Hufflepuff

Cedric Diggory of Hufflepuff and Angelina Johnson of Gryffindor

The Snitch from Afar

~º~

He watched as she soared through the wind, light as a feather and furious as a lion. The boldness she showed in each throw and dodge were marvellous, mesmerizing. He couldn't take his eyes off of her, even with all the rain pouring down on them, and the snitch flying right before his eyes. But he caught it just in time, right as Harry Potter fell down to the ground and a shivering coldness enveloped him with a sense of despair. But the snitch was closed tightly in his hand, as if it were a lifeline to hold himself onto in order to win against death, to win the game that was life as his heart beat hard and fast.

He won.

~º~

He watched her from the doorway of Flourish & Blotts, her dark hair getting in front of her eyes as she irritatingly tried to shove it out of her eyes in order for her to grab her books. It was the summer and he, along with the rest of the Hogwarts students, was in Diagon Alley to get his books and items for the upcoming year.

He didn't mean to get noticed, being as quiet as humanly possible so as to get her to miss his presence, even though it was unlikely, but it happened anyway. As he stood in the doorway – quiet, observing and aware – she suddenly turned her stare in his direction, probably some quick reflex perfected from being a Chaser in Quidditch and having to look out for bludgers at every moment in case any tried to knock her down. He couldn't help but unconsciously give a small smirk at the predictability of the thing, which was returned with a grin and nod from her, a small reward for his healthy heart's sudden racing beat.

He won.

~º~

He was looking through the hall as she sat with her peers, friendly hugs and roars sounding among the Gryffindors as she succeeded in getting her name in the Goblet, cheering her and ignoring him. He couldn't help but worry for her safety. It was, after all, a dangerous and life threatening tournament, and she was a great girl. But he understood her just as much for he, too, had put his own name in the Goblet. His grey eyes scanned the table for a sight of her and, just like in the shop in the summer, she looked quickly and easily at him as soon as his gaze fell on her, but this time, their eyes were locked in a sort of staring contest – calculating, curious and understanding. Defiance was also present, and each nodded and smiled at each other in agreement, a friendly duel between both, the first to break would lose, both the contest and the Goblet.

She looked away.

He won.

~º~

He was sitting at the table as he looked at Angelina Johnson. Everyone was giddy with anticipation and they looked eagerly at Dumbledore, awaiting for the final call, the call where all the winners would be announced at last. She looked over naturally and stared at him as he flashed her a handsome, charming smile and nod, a supporting way to say 'This is it. Shall the best win.'. Fully preparing himself for defeat. There was no way he'd win after seeing her boldness and fire as months went by, if there was something he was sure of, it was that she - a Gryffindor, to make things more obvious – was brave enough to kill a giant monster with her light brown eyes alone on a moody day. He was brave, that much was known. But the only way to know for sure was through the Goblet, and that was only if either of them were chosen at all. She grinned and winked in a friendly way in reply as excitement sparkled in her eyes, both turning to look at Dumbledore as he prepared the Goblet for the moment, the blue-white flames hurting his eyes as it shone.

He saw in awe as the bright flames turned to red and sparkles started emanating from it, and a blade of fire ripped the air as a piece of crumpled parchment jumped from it. As Dumbledore grabbed it with a stretched arm to read it, the flames went back to the blueish-white colour.

"The champion for Durmstrang." He read clearly as Cedric looked quickly at the rest of the students as each bent over their seats to get a closer look before looking back. "Will be Viktor Krum."

A roar of applause and comments were made as the first winner was announced and he went to the room assigned for the champions. One down, two to go. The flames turned red again, and the same process repeated.

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!" Declared Dumbledore, and Cedric looked behind him at the Ravenclaw Table as the strikingly beautiful girl that was right behind him got up and went off to the same room as Krum. 'Nice!' He thought, before looking back at Dumbledore, this time his heart beating madly and painfully as he yearned for the next one. So close, only one, just one to know who would win…

The flames turned red again, and this time, it was as if he was watching everything in slow motion, as Dumbledore stretched his arm, as he looked at the paper and his lips moved, so slowly and swiftly it hurt.

