UPDATED: OCTOBER, 2011
Title: Cloaked Business
Author: join_the_conga
Rating: teen (naughty)
Characters: Hermione Granger, Cedric Diggory
Summary: Even the simplest of questions, the simplest of statements, the simplest of actions, can have hidden priorities. Hermione learns to read between the lines in a not-so-subtle way. How much "cloaked business" does Cedric Diggory have?
The library floor was cool, only a sparse layer of carpeting separating the solid stone from Hermione's bare knees as she knelt down to scan the titles of the bottom row. The leather tomes were worn, and she had to squint to properly make out their titles. The books in this particular section were often mistreated, she had found, as even those that didn't make a habit of picking up books commonly read them. In fact, Hermione wanted to bet that most every student in Hogwarts had read at least one book on the subject: flying. Specifically, quidditch.
Passersby found it only slightly odd that the fourth-year Gryffindor would be, literally, on her hands and knees to find a book on flying, of all things. Those who knew her best were well-informed of her thoughts on the subject. Or rather, her indifference to quidditch completely. It would appear that she did not care for the game just as much as she did not care to brush out her unruly locks.
But she was Hermione Granger. Hermione Granger lived for absorbing knowledge, whatever it may be. And if she was on the floor trying to find a book on a peculiar subject—for her—most ignored it. Books were her best friends, second only to Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. Both of them were quidditch players. And even Draco Malfoy had to admit that she was interested in whatever those two were interested in. If anything, the thoughts on most of the students' minds as they passed her were commonly along the lines of, "I was wondering when she would finally get there…"
Little did they know, Hermione was not looking up the subject to appease her two friends. She was intent on learning about quidditch for a certain Bulgarian seeker… who just happened to talk to her more often than what she let on. Even after the Yule Ball, they continued their chats in the library as normal. They were not romantic by any means, but she still cared enough about him to understand his speech as he talked about the sport. Quite frankly, she was happy to understand his speech at all, and if he was making such an effort to talk to her, she felt obligated to be able to discuss with him what he loved most. Even if she shared no interest in the sport, she made it her duty to at least learn some things past the basics on the position of seeker, if not the other positions as well.
She sighed as she skimmed through the titles, her mind blank in a way it normally wasn't. Books on quidditch… Books on flying… Books on quidditch and flying… Her next sigh was even heavier. This was impossible! Reading books was supposed to be fun, but... There was no way that she could possibly focus on any of these books long enough to learn something from them! She just didn't care, and she felt guilty for acknowledging the fact, however true it was.
"I'd recommend Quidditch: History of Flying at its Greatest. Sort of monotonous, but very informative. That's what you're looking for, isn't it?"
Hermione turned in the direction of the voice. There was a boy there, a Hufflepuff whose fame had grown from popular inside the school to a household name out, all in the course of a couple of months. In fact, he had become the center of the public eye, even before Harry (which the fourth-year boy couldn't help but be sadly thankful for). The tall, handsome champion was cut down only slightly—he was hunched down upon crutches that helped him support his weight on his left leg. His right was wrapped carefully in plaster, startlingly similar to the muggle treatment for a broken bone.
It had been publicized for weeks now how Cedric Diggory had been on the wrong end of a nasty and mysterious curse. Whoever had cast it had a certainly creative mind. While the bones in his leg were broken apart, a charm had been interlaced with them. His bones could not be healed by magical means. In fact, his bones were to heal even slower than muggles' recovery pace. He was not crippled by any means, but he was rendered immobile for the weeks to come. The third challenge was soon approaching, only two weeks until the day of. Cedric would not be able to walk without support until at least five. And the maze was no place for a student who couldn't move quickly.
No one knew exactly what had happened—the whole ordeal was strictly hush-hush. It seemed even Rita Skeeter was stumped at this one. Hermione had a pretty good idea, though.
