Calista White was very good at getting what she wanted. So when Oriane attempted to tell her friends she would much rather rot away in their dorm room than spend the afternoon at Hogsmeade, Calista was having none of it. It took a good twenty minutes of back and forth banter before Oriane finally gave up and allowed her roommates to drag her along, but Calista was victorious, and that's all she cared about.

The days were only growing colder as the end of November drew near, and all four girls found themselves bundled up tightly for the chilly weather. Oriane was starting to wish it would hurry up and snow at that point so they could at least have something to show for the brutally cold weather. But then she thought better of it when she realized that the snow might impact the First Task, making things more difficult for the champions.

For Cedric.

Even though she hadn't been able to look him in the eyes for the past three weeks, she still found herself thinking about him quite often. More than she would like to. But she tried to push the thought of him out of her mind as the girls started to spark up conversation.

"So, we're hitting Honeydukes first, right?" Calista asked just as the outskirts of Hogsmeade came into view.

"You always want to go to Honeydukes first," Emerald sighed.

"Oh, come off it, don't act like you don't like it too! Their sweets are too good to pass up! We have to stock up while we can."

Despite their playful banter, a certain type of dread started to creep into the back of Oriane's mind. Even from a distance she could already make out just how many people were flooding the paths of the village. Not all of them were Hogwarts students, of course. In fact, she had heard many people were staying in Hogsmeade to keep up with the events of the tournament. Still, there were too many watchful eyes, and Charlotte's glare could only ward off people for so long.

It only got worse the moment they really entered the village. Even though she knew realistically hardly anyone was looking at her, she couldn't help but feel otherwise. A patron trying to look at the signs above her head turned into someone glaring at her. A student just weaving past her to get into a store turned into someone narrowly avoiding pushing her over.

Honeydukes wasn't much better. She was in close proximity to a lot of students, and she could very clearly make out the Support Cedric Diggory! Potter Stinks! badges Draco Malfoy prided himself in creating. The child would revel in any sort of discomfort Harry Potter would experience, and being put into a tournament he was much too young for was no exception. The badges were just a sour reminder of their terrible predicament.

Things became only marginally better when it was Emerald's turn to choose what store to go into. She of course chose Dervish and Banges, a shop that sold and repaired magical instruments, among other items. When she had first brought up wanting to go there, she tried to convince the others to go on to other stores without her, saying she just wanted to play a few pieces on the piano. However, even just mentioning her playing piano only intrigued the girls more, and soon they were all leaning against the baby grand piano, waiting for Emerald to play them a tune.

"I'm a little rusty," Emerald warned. "I don't get the chance to play at Hogwarts often so… don't say I didn't warn you."

Oriane thought Emerald couldn't have been more wrong.

It was much different than what she had played for them their previous year. The piece started off with a dark chime. Emerald's fingers hit the keys with such force she could feel the vibrations of the sound reverberating through the wood of the instrument. It was almost as if those notes were a wakeup call, an alert to pay attention. And then it moved into an almost dark and serene atmosphere. It was much softer than the first few beginning notes, yet Emerald was pressing so many keys at once her fingers were crossing over one another, almost knotting themselves together.

It was dark and ominous but in a way that was almost comforting. Especially as the melody continued, yet seemed to shift down an octave before quickly transitioning into a faster section. So many keys were being pressed at once all in quick succession Oraine was surprised that Emerald was able to hit them with such precision. Yet as she turned her attention away from the slim fingers pressing away at the keys, and to Emerald's face, she was surprised to find that her eyes were almost glazed over. It was as if the girl was in a trance, not even looking at the instrument in front of her as she played along.

The piece suddenly changed as the notes began to descend down the piano. It reminded Oriane of someone falling, but not in a humorous freefall way. The type of falling where you're grasping at roots and bars on the way down, yet no matter how hard you try, your fingers always manage to slip through. And then there was the impact. Dark, brooding chords that shook the entire shop, and especially Emerald's body.

Eventually the piece began to slow. The dark brooding chords were soon only a memory as the piece ended with only a fraction of the volume it had started with. When the last note died, Emerald came out of her trance, and when she looked up at the girls around her, staring at her in awe, her face instantly flushed red.

"Prelude in C Sharp Minor, Opus Three, Number Two," she said awkwardly, wiping her palms off on her cloak. "By Rachmaninoff. Though, it's also known as The Bells of Saint Petersburg, but my instructor would rap your knuckles if he heard you call it that."

