September 13, 1995

Dear Cedric,

I had a dream about you that woke me up really early this morning. I dream about you every night, but I hate the falling dreams the most. This one was the worst because of how happy it was. If dreams are sad, or scary, it's easier for me to call it a nightmare and try to forget about it, but I don't want to forget this one. I don't ever want to forget how it felt to hug you, how it felt when you hugged me. I already feel myself forgetting just how safe I felt whenever you were around. I feel safe with Harry, too, because I know he won't let anything hurt me if he can help it, and I felt safe at Grimmauld Place knowing the Order would protect me if someone tried to take me away again, but you were the only one who ever kept me safe from myself.

Do you remember the time you told me that you were always afraid of falling from the pedestal everyone else built for you? And do you remember me saying that I always felt like I was starting on the bottom? I think I was wrong. I don't think I was on the bottom. You made sure of it. Without you, I feel like I've been pushed off of a high place, and I feel like I'm falling.

Do you think that could be why I'm so scared to get on a broom again?

When I woke up, I was so emotional, I just had to get out of bed, I couldn't stand it. I wandered around the castle until I reached the Room of Requirement, but the Fat Friar told me that I wouldn't find you there. We talked for a bit, and when he left, the door was gone.

Were you in there somehow? Was he wrong? Did I miss you?

Where are you now, Cedric? Where did you go?

I waited there for the door to appear again, I waited until morning, but it didn't. I don't understand why. I wasn't alright. I still needed something. I still needed you.

I'm writing this in the common room, not my dormitory. Harry and Ron and Hermione all went to bed, since it's well past midnight now, but I wanted to tell you about what happened tonight.

Basically, the new DADA teacher isn't teaching us anything. We copy notes out of a textbook written by an ignorant, idealistic idiot who discourages the use of any kind of defensive magic under any circumstance, including defense. It's ridiculous, and it's dangerous. But we're going to do something about it. Harry and I are going to teach Ron and Hermione what we can about defensive spells, and maybe a couple of other people, too, like Luna and Ginny and Neville, if they want to know.

I think you'd be proud of me. At least I hope you'd be. I'm doing this for you, after all. I know you wouldn't want anyone else to die, not the way you did.

Merlin. I still can't believe it sometimes. And when I can believe that you're gone... I don't even know how to put into words the horrible sinking feeling that fills my stomach at the thought of it all. I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.

Do you miss me?

I should probably go to bed. The shaking is getting worse the longer I write. I miss talking to you. This is as close as I can get, and even though I know I'll never get a reply, I don't want to stop writing. If I stop, I'll be reminded once again that you're gone.

So do you want to hear more about my day? It was rather eventful, come to think of it.

Well, after the sun rose and the door didn't open, I went down to feed Tuck and Fang. Did I tell you Tuck lives at Hogwarts now? He and Fang keep each other company since Hagrid isn't here. I worry for Hagrid. He was apparently supposed to be back by now. I hope he's alright.

Anyway, after I fed the dogs, I came back to the castle and went to breakfast. I got a T on my Potions essay — Snape didn't even want to try to read my handwriting — so I asked Professor McGonagall if she'd meet me to talk about finding a solution. She agreed, but before we could talk any more about it, Angelina started yelling at Harry for getting Umbridge detention again.

Oh Merlin, Umbridge detention. I had another one last week, for something I didn't even do. I hate Draco Malfoy, I hate him so much. I hate Umbridge more, though.

Did you ever hate anyone? Is it wrong for me to hate someone, even people like Draco and Umbridge?

Maybe it is. Maybe monsters shouldn't hate people. It's too easy for us to hurt even the people we love — maybe hatred is even more dangerous.

Anyway... Harry and I went back to the breakfast table and complained about the detentions and accidentally said more than we meant to, so Fred and George know about the quill now. They were furious, but the arrival of the mail stopped the twins from going into a total fit of rage, because Draco sent me a note with an owl who had a rose in its mouth.

Oh Merlin. Cedric. I just realized. That proves Draco knows.

I don't think he would just spontaneously decide to send me a rose, especially not with that note.

What if he knows everything?