Whenever she got sad, there was 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲.
And, on the other hand, whenever he got sad, there was 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫.
Until they discovered something that only required both of them in the same room -- nothing else.
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲...
The past few days weren't the easiest; perhaps, they weren't easy at all.
Expressing my feelings was like a challenge. From the sting in my heart that's barely healed, to the devastation and denial at the back of my mind—I didn't know which one to follow.
So I pushed them away.
The night after Cedric's death, I chose to pretend like nothing happened.
Death. God, it feels so ridiculous to say something so preposterously unbelievable. Even I don't believe myself.
I threw the letter, wiped the humiliating tears that flowed down my face, and continued with my day.
I chose to ignore all the curious looks practically everyone was giving me, wondering as to why I could keep a straight face after what happened.
Everyone was still in shock. Silence filled the hallways and class was cancelled for a week in memorial of his passing and for the closing of the tournament.
I stayed behind during the funeral, inside the common room with plenty of other Slytherins who had nothing to do with the deceased. The murmurs in the corridors—from the people who actually attended the funeral, narrated how uncomfortable it was to watch a student be buried from a death that was still a mystery.
Harry claimed it was Voldemort, that the portkey took them to a graveyard with him and some of his supporters. Deatheaters.
I think otherwise. If he was back, why would he choose to kill Cedric? As far as I know, it was Harry that he wanted to kill.
There is something more to his death. Harry is lying.
The closing of the tournament was completely unnecessary after the recent events. No one wanted to listen to Dumbledore's rambling—not even the students from Beaubaxtons and Durmstrang.
As for myself, well, Danielle stopped asking how I was doing. It was quite evident that I didn't want to be involved. I threw myself completely into the humongous pile of homework they decided to dump on us for the remaining two weeks of school.
I am now on the way to the common room to meet Danielle, who finally gave in to my invitation to the library.
As I took the last few steps of the stairs, I noticed that all the couches weren't occupied, except for one. Facing the fireplace, twirling his wand in his long, ringed fingers.
"Books?" He asked, eyes fixed on the fire. "Never took you for a nerd." The burning auburn reflected clearly on his crystal eyes.
