A Spark
Title: A Spark
Character(s): Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory
Prompt: look over there
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,968
Summary: Not everyone's first kiss happens on such a night.
Author's Notes: No spoilers for DH, so no worries.
This was the day she’d been looking forward to all summer.
The fluttering in the pit of her stomach woke her up at four o’clock in the morning, a full hour before Madam Edgecombe and Marietta were due to pick her up. She rose from her bed and drifted towards the window of her bedroom, looking out over the skinny, sloping streets of Edinburgh, excitement thrumming in her veins. The sun was just rising, a rosy pink glow blossoming against the gray of the northern sky, and Cho felt a sort of swelling happiness spread across her chest, mirroring the blooming sun and enveloping her rapidly-beating heart.
She could not contain her excitement; a smile spread across her face as she flopped back on her bed, gazing upwards towards the wall and the calendar that hung above her pillow, today’s date circled in bright red. Today, today, August twelfth, she, Cho Chang, would be attending the most important and exciting event of her life-the Quidditch World Cup.
She would sit in the Ministry Box with her best friend Marietta, whose mother, employed by the Floo Network, had secured them these top-notch seats thanks to the tireless effort she’d put into arranging transportation for the World Cup attendees. She would buy a singing shamrock to pin to her lapel, and cheer for Ireland with Marietta and her mother-and, when they weren’t looking, Cho would ogle Viktor Krum, the Seeker for Bulgaria, and the youngest member of a World Cup team in over two decades.
He’d been featured on the cover of this month’s Quidditch for Chicks magazine, shirtless and gleaming with after-practice sweat; he’d been the focus of a four-page article that had made Cho swoon at the knees. She was more than willing to overlook his hooked nose and caterpillar eyebrows in favor of his phenomenal record, gravity-defying Wronski Feint, and the comment he’d made in his interview: “Catching the Snitch is like a dance, no? But the player does not lead in Quidditch; the Snitch dominates. She is my partner, and I am the mercy of her golden will.”
Only Viktor Krum could make Quidditch sound so romantic-that had never been the case for Cho. She bristled under the thumb of her captain, Roger Davies, who insisted that his female players lacked creativity in strategizing, and made lewd comments about aggression and scoring, constantly offering “practice sessions” with him, one-on-one. In contrast, Viktor Krum was like a benediction; Cho would have taken him and his scowl over handsome Roger any day.
+++
Madam Edgecombe and Marietta arrived at five o’clock on the dot, knocking quietly on the front door. The streetlamps were still lit when Cho answered, schoolbag slung over her shoulder and packed with distinctly un-academic objects: a change of clothes, pair of pajamas, autograph book, and the now-wrinkled magazine with Krum glowering sexily from the cover. Cho was prepared to tiptoe out and away, eager to leave, when she heard a soft cough, and turned: her mother had appeared, wrapped in a fading dressing gown with her long black hair, shot through with strands of gray, braided down her left shoulder.
She padded over to kiss Cho on the forehead and press a useless fifty-pound note into her hand. Her voice was hoarse with sleep when she thanked Madam Edgecombe for taking Cho along. “There are so many things I can’t do for Cho,” she said wistfully, and her daughter winced as Madam Edgecombe smiled a tight, regretful little smile, before ushering the two girls out the door.
Cho’s mother was a Muggle. It was the source of Cho’s deepest shame-a secret she’d worked tirelessly to keep since her first year at Hogwarts. Only Marietta had ever discovered the truth, when Cho had almost decided to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays during their second year, rather than go home to a Muggle Christmas. Marietta had packed Cho’s trunk for her and dragged her back to the Edgecombes’ for the merriest Christmas of Cho’s existence. From that point on, Cho spent every holiday with her best friend and her family, thriving in the wizarding environment and forgetting all about her mother and her Muggle existence. Only in the summers did she return home, and they were two very sorry months indeed, with Cho constantly aware of everything she was missing out on.
In a way, those summers were very much like Cho’s childhood, before Hogwarts. It hadn’t really mattered that Cho’s dad was a wizard; her parents had divorced when she was six, right after her father had introduced her to Quidditch and the Tutshill Tornadoes. Promptly thereafter, he had disappeared into the depths of the wizarding world, abandoning his daughter to seven more years of a Muggle upbringing. But Cho could never find it in her to blame him; he’d only been escaping from the same unbearable situation she found herself facing: an existence without magic. Instead, Cho developed a powerful resentment for her mother; it was a guilty one, for Cho knew her mother couldn’t help their Muggle lifestyle, and yet it was still omnipresent, a dark shadow cast over their relationship. As Cho followed the giggling Edgecombes down the empty street towards a bus stop, she couldn’t help but think that this was what a mother-daughter relationship was supposed to be like-this laughing, light, loving thing that Cho and her mother had never had, as far back as Cho could remember. And it wasn’t, thought Cho defensively, that she didn’t love her mother. She did. It was merely that her mother didn’t understand the world her daughter lived in. It had meant nothing to her when Cho wrote home that she’d been sorted into Ravenclaw-the house for the best and brightest. It had meant nothing to her when Cho made Seeker for the house team at the beginning of fourth year, or when she chose to pursue Ancient Runes and Divination as her electives in third year. She hadn’t even purchased an owl for Cho, preferring to send mail by Muggle post, which was intercepted by the wizarding world and forwarded using the snappish, overburdened general post owls who dumped their letters unceremoniously on Cho’s head if she wasn’t paying attention. Cho hated the trek up to the Owlery, all too aware that if she were a witch with a magical mother, she wouldn’t have to go all this way just to post a stupid letter home about things her mother didn’t even understand, anyway.
