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Axel gapes at Cress. She tries not to fidget too much under his intense gaze, but so far she's had no luck. When Axel stares at someone with those piercing sapphire eyes, it's hard not to fidget. She frowns, snaps, "Well—say something!"
Her best friend shakes his head as though coming out of a trance. "I wish you'd give me more time to process things, Mo. You can't just spill something like that on someone and expect them to react right away." His lips turn down. Cress can see the tiny Viktor poking out of his school robes. She rolls her eyes.
"I gave you, like, three minutes to take it all in, Ax. That's more than enough time," says Cress.
Axel scoffs. "I beg to differ. You just told me how supposedly You-Know-Who's followers were at the Quidditch Cup, and they shot his signal up in the air like they were signalling for Batman or something! It's unnerving and I deserve time to collect myself."
Cress doesn't even want to know what the hell a 'batman' is. She just sighs out and replies, "Okay, you've collected yourself. Please stop gaping now."
"Not gaping," Axel says. He throws his feet up onto the bench, laying down. Cress crosses her legs and stares at him. "But, I have a question."
"What?" she asks.
"Did Viktor get hurt?"
Dead silence.
Cress stares at Axel like he has grown two heads in the past three seconds. Her eyebrows furrow and she tries not to be too offended that her best friend is more worried about a famous Quidditch player that he doesn't even know than his own best friend. Like, really, she just spilled the beans about how she was trampled into the ground multiple times by over one hundred people (probably) and all he has to say is, Did Viktor get hurt? She takes the copy of Moby Dick that Axel let her borrow and throws it at said arsehole. It smacks him in the face.
"Ow!" He clutches his forehead as the book falls to the floor with a thump. Axel glares at her. "What the hell was that for?!"
Cress narrows her eyes. "You know what that was for, fucking twat," she says. "I could have died and you care about some Quidditch player over me? I'm trying so hard not to be offended right now."
"For the love of—" Axel rolls his eyes. He gives Cress and exasperated look. "Obviously, I'm not fucking worried about you, Mo. You're right in front of me, perfectly fine. Probably sore because your skinny arse got pounded into the ground, but still fine," he tells her. "But Viktor isn't in front of me. He is off in Bulgaria, probably injured and struggling to make it through the day. Also he's not just a Quidditch player, he's my future husband, Crescent Diggory. Husband."
Instead of responding to Axel, Cress pulls out a notebook and flips it open to the first blank page. She takes a ballpoint pen and marks a tally in it. "Oh, don't mind me. I've just decided to document each moment you call Viktor Krum your future husband, is all," she says when Axel sends her a confused glare. "Also, best friends still ask best friends if they're okay, fuckwad. You totally lose points for this."
"You are the most pettiest person I've ever met in my entire life." Axel scoffs, tiny Viktor coming out of his pocket to sit on his flat chest. Cress notes, with a hint of jealousy, that the figurine seems to enjoy Axel's presence more than her own. "I was going to ask you if you were okay, by the way." Cress sends him a look. Axel looks affronted. "What? I was! After I made sure Viktor was okay. . ."
Rolling her eyes, Cress drops the subject. She decides it's nothing to fuss over — even though Axel is still losing major best friend points for this — and that Axel, in his own, idiotic way was going to show his concern. She doesn't really feel like berating him for it, either, because she knows how he gets with his obsessions. It is like his obsession with Elvis Presley, some Muggle singer who Cress doesn't give two shits about but apparently Axel devotes his whole life to. Like, it is honestly so bad that he even named his cat, Siamese and the most loving thing you could ever meet, after the famous man.
Axel doesn't have many obsessions is the thing. For so long, he has only been obsessed with two things: astronomy and Elvis Presley. That's all. Sure, he had some likes and hobbies and all that jazz, but it was never like the infatuation he had with those two objects.
Which was why, when Axel came up to Cress one day and went on and on about how he was just in love with Viktor Krum's bushy eyebrows, she knew her friend had another thing he adored like he did astronomy. So, Cress does her best to support him in everything he loves. Because, sometimes, Axel would trail off in his rants about Elvis and stars and space, looking forlorn and insecure, and Cress never wants to see that expression on her best friend's face. Ever.
"Hey," she speaks up, glancing around the compartment, "where's Elvis?"
