#cedric diggory imagine
draco malfoy
secret, part 1
secret, part 2
study help
do you ever think of me while fucking her?
the ghost of you
i’m worried about you
just friends
jealousy, part 1
jealousy, part 2
headcanons
turning draco into a softie
jealous draco
draco dating hufflepuff!reader
singing/humming him to sleep
wearing his clothes
protective draco
draco comforting you when stressed about school
him comforting you when you’re sad
being draco’s secret girlfriend
harry flirting with you and draco getting jealous
draco reacting to his girlfriend feeling down
him railing you
ron weasley
come cuddle
headcanons
choking
rough sex w ron
dirty talk
‘‘keep your legs open’‘
ron finally gets you alone
ron gets jealous of harry
lazy rainy mornings with ron
sitting on his lap
fighting with ron
updated my masterlist again !! u can find all my works on here <3
Thinking about the time when I was getting into Harry Potter I was also heavily into twilight, now If you’ve been following this little series I have you know the deal but, if not I’ll catch you up. I ages 8-12 when the twilight movies came out and watched all of them religiously, I was also a big fan of Harry Potter and I 100% believed that all of it was real. So when I watched goblet of fire for the first time I think I was about 9 (I don’t really remember) and I saw Cedric for the first time… I thought Edward and Cedric were twins I was then confused on why he wasn’t with his brother but then though “well Edward probably just a muggle then what a loser” after watching it and saw that Cedric died I then felt bad for Edward and told myself “this is probably why he’s miserable his brother died” I then packed the movie in my “just in case my dad came and got me” bag and made a mental note to give it to Edward so he could have some memories of his brother :) I would just tell him to not watch the last 30 minutes of it…
harry potter:
worthless ~ you dont like being called nothing, and you do a lot to prove people wrong. platonic
jelly slugs*~ you always end up almost dying with three people you seem to barley know but its not that bad when harry potter always seems to wake up next to you in the hospital wing. fluff
redbull ~ you get extra homework as punishment for fighting in class, harry suggests redbull to keep you up. crack fic
not yet ~ you go to meet harry’s parents when voldemort attacks. angst/fluff
draco malfoy:
thorns and roses* ~ hanahaki disease is caused by unrequainted love. symptoms can include: growth of throns and flowers in your stomach and lungs, excessive coughing, trouble breathing, vomiting, painful movements and in extreme cases death. angst w/ fluff ending
can’t forget, won’t forgive ~ you meet back up with draco at a party after the war and you still haven’t forgiven him. angst w/ fluff ending
we’ll leave this all behind ~ you were raised the same as draco, maybe you would be less lonely together. angst w/ fluff ending
drunken kisses ~ you and your friends went to the quidditch world cup with one goal; to get wasted. you also manage to catch the attention of one of your friends old classmates. fluff
i kissed you dumbass ~ you and draco flirt but it’s not like you would ever date him. right? fluff
boredom ~ the cure for your insufferable boredom happens to have blonde hair grey eyes and a name your family hates. angst
its never fair ~ you spent four months in draco’s basement, now your trapped in an elevator with him. fluff
drowning ~ draco decides to break up with you after he gets his tattoo, not knowing you have one too. angst w/ fluff ending
focus* ~ draco is forced to be your partner in potions becaue you suck at school despite being a ravenclaw. fluff
fine line ~ you hate draco malfoy but you know what they say, there’s a fine line between love and hate. fluff
fred weasley:
revenge ~ the twins help you get revenge on a boy you should have never even been with. fluff
just checking ~ you dont like fred weasley and his flirting got on your nerves but for some reason a room feels empty without him. fluff
games* ~ soulmate AU, the words first said to you by your soulmate are tattooed on your ankle. fred has lived with some unsavory ones his whole life. fluff
smelling sweet ~ you jump on fred’s back thinking it was someone else, and an awkward train ride follows. fluff
cedric diggory:
attention ~ you hate the attention you get because of your parents lives. the last thing you need is more from hogwart’s golden boy. fluff
pencil sketches* ~ you start getting drawings and find out who they’re from in a strange way. fluff
oliver wood:
kid ~ being the kid of puddlemore united means everyone treats him like one, even the girl he’s been in love since he met her. fluff
my baby boy ~ oliver hates to have to fight for his girlfriends attention with so many people. fluff
blaise zambini:
never have i ever ~ you’re draco’s ex and you probably shouldn’t be flirting with him and he really shouldn’t be flirting back. fluff
the colors of us ~ blaise meets a muggle in a cafe and doesn’t exspect to get so attached to her. fluff with a bit of angst
Friend in Spirit
Ghost!Cedric Diggory x Reader
Summary:(Y/N) (L/N) is alone, entirely alone in the halls of Hogwarts castle. That is, until a silver friend comes to greet her.
