The Legacy of Emily Potter

16.

"Hold on, loser!" I shrieked trying to make my way over the snow-covered courtyard. A strong wind blew a whole army of snowflakes into my face that made my eyes tear up and I had to grab my gold and read scarf to stop it from flying away. "Cedric Diggory, god forsaken!"

Slowly but surely I started getting annoyed. This was probably the tenth time that I had called him. I tripped over a bit of snow and that was when a devious idea hit me. A grin slowly started tugging at the corners of my lips and I felt the strange urge to pat my own shoulder proudly. I stopped running after Cedric, instead I grabbed a small pile of snow and formed a perfect snowball out of it.

The squeak Cedric made when it hit him was priceless. It was a mixture of an owl that was being strangled and a very furious pig. All of sudden a picture of a feathered Cedric with piggy nose struck me and made me shake even harder with laughter. "I'm so getting back at you for this!" He yelled from the other end of the yard. "I don't doubt that!" I yelled back. "That means, of course, if you are fast enough!"

About half an hour later we sneaked through the corridors giggling and desperately hoping that Filch was currently too busy giving Mrs Norris a pedicure or whatever he did on Sunday afternoons to notice that we created big lakes of water on the carpets.

Without talking about it we both automatically chose the way to our secret spot. We had discovered it on one of our morning strolls through the castle when I had jokingly pushed Cedric against a wall and it had given in. Since then every time that he mocked me I said that I might want to push him against a wall; never know what we could find.

It was not really a room, more of a niche with a small couch and an even smaller rack with magazines about quidditch and gag toys that Fred and George surely would have liked and even some ordinary muggle ones. There was also on old broom leaning in a corner that was nearly falling apart. Cedric once had said that only the tequila missed for it to be a real bachelor pad. Sometimes there were brief moments when I wonndered when and by whom this place had been furnished but normally Cedric would distract me with some stupid joke of his. We had invented a sort of game, it was simple and unnecessary but we usually ended up on the floor because the sofa was too small to endure our laughing fits.

One of us picked a random page in one of the magazines and the other had to choose one item from it which he or she had to "sell" to the other with typical sales assistant sayings like, "The effet of this bra is incredible! I own three of them and my grandfather loves them too!" Jusy to clear it up, Cedric had said this, not me.

I let myself fall onto the small sofa and he had to push my legs off it to sit down too. I made a face and lifted my legs again this time placing them on him. "Ew, Em," he squinched at my wet boots, so with a groan I kicked them away. Then we both relaxed and sighed synchronously.

He shook his head to get the snow out of his hair failing miserably. "Don't worry about it," I said, "your fans love you, even when your hair is messed up." He playfully wagged a finger at me. "If they don't, I will tell them that it's your fault." Dramatically I clasped my hands. "I'm shaking with fear," I replied.

Then I sat up a bit straighter. "Technically–," I started but he cut me off. "Em, no offense but every single one of your sentences that starts like this ends up being trash," he stated. Untouched I continued, "Technically, you should be thanking me. Snow is just a form of water, water is important to survive because you have to stay hydrated, so technically I just–" "wanted my best," he finished my sentence as he always did. "I'll be indebted to you for the rest of my life."

We grinned. "You did great with the dragon, Ceddy," I said more seriously than I had ever been in this room. I grabbed one of his hands. "I really mean it." He smiled and squeezed my fingers. "I know," he replied. Then he shuddered. "Please, promise me never to call me that in public." I laughed. "We'll live, we'll see," I warbled.

Not wanting to think about what was coming next in the Tournament I quickly changed the subject. "What if this place belonged to McGonagall?" I asked half-jokingly because why not? "That would explain the missing tequila," he retorted dryly. "Oh, of course, it would, mystery solved!" I exclaimed. "Dearest McGonagall wouldn't leave a good liqueur untouched!"