Cedric Diggory was strong competition. Too strong to be kept in the game, in someone's eyes. His scores were top-notch, he was bright, he was favored to win, and, combined together, he was the most prone to attracting enemies. Hermione was certain that once the third task was done with, things would begin to become clearer, a fact that was not at all comforting for her to think about. Harry was even more frightened now as the weight of being the only Hogwarts' Champion was thrust upon him. Taking in the bedraggled young man before her, Hermione had to remember that Harry wasn't the only student who was struggling.
Cedric was flushed, probably from being unused to having to physically haul most of his lower body around the large school. His uniform was slightly twisted from the awkward angle his book bag had fallen during his walk, and it was wrinkled and wet around the collar with sweat. His medium-brown hair seemed a little duller than normal, as did his unusually gray eyes. Hermione couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him as she remembered the rather messy break-up between him and Cho Chang the week before. She didn't know exactly what had happened, but… To be completely truthful, she didn't know much about the young Hufflepuff at all except for the fact that all his luck and charm had taken a bad turn as of late. He was in rough shape.
Well, rough shape for him. He was still so handsome.
Hermione answered after a hesitant moment. "But... isn't that a book for beginners?"
Cedric raised his eyebrow and nodded in return. "Oh? Have you studied the subject before?..." He watched as Hermione blushed. "...Or are you actually only beginning?"
Hermione fought not to be too miffed with his semi-pointed question. It was a fair enough response. "Well, yes, but..."
"You're not used to the fact that you may be a little behind most people your age?"
She tried not to glare witheringly up at him, but... the way his crutches shortened him, made him lean forward while also looking down, really helped her with her feat... and it also made it that much harder too.
He nodded silently for a moment before hobbling a few steps forward to the shelf, sifting through the books just at his shoulder level.
"I don't find it bad, you must understand," he continued conversationally, "but…" Here, he paused for a moment in thought. Hermione noticed the way his lips curled slightly as he stared off with a tilted head. His slim, long fingers stopped moving across the cracked spines as he threw a smile at her over his shoulder.
"I was just like that, too. Not as… intense, you might say, but I couldn't stand to have people knowing things before I did." He pulled a book out of its slot, scanning the cover carefully. "It could be considered admirable… I know my friends told me it was bloody annoying, but I wasn't studying to appease them, was I?" He smiled again before slipping the book back onto the shelf.
Were we? Those were the words that echoed in Hermione's mind. He hadn't said them, but she couldn't help but think that he meant them instead. However fascinating it was to learn that he could relate to her on the subject, though, she couldn't contain her heavy sigh. Was there never an end?
Cedric's head popped up in surprise. He shifted on his crutches just a bit closer.
"I'm sorry. Did I—?"
Hermione interrupted him quickly. "No, no, you're not it. It's just…"
Cedric turned fully from the shelf. She was certain he would have crossed his arms and given a gentle "go-on" gesture if he could. She balanced her weight on the other foot and stared at his tie. It seemed to be an innocent enough place to look. Not at his face and not at the floor.
"Something tells me you have a harder time talking with me than I do with you," he said with dampened amusement.
Hermione sighed and glared directly at him, lifting her face defiantly. "It bothers me that, despite the fact we've barely ever had anything that can amount to a conversation, you seem to see me as the studious and know-it-all Gryffindor quite perfectly."
His smile dropped from his face. He immediately put his attention into scanning titles again, his face blank and not very Hufflepuff-ish at all. After a moment, his voice broke the awkward silence—created by none other than Hermione herself.
"Yes, I suppose people knowing all about your life without ever meeting them could seem troubling. And having people approach you daily with what they think about your 'problems' might be upsetting too, huh?"
Hermione went cold. It seemed uncharacteristically quiet in the library today. Every sound was magnified in the small section because of it. The way the fabric of his sleeves rustled with his movements bit at Hermione's ears. She turned her eyes to the shelf opposite, not willing to look at him. She distinctly heard the stiff rubbing of two leather covers sliding against each other as Cedric took down another book.
