✦✧✦
March fades into April. Slowly, the leaves turn a vibrant emerald, the grass healthy and inviting like you could just roll around in it for hours. Birds chirp every morning and owls hoot every night. Days last longer and nights are shorter, the golden sun outshining the silver moon. Every day is breezy, cool and calm, a serenity that Cress loves.
Professors, however, are crucial. Spring is here and it's beautiful, but the O.W.L.s are knocking down Cress's doors, relentless and cruel. They are the monsters that parents tell their children about and they are under Cress's bed, moaning and groaning, coming at her with their long limbs and blazing aura.
She hates it. She truly does. O.W.L.s are probably the worst obstacle she's experienced. It's been two weeks — two blasted weeks — and she's crammed more knowledge in her brain in that amount of time than she has in her five years at Hogwarts. She does not know if she's going to be able to get through it, really.
And not only that, Cress still has yet to know what the third task is. She has paced in her dormitory so many times that imprints of her feet are starting to show on the worn wood. No matter how many nights she stays up, restless, eyes tired but mind awake, thinking about what the judges could throw at the contenders next, Cress cannot get a grip on what's to come. It's a future she can't see, and she does not like that.
She hopes it's nothing too horrendous. Though, given that this is Hogwarts, Cress is certain that it's going to be the most horrendous thing anyone could ever experience in their lifetime.
Cress shakes her head. Closes her eyes. Wills the thoughts to disappear.
(They don't. They never do. They're always there, an echo in her mind, whispering, taunting. Cress is miserable.)
"Ah, having a boyfriend is just wonderful," Cress singsongs in a means to distract herself from the darkening thoughts piercing her brain.
But it isn't like it's not true. Cress is convinced that getting a boyfriend — snagging Fred Weasley at that — is the best thing to happen. It's like — he's her boyfriend, but not. Cress still considers him one of her best friends except it comes with the benefits of snoggingnow. Bloody snogging. Cress loves it.
Being with Fred Weasley is simply the easiest thing that Cress has ever done. It comes naturally to her. Her hand fits between his awkwardly but it's okay because he kisses hers to let her know he doesn't mind. His shoulder is comforting when they're down in the kitchens late into the night, his voice soft as he reads textbooks to her. His eyes are soft when he stares at her, supporting her through her fits about the exams, the tournament — everything. His face is adorable when it's painted a soft pink — the color of a rose on a spring day — due to Cress's sudden compliments.
He's the best thing that's happened to her, she thinks. And she fancies him so much.
So, yeah, she's going to brag about him. Like, who wouldn't? If you have someone as spectacular as Fred Weasley for your boyfriend, you speak about them every chance you get. Granted, she could have probably waited until later, when she isn't drowning in homework, textbooks as heavy as giant cat scattered around her in the library, but Herbology was growing tiresome and the words were swirling together so she decided to give it a rest.
Axel, from his spot across from her, says, "Literally no one fucking asked Mo."
Viktor snorts into his book on omens. Cress squints at him and feels wronged, somehow. You do a favor for a bloke that singlehandedly saves his relationship with one of his closest friends and he teases you with your best mate. Chivalry isdead, it seems.
Mallory, from beside her, pats her hand when Cress pouts at the both of them, and tells her, "It's good that you're happy, Crescent. I'm glad everything worked out in the end."
And Cress knows she's just being nice because Cress does go on rants about having a boyfriend at least seven times a day. It must get annoying, she thinks. But Mallory is too nice to tell her off and Cress is grateful for that.
"I'm glad I have someone who wants me to be happy," Cress bemoans dramatically, laying her head down on her essay that's probably not dry yet. She wonders if she should care about the ink that's going to be in her hair when she lifts her head up then decides it's not even worth it.
"I vould be happy for you if you didn't mention him every time I see you, Cree-scent," Viktor mumbles into his book.
