thoughts in her mind. About her parents, about her family in France, about the Weasley's protecting her. Take all that guilt and shove it deep down where the sun couldn't touch it. Because if the sun couldn't touch it, then it could never take root to grow any further than what it had already become.
But no. Without the sun, the only thing those thoughts could do was die, and now they were rotting inside her. Tainting her very being. And the very stench of it was something she could never wash clean or cover up. She was rotting from the inside out and it was too deep for her to attempt to clean out. Oriane would become a walking corpse long before she would become human again.
Even as her fingers weaved through the grass, even as she breathed in the sweet aroma of the forest and some nearby wildflowers, she couldn't ignore that tearing in her chest, or the bitter smoke that swirled behind her. The rot of Oriane Morissette was beginning to spread to everything around her.
"Ori?"
And she knew it was him even before he spoke. Not because she recognized the sound of his feet. Not because she felt a presence. It was just him. It was always him. Running after her in the dead of winter to let her borrow a coat. Leaving flowers by her bedside while she was still fast asleep.
Wrapped in a gold ribbon around her wrist.
It was just him.
"I'm glad you're alright," Oriane spoke up, eyes still focused on the ground in front of her. "I was thinking about you when we were fleeing into the woods. I didn't know if you had made it out okay or not."
Cedric, who had been standing a few paces behind her, quickly closed the gap between them and sat down next to her in the cool grass. That early morning breeze was beginning to settle in, yet neither of them shivered. Maybe they weren't cold. Maybe they didn't care.
"I wish I was there with you," he admitted carefully. "At the very first sign of trouble my father aparated me into the woods closest to the stadium. We were gone well before any of you had even left your tents…"
"It's for the best that you weren't with us," she said bluntly. "I mean, I'm sure you saw the condition Ron's brothers were in. Bill's arm, Percy's nose… George even got stunned trying to protect me." She paused and almost laughed, but it instead sounded like an empty sob in her chest. "All because I asked them to go back…"
Cedric stared at Oriane, but she refused to look anywhere besides the ground in front of her. He had only seen her like that once before, closing up and refusing to look at him. It was one of the scariest days of his life, and he hated that he was seeing it again so soon.
"It's not your fault," he said softly.
And she didn't give much thought to it before answering him with an empty, "I know."
"Ori," he said. His voice was firm, but not mean or upset. But it was different enough to get her to finally look at him. And he could see the fatigue that weighed her eyes down, and the red that lined her eyes from tears she refused to let fall. She finally looked at him, and so he repeated, "it's not your fault."
She wanted to break. She wanted to scream and cry and thrash around. Beat against his chest and tell him he was wrong. Tell him that she's a freak who had seen it coming all along. Had she been a bit braver, or a bit smarter, more of it could have been avoided. But she didn't know what to do. She never knew what to do. She was just a girl trying to keep the rot from spilling out of her mouth.
"I know, it's just…" she said again, but she couldn't finish.
The rot dove deep into her body, hiding in the darkest parts of her once more, and that's when the tears finally fell. There was nothing in the world she wanted more than to share the thoughts swirling around in her head. To finally tell him the truth about it all. Every time she lied she was left with a rancid taste in her mouth, but she had to keep doing it. Lie again and again, and to the people she cared about most.
But nothing terrified her more than sharing those parts of herself and making them rotten too.
Cedric's arm wrapped around her back and it was as if his very touch made her collapse. She crumbled and crashed into his side where her head rested against his collar bone. And he didn't say anything more. He just held her as he felt every sob reverberate through her body, shaking right through to him.
And she wasn't the only one. Even as the Ministry did their best to aid those displaced by the attack, cries still echoed all throughout the camp. Restless children who were more scared of the dark than they usually were, families still looking for one another after having been separated in the dark.
Then there was her and Cedric, in the midst of it all on the edge of the forest.
Footsteps approached them from behind, and Cedric did his best to turn to see who it was without disturbing Oriane. He wasn't surprised to find that it was Mr. Weasley. The man didn't seem at all anxious at Oriane's crying, and instead gave the two of them a soft look.
"We're going back home in a few hours," Mr. Weasley informed them quietly. "Take all the time you need, but I recommend trying to get some rest before dawn breaks. If you need anything, you know where to find me."
Cedric gently nodded his head. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley."
Not bothering to say another word, Mr. Weasley left the two alone once more. Oriane's sobs had become less violent and more like a stifled mess since he approached. She took a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain control of her emotions, but every time she managed to steady herself another wave would hit her all over again.
"Tell me about the river outside your house," Cedric spoke up suddenly.
His request caught Oriane so off guard that her crying ceased almost instantly. It was such an odd question to ask at a time like that, but she welcomed it anyway. She would take any excuse she could get to stop thinking about the things swirling in her head.