Prompt: I was wondering if you could do a Ghost!Cedric x reader where he finds her upset and then they become friends and possibly smth more. Aha ha…unless? Thanks! - Anon
Word Count: 5.5k
Warnings:Death (obviously), maybe a swear
A/N:I really liked this prompt! I had a lot of fun with it! Something about Cedric Diggory really just inspires me, you know?
__
She knew it was a bad idea, to be running through the halls so late at night, she wasn’t thick. However, like the tears clouding her vision, her mind was a bit hazy. (Y/N) let her feet be her guide, the castle hallways etched into her memory like the lyrics of her favorite song, constant and relentless.
Finding herself to be alone, (Y/N) slid herself against the wall, falling flat onto the floor, knees pinned to her chin. The tears were salty, finding their way past her lips. She hated the taste.
“Are you alright?” A voice bellowed, as if from above.
(Y/N) froze for a moment. Perhaps a Prefect had found her outside her dorm this late into the evening, or worse, a professor. (Y/N) didn’t dare look up, afraid she’d lose herself a heaping of House points. Maybe, if she stayed still, they’d pity her.
“I’m not a Professor,” the voice admitted, almost sensing her worries, “or a Prefect.”
(Y/N)’s eyes glanced upward, only to be met with a hazy figure, glowing silver like the moonlight. Tell-tale appearance of a ghost. However, this figure looked nothing like the ghosts (Y/N) had been accustomed to in her years at Hogwarts, finding solace in the almost laughable appearances of the House ghosts, each a character in their own right. This one looked to be a boy, around her age.
“Who are you?” (Y/N) said, pressing her knees closer to herself, trying to seem as small as possible.
“A friend,” the silver ghost responded, smiling, “seems like you could use one right about now, no?”
“I suppose,” (Y/N) sniffled, her hand running across the bottom of her nose rather unceremoniously.
“Sorry if I frightened you,” the ghost continued, floating down onto the ground, sitting crosslegged. “I sometimes forget that I can—uh—that this can have that effect on people.”
“Takes a bit more than a ghost to frighten me,” (Y/N) said, loosening her grip against herself, just a bit. The ghost, his name still a mystery, looked kind, almost gentle. How had she not come across this ghost before?
“Good to know,” the ghost said, his shoulders relaxing. “I would imagine that someone like you would need to have a bit of nerve to be running through the castle so late, unafraid of the consequences.”
“It’s not a habit of mine,” (Y/N) said, “but I needed to get out of there, anyway I could.”
“Get out of where?”
“My dorm,” (Y/N) said plainly, “my roommates, they…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish her thought. “Never mind that, just know that I had to get away, spend some time,” she glanced at the silver boy, “alone.”
“Well,” the boy laughed, floating a few inches off the ground, his posture not changing. “I’ve found it quite difficult to be alone, especially at this castle no doubt,” he sighed, as if to let out a breath. Could ghosts even breathe? Or was it a habit from his previous life? (Y/N) couldn’t recall a time she saw one of the House ghosts breathing.
“No kidding,” (Y/N) said, burying her face back into her knees.
“If you’d really like to be left alone, I can go,” he said, floating a bit higher. He turned his gaze back to (Y/N). “But, I find you quite good company, and I’d feel awful to let you go that easily.”
“Good company?” (Y/N) asked, “You don’t even know my name.”
“Alright,” he smiled, “what’s your name?”
“Cheeky,” (Y/N) laughed lightly, feeling herself smile just a bit. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (L/N).”
“(Y/N)…” he repeated, the sound filling the air. “It’s a nice name. Pretty.”