Axel nods his head in agreement, writing down something viciously onto his Potions essay. She rolls her eyes at both of them and wonders what would happen if suddenly they were suspended from the gargoyles on the roof of the castle.
"I'm ignoring what you just said, Viktor," she replies, keeping her head down. "But just know you have like two more strikes and then I'm going to get Cedric to beat you up."
Viktor laughs as though this is a joke to him. Cress hates him. She really does. Hates him with all of her being. She regrets not running that day he talked to her. Regrets it all. (Except she doesn't because he's kind and gentle and responds to her jokes with banter of his own and treats Axel with so much tenderness that it makes her envious.)
When she finally picks her head up to finish her essay, it sticks to her head and Viktor guffaws like this is the funniest thing he's ever seen in his entire life. Axel and Mallory snicker behind their hands and Cress just wants to fling herself into the molten sun and perish.
But then Fred is there, his delicate fingers peeling the parchment off her head. He grins broadly at her and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Fancy a break? We were just about to head to the pitch. You should come."
George, Lee, Cedric, and Hamlin are all with him, but Cress is too busy staring at the flush on his cheeks from the warmth of the spring day outside. He and the others had been outside playing football (a game that Hamlin suggested they play because it's all the rave with the Muggles) and it resulted in him getting his casual clothes rumpled and his hair mussed up. His eyes are bright and lively, though, and Cress is floored by how breathtaking he actually is.
"Stop influencing my friend, Fred," Axel gripes, just when Cress is about to open her mouth and speak. "She's got an essay she needs to finish and you're a distraction. Sod off."
"Yeah, but essays can be finished later. Quidditch waits for no person!"
Axel looks to Cedric, like perhaps he is the voice of reason and will put his foot down because his dear, uneducated sister needs to actually get her grades up before she fails both her O.W.L.s and the year, but Cedric is oddly pro-Quidditch in this situation. He shrugs lightly and says, "It's nice outside."
It's a valid argument, if Cress is being honest. Viktor must think so, too, because he perks up like a dog that just heard it was going to be taken on a walk, and that's all it takes for Axel to melt like chocolate. It's pretty endearing and Cress is totally going to use it as bait when he's being difficult in the near future.
Tiny Viktor, who was perched inside Cress's sweater (it's actually Freddie's because she is that girlfriend and she did, in fact, steal his sweater from him), also seems excited to go outside. Cress thinks it more to do with the fact that whilst they're riding their brooms, he'll be creating chaos with his dragon. He probably gives about zero fucks about Quidditch. Cress relates (not really), but she hands him over to Mallory and packs her stuff up anyway.
Fred reaches for her packed satchel before Cress even has a chance to pick it up. He gives her a cheeky grin when she sends him a look of mock aggravation. And Merlin's tits, Cress's heart just about bursts from her chest, her cheeks lighting up like a firework in the night sky. She wonders how one bloke can have such an effect on her. Thinks that he probably has this effect on everyone.
(Well, he should because, come on people, this is Fred Weasley we're talking about.)
"You just watch," Axel's pessimistic voice comes through Cress's ears after a moment, "Mo is going to fail her O.W.L.s and her year and it'll be because she went out to play Quidditch instead of studying like a decent human being."
"Oh, don't worry about it, Jenson." Fred smirks, grabbing Cress's hand and intertwining their fingers. Her hands are clammy. She does not panic about it. "I'll help Crescent later."
"Yeah, in the kitchens," Axel mumbles as they all leave the library. George and Mallory are walking in front of everyone, whilst Lee, Cedric, and Hamlin take up the middle, Viktor and Axel behind them with Fred and Cress in the rear. The corridors are cool with the breeze coming in from outside. "Where you snog more than anything."
A squawk of indignation comes out of Cress's mouth before she clamps it shut. It's not true, but it also isn't a lie, either. But snogging is a gift to this world and Cress loves it, so Axel can shove off.
"He's not wrong," Fred mumbles to her as Axel and Viktor get farther away. "We snog a lot. Like, probably a lot more than we should."
