"Disenchanted" preview

She got back into her own bed at around 6:00 that morning. She had spent the better part of the past two days in her parents' room, only returning to her room to "ball like a baby," as she so adequately put it. Within herself was a raw wound, which she would ceaselessly reopen with her photo albums instead of letting it heal, like she was supposed to.

Cho hated this place. She'd always hated it. And then the one thing she truly loved about it went away.

There was no motivation in her life anymore, no will, no…life. Her family had tried to comfort her ever since Cedric's passing, and she'd humoured them. Only with the hopes that she'd be left alone. Her grandparents, her mother, her father...it wasn't that she didn't love them. She did very much.

But they couldn't help her.

After she'd had her fill of the laughter and the happy faces in her photographs, she'd climb into her bed, pulling her sheets and blanket up under her chin and turning to face the wall to cry in case someone walked in. She couldn't let them see her crying. She couldn't let them see her pain. She couldn't let them worry.

She had to get through this on her own.

Lately she found herself thinking that everything was all a bad dream and that when she woke up the next morning, everything would be fine. But the next morning, she woke up to the same deafening silence that she did every morning. And she'd burst into tears again, still holding onto that dim hope that nothing was real. Yet deep down, she knew she was wrong.

She'd never see him again. Yes, she damn well knew this. But it wasn't real to her.

Would it ever be?

And there she was, buried beneath covers, hoping and praying to the gods and deities of all that was good to let him return to her. All she wanted was to wake up and see his kind, smiling face and feel him clutch her safely to him. Voldemort wasn't back in power. There was no funeral tomorrow (delayed two more days so Hogwarts students could attend). Everything would be fine in the morning. She wished with all her might.

She knew she was wrong.

He wouldn't be there. He wasn't supposed to be. She reasoned that if he had been, she’d most likely be thoroughly freaked out more than anything else. That's just the way she was. Still, it would've been nice to see him one last time or have a chance to say goodbye, have one last embrace.

She stayed there for a long time until she had cried herself to sleep and woke up again in the early evening. Slowly, she opened her eyes to the darkened wall she was still facing. Rolling onto her back, she glanced around the room, which had become considerably warmer. After lying there for a while, she pushed the comforter away and looked through the window at the setting sun.

Another day. He's still gone.

Eyes too dry to do any further crying, she merely stared at the sky until it became a bluish purple. It was then that she finally decided to glance at the clock on her desk. It was almost seven. She'd been in her room for over half the day. She had guessed her parents had already come in to check on her and she had been asleep.

Unsteadily, she hauled herself from her bed and rummaged through her drawers for her pajamas. When she found them, she took her time walking across the hall to the bathroom and turning on the shower. Locking the door, she sat on the toilet seat and waited for the water to heat up. Even after it did, she was motionless, letting the steam roll from the edges of the shower curtain onto her shoulder and cheek. Briefly, she closed her eyes and exhaled heavily before finally getting undressed and unwillingly getting in.

And as her eyes regained their moisture, she soon felt the warm teardrops running down her cheeks.

As with getting in the shower, she took her time getting out and getting dressed. While she did, she heard a low rumbling in her stomach. With another sigh, she stepped out into the hallway and sluggishly walked to the empty kitchen. Her mother stood at the sink, cleaning the dishes. Cho quickly put on the best offhand expression she could.

Indeed, her mother had visited her daughter's room earlier but had decided not to disturb her. The efforts to look nonchalant went unnoticed. Her mother, Nuwa Chang, looked up from the basin of soapy water, giving her daughter a concerned expression with a kind smile.

"Good evening," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"

Cho regarded her with sort of a half smile, plopping down heavily in a vacant seat at the vacant table.

"Okay," she answered, propping her elbows on the table.

Mrs. Chang continued. "You've been in your room all day," she said worriedly, absently returning to the dishes. "You've been asleep all day."

Cho shrugged. "I didn't sleep well last night, I guess," she said quietly, focusing on the tablemat under her elbows. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mother give a small nod.

