Everything You Want

~*Everything You Want*~

Chapter One: Goodbye to You

"And it hurts to want everything

And nothing at the same time

I want what´s yours

And I want what´s mine

I want you

But I´m not giving in this time..."

-Michelle Branch, "Goodbye to You"

The house was entirely silent except for the snip-snip-snip of a pair of angry-sounding scissors. Standing by a window, a mutinous look on her otherwise beautiful face, a young girl was doggedly cutting her jet-black hair. Strand by strand, lock by lock, the waist-length raven tresses fell to the assault of the scissors.

When the snipping had finally ceased, the girl´s hair barely brushed her shoulders. Grasping the long inky strands that had fallen onto the floor in one tiny fist, she opened the window and flung them out... out towards the house next door, with all her strength. She watched with a savage sort of satisfaction as they landed on the clean white stone of a birdbath, drowning in the clear water, black against white.

"You broke your promise, Roger!" Cho Chang whispered in a voice laden with sorrow and fury. Glaring at the house next door one last time, she slammed the window shut, whirled around, and walked away.

After pacing around her room like a caged lioness, she finally fell back onto her bed, looking up at the ceiling with a mutinous expression. Those who did not know her would have thought her calmly furious. Those who did know her would realize that Cho Chang was very near crying, something that happened so rarely no one would know quite what to make of it.

The reason for her tears was simple and yet horribly difficult. He was, in fact, probably sitting in his room, doing summer homework. The reason´s name was Roger Davies, and he had aggravated poor Cho to no end in the past several months. She had, at first, attempted to work things out. Roger, however, remained passively cool, until Cho was very nearly ready to set him on fire to warm the atmosphere a precious few degrees.

Roger had been her neighbor and a fair-weather friend throughout her childhood. When the two of them began attending Hogwarts, he was something of her mentor, the older student that kept her out of any amount of trouble. This past year, she had proven her skills as an athlete and taken her place as Seeker on the Quidditch team that Roger captained. They had really become close friends at this point, and Cho had thought that perhaps-just perhaps-something better was growing out of it.

Well, she had just had everything slammed back in her face, and she had no idea why. All she did know was that, as children, she and Roger had made a promise to always trust each other, and Roger had decided, for reasons unknown to her, not to listen to a perfectly reasonable explanation for her behavior, instead choosing to give her the cold shoulder for months, only talking to her when it was absolutely necessary, and even then in terse, clipped sentences.

Cho Chang had moved into the wizarding neighborhood of Hogsmeade from China when she was six. Her mother, a former top student and Prefect of Ravenclaw House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had married a young ambassador from the Chinese Ministry of Magic and followed him to Beijing, where she gave birth to a daughter. Now, because of a new promotion, Mr. Chang was again stationed in Britain, and so, Cho, after a long and dizzying journey via portkey, had come to Hogsmeade.

That afternoon, a day after she moved in, she was sitting on the stairs looking through a book when her mother had invited the neighbor woman over to tea. "Ying-Ying! It is lovely to see you again!" A smiling young woman with auburn curls and bright blue eyes hugged Cho´s mother in an almost sisterly fashion as soon as she arrived. Cho´s mother, also smiling, returned the embrace warmly.

"Yes, Cecilia, it has certainly been a while! I haven´t seen you since your wedding with Matthew Davies, how have you been?" Curious, Cho had walked downstairs. Her mother caught sight of her, and pulled her forward, presenting her to the woman called Cecilia, "Cho, this is Mrs. Davies; she was a friend of mine when we were in school together. Cecilia, this is my daughter, Cho."

Cho had solemnly greeted the woman, who patted her head kindly, and said to her mother, "She´s a pretty little darling, Ying-Ying. Bring her over sometime when you visit, I´ve a son named Roger, about her age, I´m sure they would love to meet each other and become friends." Little did they know that the two would be meeting very soon, sooner than they would expect.

"Of course I will," Cho´s mother replied, then gave her daughter a little push towards the door, "Run along, dear, go outside and play; Mrs. Davies and I will be having tea."