It almost sounds like a complaint. Cress glances up at him curiously. "We can stop. . .?"
Fred's eyes widen. "NO!" Cress leans back a little, hiding her smirk into her shoulder. Fred nudges her. "I mean, no, we don't have to stop. I'd prefer we didn't actually. I was just making a statement. . ." He shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You're cute." Cress reaches up and pecks him on the cheek because she can do that now. She can physically plant her lips on his burning cheek and kiss him. And it's fucking amazing.
Plus, when he gets this small, bashful smile on his face that tells her he's just as new to this relationship business as she is, her chest blooms with the warmth of a thousand suns. Then, he reaches down and pecks her on the lips and she can't resist it because a peck isn't sufficient. So, she brings him back and connects them properly and her back hits the rough concrete wall, his hands warm through the sweater, his lips soft on her own.
Godric, having a boyfriend is fucking wonderful.
✦✧✦
The weather is wonderful outside. The sun is illuminating the sky with rays of gold, the wind warm but not hot enough that's it's suffocating. Clouds, white and fluffy like a piece of cotton, float through the sky. Tiny Viktor soars through the sky on Uma, blue scales gleaming in the bright light.
Everyone is sitting around on a blanket that Cress produced after they finished their match earlier. It ended with Cress's team (Fred, Lee, Cedric and herself) demolishing Hamlin's team (Hamlin, Axel, Viktor, and George).
(Mallory watched and cheered on both teams because she couldn't pick a side. Cress knows that she was secretly rooting for her team, though. It's okay.)
Now, they're lying on a giant blanket and Cress is reveling in the fact that she beat Viktor Krum.
"You know," she says, "I bet this could get me on any team I wanted. I could just say, 'Yeah, I'm the girl that beat Viktor Krum, slap a jersey on me!' and they'd take me right away."
"Technically, your brother vas the one who beat me, Cree-scent," Viktor responds, unbothered. He's fiddling with Axel's fingers absentmindedly, sweat dripping down his head. "He vas the one who caught the Snitch."
"Yeah, but mate, Crescent hit you with a Bludger," Fred argues.
Cress's head is laying in his lap, so she looks up to give him a giant, grateful grin. He smirks down at her and continues stroking her hair. The breeze blows by soothingly.
Axel scoffs. "Mo got lucky, s'all. Vik could run laps around her if it was a real match."
And yeah, Axel is probably right. Cress really did get lucky in her shot and that's why they won. Had she not hit Viktor with the Bludger, Viktor's hand would have curled around the Snitch and his team would have won and she would have been sitting in the grass, moping like a three-year-old child. She figures he has reason to be defensive — especially since it's his (probably) boyfriend she's arguing against.
"I think you all played wonderfully," Mallory, ever the mediator, inputs before the discussion can go any further. She's sitting in between Lee and George, braiding flowers she's conjured together to make. . . a bracelet? Cress assumes it's a bracelet.
"Mal, you're a gift from the heavens," Hamlin mutters. He's sitting with Cedric, practicing simple spells in silence. Cedric is reading a book.
Cress says, "Always the angel, that one."
Mallory is not one for compliments, so she goes all crimson in the face, and hides behind her flowers. George smiles down at her, sporting his own bracelet as though it's be the best thing he's ever gotten in his lifetime. It's the most serene portrait Cress has ever seen in her life.
But then she glances up and sees Fred staring off, a thoughtful expression on his face and decides she was wrong. This is the most serene picture she's ever seen in her life. His freckles are dark on his face, speckled, and his hair looks like actual flames with the sunlight dancing on it. It's still growing, almost past his shoulders and Cress reaches up to touch it, almost scared that it'll burn her. It's soft in her grasp.
He glances down at her, and says, "Tell me something I don't know about you."
