Now Available on A03: ella_3
‼️‼️TW: this fanfic will be quite dark at times, it's going to have mentions of abuse, depression and suicide‼️‼️
"Have you always been so insolent?" he queried
"Have you always been such an arrogant prat?" I retorted
...
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It's been two months since I'd last seen Malfoy.
Two months since I had watched her walk away from me; whilst trying to fight the strong urge of running after her and holding her in my arms and tell her how much I truly love her.
Each day I've woken up with the thought of her burning through my mind like a slideshow. I couldn't help but think about her lingering touch or her contagious soft smile.
I used to tell myself I hated you. How is it that my hatred bled into love?
I let fire catch my tongue and told myself I'd rather die than be hers. Now I find myself drowned into her entire essence and I want nothing more than to just see her ethereal face.
We hated each other, yet deep down we knew we could never love anybody else.
I'd give anything right now to just know that she is okay; to know that she is safe, and her pathetic excuse of a father hasn't hurt her. The thought of her being hurt by him, makes my blood truly boil.
"Come on Cedric, we'll be late otherwise." My father spoke as he pulled on his backpack.
I quickly laced up my trainers and pulled on a thin jacket. My mother showed me a small smile and quickly enveloped me in a warm hug. "Have fun at the match." She spoke.
"We will," I smiled back at her then followed my father out of the house.
"This way, we need to get to the portkey where we will be meeting Arthur Weasley and his family." My father explained as he led the way.
"Do you think the Malfoy's are attending the match?" I questioned.
My father turned and looked at me with a bewildered expression, "Why are you concerned about the Malfoy's son?"
I shrugged, "No reason."
"I heard that Lucius Malfoy was invited to sit in the minister's box, by Fudge himself." He explained to me, and my heart seemed to skip a beat.
Deep down, I was secretly praying that Malfoy would be attending the match.
We trudged down the dark, dank lane toward the village, the silence broken only by our footsteps. The sky lightened very slowly as they made their way through the village, its inky blackness diluting to the deepest blue. My hands and feet were freezing from the morning chill.
We didn't have breath to spare for talking as my father and I began to climb Stoatshead Hill, stumbling occasionally in hidden rabbit holes, slipping on thick black tuffets of grass. Each breath I took was sharp in my chest and my legs were starting to seize up when, at last, my feet found level ground.
"Now let's look for the portkey whilst we wait for the others," My father suggested, he then began walking around, searching for the portkey.
We spread out, searching. It had only been a couple of minutes before my father waved me over to the portkey which was an old boot.