(Y/N) felt her face heat up, the compliment hitting her square in the chest. How silly it was, to allow the words of a ghost to affect her so bad. She shook her head a bit.
“Well?” (Y/N) said, giving the ghost a pointed look. “Don’t you have a name?”
“Oh, right,” the ghost laughed, “been a while since anyone’s asked for that,” he glanced at the ground, as if he had to think about it. “It’s—uh—Amos.”
“Have a last name, Amos?” (Y/N) asked, allowing herself to let go of her knees, the position growing rather taxing.
“Seems that I’ve—well, you know how these things are—I’ve forgotten,” Amos laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ghosts sometimes have a tough time recalling details, you see. Our past life sort’ve dwindles away…”
“Does it?” (Y/N) asked, growing curious. “That’s awfully sad…”
“It’s not so bad,” Amos shrugged. “I can still remember quite a lot, my parents, my time here at school, what House I was in—”
“What House?” (Y/N) asked quickly, as if it were the most important question she’d ever had asked. “I’m in (Y/H).”
“Hufflepuff,” Amos said, his chest puffing just a bit. “Proud about it. Looked rather good in yellow, too,” he laughed.
“I can imagine,” (Y/N) said, feeling herself smiling at his joke, her legs falling flat against the floor.
“There,” Amos said, “you’re not crying anymore. Knew it would take only a moment.”
“Was that why you came here?” (Y/N) asked, “To try and get me to stop crying?”
“Felt rude not to,” Amos said honestly. “It seems rather rude to let a lady sob her eyes out.”
“A lady?” (Y/N) scoffed. “How old-fashioned. How old are you? Eighty?”
“Nope. Seventeen. Well, I was seventeen. I think I’m a bit older now,” Amos said, his face fallen. As if sprung back in an instant, his smile returned. “At least I get to be seventeen forever, right? No scraggly beard or wrinkles to worry about.”
“You were only seventeen?” (Y/N) asked, her own worries set aside. “That’s horrible! You were so young and—”
“Young forever,” Amos smiled, unbroken. “I know how sad it must seem, to see such a young ghost, but honestly, don’t mind yourself about it,” he waved his hand as if it were nothing, “I’ve had a bit of time to reflect on myself and my state, no need to worry a beautiful girl about it, either.”
(Y/N) was certain that her cheeks were shining brighter than the night sky. He had called her beautiful, something she wasn’t quite used to hearing. It didn’t help that the ghost in question was unequivocally handsome, albeit, still a ghost.
“Why haven’t I seen you around the castle?” (Y/N) asked finally, the question nagging at the back of her mind. “I’ve run into nearly every other ghost— the House ghosts, Myrtle, even that other boy Duncan—but not you, Amos. Why?”
“Blimey, you’ve even come across Duncan?” Amos laughed, propelling himself higher into the air. “That bloke is harder to pin down than a Cornish Pixie,” he turned back to (Y/N), who looked nearly unimpressed. “Well, to tell you the truth… I’m not exactly keen on being seen.”
“Obviously,” (Y/N) said plainly, “otherwise I’d have at least heard of you before.”
“I suppose I had gotten enough of the attention and fanfare when I was alive,” Amos shrugged, allowing himself to float through the pillar to his left, as if to prove he indeed was not alive. “Thought I could quiet things down for a few years—decades maybe—before I jumped back into things.”
“You’ve been here for decades?” (Y/N) felt her heart nearly drop.
“Oh!” Amos shook his head quickly, dropping back to the ground, legs crossed. “No, only a couple of years. Well, I reckon it’s been close to a decade, anyway…”
“Being alone for such a long time…” (Y/N) said, her voice barely a whisper. “That must be just dreadful.”
“Weren’t you the one who was just going on about how you’d like to be left alone?” Amos smirked, trying to lighten the mood.
“You know what I mean,” (Y/N) said almost annoyed. “I’m sorry that you’ve had to be alone, no one should be alone for such a long time…”
“Alright,” Amos said, flying to his feet. “Then I won’t,” he pointed at (Y/N), “come visit me, then.”
“You say it like I can just waltz around this castle on a dime—”
“Didn’t stop you tonight,” Amos said, his hands on his hips. (Y/N) looked rather unimpressed. “Look, I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t mean it. I rather fancy your company,” he smiled, “frankly, this is the most contact I’ve had with another person in years. You’d make a fine friend.”