"If you're hungry, there's probably something in the refrigerator or the pantry," she informed. "If not, I can make a trip to the store... Or perhaps we can go out to eat tonight. We haven't been in quite a while. I don't much feel like cooking."

Cho, eyes still on the table, was glad that they were steering away from and almost unavoidable topic. "Can we go to that seafood restaurant again?" she asked.

"Sure. We have to wait for your father, though."

Halfheartedly, Cho groaned. "When does he get home?"

"It shouldn't be that much longer now. You might want to go and get dressed while we're waiting."

Cho looked from her mother's twinkling eyes down to the pajamas she now wore. She smiled silently to herself before standing up and heading to her room to change into something else. Before she could even open her closet to pick something out, there was a knock. She jumped slightly.

"Yeah?" she prompted.

Mrs. Chang's head poked through the door, again with that worried look.

"Are you sure you don't need me to go with you tomorrow?" she offered, as she had repeatedly over the past few days. "I mean, I can always take tomorrow off --"

"I can handle it, Mum," said Cho, not knowing if she truly could. She hated funerals, all of them. She realised this when she was around nine or so at her grandfather's funeral. It was one of the worst type of funerals, in her opinion: the ones that let you view the body for the first half of the service before they permanently closed the casket, as if to make it official: this one wasn't coming back.

Cho shivered somewhat at the image of her grandfather, her favorite grandparent of them all, his lifeless body displayed before them as a peaceful, sleeping old man. She knew better, though: her grandpa snored.

"You can?" asked Mrs. Chang, making sure Cho was okay.

"I think so," she replied distantly. She heard her mother sigh.

"Okay," she said, about to close the door. "I'll drop you off tomorrow then." With that, the door closed with a soft click. After a few seconds of coming back to reality, she began to dig through her closet.

Apprehension had overcome her by morning. She had avoided her family and pictures ever since she'd arrived home from school - now she didn't want to leave.

The night hadn't been any easier, either. For some of the night, she wasn't even tired, having slept all day. For more of the night, she had fought to keep her eyes open, afraid that if she closed them, she'd hear his voice in her ear or feel his hand on her cheek. As much as she wanted that, she was somehow afraid.

Finally, she bravely forced her eyes shut and slept the best she could.

She wavered in getting ready. She looked over her shoulder at the clock. She still had about half an hour before she had to leave. She groaned, still having to find her tights and the skirt her mother had persuaded to wear. She still had to comb out her hair into a more manageable state and brush her teeth, which she normally did after breakfast. Then again, as far as eating went, she didn't know if she was going to eat or if she even wanted to before the funeral. She resolved to just skipping that and showering, brushing her teeth, fixing her hair, and a luckily successful search for her clothing.

She entered the living room with about five minutes to spare. Her mother was already there and dressed for work, watching some kind of morning program and sipping a cup of tea. She looked up at Cho with a warm smile.

"Morning," she greeted her.

"Morning," replied Cho, spotting her purse on the couch and slinging it over her shoulder.

"I thought you didn't like the skirt," Mrs. Chang said, now quickly finishing her beverage. Cho looked down at the skirt and shrugged slightly.

"I like it," she said. "I just don't like it on me."

I still think it’s kind of short. Subconsciously she tugged at the hems, which barely came down mid-thigh.

"Don't say that," Mrs. Chang said, taking a final, hefty gulp of her tea. "You look great. Ready?"

In a delayed response, Cho nodded slowly with a sigh. There was a short silence before Mrs. Chang stood from the couch, found her own purse and pulled out her keys.

Cho followed her out the door into the driveway and got in the driver's seat. She was able to finish obtaining her license over Easter holiday, thanks to the string-pulling of her father. Cedric was also there, she recalled, in the passenger side beside her as she went for her first drive with her driver's license. Silently, she thought back to that week.

She remembered pulling out of the driveway and looking to her side. As hard as she could, she restrained a laugh as she saw Cedric securely holding onto the door handle as his eyes darted around the car.

"Merlin…" he had breathed, backing himself into the seat. "What's it doing?"

