🖇·˚ ༘ ┊͙[ chapter fourteen ] ! ˊˎ

╰─▸ heavy rain, dementors, and hospital visits

     I COULD NO LONGER FEEL MY LIMBS OR LIPS OR FINGERS. It barely felt as though I had no skin. The water had soaked well through my Quidditch robes, so much so, that they might as well not be there. I don't think I had ever experienced such torrential rain.

     I sighed, letting my feet settle on the soggy, water-logged earth, "Okay, hit the showers." I said to a very wet and tired squad.

     The celebratory sighs of gratitude echoed through the tough wind, as the trudges through the mud receded into the changing room.

     If I was being honest, I was glad to be finishing too. I would be surprised if today's match went forward.

     In no more than a few hours, Gryffindor are supposed to play Hufflepuff, for their first game of the season. Not exactly to my surprise, but Ravenclaw weren't much of competition during our first match of the new year; the Inter-house Cup was already in sight.

     I followed Marcus out of the rain and under the shelter of the hallway towards the changing rooms, when the Hufflepuff team, clad in clean, dry robes, strolled past; the pitch their destination.

     "Last minute practice I see?" I asked Diggory, as he and I met, mid-corridor, brooms in hand.

    Cedric stopped, meeting me at my side, as the rest of his team, continued on, "With weather like this, we need all the practice we can get." he sighed, motioning to the downpour outside.

     I stuck my neck out a little, "You don't think they'll actually make you play, do you?" I said, with a dry chuckle.

     Cedric shrugged, "Well what do you expect them to do?" he asked, "Cancel?"

     I scoffed, with a hint of amusement, "Well yeah. I had to cut training short because even my team couldn't handle the temperature. And that's saying something."

     Cedric passed his broom into his other hand in one quick movement, "We'll have to see how my team does then won't we, y/l/n." he smirked.

     I nodded once, punctuated, "I guess so." I drawled, with a slight smile, just before grazing his side and making my way back in the direction of the showers.

     Cedric hadn't moved. "Hey," he coughed, "y/n?"

     I turned back around to face him, with a roll of my heels, and offered a half-hearted smile back, "Yes Cedric?"

     He cleared his throat for a second time, "Are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?" he asked, timidly, straightening up once he had finished his sentence.

     I didn't think I'd see the day when Cedric Diggory faltered when in the act of talking to a girl.

     I shrugged, trying to pretend as though my mind hadn't just ran seven hundred laps, attempting to conclude whether this conversation was going to where I thought it was going. "Oh yeah, probably," I said. Pause. "Why?"

     Cedric's hand slipped on the grip of his broom. It almost fell to the ground, before he clumsily regained his grasp around the stick, "Well-" he said, with a slight stumble.

     Footsteps scuffed behind me, as Marcus Flint reappeared at the door of the changing room, "Oi, y/n, you coming?" he called out in my direction, as he edged out a little from the doorframe.

     My head whipped towards the boy, "Yeah, gimme a sec." I sighed, before turning back to face Cedric once again. I inhaled deeply, "Yes?"

     Cedric swallowed hard. "Oh," his head had dropped, and his body language had completely changed from when he first spoke to me. "Never mind." he finished, with a feeble smile.

     I nodded once, "Oh okay." my eyes glanced from the floor to the walls, and then back to him. "Good luck out there." I wished him, my smile tugging at my mouth.

     The boy turned around, and soon he was out onto the pitch, and under the showering loads of rain, unloading onto him and his team.

     "But don't do that well!" I yelled in his direction, as I stood in the frame of the changing room door.

     Cedric glanced back towards me, his smirk more evident than ever, despite the angle. His hair had become mangled in the water, and he clearly had no control over the style and structure of the curls; his wet head over hair now flopped over his eyes, and his robes were already starting to stick to his skin. Maybe that was a good thing.

     With a shake of his head and a tense moment of eye contact, the boy mounted his broom, yelled whatnot to his team, accompanied by a charming chuckle that became twizzled in the wind as he flew away.

     So, after my mind had span round and round like a spinning top, scanning over different possibilities and outcomes of the conversation that had just finished unloading, it turns out Cedric Diggory was not going to ask me out.

     And I didn't quite know why that bothered me so much.

     Just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, the weather was now horrific. The rain seemed to pour down harder than ever before but was now accompanied by the grumbles of overhead thunder and the odd and unexpected lightning strike that were followed by a few gasps from the crowds.