"That piece is rather advanced, isn't it? I'm surprised you're able to play it so well with what little practice you're able to do," Charlotte said in awe.

"It's my favorite piece to play, actually," Emerald said with a sheepish smile. "The story behind it is rather interesting too! Rachmaninoff wrote this piece when he was eighteen after a dream he had. He said he was attending a funeral and saw a coffin in the distance, but as he approached the coffin, he saw himself inside of it. Some people attempt to discredit him on if the dream actually happened or not, but he did face a lot of loss in his life by the time he was ten, so I wouldn't be surprised if he was telling the truth."

The girl paused for a moment, her face flushing once more as she attempted to adjust the curls of her hair. "It was also said he had started to hate the piece after a while due to its popularity. So many people were wanting him to play it when he performed. That happened with a lot of other composers too… like Tchaikovsky… and… yeah…"

It was the only piece the girl played for her friends before they left the store and traveled elsewhere. Despite the rather dark tone of the song, Oriane found herself surprisingly more relaxed. Or, at least relaxed enough to brave the Three Broomsticks. The place was absolutely packed with students and visitors from around the world, yet the four girls managed to steal a booth away from most of the commotion.

Half drunk butterbeers littered the table in no time as the girls sat and enjoyed each other's company. The pub was the first place she had been to in awhile that didn't feel terribly grey. Oriane even found herself ignoring the non-existent stares and instead fully focusing on the girls around her.

"Draco tried giving me one of those stupid badges he made," Calista said, swirling her mug around as she looked at the foamy mess inside. "I threw it back at him and he just made some snarky comment about how I wasn't supporting the real Hogwarts champion, or something like that."

"It's been almost a month and people are still thinking like that?" Emerald asked, annoyed.

"This is Draco we're talking about. He'll use any opportunity he can to put Potter down," Calista said with a shrug. "It's just annoying that he has to pull everyone else into his little crusade."

Things fell silent at the table for a short moment and Oriane found her eyes drifting over to Charlotte. Her fingers were gently tapping on the table as she blankly stared at the dark, busted up wood.

"I wonder who put his name in," she finally said, her glowing eyes finally lifting from the table. "That's been the real question, though, hasn't it? It obviously wasn't him. We all heard about what happened to Fred and George when they tried tricking the goblet. Which meant someone else who was actually of age put his name in, and was also smart enough to trick the goblet into forgetting there were only three schools to be pulled from. Dumbledore hasn't seemed to be making any headway on the investigation, if he's even been trying at all."

"You sound like you have an idea of who did it," Emerald commented.

The girl shrugged, the tapping of her fingers halting for just a moment before she continued again. "Not really. It's just annoying that they haven't found them yet, and that they haven't really done anything to quell the rumors. They're really just letting Harry take the brunt of their mistakes. If they had just stationed a professor to guard the goblet rather than just use some age line, a lot of this would have been avoided. Be it the Ministry, Dumbledore, or what have you… someone messed up big time."

Really, it was a perspective Oriane hadn't even thought about. They claimed to have tried to protect minors from entering their names, and yet the security was so laxed. Magic wasn't foolproof, even Gringotts protected their vaults with actual guards.

It got her mind racing, and she found herself thinking back on everyone who could have possibly done it. Though Draco seemed to enjoy watching anyone squirm, she was doubtful even he would try and convince an upperclassman to put Harry's name forth. Even if he could, who would have been knowledgeable about magic enough to fool the goblet? Certainly none of the professors would do something like that, unless…

R.G.

"What about Karkaroff?" Oriane suddenly spoke.

All eyes at the table were suddenly on her, and they looked more surprised than she had expected them to be. Still, she stood her ground.

"Calista, you said he was a Death Eater, right? Putting someone as young and as much of a novice of magic as Harry into the tournament would certainly hurt him. Doesn't that fit something he would do?" she continued.

"I don't know," Calista said lowly, leaning her head into the palm of her hand. "From what I understand, he was sort of a coward. He followed You-Know-Who because he wanted to save his own skin, not because he was a firm believer in him. He's been living a comfortable life, I doubt he'd do anything to jeopardize it."

Charlotte hummed in agreement. "That, and he's made Krum into his golden child. Have you seen the way he treats his other students? He's only concerned about Viktor. I doubt he'd do anything to take the glory away from him."

