Chapter Text
Late July, Summer at the Diggory Home
It was strange how quiet things had become.
Even the air at home—always fresh, always humming with life—felt muted. As if the wind had paused in reverence, unsure whether to rustle the leaves or let the stillness speak.
Cedric Diggory sat in his room, fingers resting over the worn leather cover of a closed book. Not reading. Not thinking. Just sitting.
Sunlight poured in through the windows in golden streaks, casting familiar shadows against his childhood desk. On it, stacked neatly, were unopened letters. One from Harry. One from Professor Sprout. One, maybe, from Hermione.
None from her.
Serena.
He hadn't heard her name in days—but he felt it. Like a word stuck behind his ribs. Like a song he almost remembered.
The tournament was over.
He was alive.
But the cost of it all sat with him like a weight he couldn't shrug off.
He had tried—honestly tried—to make sense of it.
He had everything.
He had won. He had survived.
He had Cho.
Right?
-
The conversation with Cho had been soft and strange.
They had met in the meadow near the edge of town—where the wildflowers bent under the breeze, and the scent of summer drifted in with the dragonflies.
Cedric stood there, hands buried in his pockets, watching Cho approach with an uncertainty neither of them tried to mask.
She was beautiful. She always had been.
But the distance between them wasn’t physical.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she said first. Her voice trembled.
He nodded, unable to hold her gaze.
“You saved Harry. They said… you were hit. That it could’ve been—”
“I don’t remember the curse,” he cut in gently. “Just… falling. Then waking up days later.”
Cho’s eyes dropped.
They stood in silence, the breeze threading between them.
“Everyone’s talking,” she finally said, quieter now. “About… Serena.”
He looked at her.
Cho didn’t meet his eyes. “Is it true?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“Truth is,” he said slowly, “I don’t really know what’s true anymore.”
Cho exhaled.
They both knew what that meant.
“She’s not back,” she murmured. “Will she?”
He shook his head once. “No one knows.”
Silence again.
“She’s not the reason we didn’t work,” Cho said softly. “Not entirely.”
He blinked, looking at her.
“I liked the idea of us,” she went on. “Hufflepuff prince. Ravenclaw sweetheart. We were supposed to… make sense. And for a while, we did.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“But then things stopped feeling real. And then you stopped looking at me like you saw me.”
Cedric flinched.
“I’m not angry,” she added. “Just… tired. And grateful we didn’t end in a fight.”
He stepped closer. Gently placed a hand on her arm.
“I did care for you.”
“I know.”
He let go.
She did too.
It ended there—with a smile between friends. No yelling. No blame. Just two people letting go.
But as she walked away, Cedric knew—her absence didn’t ache.
Serena’s did.
***
The sky was full of stars that refused to blink.
Cedric lay on his bed, unable to sleep, her sketch—the one she’d left in the hospital—clutched in his hand.
He’d stared at it more than he should’ve.
Still worth saving.
He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Was he? Was he worth that?
She’d seen something in him—something beyond the golden boy. And it terrified him how badly he wanted her to see more.
But she was gone. Disappeared like mist over the lake.
The guilt of it settled heavy on his shoulders. Because he had known. He had known she was burning herself for him. For Harry. For all of them.
And he hadn’t stopped her.
His throat tightened. His chest ached. And for the first time since the graveyard, he let the tears fall freely.
They came silent. Shaking.
He sat up.
Moved down the hall.
Opened his parents’ door.
His mum was reading in bed, her eyes widening as she saw him.
“Oh, Cedric—?”
He didn’t speak. He just dropped to his knees beside her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his face into her lap.
And she held him.
Just like she did when he was a boy.
Rocked him slowly.
Stroked his hair.
Said nothing.
Because no words could fix what had broken.