“I just…” (Y/N) sat for a moment, mulling her options over. Not everyday did a ghost—one who quite tickled her fancy—ask to be in contact with you. Certainly she never turned down the opportunity for a new friend, even if he was dead. The risks were high, but the payoff seemed to be worth it. “Alright.”
“Alright?” Amos’ eyes lit up, his dazzling grin shining bright against the moonlight.
“Once a week,” (Y/N) concluded, pushing herself up the wall, back onto her feet. “I don’t think I can manage much more than that, I’d run out of excuses as to why I was out of my dorm so late at night—you do want to meet at night, right?”
“Well we certainly can’t meet while you’re in class, can we?” Amos smirked, his posture softening.
“Cheeky,” (Y/N) laughed, holding her hand out. “Alright, it’s a deal. Once a week,” she stiffened her arm, “well? What’re you—oh,” (Y/N) felt her fat grow hot with embarrassment. Amos tipped his head to the side, almost in confusion.
“Ah, I suppose you’d like to shake on it, hm?” Amos asked, resulting in a rather meek nod from (Y/N). He smiled, reaching his own silver arm out to meet hers, but missing her hand by an inch. “Alright, let’s shake on it, then.”
(Y/N) hesitantly moved her hand, reaching out to touch Amos’ silver one, almost expecting to feel nothing at all. What she didn’t anticipate was the cold. The air in which would hypothetically contain the boy’s hand was as cold as a winter’s night. But, it didn’t alarm her in the slightest. While the cold was a bit jarring, she could still feel his presence—or what she assumed was his presence—he felt like he was real, or real enough in the moment before his fingers managed to poke through her hand.
“Whoops,” Amos laughed, retreating his hand back to his side. “Sorry about that, I’ve never tried—”
“It’s fine,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head. She quickly rubbed her eyes, feeling the stiffness in her eyelids fall. Talking with Amos had indeed calmed her down, as she had grown finally tired enough for sleep. “I’ll see you around?”
“Next week,” Amos nodded, watching (Y/N) turn towards the empty corridor.
“See you then, Amos,” (Y/N) said, waving lightly before entering into the darkness, prepared to return to her dorm, ready to face her roommates—a part of her hoping they had also gone to sleep.
__
(Y/N) found solace in her new friend. True to her word, Amos and (Y/N) met once a week in the corridor, late into the evening. They had met like that for a few months now and (Y/N) was finding herself wanting to chat with Amos more and more. So, they compromised to meet as needed, with (Y/N) coming to their corridor at the time she needed and Amos would be there to listen. It was nice, to have a friend that would listen and actually care for their wellbeing.
Of course, being friends with a ghost had its challenges. For one, (Y/N) kept Amos a secret, per his wishes, so it was always odd to mention something her ‘friend’ had said in passing. Many would press to know who that ‘friend’ was, but thought nothing of it, as (Y/N) liked to keep to herself anyway. She also found it difficult when she would accidentally offer Amos a snack, mostly out of habit. It was the little things, she knew, that they took for granted in this unorthodox situation.
When the Easter break had passed and school was coming back into session, (Y/N) was quick to realize her growing sour mood over the break was from the lack of time she had with Amos. It was only a little over a week, but (Y/N) understood that her dear friend was someone she could confide in almost anything with, something she sought so desperately to find. It was that night, a night in the middle of June, weeks now caught back up, that she finally felt back to normal.
“Amos?” (Y/N) asked, her back pressed against the floor. She had been laying just right—good enough to see the stars through the window—Amos floating in the air above her.
“Yeah?” Amos answered, only letting a beat pass between them, almost a hesitation.
“I never told you—never shared why I was here all those months ago, did I?” (Y/N) said, pushing herself upward, weight on her hands. Amos shook his head, the silver mop of hair falling into his eyes, a sight that (Y/N) felt enchanted by.
“You mentioned it was something to do with your roommates. I didn’t press you about it then—I don’t want to press you about it now, if you don’t want to talk about it,” Amos said decidedly.