"Here. Positions and Their Importance. It has all the basic information on the game as well as being written in a more eloquent manner than the other. More… well, hoity-toity, I would say, but just as good, if not better. Plus, it has interesting little footnotes on certain moves and players. This is the updated edition, so it might have something on Krum."
She couldn't decide whether she wanted to giggle or glare. He was right-on about her reasoning—the first to be so, in fact—but the way he said it was slightly more suggestive than it should have been. But the title…
Hermione laughed at Diggory. "What a book. And just who wrote this charming piece of… literature?"
Cedric's neck took on just the slightest amount of red, but he smiled nonetheless. "Well, back when it was first written, the generations didn't take everything so… out of context." He winked, and it was her turn to blush. "Peoples' minds didn't jump out to those types of things quite yet. Nowadays, though… Let's just say, I've seen my fair share of third year boys who were more disappointed than, a' hem… enlightened in their readings."
Hermione and Cedric chuckled quietly as she took the book from his hands, tucking it neatly away in her bag. The way he smiled… She was suddenly brought to the conclusion that Cedric Diggory was clever… he was seventeen… a funny bloke, good sense of humor… liked studying… didn't crave attention… and had a very nice set of white teeth set into a strong, masculine jaw line so that, when he curved his lips just right, he could be quite... dashing… If someone were to like tall, handsome, decent blokes with good jaws and nice smiles and all. If he were maybe a different person, she might quite possibly have fancied him. But only might.
In a way, she supposed this situation could be related to her damsel in distress stories she read as a child—the ones where the heroic prince would always come to save the day. That must be the reason why she was feeling so… affectionate all of the sudden. Though not being able to find a book would not prove very distressing (to most people), Hermione rather liked the fact that he was taking his own time to help her out. That was the reason why, surely… But when thinking back to her fairytales, the dragons and witches and goblins—while surprisingly factual—weren't really part of the equation. Help finding a book was what made her swoon? She was fishing, and she knew it. Hermione Granger had taken a slight liking to Cedric Diggory… Perhaps, if she kept asking questions on it, he would stay to help her. He seemed like the decent sort. Maybe if she—
"Could you help me find something?" he asked.
Oh. Quid pro quo. Something for something. He was only doing this for her help. While this made more sense than the possibility of him doting upon her just because he wanted to, Hermione felt a little disappointed and unsatisfied with the answer.
She glanced at him in a more critical way than normal. He wasn't one of those types, was he? The type of boys who had too much pride to just ask for help? Did he simply feel obligated to do something for her to get something in return? Returning favors was one thing, but paying a debt in order to feel—…what, manly?—was strictly another.
Regardless, he had helped her… "Um, sure. What exactly are you looking for?"
Cedric smiled, relieved. "Just looking for some older transfigurations texts. And maybe…" He paused and gave her a sideways glance. "Is there any chance that you've studied animagi lately?"
"Oh? Are you thinking of becoming one?"
"Well, maybe some day." Cedric shrugged his shoulders. "But right now, I want to learn more about—well, regulations and things. Rules, I suppose. And registry."
Hermione nodded, not quite sure what he was on about. Just as she was about to question him further, he asked an even more peculiar thing.
"Have you seen any… beetles recently?" Cedric looked hopeful, though somewhat embarrassed. Hermione thought that she could understand why he might feel a little awkward asking that particular question.
"No… I—I don't think I have…"
"Are you sure, though? Think about more… important things. Like the tasks… or the ball… or… Have you noticed some bug that you've seen one time too many? Like it couldn't be coincidence if you saw it one more time?"
Hermione wasn't sure if she was comfortable continuing the conversation with him. Was the boy stable? She knew that being unable to compete could be hard, but…
"Do you mean to ask if I think a beetle has been stalking me around the grounds?"