Cho had cheerfully skipped away, gone to explore the grounds surrounding her house. She was poring over a pretty birdbath carved of white stone in the next yard, when she felt someone pulling on one of her braids. The good, obedient little Oriental girl that had charmed Mrs. Davies vanished in an instant, and Cho turned around, dark eyes blazing, small hands clenched into fists. In a high-pitched, slightly accented voice, she had shrieked, "How dare you?! So rude!!" at the offender, a boy perhaps a year or two older than her, with a shock of black hair and blue eyes. He seemed to have found it quite amusing, and laughed, giving her braid another tug before she slapped his hand away. Her childish tirade had continued, with her reverting to Chinese when she could not think of English threats and names gruesome enough to fit his transgressions, until her mother and Mrs. Davies had finished tea, and went outside to see the two of them, the boy with a bewildered look on his face as Cho was screaming at him in Chinese. Needless to say, after figuring out what had happened, both mothers made their children apologize to each other, much to said children´s distaste. Cho had found out that the boy´s name was Roger, and resolved to hate him all her life.

This resolution lasted for about a month, until one day, when she was walking down the street picking flowers for her mother, a big seven-year-old boy named Arnold Derrick, who seemed to be the neighborhood bully, had sauntered down the street, snatching away her flowers and stomping on them. Cho was never one to let someone pick on her like that, so at once, she started to yell at him. When words did not seem to be effective, she had resorted to fists. The problem with that was Arnold Derrick was a year older, a few inches taller and a good twenty pounds heavier than her, and it would have gone very badly for her had Roger not come running from his yard, where he was trying out his new broomstick, and proceeded to beat Arnold Derrick about the head with it. Unable to hold his own against the both of them, Arnold had fled, and from then on, Cho and Roger were the best of friends.

The two were inseparable until one day, when she was nine, Roger had gotten his Hogwarts letter. Cho had heard all about Hogwarts from her mother, of the four houses and the enchanted ceiling, of the Great Hall and the Quidditch Teams and whatnot, but none of this meant anything, except that her friend would be leaving, and she would no longer be able to see him except for holidays and summer. To the nine-year-old girl, this was nothing short of a calamity, and she shed many tears over it. The last night before he would leave, the two of them were sitting by the birdbath where they had first met, watching fireflies fly by, and she had begged him to owl her often, and tell her everything that went on. He had agreed.

"Sure, Cho, I´ll owl you and tell you everything that happens, as long as you´ll believe me and not say I´m lying." he had joked.

"Of course I´ll believe you, silly! I trust you!" she had exclaimed.

"Well, that´s good. Will you always trust me?" he had wondered aloud. She had answered in the affirmative.

"Of course I will, I promise! I will always trust you, just like you´ll always trust me, right?"

"Right. I promise." He replied solemnly. At that moment, his mother called for him to go in, they had a big day tomorrow! He had pulled her hair lightly, making her laugh, and went back to his house. Cho saw him waving at his window, and she waved back. He left the next day.

He kept his word, and for two years, the owls flew back and forth, awe-filled letters from him telling of how incredible everything at school was, wistful ones from her telling of how boring it was here, with no one to play one-on-one Quidditch with. Roger, like his mother and hers, had been sorted into Ravenclaw House, and loved it there.

Then, when she was eleven, she, too, received her Hogwarts letter, and the first thing she did was to rush over to tell Roger, who was home for the summer. He had listened to her excited gushing, laughed a little, and promised to save her a seat if she got sorted into Ravenclaw House. Before they knew it, the term had started, and Cho found herself walking up to a stool to be sorted, as a tall, bespectacled witch called out her name.

The hat had been clapped over her head, and a voice had sounded in her ear, "Well well! An interesting case, for sure. You´re quite a spirited one, very smart too, aren´t you? Where shall I put you? You could do well in either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw..." Cho had squeezed her eyes shut, wishing fervently for Ravenclaw. "Oh, is that so? Yes, yes, I believe that you do belong there, and that you will be a credit to your house. Enjoy your stay at RAVENCLAW!"

Practically squealing with glee, she had tumbled off the stool, hurriedly handed the hat back to the bespectacled witch, and ran over to the Ravenclaw table, finding Roger at once and giving him an excited hug. A few boys at the table, obviously his friends, had hooted and laughed, and he had blushed slightly, but had otherwise accepted her exuberant salutation in good humor. And since then, Roger had continued to be her chum. The one to help her with her homework when some particularly difficult Potions assignment had her tearing her hair out. The one who had showed her, with strict instructions never to tell anyone, how to successfully sneak down to the kitchens in the evenings to get some food. The one to listen to her rant about how positively annoying that one girl in her dorm was, monopolizing the washroom in the mornings to curl her hair. Similarly, she would joke around with him in the evenings after the two of them had finished their homework. She would be the one cheering the loudest at his Quidditch games. And Merlin help anyone else who dared to ruffle or pull her hair, who had not saved her from a bully by clobbering the prat with a broomstick!