"Oh," Cress says, mildly surprised. She wasn't expecting him to ask that. Wasn't really expecting him to say anything. She searches for something to tell him. "Okay. Erm — well, I was almost Sorted into Slytherin."
"Wait — really?!"
Cress snickers at the look on his face. "Yeah. The Sorting Hat had a lot to say about my ambition and how I would ultimately succeed in Slytherin. It was so close to putting me in there."
"What made it change its mind, you think?" Fred asks, staring down at her with a pensive expression. His hand is warm as the sun in her hair. She shrugs.
"I dunno. I never tried to persuade it or anything. I was fine with Slytherin even though everyone hates that House."
"I wouldn't say hate. . ."
"Freddie," Cress deadpans, giving him a blank glare, "had I been Sorted into Slytherin, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."
"That's not true!" Fred denies, but Cress knows. Slytherin is the cursed House and the House where all the "evil masterminds" are Sorted, so there was a zero chance that Fred would have spoken to her had she been Sorted into said House.
Cress hums, closing her eyes. "I'm not trying to be biased or anything, but you hate a lot of members from Slytherin. For good reason, might I add," she says when Fred opens his mouth, looking as though he's going to argue. "I just have a feeling that if I was in that House, we wouldn't be having this very conversation right now."
"I-I mean," Fred stammers, sounding nervous. Cress remains unbothered, running into his hand more. She hopes he doesn't assume she's angry. "It's not that I would hate you. Slytherin has just caused a lot of problems for my family over the years."
"And that's okay," Cress responds. "I'm just stating facts, s'all. I'm not angry or anything. It wouldn't have stopped me from fancying you any less." She pries her eyes open to see the sun illuminating the pink coating his cheeks. His hand stills in her hair and she grins at him, feeling light like a Snitch flying through the sky.
Fred kisses her forehead and says, "Well, if you were Sorted into Slytherin, I guess I'd have to make an exception for them. Because if you were in there, there's obviously some goodness in them, right?"
"Ever the charmer, Weasley," Cress says, cheeks blazing. She hides her face in his shirt and tries not to think about the fact that he's laughing, his body shaking with it. He kisses her forehead again and pushes her flying hairs down, protecting them from the onslaught of wind. Her smile is wide, her heart full of so many emotions that she can't keep a hold of them.
"Honestly, you guys are sickening," a voice pipes up from their right.
At first, Cress thinks it's Mallory — she's the only other girl in the group (and really, that is sad, but Cress is past the point of caring because she loves her friends) — but then she glances up and over and sees that it's Ginny. Staring at them with something akin to hatred in her eyes. She's taken a seat on the blanket beside Fred, casual robes on, hair wrapped into a ponytail on the top of her head.
"That was actually the vibe we were going for Ginny, so, like, thanks," Cress says in lieu of a greeting.
Fred snickers. Ginny narrows her eyes at them. "Why are you guys out here?" she asks.
"Quidditch," Lee supplies from his spot beside Hamlin. He's lying down, arms shoved behind his head, and is looking up at the clear sky.
"And I wasn't invited?"
"To be fair," Cress argues, "every time I asked you to do something with me, you've said no. So, like, did I deserveto be rejected again?"
"Yes," Ginny says. Cress thinks she's probably right. "Anyway, I'm not mad. I was busy doing homework for McGonagall. I came to tell you that Professor Sprout was actually looking for you." She points at Cress.
"Me?" Cress questions. She furrows her eyebrows and sits up. "Why?"
Ginny shrugs. A bug flies past her face. "Something about careers. I don't really remember. She just told me if I saw you to tell you to go to her office immediately."
"Oh." Dread pools in Cress's stomach. She had known that it was inevitable, the career talks with her Head of House, but she hadn't really been thinking about it that much considering she's been doing homework most days and hanging out with her mates on the rest of them.
But it's here now. It crept up on her like a snake, wrapping around her body without her knowledge and strangling her slowly. Now, it feels like she can't breathe, like her lungs are lead, pulling her down into an abyss without relenting their grip on her.
