The Best Year (A Cedric Diggory Fanfic) {HIATUS}

Chapter Eleven: Frosted Mistletoe

The Best Year

 

Disclaimer: I do NOT own anything you recognise. Quoting bits and pieces from the movie and book, so anything in italics has been quoted, if it isn't italicised for a grammatical reason of sort.

 

Happy Reading!

 

Chapter 11: Frosted Mistletoe

Saturday, December 5th

 

My head was absolutely pounding. Why did I have to ingest so much Fire Whisky? Last night, was Angelina's Winter themed seventeenth, and with the boy troubles I had prancing around on my plate, drinking seemed to be a good idea. Apart from the many drinks throughout the night, the party itself was absolutely spectacular. Everything was finished off to perfection; from the charmed everlasting icicles hanging off the ceiling, to the perfectly crafted baby blue cupcakes.

I tilted my head; an arrow of pain ran down my neck. I was definitely regretting my stupid mistake, making a mental note to myself, to whip down the Hospital Wing, to get something for my thumping head. Today was the day I could finally play against Cedric; the fourth game of the season, Hufflepuff against Gryffindor. I wasn't about to show Mr. Pretty Boy any mercy, regardless of my head.

Deciding against a shower, I noticed I was running late. I had to be on the pitch in half an hour, for kick off, and I barely was awake. I swiftly jumped out of bed and pulled out my Quidditch robes. Breakfast would have to wait until after the match, not like it was the first time I was missing out on it. I blindly tied up my hair; it was thick and knotty from the previous night. Barely glancing at the mirror, I had my broom in hand, and was ready to fly.

Like myself, my poor Firebolt suffered a few injuries from the first Triwizard task; no amount of polish could mend the quite obvious scratches, and the twigs weren't as neatly placed as they once were. Even if I could afford another one, this Firebolt had gone through so much; I didn't want to replace it.

I jogged up the flight of stairs, leading to the Hospital Tower, in knowledge of time escaping. The corridors were fairly quiet, I presumed that most students had already head of to the pitch.

"Madam Pomfrey," I called, only to hear my own voice return back to me.

Even the Hospital Wing was still, and that was unusual. Although exciting and rewarding, practicing magic did have its mishaps. After the first task, my respect for Madam Pomfrey skyrocketed; I never knew she was so skilled with healing magic.

"Ah Alex," said Madam Pomfrey, appearing from behind a pair of bed curtains. "What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering if you have anything to cure a headache," I asked, resting my broom against a bed.

"Well of course," she said, "I'll be right back, make yourself comfortable."

"Alex, is that you?" Asked a familiar voice.

"Adam, hey!" I said, enveloping his large frame. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"