“I want to talk about it,” (Y/N) said, fully sitting up, “on my own accord, for me. I guess? I don’t know. It feels odd to have kept that from you, when I’ve been so open and honest about everything else.”
“Oh…” Amos said, glancing down. “Right.”
“It’s nothing big!” (Y/N) said hurriedly, almost afraid she had struck a nerve with her silver friend. “Actually it’s pretty sad when you take a look back at it, I would say I was overreacting, just a bit…” (Y/N) twiddled her thumbs, “Honestly, the reason I was running through the halls that night is because my roommates were making jokes about me—”
“To your face?” Amos said, cutting (Y/N) off. “That’s nothing to scoff at, (Y/N)!”
“No!” (Y/N) laughed, waving her hands. “I overheard it before coming into our room. Not to my face—”
“Still, they were making jokes?” Amos looked worried, his eyebrows nearly touching. “Again, that’s not nothing, (Y/N)—”
“Okay, so it’s not nothing,” (Y/N) agreed, feeling her smile fade. “But, I’m not hurt by it anymore. My roommates and I have had the chance to talk it out—thanks to you, you know.”
“To me?” Amos asked, his face relaxing.
“Yeah,” (Y/N) nodded, her smile growing again. “Chatting with you made me realize that I don’t and shouldn’t care about what other people say about me,” she turned to Amos, “especially if I don’t really fancy their opinion of me anyway.”
“I don’t reckon I ever said anything along those lines…” Amos said.
“You didn’t,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head. “But, after hanging with you so often, it made me realize that there’s only a few people who I really care for,” her eyes flicked to the ground, “at least, a few people who’s opinions of me that I’d actually care for…”
“I guess that makes sense,” Amos said, floating nearly in circles around (Y/N), his hand plastered to his chin in thought. “Though, may I ask…?” He trailed for a moment, floating in one spot, (Y/N)’s gaze lifting directly upward, their eyes meeting. “Who’s opinions would you actually care for?”
“Oh—uhm—that’s…” (Y/N) knew her face was at the very least two shades darker than before, a feat she grew used to feeling. A soft sigh escaped her lips. “I mean, I suppose… it would be you, Amos—maybe my mum or dad—but I meant you, when I said that.”
“Oh…” Amos said, floating down to the ground, disappearing nearly into the floor beneath (Y/N)’s feet.
“Goodness, it feels like a weight has just been lifted off my chest!” (Y/N) nearly sang, closing her eyes lightly. She flicked them open to glance back up at her silver friend.“ I’m glad that we don’t have any more secrets—uh, Amos?” (Y/N) said, noticing and kneeling down to the head on the floor, his face tuned away from her. “Are you alright?”
“Perfectly fine,” Amos said, not turning around, his voice almost muffled.
“Amos?” (Y/N) said, gently tiptoeing around his head, hoping to make eye contact. He continued to turn. “Amos…” (Y/N) said, a bit more pointedly this time. “Stop spinning!”
He stopped.
“Amos, what’s gotten into you?” (Y/N) asked, watching her friend rise from the floor.
“Nothing,” Amos lied, crossing his arms. “Look, you don’t want to be late for your assembly, right?”
“But that’s not for another hour at least—”
“Still, you should probably meet with your Head of House and get ready… black robes and whatnot…” Amos said, his voice dropping low.
“It’s the same assembly every year, Amos,” (Y/N) said, trying to reach out to him, her hand passing through his arm effortlessly. “Always on the 24th of June—surely you’ve gone, right? Almost all the House ghosts are there…”
“The 24th of June isn’t a day I like to remember,” Amos mumbled, floating down the hall, further away from (Y/N).
“What?” (Y/N) said, skipping after the floating boy. “Amos?”
“Look,” Amos turned around quickly, his face hardened. “Just go get ready for your assembly—don’t expect me to be here when you get back—”
“Amos? What on earth are you going on about?!” (Y/N) nearly screamed, her voice trailing through the empty corridor. Their corridor. “Not be here when I get back?”
“Look, (Y/N),” Amos said plainly, “I haven’t… been exactly truthful to you either…” Amos turned back around. “After today—the assembly—you’ll… understand…”
“What do you mean? You’re still not making any sense—just, tell me what you need to, I don’t mind that you kept—”
“It’s not exactly something as easy as bluffing about why you cried,” Amos said, his voice low. “I just think it’s best to stop this—us meeting—you won’t be able to look at me the same way after the assembly.”
