The week that followed was one of the most uncomfortable Marigold had ever experienced.
She hadn't said more than ten words to George since the evening of Valentine's Day.
In all fairness: Marigold had truly planned on forcing herself to forget everything that had happened, but when Monday morning arrived and, standing outside of Defense Against the Dark Arts, she noticed the dark purple bruise against George's neck (shining bright as a lighthouse) - she tucked her textbook closer to her chest and hurried past him into the classroom before he could utter a single syllable in her direction.
It had been harder to avoid George than she had imagined it would be. Not just emotionally, but physically. Their Amortentia practical had been the last for the year and Marigold arrived to their double potions lesson early on Monday and forced Diego into swapping places with her so she could sit beside Bernie. Once she explained, he'd huffed, but reluctantly agreed. Snape was so preoccupied with trying to warn them about their looming NEWT's that he didn't even notice.
In the first few days, Marigold could tell George was still trying to get her talk to him. He'd try catch her after breakfast or between classes, but she was quick with excuses: "I'm sorry George, I'm late to Charms." After nearly five days, however, he seemed to have given up.
Marigold was being childish and immature, and she knew it. But the way the sight of Lisa pressed up against George hurt was more painful than she would ever dare to admit and, by Merlin, she swore she would never feel that way because of a boy ever again.
Naturally, Angelina hadn't stopped asking what had caused this change in demeanour. "You and George are so close, Goldie. Whatever it is I'm sure you can work it out?"
Marigold shrugged her off every time, "Nothing's wrong, Ang."
Angelina had been her best friend for almost as long as Cedric had, and everyone knew, Angelina was the impulsive one. Jump first, think later.
Marigold wasn't hasty like Angelina and embarrassment washed over her when she thought about how she'd allowed herself sink so quickly and so deeply into her crush on George. She couldn't tell Angelina. Not then anyways, she'd tell her once it all blew over.
After spending Valentine's together, Marigold had seen more of Zach than she had intended or expected to. He'd walked her back from Care of Magical Creatures on Thursday afternoon, and after both practices he'd stayed to help Marigold pack up the equipment.
Everything came to a blistering head just over a week later. From the moment Marigold stepped into the Great Hall that morning, she could feel it. Something was happening.
Her gaze floated over the tables on the walk to her seat, it wasn't hard to notice the newspapers. The same copy, hundreds of them floating amongst the students. The whispers and flipping of pages were enough for Marigold to break into a brisk walk towards her seat.
At the Gryffindor table, her friends were huddled over a copy, the pink and pastel blue cover glittering up at her: The Quibbler.
"Ang?" Her stomach was twisting uncomfortably, they looked up at her - Elin's bright blue eyes were wide as dinner plates. "What is that?"
There was a painfully long silence. Angelina stretched her arm out, offering Marigold the newspaper. It was open on a page and she looked down at it, frowning curiously.
"HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN. Turn to page 3 for the exclusive article by Rita Skeeter. "
Her breath caught in her throat and her blood turned to ice in her veins.
As a general rule, Marigold had forbade herself from ever searching to learn the real details of how Cedric was killed, but there they stared up at her in black and white. Begging to be read. Before she could stop for even a moment to reconsider, her eyes began to chase down the length of the article:
"According to Potter, both he and Diggory reached the cup at the same time."
""Cedric and I were transported to a graveyard," says Potter."
""I saw a flash of green light and Cedric fell to the ground. And I knew he was dead.""
By the time she'd reached the last line, the newspaper was trembling in Marigold's hands.
The inside of her brain sounded like every shelf in a china shop being torn down by a violently screaming eight-year old. She couldn't feel her legs.
The paper tore quietly from the force of her grip. Marigold's gaze lifted to meet Angelina, who was watching her - sympathy flooding her eyes.
"Well," her voice shook. "Now we know."
Her mind spun like an out-of-control carousel, the whole story in Harry Potter's own words. A graveyard, a handless man, a voice, a green light. Kill the spare.