She tells Ginny, "Okay," and stands. Her legs wobble a little and she isn't too sure if it's from laying down for so long or the fact that she's about to take another leap into a future she has no clue about. Her hand is shaking by her side.
Fred stands, too. "Do you want me to walk you to her office?"
Cress shakes her head. "No, thank you." A smile graces her features, plastic and worn.
"Are you sure?" he asks, eyebrows furrowing in worry. Cress nods resolutely. Fred frowns. "If you're sure. . ." He looks hesitant when he pulls her in for an embrace, his arms encircling her shoulders soothingly. She wraps her own around his waist quickly, enough to get a little comfort from it. Her eyes close, and she wishes she could stay there for an eternity. Wishes that she could stay in this moment forever.
"Good luck!" everyone choruses as she walks away from the Quidditch pitch.
Cress smiles, gives them her thanks, but when they're out of her sight, her grin disappears, and she hunches her shoulders. Then sun seems dimmer in the sky, the clouds grey instead of pure white. Cress
When she gets to Professor Sprout's office, the woman is grim.
"Take a seat, Miss Diggory."
Cress does.
✦✧✦
There's a tiny niche located on the third floor in Hogwarts.It's on the corridor that no one really goes down. The one with abandoned classrooms, stone walls cracked, windows boarded. It's secluded from peering eyes, a little dank and cold from being away from any of the windows. Cobwebs sometimes occupy the cracks in it and it looks worn, like no one has visited it in centuries. Cress loves it.
It's the place she goes when she needs to escape from everything. The place she goes when her dormitory feels like it's too cramped — like the beds are too close together and the walls are coming in on her, suffocating her until her head spins and she feels like she can't breathe. The place where she goes when Cedric's soothing words do not ease her racing thoughts. The place where she goes when it's all too much — school, O.W.L.s, friends, everything. When it all piles up on top of her shoulders, weighing her down until she's falling to the floor on her knees, eyes stinging with tears she can't let out because then she'll be weak and she's not. She's not weak.
But she is. Cress is weak, and she runs away from her problems. She runs away from responsibility and she hides herself away from the harsh reality of life. She can't help it.
Professor Sprout told her she needed to take some initiative in her life earlier. Said if Cress has time to be fussing over her boyfriend — "Do not look at me like that, Miss Diggory, I have eyes." — then she has time to study for her O.W.L.s. To figure out what kind of career path she wants to consider.
It's bullshit, Cress thinks, fists clenched, eyes shut tightly in hopes to block out the static noise ringing in her ears. It feels like she might vomit. She takes a deep breath in and blocks it all out. She shouldn't have to think about a career now. It's too early. She has two more years. She doesn't even know what she's going to be doing an hour from now, much less two years into the future. Having a career set in stone is too much.
So, she ran. She ran when Professor Sprout told her to lead by Cedric's example. ("He has it all planned out," she'd said, when Cress was silent, head bowed. "He knew what he wanted to do and how to do it. Perhaps you should learn more from your brother, Miss Diggory.") She ran because it's what everyone tells her. Always follow Cedric's shadow, they'd say to her when she was stuck, indecisive. That kid's got a good head on his shoulder, you'd do well to follow by him. It was a common phrase that every adult passed down to her when she found herself at the mercy of them, caught for something trivial.
Cress tried her hardest to block them out, found it easy to nod along to what they said even though she hadn't heard a word of what they said. But, sometimes, the words filter in to her brain and stamp at her heart, another reminder that Cedric is, and always will be, better than her. He will always be superior to her. He will always be the sun burning in the sky, needed and loved by everyone. She will always be the moon, forced to show herself to people who have already closed their eyes to her illuminate beauty.
No one will ever see how much she has tried. They only see that she didn't try as much as Cedric did and that's why her marks weren't the best they could be.