"Oh." Axel takes a bite out of some kind candy, giving a crumb to little Krum. "I shoved him in another compartment. He's been really moody lately, I dunno."
Cress takes a moment to feel offended for Elvis's sake. Poor cat. Doesn't deserve a terrible owner like Axel. She stands up and reaches for her bundled up uniform on the bench. Axel questioningly stares at her.
"Where are you going?" he asks.
"To find your cat and give him the love he deserves." Cress walks over to the compartment door and opens it. The hallway is empty, people holed up in their respected compartments. She pokes her head back into the room. "Where exactly is Elvis?" Axel shrugs and Cress willfully holds herself back from punching him in the throat.
"I think I put him in a compartment a little ways down. I dunno." He shrugged again, patting the tiny Viktor's head. "I don't remember, dumbarse. So, please do us both a favor and get out of my face. Your beady little eyes creep me out."
Cress officially hates her life (and Axel). She doesn't respond to him, only slams the compartment door shut with a huff, curling her arm around her uniform and heading towards the direction she think Elvis could be. As she heads down the empty hallway, she reaches a finger up to poke at her eye. They're not beady. . . are they? She pouts indignantly. What a best friend she had.
The hallway she is in is quiet and empty but Cress can hear people talking and laughing in their respected compartments. She keeps marching on and strains her ears for any noise that might lead her to Elvis and his whereabouts. She thinks she might be getting close when she hears a commotion from a few feet ahead of her.
"Oi, what the fuck is this?!" The person is shouting in distress, and Cress just knows that Elvis is with that person. "Oh my fuck—it's trying to claw out my eyes, mate!"
She walks towards the noise and almost tosses herself off of the train when she sees who it is that is dealing with the ferocious feline. Lee Jordan is in a compartment near the end of the hallway, and Elvis is on his lap, hissing and scratching at him angrily. George and Fred Weasley are sitting across from him, laughing what seems to be their arses off. She doesn't think she's ever seen either of them so red before.
"Hands off of the precious angel, Jordan!" she exclaims, walking into their compartment with no shame whatsoever and placing her uniform on the bench next to the twins. She ignores the fact that her heart might have stopped beating in favor of reaching towards Elvis, who perked up at the sound of her voice, halting his violence with Lee. "Hi, baby," she coos at him, crouching down and holding her hand out for him.
Elvis stares at her with his big, sapphire crystalline eyes, and Cress tries not to melt when he nuzzles into her, purring loudly. "That's it. . ." She picks him up and nuzzles his face with hers. "That's a good boy. You're a good boy." She pets him lovingly and knows that she has never loved any animal (except Scout) more than Elvis.
Cress notices how quiet the compartment has gotten and glares at Lee. "What did you do to this cat, Jordan?!"
"Me?!" Lee is incredulous and seems like he wants to hex Cress. "The bloody thing jumped out of the ceiling basically and attacked me for no reason!"
"Sure," Cress drawls out with an eye roll. "Like this angel," she nuzzles Elvis, "would ever get near you without reason."
"I am a victim," he defends. Cress calls bullshit.
Clutching Elvis closer to her, she says, "The only victim here is Elvis."
Lee looks at her like she's everything that is currently wrong with the world. Cress rolls her eyes because what does he know? He's just a fucking idiot who likes to push people into puddles of mud and then try and cover his tracks and say it was an "accident." Biggest crock of shit Cress has ever heard in her life. And to make matters worse, Lee makes it worse every time he sees her by calling her—
"Pud."
Cress despises everyone and everything. She wants the train to kindly stop for her so she can get out and lay on the tracks for it to run over her. She clenches her eyes shut because she's scared to see the look of amusement on not only Lee's but the twins' faces. Elvis paws at her mouth, and she smiles despite herself. She opens her eyes and glares at Lee.
"Can it with the nickname, Jordan." She is still crouched down beside him and she has to look up at him to see him. His dark eyes stare into hers.
"Well, see, no can do, sweet cheeks." Cress thinks this nickname might be worse. She fakes gagging and struggles to her feet, seeing stars when she is upright again.
She says, "Nope. Call me 'pud'. No pet names. Nope. Never. If I hear those words leave your mouth again I will not only kill you, but burn your collection of Quidditch players, too."
