Bye Bye

It had been weeks.

Weeks since Cedric Diggory had been murdered.

And yet, Hogwarts didn't feel like Hogwarts anymore.

The usual buzz of excitement, the whispering of students, the loud, boisterous laughter in the Great Hall—it was gone.

The castle was silent.

It wasn't just grief hanging over us like a storm cloud—it was fear.

Something had changed that night. We had all felt it.

And yet, people were still arguing about it.

"Harry's lying," Seamus Finnigan muttered one evening at dinner. "I don't care what anyone says, he must be. The Cup was right there, who knows what actually happened? Maybe—"

SLAM.

Draco shot up from his seat so fast that his chair crashed to the ground behind him.

"Say that again, Finnigan," he snarled, his voice ice-cold.

Seamus blinked up at him, taken aback. "I—"

"You think Potter killed him for what, exactly?" Draco demanded. His hands were clenched into fists. "Fame? Glory? He came back screaming about Voldemort—" (some people flinched at the name, but Draco didn't care) "—holding Diggory's dead body, and you really think he did that for attention?"

Seamus scoffed. "Oh, come off it, Malfoy. You hate Potter—"

"Yeah? Well, I hate you more right now," Draco spat, his silver eyes burning. "And if you dare say something like that again, I'll make sure you regret it."

Silence.

Seamus turned red but didn't argue.

Draco wasn't lying.

If there was one thing we had all learned over the past few weeks, it was that no one was really safe.

And none of us—Slytherins included—were going to stand by and let Cedric's death be turned into some stupid conspiracy.

I don't think I had ever seen Hogwarts so lifeless.

Even Kenny—who always had something to say—barely spoke anymore.

Blaise had been spending more time in the library than in the common room. He said he was reading, but I knew he was just trying to keep busy.

Draco wasn't acting like himself either.

No sarcastic quips. No dramatic tree-sitting. No taunting Potter in the hallways.

Just... quiet.

When I finally found him one night, sitting by the Black Lake, staring blankly at the water, I sat beside him, bumping my shoulder against his.

"You okay?" I asked softly.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face. "No."

Honesty.

That was rare for Draco Malfoy.

"I don't get it," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "Why him?"

I stayed silent, watching him.

"I mean, Diggory was—he was—" Draco scoffed bitterly. "Perfect."

He shook his head, voice laced with frustration. "Top of his class. Good at Quidditch. Every professor liked him. Every student liked him. He had everything—"

He swallowed, looking away. "And he still wasn't enough to survive."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut.

This was bigger than just Cedric's death.

This was fear.

Draco Malfoy was scared.

Scared that if someone as good as Cedric Diggory wasn't safe, none of us were.

I hesitated before reaching for his hand, lacing my fingers through his.

He tensed, but he didn't pull away.

"Draco," I said quietly. "This wasn't about him. It was never about him."

He turned to me.

"Cedric didn't die because he wasn't enough," I murmured. "He died because Voldemort wanted to make a statement. He chose him. It could've been anyone."

Draco swallowed hard. "That doesn't make it better."

"I know."

We sat in silence for a long time, hand in hand, the weight of reality crushing down on both of us.

None of us had been prepared for this.

Not the Slytherins. Not the Gryffindors. Not anyone.

And yet, we were all in it now.

The question was—

Who was next?

............................................................................

The atmosphere inside the train was thick with an unshakable sadness. The past few weeks had been nothing short of exhausting—physically, emotionally, and mentally. Hogwarts no longer felt like Hogwarts. It had felt... broken. The laughter, the late-night mischief, the constant bickering between houses—it had all faded into an eerie silence.

Even within our friend group, the shift was undeniable. Kenny, who was always the loudest, always had something to say, had been unsettlingly quiet. Blaise, who typically fueled her chaos, had been unusually solemn. Even Draco had stopped his constant quips and theatrics. Hogwarts had changed, and so had we.

But I knew—Cedric wouldn't have wanted this. He wouldn't have wanted his friends, his school, to stay frozen in grief. He had been the kind of person who lit up a room just by stepping into it. The kind of person who deserved to be remembered, not in sorrow, but in the warmth of our happiest memories.

I took a deep breath and finally decided it was time to break the gloom.

"Back to the second honeymoon phase?" I giggled, attempting to inject some lightness into the atmosphere.

For the first time in weeks, I saw my friends genuinely smile.

Kenny snorted, nudging Blaise. "You hear that, love? We're in our second honeymoon phase now."

