ALOHOMORA | CEDRIC DIGGORY

44〝forty-four〞

TEARS SPLASHING DOWN HER FRONT, Ellis had completely gone to pieces. She didn't know what had hit her until it was too late—her brain had, yet again, acted on her behalf. It was Cedric's response that had woken her to her doing, and she was immediately sent crumbling from the inside.

The guilt for mistreating him was so devastating; like a tsunami demolishing everything in its path.

"No...no...didn't mean...sorry...no..."

Panicky, incoherent, abject pleas choked their way out from her lips, for Cedric had gotten up, and Ellis was under the horrid impression that he was leaving. The thought seemed to frighten her into giddiness. Her chest ached sharply; she felt breathless; her mouth was incredibly dry even for all the tears that were leaking into it. Her extremities tingled, so that for the second time that day they refused to work.

Through a veil of tears, Ellis could still vaguely discern Cedric's figure, which she registered only dimly was—for some odd reason—growing larger.

"I'm going to put my arm around you now, all right?"

Even though Cedric looked to be beside her now, Ellis still heard him as though from several feet away. She would have given anything to say "All right" back, but her throat felt exactly like her stomach—all knotted up. In the end, though she wasn't fully conscious of it, she must have managed something (a muted nod) that Cedric deemed was an expression of consent, because he said "All right" anew, in that chucklesome way he always did when he said it for the second time in a row—and it seemed to take the edge off the anxiety somewhat.

Ellis had never been one to experience the power of human touch. Unlike her father, she was not a fan of cuddling, even as a child, and after Elliot, there was nobody left to cuddle her even if she wanted it. Alfred was forbidden to do so by her mother ("Just leave her to cry, she'll learn to get over it."), and given that he was on her payroll, he wasn't exactly in a place to object. Ellis didn't blame him.

She did, however, "learn to get over it"—with the help of a pillow. She hugged it, wept into it, and it transpired to be a rather versatile substitute; she couldn't possibly have brought Alfred along to boarding school. But there was only so much a pillow could offer. Yet, she clung to this "remedy" as though it was the holy grail, wretchedly unaware of what she had been missing out on all these years.

When Cedric wrapped his arm around her, Ellis was therefore surprised to find relief—multiple wondrous waves of it—sweeping over her, spreading like warmth by hot butterbeer: to the ends of her hairs and the tips of her fingers.

It was a whole new—better—brand of comfort. How could she have been so averse to this her entire life? Ellis wondered if it could have been like this with anyone, or was it just him and his citrus scent? She wondered if it would always be like this, or was her body so deprived it was merely overcompensating?

As she did, Ellis noticed just how severely she had been trembling; she was practically vibrating against Cedric. He shifted himself nearer and tightened his grip, handing her—but what else?—his handkerchief. Just as she blew her nose, they both gave a start, though neither sprung away from the other. If anything, they huddled even closer. (Cedric even took her hand.)

"WHAT IN THE WORLD IS THIS RUCKUS?! I—"

Madam Pomfrey had come marching from behind the curtains, hands on her hips, but seemed to have stopped short. Ellis, who was now overcome with fresh sobs, couldn't see her very well, but there was no mistaking her tone. The matron continued to stare at them ominously, but Ellis was soon slumped into Cedric's rigid frame, her eyes squeezed tight, channeling all her energy into regulating her breathing...