But, of course, that was why she had the Edgecombes! As the three of them gathered underneath the bus stop-which smelled faintly of stale piss, and had graffiti scrawled on the advertisements for a new sort of mobile phone-Marietta smiled happily at Cho from under her mane of corkscrew curls. Cho grinned back, and reached a pale hand out towards the Portkey (a crumpled soda can) as Marietta’s mother murmured, “One…two…three…” Always precise, she had barely finished speaking before Cho felt the nauseating tug at her navel, and the three women whirled through space and landed with thud on the hard, wet ground.
“Six-twelve from Marchmont, Edinburgh,” said a gruff voice, and Cho opened her eyes: they were there!
+++
Most of the day was lost in the hustle and bustle of setting up camp. Cho had never been inside a wizarding tent before, and she was shocked to see that there were two bedrooms, a kitchen, a sitting room, and a bathroom underneath the brown canvas Madam Edgecombe had lugged all this way. She left her bag on the top bunk, and then she and Marietta headed out into the chaos of the Cup.
There were more foreign faces than familiar ones, but they still caught glimpses of their schoolmates scattered about. Cho had never felt more excitement in the air; it was practically palpable, and seemed to shine on everybody like sweat. She could sense it, the enthusiasm, the nerves, the exhilaration, and discovered that she, too, was wearing it like a second skin-her stomach was tied in knots, her hands shaky as she counted out Galleons for the singing shamrock, her laugh high and fluttery as it rang out again and again with every one of Marietta’s bad jokes. She’d just purchased a tiny model Krum, and was poking it giddily, when Madam Edgecombe pushed a pair of tiny gold binoculars into her hands and said, “A gift.”
“Thank you!” Cho gushed, even as Marietta crowed, “Look! Eddie and his mum!” and grabbed her hand, spinning them around in a mad dash over to the Carmichael family. It was not that easy, however-Cho whirled in space and time and then promptly stopped on impact, crashing headlong into a bigger, taller body hurrying in the opposite direction.
“Sorry! Sorry!” the impediment apologized, looking stricken as Cho stepped backwards and lifted a hand to her head. The world spun once, twice, three times, and then stopped with a dizzying rush as her eyes refocused and settled on the boy standing in front of her, his gray eyes narrowed with worry.
“Are you all right?” he asked, peering into her face a little too closely, as though examining her pupils. “I smacked into you rather hard-are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” said Cho faintly, and she gave a little half-smile to reassure him.
“Good. I’m glad.”
“Don’t mind Cho-she’s so clumsy,” came a voice out of nowhere, and Cho glanced sideways to see Marietta and her bobbing head of curls, grinning like a loon. “I’m Marietta Edgecombe, by the way, and this is my best friend, Cho Chang.”
“Cedric Diggory,” said the boy, brushing his hair out of his eyes and grinning broadly. “Aren’t you Bernadette’s daughter? My dad knows your mum from work, I think...actually, I think they got seats next to each other-are you in the Ministry Box?”
They were indeed, and Marietta nodded eagerly, a wide smile plastered foolishly across her face. “Are you supporting Ireland or Bulgaria, then?” asked Cedric in a polite enough way; when they’d answered Ireland, of course, he nodded in agreement, and then walked away with a vague, “If you’ll excuse me, my dad…” before fading into the crowd.
As soon as he had walked out of earshot, Marietta sighed dramatically, lifting a hand to forehead as though swooning. “Isn’t he handsome?” she cooed. “How old do you think he is?”
“A seventh year, maybe,” Cho suggested quietly. “He looks a bit familiar.”
“Yeah. Must not be in Ravenclaw; I’ve never spoken to him before. It’ll be Gryffindor, then. Nobody in Slytherin is that nice, and nobody in Hufflepuff is that handsome.”
Cho only shrugged, and peered up at the sky. It was almost dark, and not long after the announcement came that the match was beginning. They trooped off to their seats, which were located a level below the Top Box, from which they could hear Minister Fudge’s booming voice. The Department of Magical Transportation had apparently been thoroughly abused in preparation for the Cup, for the Edgecombes and Cho found themselves sitting in the front row, pressed up against the barrier and peering down at the pitch. Even Cho, a Seeker and a lover of heights, felt her stomach swim just slightly; to distract herself, she attempted to squint at the tiny team benches down below, but they were as small as doll’s furniture and she could see nothing. A quick glance at the Edgecombes to the right, however, explained the purpose of the strange gold binoculars, and in a moment’s time, Cho was watching Viktor Krum’s heartbeat thrum on his neck, as he swallowed hard and pulled on his Seeker’s gloves.