No one will ever see how much she struggles with remaining still, her mind always running on overdrive, grasping at new ideas and stories, running away from the topic at hand. They only see that she's a delinquent who needs to act out to gain the attention of her professors and peers.
No one will ever see how much their words put a strain on her body. They only see it as good advice for a troubled student.
No one will ever see Cress for herself. They only see her as Cedric Diggory's little sister.
And that's what hurts the most.
✦✧✦
She stays in the niche until night falls. At least, she thinks night falls. It was already dark in the alcove when she hid herself away but now Cress can't even see her hand right in front of her. She certain it's past her curfew.
Her bones creak and groan when she unravels herself from her position in the crevice. The moon is shining brightly through a crack in the boarded-up window and she blinks wearily at it, aching all over, tired and hungry and so ready to go to curl up in her bed and forget about this whole blasted day. Her head pounds and her eyes are swollen, her hair a right mess. She knows she's a sight for sore eyes. Knows that if someone gazed upon her at this very moment, they would think she was a wretched troll instead of a human being.
Her feet sluggishly carry her down the hallway, heavy against the stone of the corridor. It resonates off the walls, makes it easier for the prefects to catch her should they be patrolling. Cress finds that she doesn't care too much, continues walking until she reaches the stairs.
She is certain that her friends have made a fuss by now, consumed with worry about her whereabouts for the remainder of the day. And she thinks that she should have probably came out of hiding sooner than she did, but in honesty, her chest is sore from her heaving sobs and her mind is still a mess of things, muddled in hazy thoughts that Cress still hasn't been able to separate. Seeing her friends would only lead to questions that Cress did not want to answer.
The corridors are dimly lit with candles, ghosts flitting through walls and past her as though she's the ghost and they aren't. Cress keeps to herself, curls close to the wall and hugs the cold stone to find her way back to the basements. Her legs are shaky, her steps unsure even though she's snuck out plenty of times and knows the hallways as well as the back of her hand. She clenches her hand into a fist and marches on, thinks of how warm her bed will be when she finds it.
There's someone waiting outside of the Hufflepuff common room, right in front of the barrels. Cress halts in her steps, eyes stinging against her will. She had thought her useless tears were gone. Her head bows and she wants to run away from him, tuck tail and hide away, but he's seen her and he's walking towards her, arms already open — an invitation for comfort.
She hesitates. He stops, frown settling on his face. He looks deeply concerned. She wants to cry again.
"Cress?" he asks, grey eyes swirling. "What happened?"
She can't take it anymore. Her indecisiveness disappears, and she curls up in Cedric's arms, cries falling from her lips. Tears stream down her face steadily, her eyes clenched shut. She doesn't know what to feel. His arms fall over her, a castle built to protect, to defend.
"I don't know what to do," she wails. Her head pounds. Her heart feels like static; like when you lay on your arm and it falls asleep and then it wakes up and it hurts. It hurts so bad and she doesn't know what to do. "Ced, she told me I wasn't ready. She said I needed to try harder. But I-I don't—I don't know, and she can't—"
"Shh," he says, whispers against her head. Cress barely hears it. The storm in her head is raging. The seas are chaotic, waves crashing against her throbbing head roughly. She hears wind howling in her ears.
Her breath is short.
"Hey, Cress, look—" Cedric pulls back. Cress sees him hazily, a swirling face in her black ocean. "Crescent." His voice is urgent. Cress can't hear it.
Her lungs are clogged with water and it's like she's in the Black Lake, the arms of the merman clenched around her, suffocating. It's fading around the edges and she doesn't know what to do, never knows what to do. Godric, why doesn't she know? Why doesn't she have a plan? She needs a plan, she needs to get her life together. She's drowning, and she needs to save herself, but she can't. She can't!
Why. . .?
Why can't she save herself?
Thunder booms in her heart. Lighting strikes behind closed eyelids. Her lungs quake. Cedric is a lost sailor in the obsidian sea.