Cedric shook his head quite seriously. "No, not just you. It would probably be in places when you were with Harry or Viktor. Places where other people weren't supposed to be…"
Hermione was now quite curious. It had dawned on her what Cedric meant by wanting to find out about certain animagi. And, now that she thought about it, there was a little black beetle with peculiar white spots that she had convinced Viktor not to crush when they were talking some afternoon weeks ago. She thought it was too pretty and had simply brushed it away. They had been alone then, but hints of the conversation had been published… In the Prophet…
"Do you think that Rita Skeeter could be an unregistered animagus?" Hermione asked excitedly.
Cedric blinked. "Well, actually, I was just about to ask you that. Somehow, you've just beaten me to the punch line."
The cogs and wheels in Hermione's mind had already started turning, though, so she mostly ignored the comment.
"What happens when you become an animagus? I think it's probably required that you register, and… Well, if you take advantage of your ability to do better at work… I don't think that would be illegal, but… to spy on somebody? As a beetle? That could prove to be potentially dangerous to the Ministry. They'll want her taken down for sure! But she probably knows that, so… She wouldn't tell anybody…"
Cedric had slightly tilted himself to better look at her as she pondered, staring at the floor. "Granger? Are you there? Can you hear me?" He lightly tapped her ankle with one of his crutches. "Do you think it's possible?"
She was flushed with excitement as she nodded. "Yes, I think it's very possible. But what books do you need, first off?"
Cedric smirked. "Ah, I see. You just want to get rid of me so you can start your own research."
Hermione's red face gained even more color as she shook her head in denial. "No, of course not! I just… just want to help…"
He inclined his head with a knowing smile. "Sure. Well, I'm looking for some books toward the back. At least, that's where McGonagall told me they would be…" Cedric frowned slightly, but dipped his head in a "let's go" way. "After you. I've never been to this section before."
So they walked for a few minutes in a silence that was only broken by the clunk! of his crutches as they scuttled across the floor. He followed her to a row of shelves toward the end of the library where it seemed that no students were inhabited at the moment. Not even a Ravenclaw was sighted as they slipped between the towering cabinets that swallowed up the high ceilings of the old castle. Hermione would have been slightly afraid had it not been for the familiarity of the place and her reassuring knowledge of the harmless boy trailing behind her.
After a few moments, they settled in enough for him to look around silently, searching for the titles he wanted. He shifted his weight to lift a hand and point. "There, the red one. Animal Transfigurations. I think that was one that I heard about."
Hermione stepped forward, dropped her shoulder-bag on the ground and out of the way, and reached… and reached! Did he have to pick the book that was so high up? Her right arm rose up and up as she leaned herself against the dark wood of the shelf. After a moment of excellent arm stretches, Hermione's impatience grew to the point where she brought up one of her knees to the shelf that ran along a height near her waist. She put her weight there and reached again, left leg dangling. Her fingers just brushed the bottom inches of the thick spine when the fabric of her robes under her right leg lost their little purchase on the wood and she slipped back, throwing back her left leg in time to catch her balance.
"Watch it, Granger," Cedric intoned nervously from behind her.
His voice had the peculiar effect of making her more upset and determined than she already was. She had books to find, for Godric's sake! And he would not hold up her research any more than he needed her for! She had to find out that dirty, little Skeeter woman...
Hermione shucked off her robe and let it drop to a pile on the floor before climbing up on the shelf again. The bare skin of her legs held much better than her robes did, so she unconsciously allowed herself more of a stretch this time. And there! Her fingers curled around the thick book as she pulled it out swiftly and settled her feet back onto the carpeted stone. Straightening her shoulders, she turned to hand him the book.
Cedric's eyes were slightly rounder as he moved his stare down at the book. Hermione could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed. He appeared very contemplative, and Hermione waited for some sign that she could take as a dismissal. He wasn't giving one. Instead, he tucked the book under his arm awkwardly and looked at her. His eyes were brighter than what they were a few minutes ago—more like the Cedric Diggory she had seen some weeks earlier, striding easily down the halls of Hogwarts. He didn't look so tired. In fact, his cheeks had taken in some color as well. Diggory was pleased with the book, she surmised. Perhaps, together, they could solve the mystery of the reporter nuisance.
