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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The capacity to love and hurt at the same time is what makes us human.
But the capacity to love, and not be loved in return is what makes us hurt.
"For as long as my hatred is going to last. Which will be forever."
Once those words had left Amira's lips, I could feel my heart shatter in that very moment. But after all I have done, who can blame her for the hatred she feels towards me?
However, a small part of me hoped that she was lying, but nevertheless I will wait for the earth to spin one thousand more times if it means I can be with her.
When I arrived at the entrance hall, I found myself unable to proceed owing to the large crowd of students congregated there, all milling around a large sign that had been erected at the foot of the marble staircase.
"Hey Cedric!" Ernie Macmillan waved me over and I shoved my way through the crowds of students and joined his side.
TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT
THE DELEGATIONS FROM BEAUXBATONS
AND DURMSTRANG WILL BE ARRIVING AT 6 O'CLOCK
ON FRIDAY THE 30TH OF OCTOBER. LESSONS WILL
END HALF AN HOUR EARLY
STUDENTS WILL RETURN THEIR BAGS AND BOOKS
TO THEIR DORMITORIES AND ASSEMBLE IN FRONT
OF THE CASTLE TO GREET OUR GUESTS BEFORE
THE WELCOMING FEAST.
"Only a week away!" Ernie exclaimed to me, his eyes gleaming with joy. "I bet you can't wait to enter." He added.
"Let's hope I get chosen," I grinned back at him.
The appearance of the sign in the entrance hall had a marked effect upon the inhabitants of the castle. During the following week, there seemed to be only one topic of conversation, no matter where I went: Triwizard Tournament. Rumours were flying from student to student like highly contagious germs: who was going to try for Hogwarts champion, what the tournament would involve, how the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang differed from themselves.
I noticed too that the castle seemed to be undergoing an extra-thorough cleaning. Several grimy portraits had been scrubbed, much to the displeasure of their subjects, who sat huddled in their frames muttering darkly and wincing as they felt their raw pink faces. The suits of Armor were suddenly gleaming and moving without squeaking, and Argus Filch, the caretaker, was behaving so ferociously to any students who forgot to wipe their shoes that he terrified a pair of first-year girls into hysterics.
During potions, Amira and I would just sit in an unbearable silence throughout the entire lesson. But I need to give her time and not push her any further than I have already done.
