Cedric

Cho Chang lay on her bed and cried. It wasn't an unusual thing to do for her; she'd been crying a lot in the past few weeks. She'd once read that life had a balance to it; that for every up there was sure to be a down. She considered her present down a particularly deplorable form of divine retribution, and couldn't take solace from the logical center of her brain that calmly pointed out that she was due one hell of an up. In fact, the logical voice was getting to be a distinct nuisance.

The bed on which she was curled up was smaller than the bed she had at school. It was narrow, but had an incredibly soft mattress and a down comforter. She tucked the layers of blankets to her chin, and began forcing herself to sleep. It wasn't an easy business. She had to purge her mind of all thoughts of him. But he didn't want to be forgotten so easily. And a part of her didn't want to forget him, either, even for the time it would take to slip out of consciousness.

Having stayed in bed for an hour or so, unable to flee from the waking world, she got out of bed and went to make herself a cup of tea. Tea was good. Decaffeinated, of course; she'd try to sleep again later. She added some sugar, and went to sit in the window seat of the breakfast area. She tucked her knees to her chest and watched the moon and stars out the window. And thought of him.

It had been a horrible idea to begin dating him, she knew that now. Her friends had told her it couldn't work out; inter-house relationships seldom did. She hadn't listened. What fun could it possibly be to date someone with the same virtues and vices as herself? Nevertheless, she had been skeptical about the relationship, though not because of the Hufflepuff objection her friends raised. She was worried that she wasn't ready for a relationship. When she found that he'd been eyeing her, she'd flushed and flattered by the interest he'd shown. She was young, and she knew it wouldn't be true love, unless she was very lucky. But it would be fun, she decided.

She agreed to go to the dance with him, in the end. He was so sweet, and genuinely seemed to care for her. She figured that, at worst, they'd break up shortly afterwards, and nothing would come of it. At best...she didn't allow herself to think about that. Expect the worst and you'll never be disappointed, her mother had told her. Cho choked back another sob. Look at me now, mother, her thoughts screamed, doesn't this count as disappointed?

Her parents had been understanding, as had Cedric's. The had all tried to console her, distract her and reassure her. It hadn't worked, but she tried not to let them know. Better to let them think that they had helped. She knew that they had done the best they could. They just didn't understand. It wasn't about losing him, though that was traumatic enough. It was that she knew that it was partially her fault.

Tears dripped into her teacup, now empty. She counted them as they fell. One...two...three...four.... They came faster as she relived the day that caused his death. Not the day he died, but the day that she'd received the information that could have prevented it. Months before they'd started dating, before she'd even considered him a romantic partner.

She'd been in divination, and had held out her hand to have it interpreted. Her partner had floundered, and Professor Trelawney had come over to do it herself. Cho had never put much stock in divination, having taken it only because her friend Marietta asked her to do so. The Professor had traced the lines with a bent finger, before pronouncing her verdict. It was fairly standard, and very predictable. High level of intelligence, a tendency to be swayed by others' opinions, things that anyone would have known just from speaking with her for five minutes. But as she finished, Professor Trelawney had issued a warning. She grabbed Cho's hand tighter, and stared into her eyes, so that Cho could see her reflection in the woman's glasses. She spoke with an ardency that made Cho almost nervous. "Be warned," she whispered, "For you have a soul like a siren. You are a temptress, and will lure men in only to have them dash upon the rocks."

At the time, Cho had been slightly amused. A siren? How could she possibly dash men upon the rocks? When Cedric died a few months later, she knew. He would have come out of that maze alive if he hadn't dated her.

She carried the cup to the sink, and went back to bed. She would sleep, she vowed. The sadness of the night was passing, being diluted by her exhaustion. She saw the faint pink light on the horizon that told of the sun rising in the east. As she did so, the anger set in. Anger at herself, for not having listened; at the ones who had killed him for no reason other than convenience. She raged at the one who had sent him there, the one who thought up the pathetic game that was too dangerous to ever have been allowed for children, and at the one who couldn't save him. Anger at the others for not having taken the cup first, so she could have him back. And most of all, anger at him for loving her, protecting her, and anger at herself for having cherished that so much.

The soft voice of reason surfaced again, and Cho pushed it down with a snarl. She didn't need to hear why her anger wasn't rational. She had lived her life based on logic, reason and security. And what had it accomplished? A boyfriend, dead after half a year. Logic could be dispensed with now. What she needed was raw emotion, to help bleed her of the pain. And sleep. She knew she needed that too.

She took a deep breath that stopped the tears and the rage, and cleared her head. Logic entered again, relentless as ever, perfusing her brain. Unbidden, it told her what to do, and, tired of fighting, she listened.

"I love you," she said to the image in her mind, of the Quidditch captain who had been her lover. And, setting it adrift into her dreams, she closed her eyes and slept.