He gave an odd sort of chuckle—without a smile, she noticed. His posture told her that he was unsure of himself, but his eyes were bright and excited. She waited.
"C-could you, possibly, get another, um… book for me?" Cedric stuttered.
Oh, that's right. He was awkward about asking for help—she'd already discovered this, of course. How silly of her to have forgotten it already!
"Yes, sure, Cedric. Which one?"
Cedric blinked. He swayed back, surprised.
"You know which one you're going for, right?" she laughed. Hopefully, he would get it together so someone could do research on animagi. There were only so many hours in a day…
He glanced quickly at the shelf before snapping his eyes back to hers. He was very… jittery… Hermione wondered despairingly if she acted in a similar fashion when she wanted to study.
"There!" His fast, biting word made her jump without even realizing it. "The blue one with the gold writing. That's the one."
She turned slowly, almost hesitantly, back to the shelf. Indeed, there was a dark blue book with gold inlaid calligraphy toward the bottom of the stacks. The language appeared to be… Latin? Cedric could read Latin? He must be more advanced than she thought…
She bent to take the book from the shelf. It was below her waist, so she could see how Cedric would have a difficult time retrieving it. As her fingers brushed the blue leather, Cedric stopped her.
"Um, no, I—I meant the blue one below that one."
Her eyebrows drew together in impatient frustration. There was no blue book under that one. She told him as much.
"The only other book with gold writing down here is purple," she stated, restraining the urge to roll her eyes. Animagi research… Come on!
"Oh, uh, must have looked blue from up here, sorry!" Another strangled chuckle. Yes, I want to get on to research too, Diggory…
She got down on her hands and knees to pull out the tightly wedged volume on the very bottom shelf. She jiggled it until it popped out enough for her to tug. After a few moments, the book was out. Hermione sat back on her legs and half turned, holding the book up to him.
Cedric's eyes snapped back to her—she couldn't tell where they had been before. Probably looking for more books to waste time on… Time that could be being spent on sniffing out that cockroach's trail! Terrible cockroach, that's what she is!...
He looked confusedly at the book she proffered, as if forgetting that it was the book that he had specifically asked for.
"Yes, thank you!" he exclaimed, coming out of some odd daze rather quickly. He stuffed the book away before she could look at it anymore, strangely forgetting to turn the flap over on his bag again.
"Anything else?" Hermione questioned with a fake smile and gritted teeth.
"Um…" Cedric looked at the shelves quizzically. Further down the aisle was where he pointed to next. "There's a, um, transfiguration series down there—the yellow ones? I want the, uh… sixteenth volume. Please?" He added the latter almost as an afterthought. The afterthought itself annoyed Hermione to no end. Rationally, she knew that she would not be this bitter toward Cedric if it weren't for the fact that she was so longingly waiting to study up on the Skeeter Slime. But an unregistered animagus? Now, that, she could do something about…
Hermione crawled the few feet down the aisle, not even bothering to stand up fully if she was just going to have to bend down again. She could hear Cedric's crutches as he followed slowly.
"Sixteen… sixteen," she murmured, running her right index finger down the spines until she reached the appropriate number. "Aha!" she cried, triumphant and joyous—just how she would feel when she got done with her research…
…And she only had the book out for a few seconds before Cedric practically yelled in her ear—he had come closer than she thought he had.
"Darn, uh, that—that doesn't look like the right one. I don't think that's it."
She withstood from turning around, knowing she might just hex him if she did.
"It says sixteen right here, Cedric," she said bossily.
Cedric cleared his throat quickly and shifted on his crutches. "Oh, did I say sixteen?" Hermione prayed that this was not how he laughed all the time; only when he was excited and slightly unstable would it be acceptable. "I meant seventeen!"