Though she knew she should have been happy to know that Karkaroff probably wasn't the bad guy in this situation, it only made her more frustrated. It still left them in the dark about who actually put Harry's name in. Most infuriating at all, she still knew there was something up with Karkaroff. There was something that man was trying to hide, but she only had her visions to back up her claim.

"Alright, maybe not, but, I don't know he's…" she stopped.

There was a figure standing at the edge of the table that made Oriane pause. She didn't even have to turn her head to know who it was. A part of her always seemed to know when he was nearby. Still, she turned to face him anyway.

The ever confident Cedric Diggory stood before their table like a child in trouble. Like he was playing ball inside the house after his parents told him not to, and he was trying to hide the fact that there was a broken vase in the room next to them. And while his eyes anxiously glanced between all four girls at the table, he always seemed to linger a little longer on her.

"Cedric," Emerald greeted awkwardly. "How are you?"

"Fine, thank you," he responded with a quiet smile. But he didn't let the greeting sit there for long before his eyes were fully on Oriane. "Could I talk to you for a moment?"

Three weeks. Three weeks of silence. Of unnoticed glances in the hallways. Of bitten tongues holding back pleas and apologies. And stomachaches that were brought on at the very thought of one another. Of thinking back on the words they said to one another and swallowing it down again like vomit.

But she would still say yes. She would say yes every time.

"Of course," she said, the words stumbling out as if her tongue had gone rigid.

Her roommates looked at her, each of their eyes saying conflicting messages as she gathered her cloak from the bench next to her and stood from the table. And when she fully stood up, she had forgotten just how much taller he was compared to her.

Things were mostly quiet between the two of them as Cedric led them outside of the building. Despite how frigid the air was, Oriane found herself not as cold as she was before. Maybe it was because he was there, or maybe she was just anxious, but as he followed down awkward paths behind shops and away from the main streets, she still found herself shivering.

"Are you trying to hide?" Oriane spoke up, referring to Cedric's awkward choice in pathing.

"Maybe a little," Cedric admitted with a stiff laugh.

"Were you trying to hide from me?" she then asked.

She could almost see his back tense through his coat. His hands dug further into his pockets before he answered.

"Not on purpose."

The rest of their trip was quiet. Even as they came to the edge of the village, Oriane couldn't think of anything to say in response to him. So she let him bring her to a dilapidated fence in the middle of a field where a rundown home rested on a hill just beyond it. The Shrieking Shack. A place that held memories that felt too far away and fuzzy for her to recall in that moment.

Cedric leaned his arms against the fence, his spine curving to get his height to reach the wood, and Oriane found herself mirroring him. Her gloveless hands started to turn pink from the cold, but she did nothing to remedy the issue. The thoughts bouncing around in her mind were much too loud for her to care about a pair of cold hands.

"Cedric, I-"

"Don't," he quickly interrupted her, his gaze focused on the dead grass in front of them. "Don't apologize."

Her mouth shut just as quickly as it opened, and she found her eyes flickering upwards. His hands were just as pink as hers.

"I knew you were going to try and apologize, but you shouldn't," he continued. "It should be me apologizing. I was the one who hurt you, who's been hurting you. And it's taken me weeks to gather up the courage to even admit it."

Cedric paused for a moment as he let out a sigh that sounded more like a choked laugh. His arms moved back some, and his hands were then firmly gripping the splintering wood in front of them. His head dipped downwards, almost as if bowing. Almost as if he was lowering himself. Almost as if he was begging.

"I was so caught up in my own stuff with the tournament that I wasn't thinking straight. I insulted a good friend of yours, and even more than that, I embarrassed you in front of our entire house. And then I just let it all fester. I didn't talk to you, we haven't seen each other in weeks, and I don't blame you at all if you've been upset with me, but please know that I'm sorry.

"There are so many things I should have done differently. We should have been having this conversation weeks ago, but I was too… I don't know, too confused. I thought that giving you some space would have been good, but I think it only made things worse. Just know that I've been miserable without you. You're a very dear friend to me… and I hope we can work past this," Cedric finished, his lips stumbling on the word friend.

Oriane turned so that her body was fully facing Cedric's, her hips leaning against the side of the rather flimsy fence. She looked up at him, the slight breeze pulling at her long, inky locks. Her eyes couldn't help but scan his slightly obstructed face.