And Lee gets this kind of gleam in his eye and shares a glance with the twins. Cress knows mischief when she sees it, and she is usually never on the receiving end of it — except for when Lee pushed her into that wretched puddle, of course — so she is panicking. A little. Maybe a lot. She doesn't know. Can't really hear over the sound of her soul leaving her body.
"Speaking of Quidditch," says Lee suggestively. Cress frowns and glances at George and Fred, the former looking utterly pleased and the latter looking away. Great. They talked about her and about how she probably was a complete mess at the World Cup. Oh fuck, they probably talked about her terrible conversational skills and now wanted to make fun of her because what a dumb twat she is for trying to think she could ever have a normal conversation with someone as brilliant as Fred Weasley.
Cress turns to get her uniform. She refuses to have this conversation. Elvis is still purring in her arms and she reaches for the compartment door.
"Ah, ah, ah." Someone grips her shoulder and pulls her back. Cress winces slightly at the sliver of pain that shoots through her body. She was still a little sore from the whole fiasco plus Gadby's added bruises don't help lessen the pain. "Sorry." She turns around to see Lee giving her a small, apologetic smile. She shrugs his hand off.
Outside the rain pours and Cress says, "Listen, Jordan, I came to get the cat. Not to talk about Quidditch or whatever the hell you wanted to make fun of me for."
Lee holds a hand to his chest like he's offended. "Me? Make fun of you? I am offended that you would think so lowly of me!"
Cress rolls her eyes, and Elvis hisses at Lee like he is the bane of his existence. She laughs. Lee has his eyes narrowed.
"Your cat is the devil."
"Not my cat. What do you want, Jordan?"
"Why is it I always have to want something when I talk to you?" asks Lee, outraged. He throws his hands up for emphasis. "I mean, I see you in the hallways and say hello because I am a nice chap who is friendly with everyone and you just glare at me. Every time."
Cress says, "You pushed me in a fucking puddle." She gives Lee a deadpan look and he has the audacity to look sheepish.
"That was so long ago, though," he tells her. "Water under the bridge and all that jazz."
"Sure," says Cress, but she is still bitter about it. She had been a first year after all, and she was scared and nervous and wanted a friend and then she gets pushed into a puddle because someone couldn't watch where they were going. She cried so much and had to stop Cedric from going off on the pusher when he saw her.
Lee says, "So. . . how 'bout that Quidditch match? Huh?" He nudges Cress suggestively. She narrows her eyes at him.
George, from his seat, says, "Mate, why are you fishing?"
And Cress is thankful for his interruption because Quidditch and her were not getting along right now. Well, her and the Quidditch World Cup. She doesn't want to talk about it, think about it or even hear about it. Quidditch (World Cup) is dead to her — at least until Cedric forces her out to the Quidditch pitch to practice here soon. Merlin's tits, she is not going to be ready for those early morning or late nights. She wants to drown in the rain.
Elvis meows loudly in her arms and Cress is aching all over and she wants this whole thing to be over because she here she is, in the same atmosphere as Fred Weasley, but he isn't talking to her and she just feels pathetic. She notices that they're all in their robes, Gryffindor's crimson and gold colors shining at her in the dim light of the train. She thinks of how much she doesn't want to change into hers.
George is writing something on a piece of paper but he glances up at Cress and asks, "Did your injuries heal alright? You looked pretty rough last time we saw you." He is referring to himself and Fred. He looks concerned.
Cress nods mutely because that's all she can do. She wants to leave this compartment before she loses her mind. She can feel the heavy gazes of everyone on her. She shuffles on her feet. While she's grateful that George is concerned about her wellbeing and all that good stuff, Cress has never been one to stand in the spotlight so having all this attention on her is kind of unnerving.
"Well, I'm just—" she nods her head at the door "—going to go."
She is feeling anxious and like the world is too small for her and wonders if maybe being in the same vicinity as Fred Weasley had that effect on people. If he just made everyone feel like they just got the breath knocked out of them but in a pleasant way. She wonders if Fred Weasley feels that way about anyone. Bitterness eats away at her at the meer thought and she hates herself for being such a petty person when technically she has no right. Fred Weasley is not hers to keep, not even hers in the first place so what does it matter to her that he might (possibly) fancy someone?
She tells herself it doesn't matter and leaves the compartment, their laughter echoing down the hallway.