Cho gave in and began laughing, stepping on the break. The car jerked, causing Cedric's grip on the handle to tighten considerably.

"It's Muggle transportation, Cedric," said Cho as if talking to a small child, "keyword being transportation."

"Make it stop!"

Rolling her eyes, she put the car in park to reach over and buckle his seat belt. This action made him tense even more for a few seconds before he finally tried to just sit back in his seat.

"That's better," she said in final, again putting the car in drive. "As long as you keep that strap on, you should be fine."

Glowering somewhat playfully at her motherly tone of voice, he tried to relax into his seat.

She remembered that the rest of the ride was full of his shouts and complaining and her merciless laughter whenever she jumped on the brakes. She’d gasp and widen her eyes as she turned to Cedric.

"What?" he asked the first time she braked, hand returned to the handle.

"I think I hit something!" she gasped, trying not to laugh as his jaw dropped.

"What?!"

She couldn’t help it; she burst out laughing, barely remembering she was in the middle of the street. She stepped on the gas again. Cedric threw her a bewildered look.

"Why are you laughing?"

"You’re so easy!" she choked out, now leaning on the steering wheel.

He was still looking at her with an open mouth. He scoffed in indignation. "You…" he began a moment later, trying to retain his own laughter, "…you… Oh, you’ll pay for that one. I’m gonna get you back."

"No, you won’t," she chuckled.

"Is that a challenge?"

"You’re bluffing."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"How do you know?"

"Because," she said, slowing down for a red light, "you’re so sweet, and I know you’d never ever hurt me." Stopping, she turned to him with a broad grin.

She was surprised to see his face suddenly serious at her comment. Her smile faded as well and her brow furrowed in uncertainty before he leaned over and greeted her with a gentle but brief kiss. She’d always relished the feel of his soft lips against hers, but now it was something she’d forever miss.

He pulled away just seconds before the light turned green, smiling mildly.

"No, I wouldn’t," he agreed quietly, sitting back against his seat.

Feeling a slight flush creep into her cheeks, she simpered and turned her eyes back to the road. Discreetly she checked her rearview mirror, making sure there was no one behind her.

Then she jumped on the brakes.

All of these things went through her mind as she and her mother traveled silently through the streets of Ottery St. Catchpole. Absently, she glanced around her surroundings. Instantly, it felt as though she didn’t belong. Everything seemed to signified happiness and a sense of calm, from the children playing on the lawns and sidewalks to the parents who sat on the porches, chatting away as they kept their eyes on their young. Without a worry in the world.

And here she was, like this void of anguish and sorrow, cutting into a carefree atmosphere.

But they were getting closer and closer to their destination. She could tell from one not so pleasant surrounding that seemed to wrench her heart; a black hearse, coming from the opposite directions. Her eyes widened and she blinked heavily a few times, hoping that maybe she was seeing things and that the hearse would disappear.

Naturally, it didn’t. She ended up following it to the church, feeling stuck in a nightmare for the next five minutes (technically, they were three minutes from the church; the parking lot was a bit cramped). She was fairly surprised by the amount of people who drove; she supposed they were trying to keep low profiles by using Muggle transportation.

By the time she’d found a spot, she felt sick. Quietly, she turned off the ignition but other than that didn’t move, as if her hand was glued to the steering wheel. All she did for the next few seconds was stare forward in a dreamlike state.

She barely felt the warm hand her mother placed on her shoulder, but still she returned her mother’s worried gaze.

"I’ll stay if you need me to," Mrs. Chang tried one last time.

"I can handle it," Cho hesitated. Steadily, she opened the door, picked up her purse, and climbed out.

"I’ll see you this evening then," Mrs. Chang called after her. "You’ll be at Jenny’s right?"

She had told her mother she might go home with one of her Ravenclaw friends, Jenny, after the service. She wasn’t sure, though.

"I’ll call you," she yelled back. "’Bye, Mom."

"Bye, dear."