A part of her told her to reject his apology. Not because she didn't forgive him, but because she knew it would be for the best. Getting close to her in the way she wanted him to was dangerous. She was too young and confused to deal with the tragedies of her past, and she didn't want him to get caught up in it too. But the braver half of her was telling her otherwise.

"Apologies are a two way street," she said, the breath leaving her mouth in a wisp of white air. "I could have gone up and talked to you much sooner, too. This wasn't easy for me, but I know it wasn't easy for you either. I'm… I'm sorry, too."

Cedric let out a breathy laugh and he shook his head. "You just can't let someone else take the blame, can you?"

His tone didn't match the laugh he just let out. It was more bitter, maybe a bit frustrated. Oriane didn't like the way it made her stomach churn, and she found her eyebrows starting to pinch together.

"Is that not what friends do?" she retorted. "Aren't we supposed to have each other's backs? To share the blame? You might not want me to apologize, but we share the same guilt."

Cedric's grip on the fence fell and he mirrored Oriane's stance. There was a look on his face that she couldn't quite describe. It was like he was angry, and frustrated, and in pain all at once. So many conflicting emotions that seemed to be eating him alive. She didn't like how it made her feel.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked. Her voice cracked and her eyes felt like they were about to water, but the look on her face was rigid. "Are you seriously mad at me for wanting to apologize? For sharing the blame?"

His face softened at that question, almost as if he wasn't aware of how harsh he was coming across. One of his hands reached up and rubbed at the back of his neck as his eyes glanced down at the ground.

"No. No, it's not that," he sighed. "I just wish you would stop acting like everything's your fault."

Oriane swallowed a lump that had been forming in her throat for over the last few minutes. What was she supposed to say to that? She could feel her fingers instinctively pull at her cloak as she stared blankly up at him, her mind doing everything within its power to come up with a response to him.

"And I wish you knew how amazing you are, and I wish you could see your worth. That you wouldn't put yourself down, or ignore your wellbeing. I wish that…"

With each word he spoke his hands twitched, and he made awkward gestures with his arms. His body swayed back and forth as if he was on the edge of a cliff. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and words started to bubble in her throat that she refused to let spill. It felt like rot. That terrible, burning feeling in her throat. But it was too sweet to be rot.

"What are you trying to say?" she asked finally. Her chest heaved with each shallow breath that she took as she stared up at him, and she found that she was shivering even harder than she was before.

"I…" Cedric started, but he was struggling to get the words out. Oriane felt like her breath was trapped in her lungs. That the only way to breathe again was for him to speak the words on the tip of his tongue. But she would pass out long before he would finally say what was on his mind. "I just wish you would treat yourself better. That's all."

It was a lie, and she knew it. And she wanted to call him out on it, wanted him to spit out the truth he kept holding back. Instead, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat.

"And I want you to either accept or deny my apology without trying to apologize yourself," he quickly added.

Oriane's mind was spinning. She could almost taste the blood in her mouth from how hard she had to bite her tongue. It was a flavor she was becoming familiar with, despite how frustrating it was. Her thoughts were becoming jumbled between what she wanted to say, and what she knew she should say, and so she did the only thing she could think of.

She smiled.

"I forgive you," she said softly.

Three weeks. That's how long it had been since he had seen her smile, and Cedric couldn't help but mirror it. Maybe it wasn't what he wanted, but it was certainly what he needed. His hands shuffled further down into his pocket as he glanced away from her face, turning his smile down towards the ground.

"Well, good. Because if you didn't, I planned on bribing you with this," he said, pulling one of his hands out of his pocket.

Cedric revealed something a part of Oriane had already been expecting from him; a cellophane wrapped lollipop. Her small smile quickly turned into a large grin as she reached out to take the treat. It had been so long since she had one, she almost forgot what it tasted like.

Suddenly, everything felt better. It was as if the events of the last few weeks never even happened. Every void in her chest was filled, and it made her laughter at him sound warmer as she took the lollipop from between his fingers. Yet as the two walked back to Hogsmeade, and talked as if they had never stopped in the first place, there was something gnawing in the back of Oriane's mind. A certain urge that was trying to get her to speak without her self inflicted filter.

A set of words flashed in her mind in time with each beat of her heart. Words that she knew would answer the ones Cedric held back moments earlier.

I love you, too.

Instead, just like she did with everything else, she bit them back, and she was left choking on the metallic taste of blood that flooded her mouth.