Cho was still not sure when things had changed. They had always been friends, but in the past year, she had seen Roger look at her in a completely new fashion. Conversations stopped when she entered the room, and she had a distinct feeling they might have been about her. She might have felt slighted, but the general consensus was that Roger liked Cho-a lot. Cho had not been entirely sure whether she wanted anything to do with this yet-in her experience, boys were far more pleasant companions when romance was not involved. Of course, Cassandra, the one with the obsession with her curling iron, had added to this. Cho certainly didn´t want to be anything like Cassandra or her cronies, who seemed to think that if boys didn´t like you, that was the end of the world, and nothing could heal the heinous wounds. Cho was still wondering what they were doing in Ravenclaw.

Horrible roommates and insecurities aside, Cho was quite satisfied to be by herself for now. She was a popular girl, though she had an inkling her popularity was caused by her cursing at Snape first year-in Chinese, with such a blank face that Snape had been convinced she was just muttering ingredients over her assignment. Becoming the first student to ever get away with anything in Snape´s class had been a huge boost for the small Chinese girl with the incredibly long hair and the perfect poker face. Everyone liked Cho, and Cho liked everyone back. She just wasn´t sure she wanted to like anyone in particular for a while yet.

Then she had met Cedric Diggory. She had been sure no one would catch her in the Astronomy Tower at three in the morning three days into her third year-studying, naturally-when the Hufflepuff Prefect had cleared his throat behind her and asked, in amused tones, what she was doing. A flustered Cho retorted that she was sure it wasn´t what he had come up here to do, and Cedric, instead of looking insulted, had laughed heartily before asking her if Orion was bright tonight.

They had been friends since. Everyone in Hufflepuff House respected Cedric, but he had few real friends, and Cho just happened to be the best of them. He told her everything, and she soon got into the habit of doing the same. Cedric was incredibly kind, loyal, and sweet, a pin-up even among members of his own house. Cho felt safe telling him all her secrets, assured they would never be forced past his lips under any circumstances. Cho considered him her best friend. Roger was wonderful, but, after all, he looked at her in that uncomfortable way, obviously quite aware she was a pretty girl as well as his friend. Cedric seemed oblivious to the fact, or if he wasn´t, his affections lay firmly elsewhere. Well, Cho knew now, anyway. She hadn´t at the time, but she was still instinctually aware that Cedric was, for all means and purposes, "safe".

She lay on top of her dark blue bedspread and fumed. It was better to fume than to cry. The tears were horribly close anyway as she fingered the ends of her hair absently. Roger had told her, when she was small, that she had the prettiest hair he had ever seen. At that time the compliment seemed the most beautiful thing Cho had ever heard, and she had rashly promised never to cut it off. It had been nothing but a hindrance since she had begun playing Quidditch, but she had never even thought of getting it cut, had in fact protested the idea, until now. Well, Roger could just eat his stupid promises. She certainly didn´t care. Perhaps she would owl Cedric, who was far more understanding and certainly less judgmental than Roger was. A tear slipped past her control before she could help herself.

Furiously wiping her wet cheek with the back of one hand, she sat down at her desk and started a letter to Cedric... nice, understanding, sympathetic Cedric, who would patiently listen to her vent out her anger and bitterness, just as she would faithfully keep his secrets for him. The words soon covered her parchment, the ink flowing in place of the tears that she refused to shed:

Dear Cedric,

You'll be shocked to hear of what I just did. I just cut my hair. Just went and lopped off about two and a half feet of it. It barely touches my shoulders now, and I look frightful. But that´s exactly what I was trying to achieve!

You know I told you of how Roger and I were friends since we were both little, and how we promised each other to always trust each other, before he left for Hogwarts? Well, he broke that promise! He doesn´t say anything, but I can feel it! How dare he?! So, here´s to you, Roger, you broke your promise, I´ll break mine! I threw the chopped off hair out my window into Roger´s birdbath, and I hope he finds it soon!

