♡ 12 | Hurt

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Of all the foul rubbish Rita Skeeter scribbled about you last year, she got one thing right: You're a princess. First at Beauxbatons, now at Hogwarts. More specifically, at:

"Dumbledore's Army," you interject, cutting off Cho.

"What?" Hermione's eyebrows shoot up in interest as all the members of your organization gather in the Room of Requirement, sitting on cushions, currently brainstorming a name for your group. Cho, as expected, was the first to suggest the Defense Association with DA for short.

"The D.A.'s good," you suggest. "But let's make it stand for Dumbledore's Army because that's the Ministry's worst fear, isn't it?"

There's a chorus of appreciative murmurs and laughter at this suggestion.

"All in favor of the D.A.?" Hermione says, kneeling up on her cushion to count. "That's a majority — motion passed!"

She pins the paper with all the names on it to the wall and writes DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY across the top in large letters.

"Right," Harry speaks up, his gaze angry as he looks at you, while Cedric glances at you worriedly, "shall we get practicing then? I was thinking, the first thing we should do is Expelliarmus, you know, the Disarming Charm. I know it's pretty basic but I've found it really useful —"

"Oh, please," Zacharias Smith rolls his eyes, folding his arms. "I don't think Expelliarmus is exactly going to help us against You-Know-Who, do you?"

"I've used it against him," Harry states quietly. "It saved my life last June."

Smith gapes stupidly. The rest of the room falls into a tense silence.

"But if you think it's beneath you, you can leave," Cedric asserts cooly, which is surprising considering how nice he is to everyone. At that moment, Karen Diggory's words echo in your mind. The reason she fell in love with Amos Diggory is because he loves his family more than anything and Cedric would do anything for his and his friends. Maybe that's why you love him.

Smith does not move. Nor does anyone else. "Okay," Harry says, his mouth slightly drier than usual with all those eyes upon him, yet his gaze solely on you. "I reckon we should all divide into pairs and practice."

As Harry's words hang heavy in the air, you all rise to your feet, each member scrambling to find a partner for practice. Cedric's gentle grip on your arm pulls you aside, his whispered inquiry tingling against your ear.

"Is something the matter?"

Your forced smile falters, replaced by a hint of vulnerability. "What ever do you mean?" you reply, attempting to mask your inner turmoil.

"You're upset about something," Cedric persists, his warm breath caressing your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "And you were arguing with Harry earlier."

"We just..." you start, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. "Had a small argument."

"It didn't look small," Cedric observes, his concern evident in his gaze. "And now, you're taking it out on Cho in some roundabout revenge on Harry." He presses closer, his hands finding your shoulders as your eyes lock. "What's going on, Y/N?"

You meet Cedric's gaze, feeling a rush of emotions swirling within you. "It's just... Harry," you begin, hesitating as you struggle to put your feelings into words. "He's been... difficult lately. And I'm tired of feeling like I have to defend myself and my choices."

Cedric's concern is evident in the furrow of his brow, his grip on your shoulders tightening ever so slightly. "You don't have to justify yourself to anyone," he reassures you, his voice soft yet firm. "Not to Harry. Not to Hermione. Not to Ron. Not to anyone."

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