A warm hand met her shoulder, "Goldie," the voice was soft, it was Elin. When Marigold looked up, Elin's eyes were watery. "We have Umbridge now. Class is starting in three minutes, we have to go."
Marigold nodded unspeaking, she allowed an empty smile to grace her features. Diego lifted the newspaper gently from between her fingers.
Across the castle, George had broken into a brisk jog towards Umbridge's classroom on the South corridor. Despite Fred having come in twice to warn him to get up, he'd still overslept. George had been doodling package designs for Weasley Wizard Wheezes until the early hours of the morning, it had become the preferred alternative to tossing and turning with the image of Zach kissing Marigold against the grimy alleyway wall in Hogsmeade keeping him up as it had been for nearly two weeks.
He wouldn't have felt an even slight sense of urgency to rush if he hadn't remembered that Defense Against The Dark Arts was his first class. Shit. Marigold sat one desk away from him in Umbridge's class.
Students moved aside as George rushed past, his towering height had it's advantages. He stopped momentarily outside the entrance of the Great Hall to catch his breath. Nope, he thought, no time for breakfast.
A rush of relief washed over him when he turned the corner into the south corridor and noticed students still idling outside the door to Umbridge's class. She must not have arrived yet. Amongst the students was Fred and Lee, they were sharing what George figured to be a magazine or newspaper.
He closed the space between them, leaning against his knees for stabilisation and huffing loudly. "Merlin's beard, I wish I'd actually run those laps Ang asked us to do at practice." George frowned when neither of them reacted to him.
"Shut up," Lee shoved him in the shoulder, "You need to look at this."
George straightened out, using the end of his robes to wipe his brow. He tilted his head slightly, reading aloud. "Harry Potter speaks out at last? About what, how horrendously he sings in the shower?" He laughed at his own joke, "You have to hear how he sounds, Lee, it's like a grindylow screaming--"
"Read it." Fred was looking at him in such a serious way, it struck a note of panic into George's chest and he looked back to the article.
The further his eyes followed the words down the page, the further his face fell. "Oh shit..."
"Oh shit is right." Fred said, "I bet the whole school's read it by now."
George glanced towards the classroom door and a frightening thought struck him. "Marigold..."
George's brain flickered with memories of her birthday, she could barely handle a letter from his parents much less a full page, in-detail description of how Cedric had been murdered. "This is gonna kill her."
Unexpectedly, the newspaper was ripped from his grasp and George turned angrily on the perpetrator when he met Umbridge's red and furious face. "Get into class immediately, Mr Weasley."
He pulled his mouth shut and hurried after Lee and Fred into the classroom. His eyes found Marigold as soon as he cleared the threshold, as he did with all their classes, but today was different.
Marigold wasn't talking and it was hard to ignore the concerned side-glances Angelina was sending her every few seconds. Like she was waiting for Marigold to explode or maybe even burst into tears, but the Hufflepuff was still. Stiller than George had ever seen her .
Umbridge wobbled to the front of the class, throwing down the Quibbler she'd pulled from George's hands moments before onto her desk with a loud thwack. She turned like a hungry dragon on the class, her beady eyes surveying the room as if any one of the students were about to leap up and attack her.
"I have received unfortunate news of an article circulating around the castle." The class was quiet. "The claims made in this piece by one Mr Potter, are false and are in direct conflict with the statements being made by the Minister himself. The Ministry does not take matters such as these lightly and Mr Potter will be punished accordingly." Across the classroom, there was a rustle of students shoving their copies of The Quibbler deeper into their bags or slipping them between pages of potions textbooks.
George was still watching Marigold, she was perfectly still.
"The death of Mr Diggory was not caused by He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, or any other dark force as Mr Potter claims. He has made up a story to place himself back in the limelight of the public eye--"
"Professor, are you suggesting that Cedric's death was an accident?"
