ALOHOMORA | CEDRIC DIGGORY

56〝fifty-six〞

A SEA OF ASTONISHED FACES goggling back at him (Rolf looked enormously pleased and grateful, though), Cedric wasn't sure whether this was the effect he desired to achieve. After all, he hadn't planned on giving a speech. His outburst—which was as rare as moon sand on earth—even caught the clique totally unawares that they, too, stared at him, nonplussed. Somewhat aggrieved that they hadn't backed him up regardless, he seized his things, muttered an uncharacteristically cool "See you later," and stormed off to his dormitory.

He had just bullied the last of his pajama buttons into its fastening when there was a rap on the door.

"Ced?" came Margaery's voice. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah."

He went to open the door for her but barely made eye contact before turning his back and heading towards his bed. Margaery chose the edge of Jon's four-poster on which to settle herself, and Cedric the carpet, where he reclined against his trunk, eyes closed, hands resting upon knees drawn halfway up to his chest, taking in large draughts of air through his nose. An unknown amount of time elapsed with nothing but the sound of Cedric's deep breaths. When finally they, like his seething resentment they aimed to subdue, tamed, Margaery seemed to think it was safe to breach the silence between them.

"Want to tell me what all that was about?"

"I wish I could," said Cedric, gazing unseeingly at a loose thread on the rug.

"Does it involve a girl?"

Cedric's head shot up; he frowned at Margaery, incredulous.

"I don't see how you can drag Cho into this—"

"Not Cho." Margaery rolled her eyes. She lowered herself to the floor and sat cross-legged opposite Cedric, looking as though she was both excited and slightly afraid of what she was about to say. "Is it really her?" she asked in the quietest of whispers. "Do you really...like Grindelwald?"

Cedric blinked, struggling not to appear as though he had been gripped by a sudden panic—in truth, his heart was galloping faster than Philip the granian. He must have failed, because Margaery nodded slowly, her face cracking into a sympathetic smile. It was a while before Cedric managed to find his voice.

"Do the guys—?"

Margaery shook her head, chuckling.

"They don't notice anything, those dumb gits you call friends."

"Do you think I'm crazy? Or...bewitched?"

"Liking someone is crazy and bewitching business in itself," said Margaery sagely.

Relieved, Cedric was mid-laugh when it struck him.

"Wait...so, you noticed something?"

"Well," said Margaery proudly, "you have been getting a great deal of mail since Christmas; I've never known your parents to write so frequently—yes, France is splendid and that's all very well, but there's bound to be an end to their adventures; they were only gone—what, twelve days? When Cho's valentine came, I did think it was her, but then you took the teasing so smoothly it just seemed too good to be true. Besides, she's been looking bluer than her uniform; I doubt anyone dating you—underground or not—could look like that."

Recognizing the compliment, Cedric returned Margaery a small smile.

"But I seriously didn't have a clue who until I went to watch Ravenclaw versus Slytherin," she continued. "You know I'm not into Quidditch like you guys; I only started going to support you. All I wanted was to put off Snape's essay for another few hours and see if you'd be cheering Cho on, but—surprise, surprise—you were rooting for someone else."