“Amos—”
“It’s… for the best,” he said, floating down the hallway, a sadness laced through his voice. He left (Y/N) standing alone, disappearing through the nearest wall, never to see her again.
(Y/N) felt inclined to think so too.
__
Diggory Day—the title coined by the father of the fallen—was to remember the life of Cedric Diggory, Hogwarts Champion and role model to many. The assembly was a tradition instilled the same year as Remembrance Day—the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts—a feat accomplished by one Harry Potter, inclined to not only remember those fallen on the second of May, 1998, but also a dear friend on the day he had fallen too.
Normally, (Y/N) found the assembly dull, Cedric Diggory had passed more than 10 years ago, the Battle of Hogwarts nearly as long. It was the same schtick every year, a foreword by the Headmistress—usually about how inspiring Diggory had been—a testament to the school. As long as (Y/N) had attended Hogwarts, his father had attended too, to share memories of his son, to engulf the minds of the young students and inspire them to do greater. It was the norm for most students to take the afternoon hour to catch a kip or completely zone out. If (Y/N) was honest with herself, she found it easier and easier to catch a kip as each year passed. This afternoon, however, she was determined to stay awake—to understand why Amos felt the need to cut her out of his life—by any means necessary.
Black school robes were required, no different than Remembrance Day, the entire Great Hall was flooded with darkness. Gold banners adorned the walls—a nod to the fallen’s House. (Y/N) found her seat next to her roommates, the look of boredom already sunken into their features. The Headmistress took to the podium, silencing any idle chatter that lingered throughout the hall. Her speech was no different than years prior, same deal. However, the saddened man—no older than 50—tucked away to the side, his face pale. He looked no different than (Y/N) remembered him, the pain in his eyes was hard to forget.
“…now, I believe Mr. Diggory has a few words,” Headmistress McGonagall finished, gesturing her hand over to the man in the corner. “Amos, if you would.”
Amos?
“Thank you Minerva,” the man—Amos, presumably—said, pushing himself up from his seat. His steps to the podium were slow in pace, almost as if his sadness had weighed him down. “Thank you, students of Hogwarts, for allowing me to speak yet again.”
“Amos…” (Y/N) mumbled under her breath, repeating the speaker’s name once again. “But…”
As if like lightening had struck, the pieces of the puzzle all clicked into place. (Y/N)’s friend, the one she had grown to care deeply for—perhaps even love—wasn’t just any student at all, but the son of the speaker before her.
Cedric Diggory.
The room almost felt still, the noise around her blanking out, her focus entirely on her racing mind. All the mumbling about today, how he’d rather forget it all, the reasons Cedric had to lie to her about who he was—nothing was comforting to ease her thoughts. He had chosen to go by his father’s name, that couldn’t be a coincidence, right? Actively using a name that meant something so dear to him, something entirely other than his own—means something in the grand scheme of their interactions. Had everything else been a lie? No, that was something (Y/N) was sure of. Amos—Cedric—was not one to lie to her, at least, beside the obvious.
“…my son was a courageous young man, bright beyond his years,” Mr. Diggory said, holding a sniffle back. “He was my pride and joy, a testament to what a student, no, a son, should be. Honest, caring and loyal, the traits of his House flowed through him. Hufflepuff was a fine fit for my boy…”
The rest of the assembly finished as it always had, with a hymn sung by the Hogwarts Frog choir—apparently a favorite of Cedric’s. The students rose from their seats, eager to enjoy the rest of their day off from studies and classes. Should she approach Amos—the real Amos? Ask him about his son? Before she made up her mind, her hand was pulling at the back of the older man’s robes.
“Oh,” Mr. Diggory turned around, his brows nearly touching his receding hairline. “Hello…”
“Mr. Diggory,” (Y/N) said, releasing her grip, her hands twisting between themselves. “You don’t know me, but I’m (Y/N) (L/N) and—”
“Miss. (L/N), would you please follow your fellow students back to your common room? Mr. Diggory has a prior engagement,” Headmistress McGonagall said, her eyes stern.