She brutally shoved the volume back in, stopping herself from completely mistreating the book at the last second. Instead, she moved further to the right, slipping out another, thicker volume. She held it over her shoulder without turning, shifting her weight back and straightening slightly before—
"No! Don't stand up—I mean, I, that's not the book I need. And I'd hate for you to… You know, I think I've already read that one. Could you fetch the one next to it, yeah?"
She let out her breath in a defeated huff. Rita Skeeter would just have to wait. Cedric Diggory was being too indecisive. For anyone's good.
She glanced down before she sighed. "Cedric, the only book next to it is number sixteen, alright?"
"No," he disagreed. "There's a yellow one right there, see?"
All she could see was a gap between the series and the wooden divider between shelves. A large gap, but only a gap.
"I'm telling you, there's nothing there," she said.
"Yes there is! You just have to reach out a little. It's dark, but it's there—I can see it."
"I thought you couldn't see anything from where you are," Hermione muttered darkly. Despite this, she lowered herself even more and reached deep into the large gap. And came up with nothing.
"Cedric, I don't feel anything—"
"Nonsense! It's there. You've just got to feel around a bit. Reach… farther…"
"Reach farther!" she mouthed mockingly, her arm stretching out completely. Soon, all she'd be able to feel would be shelf, she just knew it.
A crutch thunked to the floor as he knelt down surprisingly quickly. She sighed, beginning to withdraw her hand so she could urge him to stand back up. Even if he was a wizard, he shouldn't be putting any stress on the break—
Wait. He was a wizard! And he had a bloody wand! One that she supposed he could use quite well—he was a champion, after all. True, magic wasn't allowed in the library, but surely the staff could excuse a simple accio for a student with an ailment! Why couldn't he get the damn books himself?
"Cedric, why didn't you just—"
When she turned around, she saw that he wasn't focused on her. Or rather… he was… just not where he should have been… Eyes up, Cedric Diggory!
A distinctly feminine gasp of anger woke Cedric out of his stupor. "Oh! You—"
Slap!
There was a bright red handprint on Cedric Diggory's cheek that was mostly hidden as he clutched at it, his face shamefully alight with wide, guilty eyes.
"Hermione! I—I can't believe that I would have—"
"Well, now who's playing the damsel in distress, Diggory?"
"I—what? I'm not quite sure what you mean, but I'm very sorry—"
"You're sorry?" Hermione screeched. "Aren't you supposed to be the nice champion? I can't believe you took advantage of your leg to see—you took advantage of me! What—what is wrong with you?"
"No!" Cedric shook his head vehemently. "I mean, I admit that… I did kind of… But I didn't ask you to help with those intentions! Well, not until you…" He cleared his throat hoarsely.
"You 'kind of' did it? What kind of bloody crap is that, Diggory?"
She could still picture Cedric's glazed eyes as he stared down at her legs. She could still see him leaning back on his haunches, awkwardly because of the cast, to get a better look at the skin under her skirt. And even worse, she could just as easily imagine him dragging his sights down her backside as she bent to get him 'his books'. Could see him staring avidly at a possible strip of skin just between her oxford and her skirt as she stretched up to get the first… diversion!
"You terrible boy, that's what you are!"
"I'm sorry, Hermione, and I mean it. Honest! Please don't look at me like that… I didn't intend to take advantage of you when I asked for your help."
Her arms were crossed over her chest resolutely, and her eyes burned holes into his skull. "Which time?" she spat bitterly.
He flinched again. "Well, when you lead me back here, I really was looking for transfiguration texts. Not anything else, though, I promise!"