George's breath caught in his throat. He wouldn't have even realised that it was Marigold who had spoken if the heads of every student in the class hadn't whipped to face her: shocked expressions plastered across them.
Dread crept up into his chest, this wasn't going to end well.
Umbridge's face flared an impossibly darker shade of red and her triple chin wobbled with the force of the breath she pulled in, her eyes watching Marigold like a snake watching it's prey.
"Ms Knight, I will not have you speaking out of turn--"
"Is that a yes, professor?" Marigold was leaning forward against the desk by then. Her face was impossibly calm.
"Goldie," Angelina whispered under her breath, panic written across her face, "Stop."
"Cedric Diggory died of his own recklessness," Umbridge was holding the corner of her desk, her knuckles turning white. "He should have never entered the tournament if he was not strong enough to complete it--"
Like watching an explosion in slow-motion, Marigold leapt up from her seat - her chair screeched against Umbridge's voice. "Cedric was not reckless, he was murdered! And the Ministry's got it's head up it's arse!"
Deathly still silence fell again, but it was short-lived.
Smoke was practically billowing from Umbridge's ears. "Why you bratty, little cow--"
"Don't you dare talk to her like that!" George was on his feet too, the class's eyes on him. He hadn't even meant to, but anger was pulsating through him a thousand kilometres a second and his heart was thumping loudly.
"Detention! The both of you!" Umbridge roared herself almost hoarse, losing her cool in the face of the hysteria that reigned. "You will not have you speak to me like that. I am an official representative of the Ministry of Magic--"
Marigold's mouth had opened just a fraction in what looked like other attempt to interrupt her when Umbridge rounded on her, "One more word and you will lose your captainship, Ms Knight."
She was quiet. Even in the middle of what was an obvious meltdown, Marigold knew better. George knew her captainship meant everything to her.
Angelina had a tight grip around her wrist, "Sit, Goldie." She whispered, and George felt Fred nudge his side.
With his head thumping with adrenaline, George pulled his seat back and sat down on it. Glaring hotly at Umbridge.
"Now that we've finished with the theatrics. If I see any of you in possession of this article you will be joining Ms Knight and Mr Weasley tonight for detention." She gave a tap of her wand to her copy of the Ministry approved Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook lying on her desk and it flew open. "If you turn to page seventy-one, you will find an essay on Why Wands Should Be Confiscated in Households from All Underage Students. You have until tomorrow morning at nine to finish it. You may start now and I don't want to hear a single sound out of any of you."
__________
The hour was excruciating. Dead silence rung and hardly anyone looked like they were writing anything. George spent the whole time glancing up at Marigold in few second intervals, and he wasn't the only one.
The class seemed to find staring back at him and her far more interesting than the essay they'd been given. George groaned internally, he knew by lunchtime the whole school would have heard the story. Nothing stays a secret in Hogwarts for very long.
Marigold had returned to acting freakishly unperturbed. She'd opened her textbook and by all accounts, seemed to be the only one actually attempting the essay. The only way he'd have assumed something was wrong with her, if he didn't already know, was with how Angelina was holding her hand beneath their shared desk.
The bell rung and George swore it was one of the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard. Umbridge looked up from where her feather was scratching against the parchment. "You are dismissed. Ms Knight, Mr Weasley: tonight in my office, six o' clock sharp."
George hadn't even bothered responding, not that Marigold did either.
He had every intention of pulling her aside to talk but by the time he looked up from zipping his bag, she was gone and Angelina stood watching the doorway with a worried look on her face.
"Well that went to shit." A voice he recognised as Bernie commented from behind him.
He couldn't help agree.
__________
The grounds were empty. Even the presence of trees Marigold knew grew there were missing, she frowned.
The Quidditch pitch loomed in the distance, although she could feel it inching ever closer.
Over near the top of the hill Marigold spotted a dark mass, so dark she couldn't make any sense of what it could be. Her feet lead her closer, with each step she could hear the ringing of the Hogwarts' marching band grow louder in the distance.
