I Know And I Don't Care (Cedric Diggory x Reader)

Chapter 2

Her entertainment lasted the entire trek to our tent. Hermione chatted over the filling crowd easily. Thankfully she saw me finding more interest in the drunks walking around us than her words as she stopped talking about Cedric before I could completely check out. If she didn't, I don't know what I would've done. I needed a quiet moment to think over my conversation with him.

I knew he was protective over me, just wanting to make sure I was alright. But today he seemed even more on edge. Was it because I was on edge? Had I let my dream filter the way I was acting? Had I said or done something to make him feel uneasy?

No. I knew I hadn't done anything to put anyone else on edge but myself. After years of knowing the future I had gotten pretty good at hiding what was coming next. I mean, I had to. Whether it was containing my feelings of what was coming or how I acted in the already-seen moment, I had it under control. I hid my excitement at knowing what Dad gave me for my birthday as I also did with my expectant face when I opened up the gift. I had to show everyone else, knowing of my seerity or not, that I was living in the moment, just like them.

But maybe I had treated Cedric differently, knowing he wasn't just like everyone else. Because he wasn't. He was Cedric. My best friend.

Best friend or not though, he didn't know I was a seer. And he couldn't. I was already in danger with my ability, as was everyone who knew about it. And I couldn't put Cedric in danger. I just couldn't. Besides, Dad wouldn't let me. More so the ministry who had ordered him to order me to not share my abilities with anyone. The wizarding government wanted to keep me underwraps for who knows what reason, but with reason enough Dad listened and so did I.

And Cedric listened and that's all that matters. He let me go, meaning I wasn't showing any signs of not wanting to be let go. I had reminded myself that I had done nothing wrong because I couldn't remember if I had. If I did, I would know.

"Thanks for joining us ladies." Mr. Weasley welcomed as we passed him on our way into the tent. The small tarp opened up into a large apartment, a magic twist that I could see was still bewildering Harry.

"Where've you been, love?" Fred asked from the small dining area.

"Cedric wouldn't let her go." Hermione answered for me, claiming the bottom bunk with a drop of things.

I gave her a firm look from the sofa and stated my own answer through gritted teeth. "We had some slight confusion on sleeping arrangements."

"You're always welcome to sleep with me, love." George winked.

"Watch your mouth." Mr. Weasley knocked his son on the head with his hand on his way out the front of the tent. "You and your brother go out and see if people are leaving yet."

The twins got up in a huff, giggling to one another on their way out. I watched them go, chuckling to myself at his immature comment and Mr. Weasley's scolding.

My laugh didn't last long though as I caught a glimpse outside through the open tent door. In just a second I saw the face of a woman. But not any woman. The woman from my dream.

Instead of begging to her future murderer, tears streaming down her face as she clutched her child in her arms, the woman was laughing. Dancing with her child like she was having the time of her life. Little did she know it was near the end of her life.

That's when it hit me. The ache in the middle of my gut that made me feel like throwing up. As if that could get rid of the realization of my powers. I got this feeling every time my dream fully hit me. It was mostly when the bad ones, like ones of death, were soon upon us. Upon me specifically.

"What's the matter?"

Mr. Weasley was now kneeling in front of me, his focus on the panicking teenage seer in front of him while everyone else was attending to themselves.

My breakfast never made an appearance when the aching feeling occurred. It was always the truth of the fortune that found its way out of my mouth. Of course only when it was someone who knew. Like my Dad or a professor. Or Mr. Weasley. Who just happened to be in front of me.

"Something's going to happen."

The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop it. I wanted so badly to take them back but I couldn't. And I wouldn't. I knew, deep down, that it was best to tell someone who could do something about it.

And Mr. Weasley could do something. He always did something. Like then.

He patted my knee in reassurance, taking my alarming (I could tell by the way his eyes lost the sparkle that had been in them) news in stride and left me at the sofa, assumedly to go make arrangements.

But as he made arrangements, so did my train of thought. Arranging myself to become guilty, I knew I shouldn't have told him. As little information as I had given him, I had a feeling that this fortune was different. It wasn't any sneak peek at my Christmas gift or my yearly grade, but something much, much, more serious.

And I had never been a girl for formalities.