"And the champion for Hogwarts…" His heart was beating, racing, his breathing shallow and in short bursts as he looked at the Headmaster unblinkingly, goosebumps running through is body as fast as lightning.

"…is…" He was aching for the answer, he glanced quickly at Angelina, who looked just as terrified and yearning as him.

"…Cedric Diggory!"

His heart exploded. There were really no words to describe how he was feeling, it was as if a gallon of cold water had been thrown over his head, as if his lungs were tight in a belt and a lightning bolt went through his whole body as energy went through him faster than light, giving him a pump so great he got up in happiness. He felt exhilarated, he felt triumphant, he felt like a hippogriff had just taken a crap on him, and he couldn't care less. It was for this that he was there, it was for this moment that his heart had been so tight, and now it was as light as a balloon as he looked at Angelina, his never ending smile completely plastered on his face and his eyes, alight with joy, landed on her as he walked to the room, she looked disappointed but happy nevertheless, a supporting smile sent his way.

He was the bravest. She would be safe.

He won.

~º~

He had noticed the way Cho Chang looked at him for a year now, and he gave in because, he too, had a crush on her. She was a great girl, and an excellent player. And she respected his space just as much as he respected her intelligence. But even as their lips were close together in a kiss, he couldn't help but think of Angelina. These weren't the lips he wanted, but they had enough of what he needed, even if not nearly as much as the Gryffindor's. Cho's silky, straight hair slipped through his fingers easily and without disturbance. But they weren't the somewhat wavy-ish straight hair that Angelina carried, the tangled mess he wanted to undo after a game. Her hands were very small and precise, but they were missing the long fingers and gentle caress that Angelina had when catching a Quaffle.

That's when he realized he wanted to be that Quaffle, and that he was in love with her.

He's not sure if he won or lost. But he thinks he's lost.

~º~

He watches her as she sits down before breakfast. The only thing crossing his mind is her, he hardly bites his toast and he watches intently as she grabs a spoon and starts eating her porridge. This time, he didn't try to hide his sadness and pain every time she bought her breakfast to her mouth, licking her lips afterwards. This would probably be the last time he'd see her, and watch was all he could do. It hurt him to know he'd never experience her lips at least once before his first task. But he would go on, right until the very end. And so he gets up and goes outside.

It is with great feeling of excitement and serenity that he sits in the tent first and alone, preparing his mind to accept death if it came that afternoon. And it is with great surprise that he sees her storm inside and give him a peck on the cheek, wishing him the best of luck and telling him to not even dare die in that task, just to run off again, leaving him shocked and even more afraid to die, but with a newborn fire in his heart that gave him the courage he needed.

The others arrive and Bagman tells him it's his turn. And he gets up and vows to himself to survive to die another day as he walks to fight against the Swedish Short-Snout dragon.

He got hurt, but it didn't matter anymore.

He won.

~º~

He considers asking Angelina for the ball as he sits down on the armchair by the fire of the Hufflepuff common room, the warm flames soothing his spirit, but just as fast as the thought came it got cut off as Hannah Abbot tells Michael Corner that Fred Weasley asked her first.

And she accepted.

He then thinks how much of an idiot he would be if he asked some girl he never even talked to for the ball when he had a girlfriend obviously wanting to go with him. This was a losing game he was playing, where Angelina was the snitch and he was the seeker along with Fred.

He lost.

~º~

He watches as she enters the hall, her light brown irises scanning the place in search for her pair, and their eyes lock again in that staring contest. She smiles at him and he smiles back crookedly, but this time, his eyes sported a small bit of longing, and his smile a bit of sadness. He was happy for her, but not even that made the ache on his heart disappear, especially as he looks at her magnificent dress. She looked more than beautiful.

And she had no idea of what was going on with him.

