Head Boy // Cedric Diggory

8. The Maid of Honor and The Best Man

Phoebe stood at the entrance to the Great Hall watching the students of Hogwarts file down the bridge towards the carriages. It was more of a draining goodbye to her friends than ever before, the unspoken tension of Voldemort hanging over their heads. Harry hadn't much to say, understanding why Phoebe wouldn't be joining them, Lena and Hermione acting the same knowing they'd only return to their parents a short time before seeking refuge with the Order at 12 Grimmauld Place.

The castle was eerily silent as her footsteps echoed through the halls, the grinding of the stone staircases more deafening than ever.

"Staying behind, are we?" the Fat Lady questioned as Phoebe approached the portrait.

"Do you always have something to say?" Phoebe retorted, feeling a bit insulted at the woman's tone.

"Just trying to make conversation," the portrait defend, swinging open without another word.

Phoebe occupied her day with one of Lena's romance novels that she hid in her wardrobe as her guilty pleasure, feet kicked up on Flitwick's desk, whose office had the best view of the castle she'd found yet. She found the book a welcome distraction, following the story of a muggle wedding where the best man and maid of honor fall in love despite hating one another when they first meet. It was embarrassingly fascinating, something she would never admit to anyone else.

Phoebe's stomach growled and she looked to the plate of pastries she had nicked from the kitchens earlier to find it empty and decided it was best she head to the Great Hall for dinner. She tucked the book into her pocket and kicked her feet off the desk, her back stiff from the position she had unintentionally been locked in for hours, and headed down the hall to the stairs.

There wasn't a soul in the Great Hall aside from the house elf that waddled in to place Phoebe's dinner before her. As she began to shovel a pile of mashed potatoes in her mouth, she heard footsteps echoing into the hall and whipped around to see Cedric Diggory taking a seat at the Hufflepuff table down the hall, another house elf placing a plate of food in front of him.

Phoebe felt instant and implacable rage, throwing her fork down, and storming over to to him, shoving her wand to his throat before he had a moment to notice her presence.

"You must be mental sitting down to eat dinner in the same room as me right now," Phoebe hissed. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

Cedric dropped his fork with a clatter and threw both of his hands up, "Nice to see you too, Phoebe."

"Don't you speak to me," she could feel her blood physically boiling, nobody ever angering her in this manner before.

"Would you like me to answer your question still? Or can I not speak?" he smiled hesitantly.

"Well, yes," she went back on herself and cursed herself for speaking without thinking. Again. "Answer me."

"Umbridge forbade me from leaving. Something about being Head Boy and keeping an eye on things, I can't really bear to listen to her," he said fairly comfortably, as if he knew she wouldn't act despite the tip of her wand digging into the skin of his throat.

"You seemed to care when you told her about the bonfire last month," Phoebe refuted, pushing her wand deeper into his throat. He didn't back away.

"I didn't tell Umbridge anything about the bonfire, Phoebe."

"Funny."

"I'm not joking," he insisted, and she could hear the earnesty in his voice pulling her wand from his throat just slightly. "The day before that, Umbridge brought me into her office. She knew about Dumbledore's Army but didn't know where or how we were meeting, so she tasked me with finding out. She threatened my role as Head Boy and even as a student at Hogwarts, going on about how it was my duty. I had to join her Inquisitorial Squad-"