sanctuary || cedric diggory - sequel to lies

protective paper and law degrees

The TriWizard Tournament was the moment of glory for the house of Helga Hufflepuff. Gryffindors and Slytherins were always complimented for their guile and bravery, while Ravenclaws were deemed wise and intelligent. Although, Hufflepuff was never scoffed on, no, Hufflepuff was the kind one. They welcomed anyone and always had a smile for every member, no matter what happened. Yet with this kindness, they were always labeled as weak, the sibling that needed to be protected. The TriWizard Tournament was supposed to refute that. The weight of that responsibility had been on his shoulders since the day Albus Dumbledore called from the center of the Great Hall. It seemed larger than he remembered, he thought, twisting in his seat, looking for the solace of those azure eyes.

Camellia…

Yes, he remembered Camellia. Camellia with the caramel brown hair and sky blue eyes, Camellia with the bright smile and the apple-scented shampoo, Camellia with her tears and broken heart; yes, he remembered Camellia. It was the same Camellia that had kissed him before he was gasping for oxygen on the cold soil of the graveyard. The stench of death clung to the air, and Death himself stood with its pale face and rags, his terrifying features and depthless eyes, yes, he remembered Death. And he remembered the pain that coiled through his flesh, boiling his blood to its peak as his body twisted, the agony endless and unbearable. He wondered why he didn’t just redo his curse, why he preferred to see the boy’s body give in. Then again, it was Death; he didn’t care, so long as his pale, bony fingers gripped his throat at the end, dragging him away.

Dragging him away from that kiss that tasted equally to fresh apples and vanilla, the heady scent that drove him ecstatic as he halted in solitude, remembering what it was like. It was dragging him away from those calming azure eyes and sheepish grin, away from the welcoming laughter and her warm embrace, far, far away from his Camellia. He screamed his throat dry at the next strike of pain, feeling every bone burn in his body, twisting and coiling with every inch of his flesh, nearly driving him mad, had it not been for Camellia. Yes, he remembered, had it not been for Camellia.

He jolted up from the tangle of sheets with a gasp, grey eyes wild and urgent as he took in his surroundings. The dark dreary graveyard faded back in his mind where it constantly haunted him and in its place was the warm bedroom of white and accents of blue. Cedric Diggory crashed back down on his bed, ignoring the slithering snakes of sweat and turned his gaze towards the plastic stars Camellia had fixed there last year. Counting them helped him tranquilize his breath; his racing heart slowly, painfully slow, relieved itself from its distress. It took him exactly thirteen minutes and three hundred and nine stars to calm down, while it took him eleven minutes and two hundred and seventy-four stars yesterday. Cedric raised a shaking hand to push his damp curls away from his eyes, grimacing at the sickening sweat on his back and in his hair.

From how deep his nightmare had taken him, it appeared that Amos and Aurelia Diggory had left the premise before he sunk deep into recollecting the event. During moments like these, he wondered how Harry Potter was handling the situation, was it as awful as his or was it worst. Pushing himself to sit on his bed, Cedric then turned towards the grey box on his bedside table, chuckling softly at Camellia’s gentle calligraphy on the note and plucked a cigarette out. A hard habit he had obtained during the trauma and an awful routine his girlfriend had tried to pull him out of. As much as they wanted to, cigarettes kept him sane when Camellia wasn’t there to hold him. Her fingers filled the gaps which the cigarettes had called home, pulling him to her until he slept. With a soft sigh, Cedric puffed the final breath of the cigar into the small room, reminding himself to open his window before he could retreat to the large estate in Dorset,

Flinging the tip towards the closest bin, Cedric picked at the protective paper in the packet, chuckling to himself at the obvious chaos Camellia had inflicted returning it back. Pulling the remaining sticks inside the box, the male smirked at the neat cursive of ink, rereading it several more times until the words burnt into his memory.