And she sighed as she couldn't help but believe him. "Just get up, Diggory." She stood stiffly, not all that comfortable with having her skirt at his eye level. He must have been a clever little demon…
However, Cedric, who was then looking at the stacks and avoiding her glare, did not allow his sights to linger as he shifted his eyes to her face. He was once again confused. "What?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. What, was he dull as well as perverted? "Get. Up. You can't get away with putting weight on your leg much longer. No matter how much you like using it for favors, you can't pressure the break. It'll only take longer to heal." She watched coolly as he drew his crutches to himself in order to stand. "And to tell the truth, I don't know how many more girls you can find alone in the library these days," she continued (rather cruelly). "They're all too preoccupied with the tournament."
Whether his grimace was a result of the taking-advantage-of-girls or the reminding-him-about-not-being-in-the-TriWizard-shindig, Hermione did not know. Nor did she much care.
Cedric was standing tall now, but he couldn't help but shift for a few moments in nervousness. He cleared his throat and chanced a glance at Hermione. She stood as stiffly as before, but she didn't look as incredibly furious as she had been—no, now she was just… simmering. In an odd, synchronized move, they both gazed down at his bag on the floor next to the shelf.
He glanced at her again. Her face twisted disgustedly.
"You can get it your own damn self!"
Cedric's eyebrows rose in agreement, and he nodded. "Fair enough."
Surprisingly, as he bent (difficult for him, she knew), he did not end up heaving up his own bag. Instead, he handed hers back to her. She took it wordlessly and without any dark looks—a good sign, to Cedric. He caught a corner of her mouth curling upward—at his courtesy and chivalry, perhaps?
He smiled charmingly, hopefully… "Am I forgiven?"
Her eyes flashed dangerously when her gaze trained back on him. She brushed past him determinedly, and Cedric was surprised to find one of his crutches swept out from underneath him. He lost his balance and fell heavily onto his behind.
He had two immediate urges: one was to laugh, and the other, to scowl. He ignored both and called out, "I really am sorry, Granger!"
"I know," was the airy reply that drifted back to him. He smiled and gathered his book bag to himself slowly. After a few attempts, he managed to heave himself and the bag up at the same time. Just as he was leaving, he also gathered up the black, Gryffindor cloak that was tucked against the wooden shelf. He had spotted it as he had retrieved her bag, not minutes before. She had not. And now, he was happy to pick it up.
Contrary to the fact that he had not set out to use her pity, however unwanted it was, for his own gain, Cedric Diggory was quite adept at subtly turning the tables in his favor. It was all part of his charm and charisma, or at least, that's what his father had told him. He could still hear Amos Diggory cheerfully saying, "You'll do well with the ladies, all right! No need to worry about that, boy..." Back when he had first told Cedric that, Cedric had found the idea grotesque and was almost fearful at the thought of meeting a girl—they were too icky. But now? Well, he could be a little thankful from time to time…
Though he truly did not intend to take advantage of her (and wouldn't have attempted to, even if the idea had occurred to him before he got swept up into the haze of nice, creamy legs—his weakness, he guessed), if he hadn't, he probably wouldn't be holding this cloak right now. And how disappointing would that be?...
Cedric grinned fully—something he felt he hadn't done in too long a time. Hermione would be wanting her cloak back soon… and he felt it was probably best that she didn't get it back in the library.
A.N. (UPDATE: OCTOBER, 2011) Though this story was originally published a few years ago (I wrote it while lying on my living room floor in one sitting (laying?), and it's my first completed fanfiction piece), I realize how much attention it still gets today, which, while not terribly considerable, makes me blush when I think about how much editing it needed. I'm not saying I've fixed everything (as I might not have caught everything...), but I did go back and try to make some parts more... readable, I guess. There are no significant changes, and it reads very much the same—just, hopefully, without some major issues that were in it before.
Damn, I need a beta... : )
Oh! And IF YOU LIKE THIS FIC AND WANT TO SEE SOME OTHER CEDRIC/HERMIONE STUFF, GO TO MY PROFILE AND READ THE ARTIFICE. IT'S AN ACTUAL, CHAPTERED STORY. With just a few surprise guests...
Thank you, everyone, for responding so well to this fic. Peace out!