Blaise, ever the dramatist, sighed deeply and clasped Kenny's hands. "Oh, my dearest, I thought we never left the first one."

Kenny gasped, placing a hand over her chest like some heroine in a romance novel. "How dare you? Are you saying we peaked already?"

Draco, sitting beside me, rolled his eyes dramatically. "Merlin, kill me now."

I beamed at him. "Oh, come on, admit it—you missed their ridiculous public displays of affection."

Draco leaned back against the seat, arms crossed. "No, actually, the only thing I missed was my sanity. Which, apparently, I still won't be getting back."

"Oh, lighten up, Malfoy," Kenny grinned. "It's the last day of school, shouldn't we be celebrating?"

Blaise smirked. "Yeah, mate. You're going to spend the whole summer being a broody prince of darkness at the Manor. At least enjoy your last few moments of freedom."

Draco let out a dramatic sigh. "As if I could with you lot around."

I leaned against him, nudging his shoulder playfully. "Oh, shut up. You love us."

He huffed but didn't move away. "Debatable."

Kenny, still holding onto Blaise like they were in some grand romance novel, turned to me with a mischievous grin. "Speaking of honeymoon phases—you and Malfoy are sickeningly cute now. Where's all the snark? The witty insults? The soul-crushing arrogance?"

I grinned, tilting my head at Draco. "I still call him a pretentious git at least twice a day."

Draco smirked. "And I still remind her that she's insufferable."

Kenny snorted. "Yeah, yeah, but don't think we didn't see you two holding hands under the table at breakfast."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "And let's not forget the heart eyes, mate. Honestly, it's embarrassing at this point."

Draco groaned, rubbing his face. "I hate all of you."

I laughed, lacing my fingers with his under the table, completely unfazed. "You love us."

Draco just let out another dramatic sigh, but he didn't pull his hand away.

The conversation shifted, growing lighter, filled with easy banter and teasing. And just like that, for the first time in what felt like forever, it felt like us again.

...................................................................

I got down from the train, and as expected, my parents were there, standing alongside the Malfoys. It was an image I had grown up with—two families so intertwined, their fates practically bound together. But this time, something felt different. This time, I looked at them and knew. I knew they had played a role in Voldemort's return. I knew that behind the elegant facades and the carefully curated appearances, there were secrets and sins buried deep within the folds of their fine robes.

And yet... I couldn't bring myself to hate them.

They were still my parents. Still the same people who had raised me, still sickly in love with each other in a way that made them seem untouchable. My father stood tall, his posture unwavering, while my mother, always poised, always immaculate, had an unusual softness to her expression.

And then she did something she had never done in all the years I had been at Hogwarts.

She kissed my cheek.

It wasn't just a simple peck—it was a full, perfectly pressed kiss, leaving behind a red lipstick stain that I knew, without a doubt, was never going to come off without a struggle. My mother had never been the overly affectionate type, so this... this was something else.

I froze on the spot, my brain short-circuiting as I felt the sticky, waxy imprint of her expensive lipstick on my skin.

"Welcome, my dear," she said smoothly, completely unbothered by my stunned expression. "You look wonderful."

I was still in my damn school robes.

Draco, who had been standing a few steps away, looked at the entire exchange and absolutely smirked.

Oh, he was enjoying this.

I barely had a second to glare at him before he decided to ruin my life further.

With all the grace of someone who knew exactly what he was doing, he stepped forward, leaned down, and pressed a soft peck to my other cheek.

And before I could even process what had just happened, before I could react—

Crack.

He apparated with his mother, leaving me standing there with two very obvious lipstick marks on my face.

I blinked. My mother? Thrilled.

"Oh, Selene! How wonderful!" she gushed, practically vibrating with excitement.

I, on the other hand, was mortified.

"Mother—" I started, frantically scrubbing at my face.

"That boy is quite the charmer, isn't he?" she continued, completely ignoring my suffering.

"Oh my Merlin—"

My father, ever the composed figure, merely sighed at my mother's antics, adjusting the cuffs of his robe as he exchanged a knowing look with Lucius Malfoy.

"Did you see that? Did you see that? Oh, he's just lovely!"* she continued, practically swooning as if she had just witnessed the most romantic proposal in wizarding history.

Caius, standing beside her, barely concealed his disdain. "Let's not get carried away, dear."

My mother waved him off, still beaming.

I, meanwhile, was dying on the inside.