     I had long lost track of the score because I was too busy trying to put up with the limbs that I could no longer feel, and the drenched robes that were soaked from head to toe, making them heavy and uncomfortable.

     Along with the thunder, I could hear the roars from the Gryffindor stands, after each goal, making my mood worsen just that little bit more since the temperature sure didn't make me feel as happy as Larry.

     There was silence from the Commentator after a Gryffindor chaser scored. I don't blame him, even if it was his own team; it was too cold to even function, let alone string a celebratory sentence together.

     Despite the drastically depressing weather, the crowds were still very much enthusiastic towards the thought of winning, especially after a goal.

     This enthusiasm was soon abolished when the same female chaser was tragically struck by lightning via the end of her broom. The gasps were much more evident now compared to some pesky thunder.

     I didn't particularly like the Lions, or their team, but even I've got to be honest, watching her scream as she tumbled to the ground, was quite upsetting. The crunch and crash when she made contact with the floor made my insides squirm. But the game goes on, right?

     With the weather and the alarming sight of a player plummeting to the ground, I hadn't been watching the seekers or the snitch.

     But it wasn't long before the two players came into view, as they both sped towards the speck of gold, rising in the grey void of the sky, higher and higher until the clouds concealed them completely.

     I shivered in my place, "Hey Marc," I said, angling my head towards the Slytherin beside me, my focus remaining on a single cloud, in which Cedric and Harry had just flown into, hoping it wouldn't be long until they showed themselves from beneath, once again, "you don't think the snitch would go that far, right?"

     Marcus snorted, "Why do you care?" he asked like it was a hilarious thing to ask, "That's only Diggory and Potter chasing it. Who cares what happens?"

     I nodded my head slowly, trying my best to disguise my concern, "Right," I said. ". . . Yeah, no." I tried to reassure him I didn't give a rat's ass, "It's just, I've never seen a snitch go that far out of the pitch before." I finished.

     Marcus huffed, with a hint of distaste in his movements.

     At this point, I'd do anything to be back in the common room. Beside the warmth of the fire, and the comfort of a hot chocolate and maybe a book. And yet, that was far from the case. There was no fire. I was drenched in rainwater, and even slightly worried about the players, who were mid-match, as well as mid-storm.

     The thought of the near dementors made my stomach knot. The thought of another player being struck by lightning made my skin crawl. The thought of hypothermia made my heart skip. And none of these whizzing dots were a part of my team.

     But who cares right? It's quidditch after all? Safety doesn't exist in this game.

     Watching the Chosen One fall to his death, was not on my Bucket List of things to witness before I died. Watching a thirteen-year-old boy descend into nothingness, into the dark midst of the storm made my gut wrench like a spanner in a cog that wasn't functioning properly.

     Maybe my not-so-well-hidden distress was the reason my two closest friends were staring at me as if I had just said something so utterly ridiculous it was hard to comprehend.

     I had simply asked whether they thought the poor boy was going to be okay. Apparently, something completely absurd. Maybe it was something for me to ask that was a little bit out of the ordinary, but I can't be that heartless, can I?

     "Since when did you care, y/n?" Ava scoffed, with such amusement, my eyebrows almost furrowed.

     I was quick to defend myself, "Well, I don't. It's just, it won't feel as good to win if it wasn't a fair match. You know, if they didn't have their best player and all." I said.

     I knew he wasn't dead. Dumbledore wouldn't let that happen, but it was still surely a traumatic event for the poor kid.

     "And plus, he and his mates cause all of the drama at this school, so it would be nowhere near as interesting without him being able to walk," I added.

     Ava and Spencer glanced at each other, then back to me. The pair of them laughed, clearly seeing the point I was making.

     Once we had reached the end of the corridor, one way of which led to the hospital wing, the other was the way to the Slytherin common room, something in me told me to stop.

     I glanced over to the Infirmary, to see one bed crowded with crimson, the other surrounded by the colour yellow, faint whispers from each end of the beds, floating towards me.

     I turned my attention back to the two girls, "I'll meet you guys later." I said, surreptitiously. The two of them sent the other a look of dubiousness, before looking back to me.

     Spencer shrugged, unbothered, "Yeah okay." she said, with a weak smile.

     The two girls waved their goodbyes and headed in the direction of the Hospital Wing.

     Upon entering, all eyes were on me. And not in a nice way. I understood really. I'm sure my green robes stood out like a sore thumb up against their red and yellow.