Cho had almost forgotten all about Cedric, until he burst into the box just moments before the match began. He must have had friends in another part of the enormous stadium, and had had to run back, for he was breathing a little heavily as he settled into the empty seat between Cho and an older man, reaching for his velvet program and chattering excitedly to “Dad” about the odds of Ireland versus Bulgaria. Cho bit her lip and tried not to feel annoyed as Marietta twisted her neck oddly in order to get a view of him.
“Switch seats with me!” she muttered, poking Cho in the ribs and causing her friend to drop her Omnioculars with a start-but luckily the opening announcements blared across the pitch, and a great wave of cheering whooshed through the stadium, obliterating Marietta’s whispered threats. The mascots emerged directly thereafter, and from that point on it was too exciting to move; Cho watched the Veela dance (she noticed that both Diggorys plugged up their ears very matter-of-factly) and the leprechauns swarm with her heart located somewhere in her throat, doing flips to rival a gymnast, and then the teams had flown across the pitch, and the game was on. Cho was sitting on the very edge of her seat, fingers curled around the barrier and eyes fixed on the tiny figures darting around on their broomsticks. It wasn’t until five minutes into the match that she realized she’d forgotten entirely about her fallen Omnioculars; she reached blindly to the left to grab at them, and instead tangled her fingers with those of a much larger hand.
Turning, she saw that Cedric Diggory had done the same-both of them were reaching too far over their armrests, on which their Omnioculars were perched. Their hands had collided and intertwined; in the brief moment before Cedric pulled his fingers away, Cho had the time to feel the broomstick callouses on his palms, perfectly matched to fit hers. She met his eyes in the semi-darkness of the box, and smiled; the floodlights and the same jittery excitement she was feeling had lit up his gray eyes, and he grinned broadly back, before they both seized up the objects of their search and returned to the game.
Marietta, despite growing up magical, knew next to nothing about Quidditch; she was there because it was the event of the year, not out of love for the game, and so Cho had to keep up a running commentary throughout, explaining the finer points of strategy and marveling at how talented a flier Krum was, and how fantastic the Irish chasers were. About halfway through the match, however, she realized it wasn’t Marietta she was murmuring to-it was Cedric. Marietta, swamped with confusion and finally content to just enjoy the atmosphere without being able to recognize each Dopplebeater Defense and Porskoff Ploy, had ceased to answer, and now Cedric was, returning each of Cho’s comments with an equally intelligent one, showing a more thorough knowledge of the rules and game than even Cho possessed.
“See that?” he whispered. “That’s the beginning of cobbing-he’ll get called for that foul any second now-” and he was right; the referee blew his whistle, and the scowling Bulgarian beater tucked his elbows in.
It was the most exhilarating experience of Cho’s life-she watched, thrilled, as Ireland scored again and again, cheering whenever they did along with Cedric, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks Marietta was beginning to shoot her. When Krum caught the Snitch, the stadium exploded with sound, and Cho and Cedric both leapt up together, adding to the noise with undignified whooping and, in Cedric’s case, a long, piercing whistle that echoed into the night.
There was no killing the excitement in the stadium; it was pandemonium as everyone flooded out and headed for their tents for all-night celebrations, and while Madam Edgecombe grabbed both girls’ hands fiercely so as not to lose track of them, Cho lost Cedric in the muddle, as the crowd pulled them in opposite directions.
Determined not to show her disappointment, Cho began to prattle on about the game and Krum, trying to revive Marietta’s spirits, but her best friend was still glowering from under her curls, and Cho abandoned the effort almost at once. They had a celebratory butterbeer each in the kitchen with Madam Edgecombe, and then undressed in stony silence before slipping under the covers and drifting into uneasy sleep.
+++
It was late at night when Cho woke to the sound of someone tapping on the window of the tent. She rubbed her eyes and yawned loudly, before rolling over and glancing out the window next to the top bunk. It was Cedric Diggory, peering into the tent curiously, and Cho gave a little squeak when she realized she was only wearing a grubby old t-shirt and a pair of raggedy pajama bottoms. Still, she couldn’t let him keep tapping away; he’d wake Marietta, and then she’d be in more trouble than she could even imagine. Swearing under her breath, she pulled a pink sweater over her head-it was chilly outside-and ducked out of the tent towards Cedric.
He was still wearing his jeans and t-shirt, and his breath smelled faintly of alcohol-something much stronger than the butterbeer she’d had hours ago, and Cho remembered faintly that she’d guessed he was a seventh year, more than two years older than her. She suddenly felt very young (and very short) standing next to this boy with the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen, and the biggest hands.
“Hey,” he said softly, and she realized she’d just been staring at him in the moonlight. She let the corners of her mouth turn up a little and whispered back, “Hey.”
“I thought I’d come pay you a visit-I didn’t realize you’d be asleep,” he apologized. “We’ve been-my dad, and the McLaggens, and the Davies, and me-up since the match, and-”
“You’re friends with Roger Davies?” Cho interrupted, frowning a bit.