She heard the faint slamming of a car door as her mother switched to the driver’s side of the car. Turning around, she watched it disappear around the corner. Turning back to the church, she felt as though she’d been sealed to some horrible, inevitable fate.

The first thing she took notice of was the sizeable church in front of her; it looked as though it had several rooms, perhaps about two floors. She then glanced at the few people around her, at the friends and relatives of the Diggory family. Checking her watch absently, she saw she was much earlier than she expected to be. Everyone else must’ve already arrived.

Even before she passed through the massive doors, she could hear the cries from within the building. Her hand wavered slightly on the door handle. With a mild gulp, she pulled it open.

Much to her relief, the main room of the church wasn’t right in front of her, and she felt very grateful that the sight of his casket, closed or opened, didn’t welcome her in. No, this was just the entrance hall, where most of the people seemed to be crowded. Everywhere the women were dabbing at their eyes with their handkerchiefs; most of the men didn’t dare cry in each other’s presence, although every once in a while, one would sniffle.

She could see two large, wooden doors near the middle of the hall, beyond which came a particularly loud wail. It was none other than that of Mrs. Diggory, Cedric’s mother, who descended from the doors. She leaned heavily on her husband, whose eyes were already red. He was trying to comfort his wife the best he could, but to no avail.

Her behaviour was of course much different than anyone else’s. She didn’t bother to keep in her cries of grief, nor did she seem to care that her makeup was beginning to trickle down her face along with her tears.

For a second, Cho wondered if she should try and console her. Cautiously, she approached, trying not to let Mrs. Diggory’s weeps break her up. But when she got close enough, she didn’t have a choice; she was only spotted a split second before Mrs. Diggory’s free arm pulled her over. She now sobbed freely into Cho’s shoulder, quickly drenching the neckline of her shirt, clinging to both her and Mr. Diggory desperately.

"This isn’t right," she mumbled abruptly through her tears, seeming to sob even harder. "This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen… I’m not supposed to be here, burying my own child…my only child…"

Carefully, Mr. Diggory managed to ease his wife back onto his shoulder, his expression grim. He held her to him, gently rubbing her back.

"We’ll get through this, dear," he whispered soothingly into her ear.

"It’s too soon," she said, her words now almost incoherent.

Cho was only faintly aware that there was a very damp spot right above her collarbone. She would’ve tried to go in to visit Cedric’s coffin; she didn’t think it very appropriate to ask whether it was closed.

She simply continued to look around in an effort to distract herself from the situation. She saw several people she either knew or recognized from Hogwarts, mostly Hufflepuffs. Remembering that Jenny was supposed to be coming too, she thought about waiting for her, somewhat disinclined to go into the room alone.

But then again, it wasn’t everyday she closed herself off to her family and the rest of the world to sit in her room and cry. Was she strong enough to handle it?

With a deep breath, she took a few brave, reluctant steps towards the doors. She came to the threshold and froze.

Be strong, she told herself, squeezing her eyes shut. They remained closed as she pushed the handle of one of the doors open, slid herself inside, and shut it. She still had her back to casket, pressing herself lightly against the door. No turning back now; she was inside.

Slowly, she felt the door to help turn around, braced herself and opened her eyes.

The casket was in fact open. The upper half of his body was visible, dressed in a new, gray suit. His hands were crossed over his chest, his skin sallow and pale, his face expressionless.

For a long time, she just stood there and stared at him, half expecting him to speak, move, or at least breathe. Instead, he lay perfectly still.

In a stiff, forced manner, she neared his body, her feet like lead. It seemed to get quieter and colder the closer she got, as if there was some kind of force field around the casket. She wanted more than anything to turn around and run from the church, all the five miles back home, but still she continued.

And then there she was, right in front of Cedric’s still form, numbly holding onto the padded siding of his coffin. Unblinking, she stared, gradually letting the reality sink in. She thought again: This is it.

"This is it," she repeated to herself aloud, breaking the frigid silence. "This is it…"

Hesitantly, she reached out and softly touched his cheek. It felt vaguely like porcelain, cool and smooth. She withdrew her hand, returning it to the siding.