“Oh, Minerva, I’m sure she’ll only be a moment,” Mr. Diggory said, waving her away dismissively. The Headmistress paused for a moment, mulling over her options, but proceeded to engage in a conversation with the Herbology Professor, Professor Longbottom, instead.
“Mr. Diggory, I’ve heard you speak for a couple of years now,” (Y/N) restarted, feeling slightly more sure of herself. “But this year, your words really resonated with me—”
“I’m glad an old man like myself could enlighten a bright mind like yours, Miss. (L/N),” Mr. Diggory smiled, a warmth softening his features. “May I ask why this year resonated with you versus the years prior?”
“I have this… new friend, you see,” (Y/N) said, planning to be vague. “I didn’t understand him as deeply as I thought, but when you talked so truthfully and lovingly about your son, Cedric, I just… it made sense, I guess. He’s an… awful lot like him,” (Y/N) said honestly.
“Well, he sounds like a fine young man,” Mr. Diggory said, his smile not fading.
“He had recently lied to me, about something big…” (Y/N) took a deep breath, unsure of her next words. “I’m having a hard time understanding why he did what he did…”
“Oh,” Mr. Diggory said quietly. “Well, I’m sure he had his reasons, most people do.”
“Even if they’re honest about everything else?”
“In my experience, those who are honest at heart tend to protect those whom they love, or what they love, even if it means lying,” Mr. Diggory said thoughtfully, his hand resting on his coat pocket.
“I see,” (Y/N) said, her eyes downcast.
“But,” Mr. Diggory continued, his gaze locked on the young student before him. She glanced back up. “I’m sure with an open heart and mind, you can find it in yourself to forgive him for his choices,” he smiled yet again, “maybe he’ll find it in himself to forgive himself too.”
“I’m not so sure,” (Y/N) said, her hand gripping the sleeve of her robes tightly. “He was very clear about… not talking to me again.”
“He just may be misguided,” Mr. Diggory said plainly, his hand grasping around a gold pocket watch. “Ah, I’m so sorry, but I have to cut our conversation short, but that prior engagement is coming up shortly,” he smiled again, “I do hope your friend comes around, Miss.(L/N), you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders.”
“Thank you, Mr. Diggory,” (Y/N) said, feeling herself bow forward a bit. “I appreciate it.” With another sad smile, Mr. Diggory exited the Great Hall, (Y/N) taking another second to regain herself.
__
She sat in the corridor for what seemed like hours, watching the sun set beyond the horizon. Her robe was long but forgotten against the floor beside her feet, seated tightly against the wall.
“Cedric…” (Y/N) mumbled into her knees, gripping herself against her chest tightly.
As if on command, what seemed to be a silver wisp blew past her eyes, quickly and almost uncertainly. She glanced up, her eyes meeting with the silvery ones of her dear friend.
“So…” Cedric said, hovering above (Y/N). “You know…”
“Cedric, look—”
“I don’t need your pity,” Cedric said, turning around. “I lied to you, about who I was…” he settled onto the ground, mimicking (Y/N)’s posture and seating. “It’s… horrific.”
“No!” (Y/N) said far too quickly, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “I-I mean, no, Cedric,” she took a breath, “look, you lied—yeah that’s a fact—but you only really lied about your name.”
“So?”
“So,” (Y/N) repeated, “you’re still you, Cedric, name change be damned. You’re not suddenly a murderer or deranged psychopath, right?”
Cedric smiled lightly. “No, I suppose not.”
“You had your reasons,” (Y/N) said simply, “reasons that maybe I’ll never understand, but you did it to protect yourself, right?” Cedric nodded. “I mean, it’s been over 10 years since you’ve… left. I bet you haven’t exactly had a friend in all those years…”
“What gave that away? My knack for social skills?” Cedric smiled, crossing his arms.
“Perhaps,” (Y/N) grinned lightly, feeling a bit lighter at Cedric’s joking tone. “But you know what I mean. I forgive you, Cedric, I do.”
Cedric looked to stop floating, his feet nearly touching the ground. Besides the silver hue of his entire body, he looked nearly alive, nearly and entirely human. His face twisted in confusion for just a moment, before relaxing entirely. A sliver of silver ran down his cheek—a single tear.