I´d foolishly told him once upon a time that I would never cut off my hair, because he thought it was pretty. Well, I also foolishly believed that he would keep his promise to me, but he didn´t! So now, forgive me for sounding like a petulant child, but it´s only fair this way...

I don´t even know why he stopped trusting me... it´s just like, one day, he did, and the next, he didn´t any more. He wouldn't even tell me, just became this cold, impersonal bloke who no longer noticed my existence. And as much as I hate to admit it, it hurts... it hurts to be invisible to your oldest friend... it hurts that his mates all give me strange looks... it hurts when after Quidditch practices, he goes straight up to the boys´ dormitory instead of chatting with me. How could he do that, when I still don´t know what unforgivable thing I did to incite this behaviour? So now, my hair is short... take that, Roger!

Forgive me, I´m being dreadfully self-absorbed... it´s just... I feel so... so upset and furious and frustrated! I´m so glad that I have someone like you to talk to, Cedric, you know that? The one to win your love someday will be a lucky one indeed, to be able to have the heart of someone so kind and sweet and sensitive. You´re my best friend, Cedric, someone I can count on, someone I can tell anything to, and I´m honored.

Well, I hope you´re having a happier summer than I am, owl me soon, okay?

Your friend,

Cho

Fastening the completed missive to the leg of her gray owl, she let the bird out the window, then grabbed her broomstick. She might as well do something more productive than sitting in her room and sulking, and the shorter hair could only be beneficial towards Quidditch and flying. And she would even make herself not think of her Quidditch captain and former friend while she was doing it!

However, the fates seemed to be conspiring against her once again. When she walked out of her house, she saw, to her vindictive satisfaction, a tall, dark-haired young man bending over a birdbath, his handsome face a mask of shock, one hand slowly and dazedly lifting limp ebony strands of hair out of the water. Cho set her teeth, and rose into the air.

Roger Davies, having finished a long and grueling transfiguration essay, had decided to go outside for some fresh air. Rubbing his eyes, he had stepped out into his yard, and promptly, at the sight that greeted him, rubbed his eyes again, hoping against hope that he was just imagining things.

He wasn´t.

"Cho!" She pointedly ignored him as she sped around doing loops in the air, very satisfied at the speed she was getting, especially from a Comet. "Cho!" he called again. "Damn it, Chang, get down here!"

Poker face on, she lowered to the ground. He seemed struck speechless by her new appearance for a few moments. Expression blank, she tucked some hair behind her right ear.

"Damn it, Chang, what do you think you´re doing?"

"Improving my Quidditch performance," she replied coolly. She thought of adding that none of the players at the World Cup a week ago had had long hair, but she refrained, thinking silence was the better policy.

"Excuse me, Davies," she finally said, secretly pleased at his stricken look. "I have to be in shape if we´re to win the Quidditch Cup this year. Good day." With that, she took off, now dropping to the ground and spiraling up in an attempt to learn, or at least emulate, The Wronski Feint.

Roger watched her fly. He couldn´t help it. The small figure in Muggle jeans and an expression of complete concentration on her face kept drawing his eyes. How could she have cut it? He didn´t understand. She had been by far the prettiest girl in the house-perhaps even in the school-with that long silky hair and those mysterious almond-shaped eyes. Not that she wasn´t pretty anymore. Cho couldn´t be unpretty if she tried.

He sighed, wondering whether to be angry at her for cutting her hair, angry at himself for caring, or angry at Cedric Diggory on a general principle. Seething, he decided he had enough anger for all three, and made himself turn away and go back inside, not even noticing that he clutched a handful of hair from his birdbath in his shaking fist.

Cho noticed though, and tried to tell herself she was glad he was upset. She had nothing to prove to Roger, but striking him speechless had been exceedingly satisfying. She only wished she didn´t feel like crying despite her bitter satisfaction.

She flew higher and higher, and the cool breeze cleared her mind somewhat. She looked back down at the two houses, tiny in the distance, one with quaint Oriental stone lions in the front, the other with a small white bird bath in its yard, and gave a shaky sigh. It had been almost half a year, this cold war between her and Roger. Ever since the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff game last term. What had happened to that wonderful, hair-pulling boy who had bludgeoned a bully with his broomstick for her? How had everything gone so awfully wrong?