"It's nothing special, really," she sniffed. She brought the sleeve of Cedric's jacket up and used it to wipe the moisture out of her eyes. "I only went down there a handful of times this summer. Though, I used it more as an excuse for flying practice than anything else."
"Flying practice?" Cedric repeated.
She nodded, shaking his body some. "It's quite a ways to walk, so I opt to take my broom instead. Except every time I would head back home, I would try and fly as high into the sky as I could handle. The day before I left I managed to completely clear the top of a tree. Not as high up as we went on the quidditch field that day, but I could do it without crashing afterwards, so…"
A deep hum shook Oriane's shoulder and head as Cedric chuckled at her comment. "Is that so? I'm proud of you."
And maybe if they weren't sitting on the edge of a burning campsite, and maybe if the Mark wasn't dancing above their heads, Oriane might have felt her stomach turn at the comment. Instead, she felt rather content, if nothing else, and the muscles in her body seemed to soften as she leaned further against Cedric.
"I'm sorry, by the way," he said quietly. "About your family. If you ever find yourself wanting to talk about it, I'm here for you."
There it was again; that vomit, that sickness inside her that she wanted so dearly to get rid of. Her secrets, the secrets of her family, were beginning to swallow her whole. And she wanted nothing more than to tell him everything. But she couldn't. Every time the thought even popped into her head she could feel her throat constrict in protest.
"Everyone in my family is gone," she said carefully, making sure to pick the words that wouldn't fully out her. "My parents, any extended family I had… I never knew them. I hate to say it, but losing them doesn't really impact me in the way I think it should. But… they're all gone. One by one they've been killed and I can't help but feel like I'm next."
Cedric's arm seemed to pull her in closer when she said that, and she didn't fight it. His warmth was so comforting, more than his jacket alone could ever provide. And he smelled sweet, and vaguely like the woods they had been running through hardly an hour earlier. In a way, he almost smelled like home.
"You're not next," he said, voice so low it almost came out as only a grumble in his chest.
"You don't know that," she retorted softly.
"But I do." He paused for a moment as his eyes drifted down to look at her. He could only make out the top of her head as her head was still tucked against his collarbone, but it was enough for him. Ever so carefully, he tilted his head to the side where he gently rested his head upon hers. "Nothing's gonna happen to you."
And she didn't really believe him. Not because she thought he was lying, but because she knew it was out of his control. But with the way they sat there, his arm wrapped around her and her body tucked into his… It was one of the first times she felt comfortable in her own skin, in her wretched body that came with her cursed name. And so for the moment, as she let him hold her, she could at least pretend he was right.
The group had maybe rested for two or three hours before Mr. Weasley woke them from their sleep. Everyone got up with tired, groggy eyes, and as Oriane left the girls' tent to join the boys, she had a feeling that they, just like her, ended up staying up throughout most of the night. There was no breakfast to be had, though it wasn't like anyone felt like they could stomach it even if there was, and Mr. Weasley took care to pack the tents with a simple flick of his wand.
The Diggory's were doing just the same as they were, though it was obvious that they weren't the only two families with that idea. Several other tents all throughout the campsite had been taken down, and the moor was already beginning to feel empty. After the events of the previous night, no one wanted to stick around longer than they needed to.
"Alright!" Mr. Weasley called. "Children, double check your items! We'll be leaving in about five minutes!"
Oriane was about as put together as she could manage. She didn't have nearly as many things to gather up as the others did since she found little interest in the items that were being sold the previous night. Her backpack was light upon her shoulders, and Cedric's jacket continued to make its home by embracing her. But her tired eyes were still red and slightly swollen from a few hours previously. She had not caught a single moment of sleep.
"Want some?" a voice spoke up next to her.
She wasn't really sure what she had been staring off into for the last few moments, but the very second she heard Cedric's voice she was brought out of it. He stood next to her, fully dressed for the day and looking more put together than she was. In his hand seemed to be some sort of pastry, and he was taking small chunks off before shoving it into his mouth.
"Mum made some for us to take as snacks," he said while tearing it in half. "Here, you should have some."
Though hunger hadn't really settled in her stomach yet, Oriane took Cedric's offering. It was an extremely fluffy, sweet pastry that tasted like vanilla with a hint of raspberry. Its scent was the first thing that hadn't reminded her of the events of the previous night in quite some time, and she found that she couldn't get enough of it.
"Thank you," she said with a weak smile.
Cedric finished up his half as they watched as the others finished cleaning the area. "Dad and I will be leaving here in a few minutes. I just wanted to come check up on you one last time before we were gone."