“I shouldn’t be forgiven—not by you, not by anyone,” Cedric said, bringing his jumper sleeve up to his cheek, wiping the tear away. “You have a bigger heart than I do—”
“By anyone? Cedric, of course you deserve to be forgiven!” (Y/N) said, reaching forward, balancing her hands above his shoulders—it wasn’t the same, but it was something. “Everyone makes mistakes—”
“It wasn’t a mistake!” Cedric screamed, flying backwards, his face distorted. “I died, (Y/N)!” He pulled his arms to his chest, heaving forward—almost in pain. “I died, (Y/N)…” Cedric repeated, his voice a whisper, “I died and I didn’t even get to say goodbye…”
“Say goodbye…?” (Y/N) let her hands to fall at her sides, trying to make sense of her friend’s words. “You don’t mean—”
“My father was there, when Harry brought back my body,” Cedric said softly, “I saw the whole thing. The anguish, the sadness in his eyes…” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t understand, I knew I died, I saw the green blast—how could I see and hear the sadness in my father?” Cedric asked, almost to himself. “I looked down and saw myself floating high above the crowd—a ghost.”
“You didn’t…choose to be a ghost?”
“Not on purpose,” Cedric shook his head, “I guess my ‘unfinished business’ was greater than the great beyond—so to speak.”
“Saying goodbye to your father?” (Y/N) asked, nearly a second later she realized it was a stupid observation.
“Year after year I sat in this castle,” Cedric floated to the window, gazing at the setting sun. “Watching my father come and speak to students—the pain still fresh in his words—I can’t bring myself to face him. I couldn’t even bring myself to show my face to anyone…”
“Until me…?”
“Until you.”
“Why me?” (Y/N) asked plainly, her voice almost broken.
“When I saw you that night, the pain in your face—the anguish—I couldn’t just sit idly by and let you deal with that. Not when you were still alive,” Cedric shook his head, “alive and far too pure to be dealing with that pain.”
“So, if I were a ghost, it’d be okay to deal with it?” (Y/N) felt her tone grow more accusatory, her arms crossing. “Pain is pain, Cedric—alive or not—you feel it regardless—”
“Regardless, sure,” Cedric said, waving his hand, “but I deserve the pain—”
“No one deserves that pain!” (Y/N) finally shouted. “You died—a horrific and terrible fate—but just because you feel like you deserve it, doesn’t make it so!” Her face felt flushed, the anger rising within her, tears pricking her eyes. “You’re kind, caring and loyal—”
“I was—”
“Hate to break it to you, Cedric, but I didn’t know you when you were alive, yeah?” (Y/N) spat. “I only know you now, and that’s what you still are,especially to me…” she glanced down at her feet, “my greatest friend…”
“Great friend I am…” Cedric mumbled, tapping his foot. “I abandoned you—”
“I love you!” (Y/N) exclaimed, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I love you, Cedric, and you left me because you thought it was right,” she wiped the tear away. “Your father loves you, Cedric, so deeply. But you just sit up here like—like a coward!” Cedric’s face was almost like stone, unchanging and unmoving. “You have this chance to make it right—say goodbye to your father—but you don’t. You’re hurting yourself more than the people who love you.”
“He could never forgive me—”
“I forgave you,” (Y/N) shrugged, “and your father loves you more than anyone in this world or otherwise—of course he’ll forgive you Cedric.”
“It’s foolish, you know?” Cedric said. “To love a ghost?”
“I don’t care,” (Y/N) shook her head. “Romantic—platonic—whatever. I care about you, Cedric, so deeply,” once more, she reached out to touch his shoulder. “I’ll help you get to that place, to get to the right place to see your father—wether that be next year or the next—I’ll do it, Cedric.”
“You…” Cedric said, his chest heaving in silent sobs. He allowed his head to fall forward. “Thank you, (Y/N),” a silver hand reached up to cover (Y/N)’s, “thank you…”
The touch felt cool—like that familiar winter’s night. The sensation only a reminder of the worlds between the two, a constant in their relationship and partnership. Alive or gone, they were together and ready to take on the world. One day, Cedric would find it in himself to approach his father, but today? Today he confided in the comfort of a friend, and maybe that was enough.
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