“Well, not really, no, but we’re both captains of Quidditch, and we’ve got tents next door, and-”
“You’re captain of Quidditch?” Cho interrupted again.
Cedric looked a little uneasy at being interrogated, but he couldn’t hide the happy smile dancing on his lips as he replied, “Yeah-yeah! We’ve flown against each other, actually…but only in your first match, so I’m sure you were too nervous to notice-I’m captain of Hufflepuff.”
“Oh,” said Cho, blushing and looking down at her bare feet. “I should’ve remembered-I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he said, grinning. “You did catch the Snitch, after all. I wouldn’t have remembered the opposing Seeker of my first winning match, either.”
Now Cho was really red, but Cedric didn’t seem to notice or mind. He shifted from one foot to the other before asking, “Do you want to go for a walk?”
“Yeah-all right,” she agreed, glancing back nervously at the tent where the Edgecombes snored on. But then Cedric had reached out and grabbed her hand, and there they were again, the matching calluses touching, and she felt her pulse suddenly begin to pound as she clenched her fingers around his and followed him towards the woods.
“So, what’s your favorite class?” he asked awkwardly, as they walked past the dying embers of dozens of fires, listening to the muffled laughter and chatter of hundreds of tents spread out across the moor.
“Ancient Runes,” said Cho at once, and when Cedric quirked an eyebrow at her, she went on, explaining how difficult it was to draw the runes, but how rewarding, and how she was translating Quidditch Through the Ages into runes over the summer for extra credit, and Cedric chuckled at her enthusiasm, his grey eyes gleaming.
“Mine’s Care of Magical Creatures, or maybe Charms,” he said. “I like being outdoors the most, but Charms is more satisfying. And ever since Hagrid started teaching…”
“I heard he’s the worst!”
“Oh, he means well, but we haven’t learned much, and I’m nervous for N.E.W.T.s this year, a bit.” He glanced at her in the darkness, and ran his thumb over her hand in a soft stroke that made Cho take the tiniest intake of breath, before adding, “And you’ve got O.W.L.s coming up this year, haven’t you? Don’t even worry about them-they’re a cinch.” There was a very full pause before he muttered, almost more to himself than to Cho, “Of course, why I am telling you that? You’re the bloody Ravenclaw!”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Cho muttered hurriedly, and Cedric arched an eyebrow at her incredulously. “I mean, it does-” she stumbled, causing Cedric to chuckle, “but I mean, it really doesn’t-I’m sure there’s loads more things you can do better than I can-just because I’m a Ravenclaw doesn’t mean I’m smarter than everyone else-or more talented-or-”
“Or apparently ever aware of when to shut up,” said Cedric very softly, and Cho’s head shot up in surprise and indignation, her mouth falling open to tell him off for being the world’s most incredible prat, when suddenly his lips were pressed against hers-his tongue slipping gently into her opened mouth-and she realized what he’d done.
There was almost half a minute of exquisite perfection-the world seemed to be frozen and still, although at some point Cedric’s hand moved from her own to her waist-when there was a sickening flash of green light that permeated even Cho’s closed eyelids, and then, almost immediately, thousands of screams.
They leapt apart, gasping and bright-eyed; Cedric wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and pulled out his wand at the exact same moment, and Cho felt a pang of irritation before her adrenaline took over, and her face took on an identical look of wild fear.
“Don’t be scared,” he shouted-the screams were as loud as the stadium had been earlier that night, and Cho could suddenly barely hear him. “Come with me-come on, I’m taking you back to the tent-come on-”
He gripped her hand in his like iron, and dragged her forward at a run so fast Cho could barely keep up. They’d wandered much farther than she’d realized, and as they grew nearer to the clustered tents, she suddenly saw the cause of the screams-there were people, people floating in the air, flopping about, and below them, hooded and masked creatures, laughing hysterically-
“Come on!” Cedric bellowed, and he grabbed her away so fiercely Cho felt as though her arm had been tugged out of its socket. She ran on blindly, her mind focused on the limp, whirling bodies and not on the destination of her feet, when Cedric came to a screeching stop in front of the brown canvas tent he’d wooed her out of earlier on.
“I’ve got to go-” Cedric told her, pulling her close so he could speak and be heard without having to shout. “I’ve got to go find my dad-I’ve got to go help with whatever’s going on-he’ll be worried I’m gone-”
“Go on,” Cho said. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”
He looked desperate and sad as he shot her a last look before suddenly vanishing into thin air-of course, he’s of age, he can Apparate, thought Cho stupidly, before another wail echoed in the chilly night air. She shivered and hugged her arms tight to her chest, at the very moment Marietta emerged frantically from the tent, enveloping her friend in her thick embrace and screaming.
“We thought something happened to you! We were so worried! Why are you out here? Get back inside where it’s safe! Mum is activing a Floo fire this very second-”
“I just want to know what’s happening,” mumbled Cho, and she stared for a second longer out into the darkness, as though hoping to catch a glimpse of Cedric Diggory, and find an answer to the question she was really asking.
prompt table | next
Character(s): Cho Chang/Cedric Diggory
Prompt: look over there
Rating: PG
Word Count: 3,968
Summary: Not everyone's first kiss happens on such a night.