As she grew close, Marigold recognised a figure. Umbridge's wide stance leaned casually over the dark mass. "Come closer, darling. It's only a body."
Marigold stared down at her professor's feet, where Umbridge's pink pumps were drenched in red blood. It was Cedric. His body was pale and his arms were splayed around him. He was unmoving.
"Well, get to it!" Umbridge shrilled, "Pick him up, and bring him to my office."
Marigold couldn't lift her eyes from Cedric, "Pick him up?"
"Yes, you little cow!" Umbridge leapt forward and seized Marigold's neck with her hands, "Do it!"
She coughed and choked and spluttered, Marigold felt her feet slip in the warm, red blood that pooled at their feet. "I-- I can't do that, professor--!"
Marigold's mouth flew open and her lungs chased for breath. She stared gasping up at the stone ceiling above her bed until her chest had slowed to shallow dips of breath.
The dimness in the room told her that it had grown dark outside, she tilted her head to inspect the clock on her bedside table. Five-forty.
The dorm room hummed with the sound of the crackling fire, but by all accounts, she seemed to be alone.
After the drama of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Marigold hadn't spared a backwards glance and sprinted back to her room the second she left the classroom. There wasn't enough strength in her to face any more of the day.
She'd dug into Elin's medical bag where she knew Elin kept a heavy flask of Sleeping Draught for when her insomnia became too much. Marigold had spun off the top and brought the flask to her lips, slugging down what she knew was too much for one dosage. She'd ripped her school robes from her head and tossed them onto the floor before crashing into bed.
After allowing herself a moment to sigh, Marigold sat up in bed. Her chest stung just the same as it had that morning. Kill the spare. Kill the spare. The details of Harry's story stung like fresh burns at the forefront of her mind. They were all she could think about.
Marigold was grateful for the emptiness of the room, she figured the girls still had to be at dinner - but they'd be returning soon.
The robes she'd tossed onto the floor had been neatly lifted, folded and placed at the edge of her bed. Only Elin would have done that and the thought that she'd been there while she slept brought Marigold the slightest ounce of comfort.
The tick of the clock rung against the crackle of the fireplace. Detention would be starting soon. Marigold's blood boiled at the thought of Dolores Umbridge, that horrible, vile, evil woman. She lifted herself off the edge of the bed - refusing to change, rather just throwing on her student robes again and pulling her boots onto her feet.
The corridors weren't completely empty on the walk to the South side of the castle where Umbridge's office was located and Marigold could feel the eyes of passer-byers on her as she crossed them. Their whispers were also impossible to miss.
Marigold avoided their gazes. Gossip generally spread across Hogwarts faster than a raging wildfire and she was sure that the whole student body had heard about the commotion of that morning in Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Fortunately, the nearer she came to the South end of the castle, the thinner the crowds grew. Most of the students were enjoying dinner in the Great Hall. With a churning stomach and echoing mind - kill the spare - Marigold turned the last corner into the corridor where Umbridge's office belonged.
Her eyes landed on George at the very end of the corridor and she nearly vomited on the spot. Marigold stalled for a long second before pushing her legs forward towards him. She could feel his wary eyes on her the whole way.
The doors of Umbridge's office were still sealed shut, but Marigold had no doubt that her Defense professor loomed behind them like a waiting dragon.
"Marigold, are you alright?" George was staring down at her with what Marigold knew was concern, but she couldn't muster up the courage to react. Her hollow chest echoed weakly with the sound of her heartbeat.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
George knew it was a deflective answer. Merlin's beard, she looked so exhausted. He'd never seen her face so sallow.
"Come on, Goldie. I'm worried about you--"
A violent screeched echoed down the corridor and George spun to the source of the noise. Umbridge's office doors had been swung open, Umbridge herself standing between them casting a dark shadow across the floor.
"The both of you, inside. Now."
__________
sorry for the long wait! i love you all and hope you enjoy the angst because i love love looooove writing it ...