Confused, Oriane turned to face him. "Are you not coming with us?"
He shook his head. "He wants to aparate back home. Get us back to my mum as soon as possible. He wanted to leave last night but… I told him we should stay a bit longer because I wanted to make sure I was here for you if you needed me."
Oriane quickly finished her half of the pastry before she began shrugging her backpack off of her shoulders. It hit the ground with a heavy thud, and it looked like she couldn't care less about it. Next was the green jacket that she had worn for the last day. Yet, when Cedric caught sight of what she was doing, his eyes went wide.
"I guess I should give this back then," she said, the jacket sliding just past her shoulders.
"No!" Cedric exclaimed, grabbing the jacket just before it hit her elbows. For a moment the two of them stood there, staring at each other. He gently began to pull the jacket back up her body, securing it around her shoulders. "You should keep it. You might get cold walking back. Dawn is the coldest time of day, afterall."
"Why do you do that?" she suddenly asked. Her voice came out more blunt than she had intended it to. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the frustration from everything she had to keep enduring; she couldn't say for sure. She cleared her throat and tried again; "Why do you keep worrying about me?"
Her question only caused the dryness in his mouth to come back. What was he supposed to say when she was looking at him like that? With those tired eyes that had cried all night, and lips cracked from dehydration? How was he supposed to tell her that being near her made him feel as if he was on fire, that every time she spoke he wanted to drown himself in her voice? That she haunted his thoughts and dreams in the best way possible? How was he supposed to tell her all this when she looked like she was going to crumble?
And so he didn't. There was a time and a place for that, for his love, and he refused to be another burden on her.
"Because that's what friends are for," he spoke, his voice breathy. "You said so yourself last year."
And it was empty, and it felt wrong for him to say, but Cedric Diggory couldn't say anything else. So he stood there, hoping she would call him on his bluff.
"Right now, children, gather around!" Mr. Weasley called. "We mustn't keep your mother waiting any longer!"
And the Weasley's began to slowly gather to march across the moor. Really, Oriane almost didn't want to leave. She just wanted to lay in the dirt and sleep. Instead, she looked up at Cedric and mustered as big of a smile as she could.
"I'll see you in a few days," she assured him.
With a final goodbye, the two parted ways, unable to stop glancing back at one another. The very sight of it was enough to send his stomach twisting. He wanted nothing more than to run after her, than to take back everything he had just said and correct himself. But he didn't. Instead, he stood there, swallowing hard enough to push back the words that were on the tip of his tongue.
The walk back to The Burrow was quiet and bitter. No one had the energy to keep up in conversation and so the only thing that comforted them on their trip back home was the sound of their feet on the dewy grass. They had been walking for an eternity before the sun peeked over the horizon. Moments after the light began to hit their bodies, The Burrow came into view, along with two figures who began to run down the lane.
"Oh, thank goodness! Thank goodness!" Mrs. Weasley cried, running up to them in her night slippers.
Another figure sprinted alongside her, and it only took Oriane a quick glance to realize it was Esme. Her work uniform was a dead giveaway, as the lime green robe was impossible to ignore. In an instant she was enveloped by Esme while Mrs. Weasley cried over her children. The force of her hug was almost enough to knock her to the ground.
"I was so worried," Esme said, refusing to let go. "After Jean and Anais… I thought they had gotten to you, too."
"I'm fine," Oriane assured her, her voice hollow.
Esme finally pulled away and Oriane noticed the absolute relief in her eyes. Though she didn't think she had been crying, she could still see the red that lined her eyes. The absolute worry she had experienced had already done a number to her natural glow; Oriane had never seen her look so run down before.
"Do you want to go home?" Esme asked carefully.
She wasn't sure why, but for some reason home was the furthest place she wanted to be. Maybe she didn't want the extra hassle of travel, or maybe the thought of having to be alone terrified her. No, she owed it to the Weasley's. She wasn't going to abandon them after what they had done for her the previous night.
"No, I just… I just want to sleep," she said quietly.
There was something different about how she felt. Something terrible. She had never felt that empty before, not even when she had learned the true fate of her parents. She quickly found out that learning about death and facing death were two different beasts. One was insidious. One crept in the back of her mind as a constant reminder that there will eventually be a day where she too will pass. The other was simple. A wand in her face. A knife to her throat. A mark in the sky.
The latter was much more terrifying.
Everything else was a blur. Walking into the Weasley's. Esme speaking with Ron's parents. Reading the Daily Prophet. It was just one thing after another. But eventually Esme left, just as Oriane had asked, and the exhausted girl traveled to Ginny's room where she collapsed, not even bothering to change clothes. Instead she laid on top of all her bedding and curled up like some poor cat trying to starve off the cold.
And she slept.