Author's Notes: No spoilers for DH, so no worries.
This was the day she’d been looking forward to all summer.
The fluttering in the pit of her stomach woke her up at four o’clock in the morning, a full hour before Madam Edgecombe and Marietta were due to pick her up. She rose from her bed and drifted towards the window of her bedroom, looking out over the skinny, sloping streets of Edinburgh, excitement thrumming in her veins. The sun was just rising, a rosy pink glow blossoming against the gray of the northern sky, and Cho felt a sort of swelling happiness spread across her chest, mirroring the blooming sun and enveloping her rapidly-beating heart.
She could not contain her excitement; a smile spread across her face as she flopped back on her bed, gazing upwards towards the wall and the calendar that hung above her pillow, today’s date circled in bright red. Today, today, August twelfth, she, Cho Chang, would be attending the most important and exciting event of her life-the Quidditch World Cup.
She would sit in the Ministry Box with her best friend Marietta, whose mother, employed by the Floo Network, had secured them these top-notch seats thanks to the tireless effort she’d put into arranging transportation for the World Cup attendees. She would buy a singing shamrock to pin to her lapel, and cheer for Ireland with Marietta and her mother-and, when they weren’t looking, Cho would ogle Viktor Krum, the Seeker for Bulgaria, and the youngest member of a World Cup team in over two decades.
He’d been featured on the cover of this month’s Quidditch for Chicks magazine, shirtless and gleaming with after-practice sweat; he’d been the focus of a four-page article that had made Cho swoon at the knees. She was more than willing to overlook his hooked nose and caterpillar eyebrows in favor of his phenomenal record, gravity-defying Wronski Feint, and the comment he’d made in his interview: “Catching the Snitch is like a dance, no? But the player does not lead in Quidditch; the Snitch dominates. She is my partner, and I am the mercy of her golden will.”
Only Viktor Krum could make Quidditch sound so romantic-that had never been the case for Cho. She bristled under the thumb of her captain, Roger Davies, who insisted that his female players lacked creativity in strategizing, and made lewd comments about aggression and scoring, constantly offering “practice sessions” with him, one-on-one. In contrast, Viktor Krum was like a benediction; Cho would have taken him and his scowl over handsome Roger any day.
+++
Madam Edgecombe and Marietta arrived at five o’clock on the dot, knocking quietly on the front door. The streetlamps were still lit when Cho answered, schoolbag slung over her shoulder and packed with distinctly un-academic objects: a change of clothes, pair of pajamas, autograph book, and the now-wrinkled magazine with Krum glowering sexily from the cover. Cho was prepared to tiptoe out and away, eager to leave, when she heard a soft cough, and turned: her mother had appeared, wrapped in a fading dressing gown with her long black hair, shot through with strands of gray, braided down her left shoulder.
She padded over to kiss Cho on the forehead and press a useless fifty-pound note into her hand. Her voice was hoarse with sleep when she thanked Madam Edgecombe for taking Cho along. “There are so many things I can’t do for Cho,” she said wistfully, and her daughter winced as Madam Edgecombe smiled a tight, regretful little smile, before ushering the two girls out the door.
Cho’s mother was a Muggle. It was the source of Cho’s deepest shame-a secret she’d worked tirelessly to keep since her first year at Hogwarts. Only Marietta had ever discovered the truth, when Cho had almost decided to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays during their second year, rather than go home to a Muggle Christmas. Marietta had packed Cho’s trunk for her and dragged her back to the Edgecombes’ for the merriest Christmas of Cho’s existence. From that point on, Cho spent every holiday with her best friend and her family, thriving in the wizarding environment and forgetting all about her mother and her Muggle existence. Only in the summers did she return home, and they were two very sorry months indeed, with Cho constantly aware of everything she was missing out on.
In a way, those summers were very much like Cho’s childhood, before Hogwarts. It hadn’t really mattered that Cho’s dad was a wizard; her parents had divorced when she was six, right after her father had introduced her to Quidditch and the Tutshill Tornadoes. Promptly thereafter, he had disappeared into the depths of the wizarding world, abandoning his daughter to seven more years of a Muggle upbringing. But Cho could never find it in her to blame him; he’d only been escaping from the same unbearable situation she found herself facing: an existence without magic. Instead, Cho developed a powerful resentment for her mother; it was a guilty one, for Cho knew her mother couldn’t help their Muggle lifestyle, and yet it was still omnipresent, a dark shadow cast over their relationship. As Cho followed the giggling Edgecombes down the empty street towards a bus stop, she couldn’t help but think that this was what a mother-daughter relationship was supposed to be like-this laughing, light, loving thing that Cho and her mother had never had, as far back as Cho could remember. And it wasn’t, thought Cho defensively, that she didn’t love her mother. She did. It was merely that her mother didn’t understand the world her daughter lived in. It had meant nothing to her when Cho wrote home that she’d been sorted into Ravenclaw-the house for the best and brightest. It had meant nothing to her when Cho made Seeker for the house team at the beginning of fourth year, or when she chose to pursue Ancient Runes and Divination as her electives in third year. She hadn’t even purchased an owl for Cho, preferring to send mail by Muggle post, which was intercepted by the wizarding world and forwarded using the snappish, overburdened general post owls who dumped their letters unceremoniously on Cho’s head if she wasn’t paying attention. Cho hated the trek up to the Owlery, all too aware that if she were a witch with a magical mother, she wouldn’t have to go all this way just to post a stupid letter home about things her mother didn’t even understand, anyway.
