FUNERAL ━━ c. diggory

v. sixteen days

⠀⠀I've never had a way with words. They stick in my mouth like toffee, and as I try to spit them out, they adhere to my palate like pink bubblegum. The one time my words made sense was when I delivered Cedric's eulogy.

⠀⠀The sun had crested down into the horizon, the hydrangea sky awash with soft oranges and delicate prissy pinks that reminded me of the pointe shoes I dreamt of as a child. Amos and Jane said that his favorite time of day was sunset, but that was a lie, because I knew that it really was the minutes before midnight, between 11 and a new day, because that was the time that Cedric claimed he truly had to himself.

⠀⠀Words never came to me easily, and the nights before the funeral were spent staring at blank parchment, praying for black inky letters to warp their way across the page. When I started writing, the words gushed forth like a geyser, my heart and soul poured into one final confession, one only my deceased lover would truly understand the depth and complexity of.

⠀⠀I'd drawn to my shaking legs from the pew and pressed a hand to my heart the way he used to place his palm to mine. He said he just liked feeling the rhythm of my beating heart, reminding him that I was still there, so close to him that he could feel my life-force pulsating through his fingertips.

⠀⠀"Cedric Diggory was a beloved son, friend, and pupil, but also the boy who stole my heart the moment even the smallest of crushes sparked. This flicker exploded into a love so pure, that I will never share love with another human being again, for his kindness and affection will forever be nestled right here, in my heart."

⠀⠀I had raised my hand and curled my trembling fingers into a fist, clenching them so tight the knuckles turned paper white, and placed the fist onto my heart, the other hand gripping the parchment.

⠀⠀"I was thrust into this world at the tender age of eleven, and he was the first person I said hello to on the train. Cedric and I first became friends in Charms class, and immediately knew that we would be each other's person, the one we could depend on in our darkest hours. He was golden, and his heart was the core of his goodness. Cedric should not have died so young, not when he had so much love to give, and so much to prove, yet he met a cruel end in a tournament that promised glory. I just wanted to say that I love you, Cedric, and that you will forever be in my heart."

⠀⠀My words play through my mind like a vinyl every time I brave the possibility of splinching and disapparate to the cemetery where he is buried. His plot is a small one, with an elegant marble tombstone.

CEDRIC AMOS DIGGORY
25th September, 1977 — 24th June, 1995
Beloved Son, Friend, and Lover

⠀⠀He didn't see his eighteenth birthday. I'm now nearing the midway point between 18 and 19, which a year more than he got, what he should have gotten. I am still childlike in many ways, barely an adult by muggle standards, and he was legally an adult but technically a child martyr, the first death in what I recognize as a world teetering on the brink of war.

⠀⠀Sometimes, if I concentrate just hard enough, I can smell broomstick polish, cedar wood, and citrus, burying my nose into the fabric of one of the jumper's his parents gave me, wishing I could just close my eyes and tip headfirst through the fabric. He would be waiting for me on the other side. I take a pill to strangle the emptiness inside me, to fill the hole he left behind.

⠀⠀He never left me shaking but nothing else comes close to the grasp he has on my heart. Rip it out, Cedric. Again, and again. I would do the same to you but all that's left of your corpse is it's skeleton, your diamond ribs shielding no organs.

⠀⠀My body is a temple to the dead, hymns on my lips a siren song. I called out singing for Death to take me but his cruelty knew no bounds and his scissors cut your thread not mine.

⠀⠀Fates, have your scissors gone dull? Let me sharpen the blades.