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Cedric is tall and wide and Cress has never hated someone so much. He's gnawing away at a turkey leg and she watches in disgust as he converses with one of his friends whilst doing so. A fucking pig is what he is and she is sorry that she is related to him. Most of all, she hates the fact that he's blocking what could be the perfect view to the Gryffindor table — also known as the perfect view of Fred Weasley.
From where she is sat, she can see a sliver of his long, ginger hair, looking soft and beautiful in the candlelit Great Hall. He's laughing, of course, at something Lee said and she wishes she could hear that magnificent sound from where she is place.
"You're so fucking weird," Axel says from beside her.
Cress says, "Shut the fuck up, bitch."
"Don't call me a bitch."
"Don't call me weird."
"Well, you are weird."
"And you are a bitch."
"Guys, come on," Cedric starts but both Axel and Cress say, "Shut the fuck up, Cedric!"
And he backs off because Cedric knows better and Cress knows this. She glares at Axel and he glares at her and suddenly they're having a stare down and Cress wonders if the first years hate their new House already. Axel blinks, loses, and comes closer to Cress.
"Just tell the bloke you like him," he whispers over a bowl of mashed potatoes.
Cress laughs because it's the most absurd thing she's ever heard in her life. She shovels macaroni and cheese down her throat so she doesn't have to talk to him. Axel looks angry. Around them people are laughing and having a good time catching up with their friends and Cress is jealous because she has Axel and Axel doesn't like to catch up. Axel likes to ruin lives.
"Baby Diggs has a crush?" Suddenly Cedric's friend, Hamlin Whatever-His-Last-Name-Is, is in their conversation. He smirks at Cress. "I knew you had a heart deep down in there." His hazel eyes are humored.
"Fuck off," she says angrily over a spoon of mashed potatoes. Hamlin laughs because Hamlin is a little shit and Cress hates him so much. She looks at Axel as if to say, This is what you bring to us. You bring arseholes and no good. Axel rolls his eyes.
"Who's the lucky guy?" Hamlin asks her. Cress stares. "Come on, Baby Diggs, I won't tell a soul. Pinkie swear." And he leans closer to her with his pinkie outstretched and Cress feels uncomfortable.
She smacks his hand away from her face when he gets to close and glares at Cedric, silently commanding him to get his idiotic friend away from her before she did something she might regret. Cedric pulls him back in a second, saying, "Drop it, mate." His tone leaves no room for argument.
Hamlin does just that and Cress eats her dessert in peace. Axel doesn't bring up her little crush on Fred Weasley again so Cress thinks it's dealt with, at least for the time being. She eats her cake in silence and wishes there was ice cream to go with it — she could really go for some chocolate banana goodness right now. Tiny Viktor is on the table right now, eating something that Axel is feeding him and almost everyone at the table is staring in awe. Cress wonders if it's okay for the figurine to have food. She's about to say something when all the dessert is swept away and the tables are clear and suddenly Dumbledore is at the podium and he's talking.
"So!" he says, grinning like a crazy old man. Cress stares at the beauty that is Fred Weasley and barely listens. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for you attention, while I give out a few notices."
Headmaster Dumbledore says a lot of stuff that Cress barely pays attention to. She is too focused on the way that Fred Weasley is paying attention to care about anything else. The long hair is a good look on him, she thinks, staring at the locks longingly, wishing she could run her hands through those beautiful strands. From where she is, she can make out a dot on his cheek and it's a freckle and it looks so cute and his lips are tugged up just the slightest as George whispers something in his ear and Cress is so gone and she wants to die. Fred Weasley is so, so perfect and she is fifty percent sure she loves him.
But then Dumbledore tells them about Quidditch and it being cancelled and Cress forgets all about Fred Weasley's beautiful face and yells, "What the hell?! You can't just cancel Quidditch! It's unjust and cruel and I won't allow it!" She is appalled and pissed because Quidditch is the only place she can stare at Fred Weasley freely without seeming like a freak and now Dumbledore thinks it's okay to just tell them it wasn't happening? Hell fucking no.
(And, okay maybe she does enjoy those early mornings and late nights where Cedric makes her get up and go to the field with him so he can practice. Just maybe.)
Cress sees eyes on her and she realizes she's standing and standing means attention and she just gathered all the attention to her. Her cheeks blaze. Axel is laughing. Cress wants to die.