But, of course, that was why she had the Edgecombes! As the three of them gathered underneath the bus stop-which smelled faintly of stale piss, and had graffiti scrawled on the advertisements for a new sort of mobile phone-Marietta smiled happily at Cho from under her mane of corkscrew curls. Cho grinned back, and reached a pale hand out towards the Portkey (a crumpled soda can) as Marietta’s mother murmured, “One…two…three…” Always precise, she had barely finished speaking before Cho felt the nauseating tug at her navel, and the three women whirled through space and landed with thud on the hard, wet ground.
“Six-twelve from Marchmont, Edinburgh,” said a gruff voice, and Cho opened her eyes: they were there!
+++
Most of the day was lost in the hustle and bustle of setting up camp. Cho had never been inside a wizarding tent before, and she was shocked to see that there were two bedrooms, a kitchen, a sitting room, and a bathroom underneath the brown canvas Madam Edgecombe had lugged all this way. She left her bag on the top bunk, and then she and Marietta headed out into the chaos of the Cup.
There were more foreign faces than familiar ones, but they still caught glimpses of their schoolmates scattered about. Cho had never felt more excitement in the air; it was practically palpable, and seemed to shine on everybody like sweat. She could sense it, the enthusiasm, the nerves, the exhilaration, and discovered that she, too, was wearing it like a second skin-her stomach was tied in knots, her hands shaky as she counted out Galleons for the singing shamrock, her laugh high and fluttery as it rang out again and again with every one of Marietta’s bad jokes. She’d just purchased a tiny model Krum, and was poking it giddily, when Madam Edgecombe pushed a pair of tiny gold binoculars into her hands and said, “A gift.”
“Thank you!” Cho gushed, even as Marietta crowed, “Look! Eddie and his mum!” and grabbed her hand, spinning them around in a mad dash over to the Carmichael family. It was not that easy, however-Cho whirled in space and time and then promptly stopped on impact, crashing headlong into a bigger, taller body hurrying in the opposite direction.
“Sorry! Sorry!” the impediment apologized, looking stricken as Cho stepped backwards and lifted a hand to her head. The world spun once, twice, three times, and then stopped with a dizzying rush as her eyes refocused and settled on the boy standing in front of her, his gray eyes narrowed with worry.
“Are you all right?” he asked, peering into her face a little too closely, as though examining her pupils. “I smacked into you rather hard-are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” said Cho faintly, and she gave a little half-smile to reassure him.
“Good. I’m glad.”
“Don’t mind Cho-she’s so clumsy,” came a voice out of nowhere, and Cho glanced sideways to see Marietta and her bobbing head of curls, grinning like a loon. “I’m Marietta Edgecombe, by the way, and this is my best friend, Cho Chang.”
“Cedric Diggory,” said the boy, brushing his hair out of his eyes and grinning broadly. “Aren’t you Bernadette’s daughter? My dad knows your mum from work, I think...actually, I think they got seats next to each other-are you in the Ministry Box?”
They were indeed, and Marietta nodded eagerly, a wide smile plastered foolishly across her face. “Are you supporting Ireland or Bulgaria, then?” asked Cedric in a polite enough way; when they’d answered Ireland, of course, he nodded in agreement, and then walked away with a vague, “If you’ll excuse me, my dad…” before fading into the crowd.
As soon as he had walked out of earshot, Marietta sighed dramatically, lifting a hand to forehead as though swooning. “Isn’t he handsome?” she cooed. “How old do you think he is?”
“A seventh year, maybe,” Cho suggested quietly. “He looks a bit familiar.”
“Yeah. Must not be in Ravenclaw; I’ve never spoken to him before. It’ll be Gryffindor, then. Nobody in Slytherin is that nice, and nobody in Hufflepuff is that handsome.”
Cho only shrugged, and peered up at the sky. It was almost dark, and not long after the announcement came that the match was beginning. They trooped off to their seats, which were located a level below the Top Box, from which they could hear Minister Fudge’s booming voice. The Department of Magical Transportation had apparently been thoroughly abused in preparation for the Cup, for the Edgecombes and Cho found themselves sitting in the front row, pressed up against the barrier and peering down at the pitch. Even Cho, a Seeker and a lover of heights, felt her stomach swim just slightly; to distract herself, she attempted to squint at the tiny team benches down below, but they were as small as doll’s furniture and she could see nothing. A quick glance at the Edgecombes to the right, however, explained the purpose of the strange gold binoculars, and in a moment’s time, Cho was watching Viktor Krum’s heartbeat thrum on his neck, as he swallowed hard and pulled on his Seeker’s gloves.