     I tried my best to stay casual as I approached the bed in which Harry Potter lay.

     "Um, I just came to see if Harry was alright?" I said, with a half-smile, receiving not even the slightest grin in return.

     Oliver Wood walked over to me, and stood in a tactical way, to block my view of the rest of the team, and the boy in the bed.

     Oliver scowled, "What's it to you, snake?" he spat.

     "Woah," I said exasperatedly. The boy glowered deeper now. "Calm down there Haggis." I patted him on the shoulder patronizingly and the wrinkles on his forehead became even more refined. "Just a friendly check-in, that's all." I beamed, slightly sarcastically.

     Fred Weasley took a step away from the bed, "He's fine." he said bitterly.

     I magnified my sigh, "Not very friendly are we today reds?" I clapped my hands together, stepping through the tiny crowd until I was directly at the foot of the bed. "Well I can quite clearly tell I'm not wanted, so I'll be off. Just wanted to make sure your best player was alright for our next match." I smiled sarcastically in Wood's direction, as I let my arms drop onto the bed's end. "Wouldn't feel as good when we win if it wasn't a fair game now would it?"

     I glanced over at one of the Weasley to see what looked like the remains of Potter's broom, all snapped and bristly. It was unrepairable. I reverted back to the boy in the bed, "Sorry about your broom Harry," I shrugged, then looked around at the team who were all still giving me dirty looks, "and your team." I winked at the boy, before walking over to the group of Hufflepuffs at the other end of the wing.

     Cedric immediately sat up and smiled my way, when he noticed me approaching. He began smoothing out the wrinkles on his sheets, making sure his feet were no longer sticking out of the end.

     Anthony Rickett couldn't have smirked more obviously in Cedric's direction, giving him a playful elbow to the side. Cedric grimaced slightly at the pain.

     "We'll give you two a minute," Anthony said, before ushering the remaining Hufflepuff team away from the bed.

     My eyebrows knitted together, "I uh wasn't going to be long!" I yelled in their direction, whilst I weakly pointed in Cedric's direction. The team were already by the door, and soon out of sight.

     "And they're gone." I exhaled deeply, before returning my attention back to the injured boy. "Just wanted to say congrats." I smiled.

     Hufflepuff had ended up winning, as Cedric caught the snitch before Harry's "death drop". Cedric had demanded a rematch due to "unfair circumstances", but Wood decided against one, as it was clear that Gryffindor had lost. I don't think I've ever seen Oliver Wood act so grown up about Quidditch.

     "You played well," I said. "It was a good game," there was a pause. Cedric's mouth was pursed in a straight line; one end lifted slightly. There was a cut on his lip, and a bruise or two brandished on his arms. I hesitated, "Well apart from the fact my limbs are too numb to have any feeling and well ..." I gestured to Potter, who was still very much traumatized, his broom now crushed to the point it could no longer be used again. That was a good broom as well.

     Cedric smiled feebly, "Thanks y/n. I'm excited to see how the Hufflepuff, Slytherin match plays out." he smirked.

     I tutted, "Oh well, wait's over." I began rocking back and forth on my heels, my arms folded. "I can tell you now that we're going to win," I said smugly.

     Cedric chuckled, "Is that so?"

     I nodded my head confidently. There was another pause, before I spoke, "Well I hope you feel better."

     With a single nod of my head and another timid smile, I walked away.

     "Y/n?" Cedric muttered before I got too far away and could then no longer hear him, "About Hogsmeade. You wouldn't mind if I asked you to go with me, would you?" his eyes had fell to his fingers, that were lying uncomfortably on his lap.

     I stopped mid-aisle and rotated back to face him. "Well, are you?" I asked, dramatically, crossing my arms once again.

     He shrugged, "Maybe."

     I sucked in some air, "Well I'm going to have to decline. Don't really do dates you see."

     Cedric's face reddened, and his expression dropped. He opened his mouth once again, his hand now lifted, before I stopped him.

     "I'm kidding," I said finally. "I'd love to."

     I'd love to? Did I? Since when?

     Cedric let out a heavy breath. "Great," he said. His normal shade had returned, and the sense of relief on his face made me feel all warm inside.

     And just like that, the rainwater meant nothing.

-

this book hit 150K
gah dayum
but TYSM!!! ily all.

edit: currently now on 240k

wtf thank you!!!