'And he's the best fuck that ever walked. He's beautiful - rich, in money and everything else; he's a rockstar to boot, trapped in the body of a fighter. And how he fought; at a state of turmoil with himself - somewhere inside his soul that only she...
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♱
'I know it's over And it never really began But in my heart it was so real And you even spoke to me, and said: If you're so funny Then why are you on your own tonight? And if you're so clever Then why are you on your own tonight? If you're so very entertaining Then why are you on your own tonight? If you're so very good-looking Why do you sleep alone tonight?'
No one ever did love Cedric as much as Hera did. Life was cruel like that. Sure, teenage relationships seldom last but they should've at least had the chance to make that decision in their own time. Speaking of time, Hera wasted none of it in returning to Delia's cottage; neither wished to be alone during this time; memories of him were painful, scattered throughout her day-to-day actions.
No matter how she tried to forget, the morning after when his parents had visited her in the hospital wing remained in her mind — Amos had sobbed so heavily, repeating the words, 'my boy' over and over while Cordelia's grief seemed beyond tears, inexpressible almost.
Hera had begged Harry to lie and tell them Cedric hadn't suffered in his final moments; she didn't want them to feel the same horror she had felt hearing Barty Crouch's admittance of torturing Cedric.
Cordelia was told her son had died happy, and to her, that was enough.
Her friends had been very kind about the whole thing; they understood her to wish not to return immediately and tried not to overwhelm her with letters. Simon, too had visited her in the hospital wing, and promised her that he would keep Cedric's things as they were, at least until they could go through it together.
Up until the very moment Cedric had died, Simon had always been his best friend. Hera was probably the only person around him that understood his anger at what had happened. He had told her how lost he was feeling, that he even felt their friendship had been betrayed by Cedric leaving and him for not noticing Cedric's odd behaviour. Now that Cedric was gone, he had no voice, and neither did Simon; he turned off the radio, unable to bear the noise of someone else's voice singing about pain or joy.
They knew Cedric very different to his parents, and others he had encountered. They remembered every hardship with him, and it only worsened the grieving process as the memories of him were both sweet and flawed.