Cho had almost forgotten all about Cedric, until he burst into the box just moments before the match began. He must have had friends in another part of the enormous stadium, and had had to run back, for he was breathing a little heavily as he settled into the empty seat between Cho and an older man, reaching for his velvet program and chattering excitedly to “Dad” about the odds of Ireland versus Bulgaria. Cho bit her lip and tried not to feel annoyed as Marietta twisted her neck oddly in order to get a view of him.
“Switch seats with me!” she muttered, poking Cho in the ribs and causing her friend to drop her Omnioculars with a start-but luckily the opening announcements blared across the pitch, and a great wave of cheering whooshed through the stadium, obliterating Marietta’s whispered threats. The mascots emerged directly thereafter, and from that point on it was too exciting to move; Cho watched the Veela dance (she noticed that both Diggorys plugged up their ears very matter-of-factly) and the leprechauns swarm with her heart located somewhere in her throat, doing flips to rival a gymnast, and then the teams had flown across the pitch, and the game was on. Cho was sitting on the very edge of her seat, fingers curled around the barrier and eyes fixed on the tiny figures darting around on their broomsticks. It wasn’t until five minutes into the match that she realized she’d forgotten entirely about her fallen Omnioculars; she reached blindly to the left to grab at them, and instead tangled her fingers with those of a much larger hand.
Turning, she saw that Cedric Diggory had done the same-both of them were reaching too far over their armrests, on which their Omnioculars were perched. Their hands had collided and intertwined; in the brief moment before Cedric pulled his fingers away, Cho had the time to feel the broomstick callouses on his palms, perfectly matched to fit hers. She met his eyes in the semi-darkness of the box, and smiled; the floodlights and the same jittery excitement she was feeling had lit up his gray eyes, and he grinned broadly back, before they both seized up the objects of their search and returned to the game.
Marietta, despite growing up magical, knew next to nothing about Quidditch; she was there because it was the event of the year, not out of love for the game, and so Cho had to keep up a running commentary throughout, explaining the finer points of strategy and marveling at how talented a flier Krum was, and how fantastic the Irish chasers were. About halfway through the match, however, she realized it wasn’t Marietta she was murmuring to-it was Cedric. Marietta, swamped with confusion and finally content to just enjoy the atmosphere without being able to recognize each Dopplebeater Defense and Porskoff Ploy, had ceased to answer, and now Cedric was, returning each of Cho’s comments with an equally intelligent one, showing a more thorough knowledge of the rules and game than even Cho possessed.
“See that?” he whispered. “That’s the beginning of cobbing-he’ll get called for that foul any second now-” and he was right; the referee blew his whistle, and the scowling Bulgarian beater tucked his elbows in.
It was the most exhilarating experience of Cho’s life-she watched, thrilled, as Ireland scored again and again, cheering whenever they did along with Cedric, ignoring the not-so-subtle looks Marietta was beginning to shoot her. When Krum caught the Snitch, the stadium exploded with sound, and Cho and Cedric both leapt up together, adding to the noise with undignified whooping and, in Cedric’s case, a long, piercing whistle that echoed into the night.
There was no killing the excitement in the stadium; it was pandemonium as everyone flooded out and headed for their tents for all-night celebrations, and while Madam Edgecombe grabbed both girls’ hands fiercely so as not to lose track of them, Cho lost Cedric in the muddle, as the crowd pulled them in opposite directions.
Determined not to show her disappointment, Cho began to prattle on about the game and Krum, trying to revive Marietta’s spirits, but her best friend was still glowering from under her curls, and Cho abandoned the effort almost at once. They had a celebratory butterbeer each in the kitchen with Madam Edgecombe, and then undressed in stony silence before slipping under the covers and drifting into uneasy sleep.
+++
It was late at night when Cho woke to the sound of someone tapping on the window of the tent. She rubbed her eyes and yawned loudly, before rolling over and glancing out the window next to the top bunk. It was Cedric Diggory, peering into the tent curiously, and Cho gave a little squeak when she realized she was only wearing a grubby old t-shirt and a pair of raggedy pajama bottoms. Still, she couldn’t let him keep tapping away; he’d wake Marietta, and then she’d be in more trouble than she could even imagine. Swearing under her breath, she pulled a pink sweater over her head-it was chilly outside-and ducked out of the tent towards Cedric.
He was still wearing his jeans and t-shirt, and his breath smelled faintly of alcohol-something much stronger than the butterbeer she’d had hours ago, and Cho remembered faintly that she’d guessed he was a seventh year, more than two years older than her. She suddenly felt very young (and very short) standing next to this boy with the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen, and the biggest hands.
“Hey,” he said softly, and she realized she’d just been staring at him in the moonlight. She let the corners of her mouth turn up a little and whispered back, “Hey.”
“I thought I’d come pay you a visit-I didn’t realize you’d be asleep,” he apologized. “We’ve been-my dad, and the McLaggens, and the Davies, and me-up since the match, and-”
“You’re friends with Roger Davies?” Cho interrupted, frowning a bit.