The contest goes on unblinkingly and he notices her eyes look a bit sad too as she looks at him. He tries to approach her, but he should have been faster, he was too late now. Fred Weasley had caught her. He let the snitch escape again, and there was nothing else he could do but accept defeat and watch as his most wanted prize got glided away by the seeker who didn't even compliment her decently. Pretty was too much of an understatement, as was gorgeous. Yet, he was the better player. He knew that, putting aside all jealousy and annoyance at the beater, Fred was perfect for her. He had the fire and the boldness she had, but she had the serenity that would calm his spirit at its worst, and he the cheer that would keep her happy and amused, even at her furious moods. The boldness and fire he was missing in his own heart. But he would treat her well above all else.

He lost, and he wonders if she feels as lost as he does every time they kiss their lovers.

~º~

Dumbledore tells them that what they desire the most is under the lake, and they have to rescue them within the hour. He fears having Cho see him take Angelina out of the water, but he can't see her anywhere, and the Gryffindor part was all covered with standing people and flags and he couldn't see Angelina either. It was a risky game.

He goes down and sees Cho, and saves her with relief and fear. Relief because he wouldn't have to break her heart explaining why he was taking Angelina out of the water, and fear because he is afraid Angelina might never go to him again. He also feels a hint of sadness for nobody knowing that Cho wasn't what he most desired, not even his Angel. But, deep inside, he suspects she might actually know it, somehow.

It's not that he doesn't like Cho. He really liked her, he really did. The times he spent with her were the happiest he's had at Hogwarts besides Quidditch. She was his biggest crush and still is. But Angelina was his angel, and so much more than a crush – she was his love. And nothing would take that away from him.

But knowing Angelina and Cho were alright relieved him to no end. Even more so knowing he survived and was closer to getting the prize.

He won.

~º~

He sees her walking to class day after day, and his heart aches for another staring contest. He knows that she knows he is looking at her, but apparently she took the lake task the wrong way. How he wished she could see that she was everything he ever wanted, everything he needed. Every day he looks at her and screams in his mind for her to look back, to smile at him again, to at least acknowledge him. But none of it happened, and so he stops, right when Cho asked him why he was looking at the Gryffindor table so much. It hurts him to lie to her, but he says that he's just looking at Harry to see how he's coping after these tasks, being thrown into the Tournament like he did, he needed all the support he could have. And so she smiles and hugs him, calling him names he wished his Angel would. But then again, his Angel would know he was lying, even if they were in a black metal concert where everyone was throwing everyone all over the place and yelling randomly to the song, where she could hardly see his figure alone.

She'd know him better than anyone if only he'd been faster.

He lost.

~º~

It's the last time he hugs Cho before he goes to the last task of the Triwizard Tournament. He would win this even if it was the last thing he did. So he thinks of Angelina as he walks to the Quidditch Pitch, where everything started. And right before he walks inside, he is grabbed firmly by the shoulder and taken to a broom closet where full lips meet his, and wavy hair brushes against his face. And he knows she hasn't forgotten him. He replies thirstily, need taking over his body as he gets her closer to him, deepening the kiss.

He wished he could live in this moment forever, blast the tournament, blast everyone. He had all he needed now, and he knows it was the best feeling he's ever felt, not even nearly as good as Cho's kisses and dates. It was a feeling of aching need and they sunk into it gratefully, whispering promises and words of love, kissing, caressing.

They heard everyone get inside and stopped, holding onto each other for very long. And when they thought everyone was already inside, they got out and hugged one last time before he went off for the last task.

He runs through the maze like a madman, cursing and dodging as each obstacle went in the way. He was faring rather well, but as he ran in the last part, where he could see the light emanating from the trophy, he thinks of Angelina and of everyone else. If he got out alive, he would take her into his arms, he promised. But if he didn't… he only hoped Weasley would take care of her.

But when Harry Potter and he touch the trophy and end up on a graveyard, he knows something is wrong, and so he rises his wand in anticipation for some sort of obscure obstacle.

As the words leave the short man's lips, he knows he lost, and accepts the green light enveloping him as death takes him away from the game that is life, away from his Angel.

And he knows he lost.