"Crescent!" The voice isn't yelling, but it sounds like it's on the brink of madness. Familiar. Light beams out through the dark night. Cress squints. "Crescent, I need you to listen to me, okay? Focus on my voice, okay? Can you hear me?"
The waves rock against her mind. Static covers her ears. Numbly, she nods.
"Good!" He sounds relieved. Cress can feel her nerves shaking. "Good, okay, Crescent I need you to focus with me, okay?" He takes her hand, trails it somewhere. It's sturdy, firm under her trembling palm. "Can you focus on my breathing? Can you feel my heartbeat?"
Cress nods.
He says, "Good! That's good." His tone is wavering. The waves are churning. Thunder cracks in the distant. Everything hurts. "Tell me, what does it feel like? What does my heartbeat feel like?"
There's a moment of silence. Cress's breathing is erratic. She focuses on the beat underneath her fingers. It's repetitive, a pattern of thumpthump—thumpthump—thumpthumpthump. It is calm.
Her storm calms the slightest. Faintly, in the distant, the light grows brighter. Cedric is emerging from the tendrils of water, unscathed. He's smiling.
"Like. . . a drum. . . Nice," she says, her voice broken. She leans into it, craves the comfort of the pattern. The thump of his heart is more welcoming than the static ringing in her ears. Her eyes shut. Tears cake her eyelashes, swell her eyelids.
"Yeah?" he whispers. "I'm glad. I'm here, okay? I'm here. Just focus on my heartbeat. You're not alone, Crescent."
No, she thinks, I'm not.
The storm has passed. Sun shines through black clouds, welcoming and warm. The obsidian sea is glittering before her eyes. Cress stands at the shore, battered and bruised, exhausted through and through. Cedric is next to her, beaming. He burns brighter than the sun.
Her breathing is still hollow, but it's easier to focus on it when there's not wind howling in her ears. She takes deep, slow breaths, Cedric passing a hand down her back slowly. He is silent. She is, too.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Cedric questions once Cress had thoroughly exhausted herself. Her breathing is calmer, less erratic, her mind not so jumbled. She thinks she's okay.
It's a few moments before Cress answers. "I had my c-career talk today," she starts quietly. Cedric hums, allowing her to continue. "Professor Sprout. Well, she told me I should start considering my options seriously. She said I needed to really start thinking about my future if I wanted to have one. And I—"
"You don't have to finish," Cedric tells her worriedly.
Cress shakes her head. She needs to finish. "I don't—I follow you, Cedric. I'm always—" She swallows, feels lightheaded all over. "I'm always your shadow. And I don't care. I don't mind. But I'm not you.
"I'm not you and everyone expects me to. They think so highly of you and then they expect the same thing from me, but when they actually meet me and get to know me, I'm a letdown. Because I'm not you and I don't make perfect grades and sometimes, I get into trouble and I skip lessons, I'm a letdown.
"I'm nothing they expected — I'm everything they feared. I'm the black sheep, the coal amongst a sea of diamonds and that's okay! I don't mind behind the supporting role in the play! I don't mind being a ghost living amongst the dead! I just mind that they're making feel bad it!"
Cress clenches a fist into Cedric's jumper. Her jaw hurts from gritting it. She swallows thickly, leaning her forehead on his heart.
"I know," she whispers, "they don't mean it. I know they think they're helping. I know that. So why. . . why does it hurt so bad?"
The pain is overbearing. It's been stirring in her for some time now. She has trailed behind her brother for years, but she's always been herself. She's Crescent and he's Cedric. They are two different people. Where he's certain, she is not. Where he is mindful, she is mindless. Where he is respected, she is tolerated. Where he is intelligent, she has a hard time focusing on things. Where he is sharp, she is blunt.
"I don't know what my future holds, Cedric," she continues before Cedric can input. "I have no clue what I want to do. I'm not like you. I don't want to work for the Ministry. I don't want a job like that. I can't decide. The future in front of us is dark and we have no clue what could happen tomorrow and they just—they want me to know and they want me to choose these paths that aren't for me and I can't. I won't do it to myself. I shouldn't have to."