"I’ll never see you again…"

And then she just let go. Small whimpers escaped her. Suddenly she felt the familiar stinging in her eyes. Her vision blurred, robbing Cedric from her clear view. She was now feeling what Mrs. Diggory felt; utter hopelessness.

She stood over him and sobbed freely. She didn’t care who heard; it didn’t matter anymore.

"What am I saying? I’ve already seen the last of you," she croaked, hot tears spilling fast down her cheeks. "You’re already gone."

She felt her knees go weak as she began to collapsed beside him on the floor. There she remained, in a kneeling position, for quite a while. Cries and sobs racked her body for the longest time. Running through her mind over and over again: he’s gone. There’s nothing there anymore. It’s over. And each time they did, she cried harder.

Her eyes eventually became parched once again, but she didn’t move. She barely heard the doors opening behind her. She was now listening to the listless, advancing footsteps behind her as they entered, the closing of the door following. The other person didn’t say anything, just kept walking. With mild curiosity, Cho turned her head to look.

Even at a time like this, she was somewhat taken aback to see Harry. He was also in a suit, this one black; his expression seemed depressed and somber. He didn’t even seem to notice Cho was there until she finally shifted into a different position.

Harry did a double take when he spotted her, abruptly startled. This wasn’t exactly the last thing he expected, his crush at her boyfriend’s tomb, but she seemed to appear from nowhere, taking him completely by surprise. He soon realized she must’ve been kneeling there the whole time, just too quietly and still for him to notice.

"Oh, I’m sorry," he said quietly, beginning to back up towards the door. "Didn’t see you there. I didn’t mean to disturb –"

"Harry," she said tonelessly, looking at him with a calm, blank expression. Her throat and eyes were raw from her crying.

He stopped backing up and returned her gaze curiously, unsure if she was calling him back or simply speaking his name. He waited for her to continue. Cho took notice of how his eyes carefully avoided the body.

"Harry," she repeated again. "You have as much right to be here as anyone else." And it was true; he had more right than most here. Plus she admitted to herself that she didn’t want to be alone, even if she didn’t admit it to others.

Silently, he nodded his thanks. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before moving to Cedric’s pale, cold face. It seemed as though he, like she, was afraid to come any closer. Perhaps it was just a bit awkward for him, her being here and all.

At any rate, a few faltering steps later, he was standing beside her, looking down into the casket. He stared for a long time, taking in the horrid truth he had avoided ever since he’d returned with Cedric from Little Hangleton.

He lightly touched his lifeless hands. They felt like ice under his fingers. She watched as he withdrew his own hand and returned it to his side. Then the wells of his eyes began to fill.

He quickly tried to swat away his incoming tears with his fingertips, blinking several times. He wasn’t about to do this, not in front of Cho.

She didn’t seem to mind much, however. If anything, it seemed as though she was inviting him to do so, pulling a handkerchief out of her jacket pocket and holding it up to him. It was still dry, as she hadn’t bothered to use it.

"Go ahead," she murmured encouragingly. "You’ll feel better after you do."

Evading her eyes, he took the offering, promptly covering his face with the silken cloth and progressively letting himself sob into it.

"I’m sorry, Cedric," she heard him whisper. She winced slightly, standing up to meet him. There she saw Cedric again, a cold shell of someone she once knew, completely impassive.

"You’ve done nothing wrong," she reassured him, now placing a soothing hand on his shoulder. She was always better at comforting than being comforted.

He only shook his head in response, though. "It was my fault he was even there," he continued, remembering his words regretfully.

Cho’s hand squeezed gently. "Stop it. It’s not your fault, you know that."

Still, he ignored her. "It was my idea, taking the Cup. He even told me to take it by myself, but I—" Too choked up to say anymore than that, he fell silent again and just sobbed.

She realised that words of comfort were probably useless for him, considering who he was. ‘It’s not your fault’…he’s probably been hearing that all his life.

She resorted to simply closing her eyes and pulling him to her, letting him cry into her shoulder. And with one more glance at Cedric, she cried into his.