“Well, not really, no, but we’re both captains of Quidditch, and we’ve got tents next door, and-”
“You’re captain of Quidditch?” Cho interrupted again.
Cedric looked a little uneasy at being interrogated, but he couldn’t hide the happy smile dancing on his lips as he replied, “Yeah-yeah! We’ve flown against each other, actually…but only in your first match, so I’m sure you were too nervous to notice-I’m captain of Hufflepuff.”
“Oh,” said Cho, blushing and looking down at her bare feet. “I should’ve remembered-I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he said, grinning. “You did catch the Snitch, after all. I wouldn’t have remembered the opposing Seeker of my first winning match, either.”
Now Cho was really red, but Cedric didn’t seem to notice or mind. He shifted from one foot to the other before asking, “Do you want to go for a walk?”
“Yeah-all right,” she agreed, glancing back nervously at the tent where the Edgecombes snored on. But then Cedric had reached out and grabbed her hand, and there they were again, the matching calluses touching, and she felt her pulse suddenly begin to pound as she clenched her fingers around his and followed him towards the woods.
“So, what’s your favorite class?” he asked awkwardly, as they walked past the dying embers of dozens of fires, listening to the muffled laughter and chatter of hundreds of tents spread out across the moor.
“Ancient Runes,” said Cho at once, and when Cedric quirked an eyebrow at her, she went on, explaining how difficult it was to draw the runes, but how rewarding, and how she was translating Quidditch Through the Ages into runes over the summer for extra credit, and Cedric chuckled at her enthusiasm, his grey eyes gleaming.
“Mine’s Care of Magical Creatures, or maybe Charms,” he said. “I like being outdoors the most, but Charms is more satisfying. And ever since Hagrid started teaching…”
“I heard he’s the worst!”
“Oh, he means well, but we haven’t learned much, and I’m nervous for N.E.W.T.s this year, a bit.” He glanced at her in the darkness, and ran his thumb over her hand in a soft stroke that made Cho take the tiniest intake of breath, before adding, “And you’ve got O.W.L.s coming up this year, haven’t you? Don’t even worry about them-they’re a cinch.” There was a very full pause before he muttered, almost more to himself than to Cho, “Of course, why I am telling you that? You’re the bloody Ravenclaw!”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Cho muttered hurriedly, and Cedric arched an eyebrow at her incredulously. “I mean, it does-” she stumbled, causing Cedric to chuckle, “but I mean, it really doesn’t-I’m sure there’s loads more things you can do better than I can-just because I’m a Ravenclaw doesn’t mean I’m smarter than everyone else-or more talented-or-”
“Or apparently ever aware of when to shut up,” said Cedric very softly, and Cho’s head shot up in surprise and indignation, her mouth falling open to tell him off for being the world’s most incredible prat, when suddenly his lips were pressed against hers-his tongue slipping gently into her opened mouth-and she realized what he’d done.
There was almost half a minute of exquisite perfection-the world seemed to be frozen and still, although at some point Cedric’s hand moved from her own to her waist-when there was a sickening flash of green light that permeated even Cho’s closed eyelids, and then, almost immediately, thousands of screams.
They leapt apart, gasping and bright-eyed; Cedric wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and pulled out his wand at the exact same moment, and Cho felt a pang of irritation before her adrenaline took over, and her face took on an identical look of wild fear.
“Don’t be scared,” he shouted-the screams were as loud as the stadium had been earlier that night, and Cho could suddenly barely hear him. “Come with me-come on, I’m taking you back to the tent-come on-”
He gripped her hand in his like iron, and dragged her forward at a run so fast Cho could barely keep up. They’d wandered much farther than she’d realized, and as they grew nearer to the clustered tents, she suddenly saw the cause of the screams-there were people, people floating in the air, flopping about, and below them, hooded and masked creatures, laughing hysterically-
“Come on!” Cedric bellowed, and he grabbed her away so fiercely Cho felt as though her arm had been tugged out of its socket. She ran on blindly, her mind focused on the limp, whirling bodies and not on the destination of her feet, when Cedric came to a screeching stop in front of the brown canvas tent he’d wooed her out of earlier on.
“I’ve got to go-” Cedric told her, pulling her close so he could speak and be heard without having to shout. “I’ve got to go find my dad-I’ve got to go help with whatever’s going on-he’ll be worried I’m gone-”
“Go on,” Cho said. “Go on. I’ll be fine.”
He looked desperate and sad as he shot her a last look before suddenly vanishing into thin air-of course, he’s of age, he can Apparate, thought Cho stupidly, before another wail echoed in the chilly night air. She shivered and hugged her arms tight to her chest, at the very moment Marietta emerged frantically from the tent, enveloping her friend in her thick embrace and screaming.
“We thought something happened to you! We were so worried! Why are you out here? Get back inside where it’s safe! Mum is activing a Floo fire this very second-”
“I just want to know what’s happening,” mumbled Cho, and she stared for a second longer out into the darkness, as though hoping to catch a glimpse of Cedric Diggory, and find an answer to the question she was really asking.
prompt table | next