Dumbledore's eyes are twinkling. "I didn't know you were so enthusiastic about Quidditch, Miss Diggory."
"Oh, trust me, Professor, it's not the Quidditch she's enthusiastic about," Axel says loudly and people snicker. Cress sits down in silent mortification and hates the way that even Professor McGonagall seems amused. She's never going to recover from this.
"Sorry, Professor." She doesn't even have to raise her voice because the Great Hall is dead silent save for a few snickers. Dumbledore continues and Cress buries her head in her arms and prays for a quick death. Axel rubs her back and Cress forgives him a little for the embarrassment he just put her through.
Someone interrupts Dumbledore just as he's about to explain to the very distraught students as to why there is no Quidditch this year. The man hobbles in and he has a limp. It's Mad-Eye Moody, the person that Amos sometimes talks about, and Cress doesn't think she's ever seen someone make such an entrance. The way the crack of lightning lights up his scarred face looks like something out of a Muggle movie that has children screaming for their parents to turn off. And Cress frowns at herself for judging but she has never been one for horror movies, anyway.
Dumbledore introduces Mad-Eye and to make up for her shitty thoughts, Cress claps for him, respectful and apologetic. Besides her, only Dumbledore, Hagrid, and another Hufflepuff, Mallory Ackerman, who may or may not be in Cress's year clap for the new professor and then Dumbledore continues what he was saying.
". . . . we are to have the the honor of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an even that has not been held for over a century. It is my great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."
"You're JOKING!" exclaims Fred Weasley. Cress cracks a smile as everyone laughs, the silence from before suddenly broken by the ginger boy. Axel even chuckles quietly as he plays on the Game Boy his sister lent him. (Cress doesn't know where the hell he pulled it from since she saw him tucking it into his trunk earlier on the train.)
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," says Dumbledore, "though now that you mention it, I did hear and excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar. . ." Professor McGonagall clears her throat. Dumbledore continues, "Er — but maybe this is not the time. . . no. . . where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. . . well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation and allow their attention to wander freely."
Cress knows all about what the Triwizard Tournament is about and how many people it's killed so she snatches the Game Boy from Axel and makes him pay attention while she makes the fat plumber jump over platforms to save his precious princess. Axel grumbles indignantly but nonetheless pays attention to what Dumbledore says.
The Hufflepuff table is filled with murmurs directed at her brother when Dumbledore pauses in his explanation. Cress glances away from the console in her hand to see Hamlin smacking him on the back, saying, "If you don't enter, Ced, I'll never forgive you."
And now Cress starts to worry because there has been deaths in this game, this tournament and there is no way in hell that she's allowing her brother to enter. No way. She opens her mouth to protest but stops short at the look on Cedric's face. He's grinning, not looking wary or put out and Cress knows he wants to enter. She hands the game back to Axel and stares at him. Stares and stares until he catches her eye and his face falls.
"Cress," he says, a question, a plead. She turns away and listens to Dumbledore.
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts, the Heads of participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age — that is to say, seventeen years or older. . ."
Cress wants this to be over. She stares at Dumbledore but she isn't listening because Cedric is going to enter this stupid tournament and there is nothing stopping him from doing so. He is going to enter and she knows he'll get it no matter what because this is Cedric and Cedric's luck never fails him. She wants to cry but that's pathetic and she is already pathetic for feeling this way all because her brother wants to enter the Triwizard Tournament.
Suddenly she does not care. She has already made a big enough scene tonight what with the whole Quidditch cancelled bullshit she pulled earlier. What's a dramatic exit going to do?
Cress pushes herself away from the table and she hears murmurs and the soft voice of Dumbledore talking and she knows eyes are on her. Eyes are attention and Cress feels her heartbeat accelerate but she pushes through because she needs to get out of there before she does something that she might regret. Like cry, or yell at Cedric about how fucking stupid he is for wanting to enter such a dangerous thing. She thinks he probably knew from the beginning, that Amos told him and she feels angry and sad all at once.
Thunder cracks and she pushes the doors to the Great Hall open and walks out.
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a/n; this chapter came out differently than what i was expecting but i can't say i hate it. cress is dramatic and i love her and i love this chapter so much. protect axel, protect cress, protect everyone. i hope that that you guys like it. let me know what you guys thought, please. thank you for the support you've given me. :,)