"You don't," Cedric responds, voice shaky. "You don't have to decide, Crescent. Not right yet, anyway. It's okay to not have it planned out." His heartbeat races. Cress furrows her brows. "And you're not. . . If you had any ideahow much I followed you instead of the other way around, Cress, you'd be astounded.
"You might be a shadow to everyone else, but to me, you're the light. I am the one following you."
Her first response would be an outrageous claim that Cedric is lying, but Cedric rarely lies. She smartly keeps her mouth shut. Cedric continues.
"Remember when you almost drowned when we were kids? You went into the river and before you waded in, you told me, 'Ced, if we don't do the things that scare us, are we truly living? Or are we just existing?' and I never forgot those words. It's why I entered the tournament. It's the reason I finally owned up to my feelings for Hamlin. It's the reason I want to try for Head Boy. It's the reason I'm going to be an Auror instead of entering Dad's department at the Ministry.
"And not to mention, every time I've let that inkling of darkness creep into my life, you'd be there immediately, swatting it away easily. Always comforting me with a smile that could outshine the sun itself, you led me down the right path with grace." He fiddles with her hair, brushing it down, out of her face.
"You've taught me so many lessons that I would not have been able to figure out on my own, Crescent. You've given me a bond that I could have with no one else. You're not my shadow, but my equal. My sister, who means more than the world to me."
Tears are rolling down her cheeks again. She hugs Cedric tight and her lungs are collapsing in her chest, but she doesn't care. Cedric is there and he's supporting her, a pillar holding up a broken castle.
"I can't tell you it's going to be okay," Cedric states, moments later. His voice is somber. The dim-lit candles create shadows on his face. "It won't be. You're going to face so many obstacles, Crescent. It's going to be extremely difficult. But you're not going to be alone. I'll be there, right by your side. You won't have to face the darkness alone."
The fight leaves Cress's body, leaving her lethargic and worn out. Her bones feel like stone. Her heart is clogged. Everything is hurting, and she can barely see through the migraine in her head, but Cedric is shining in front of her. He's grinning, childish and brave, and Cress believes him. Believes the way his grey eyes glow with mirth, the way his hands barricade her, as if warding off every evil creature on this earth.
She believes in Cedric.
And yes, perhaps, she doesn't know what the future holds. The third task looms around the corner, O.W.L.s zooming towards her as fast as the Hogwarts Express, but Cress doesn't have to experience it alone. She has support from her friends, has support from most of the professors here, and most importantly, support from her brother.
"Yeah," she says, musters up a weak grin. "Yeah, Cedric. Okay. Together forever, then? Are you sure you can handle me being around all the time?"
Cedric grins. "Of course."
Cress believes him.
✦✧✦
A/N; WELL, IF YOU GUYS HAVE DISCOVERED WHAT GARBAGE IS, YOU JUST READ IT. I AM SO RUSTY OMFG LIKE THIS CHAPTER IS PROBABLY THE WORST ONE OF THIS BOOK BUT WE NEEDED FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS SO THERES THAT. ANYWAY, JUST LETTING YOU GUYS KNOW THERES PROBABLY GOING TO BE TWO MAYBE THREE CHAPTERS IN THIS ACT AND THEN ITS ON TO ACT TWO SO I HOPE YOU'RE READY FOR IT
TELL ME WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF THE CHAPTER PLS I SEEK VALIDATION LIKE A THIRSTY MAN SEEKS WATER
SORRY FOR THE HIATUS THOUGH, I LOVE YOU ALL AND THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS SUPPORTED THIS BOOK AND VOTED. IT MEANS THE WORLD TO ME. I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!
(ALSO, IF YOU DIDNT ALREADY KNOW,, ITS NOT EDITED)