Chapter One

Cedric Diggory; pure blood, sixth year and Hufflepuff Champion, resident school heartthrob(pretty boy pounce), top grades, Prefect, star seeker and Quidditch Captain to boot. A bit of a ditz most would say, very impulsive and should've been in Gryffindor by his sheer never alone and his tendency for being outstanding and popular. Hermione Granger; muggleborn, fourth year and Gryffindor Princess, resident book worm(prissy swot), top grades, part of the 'Golden Trio', best friend to one Harry Potter. Very bossy, brilliantly scary, brightest witch of her age, and should have been in Ravenclaw by her raw academic talent. And they would never really speak to each other in the course of their time attending the same school. Different houses, different years, different social circles. It was just how things worked.

Or at least that was what one would see if they quick look at two students of the prestigious school of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Cedric himself wasn't overly fond of that quicksort of categorization. He had always been a very curious person by nature. It was instinct, ever since he had been a child: the world had been something to gawk at, dissect, and catalog into neat little boxes of knowledge. He liked to break down the world, There wasn't a moment where he hadn't been outside collecting specimen after specimen after specimen or had his nose stuck in a book on anything and everything. Facts were interesting, fascinating and he just had to understand. He absorbed them like mad, and he could quote the entirety of his textbooks verbatim if asked. He had dreamed of being a Ravenclaw since as long as he could remember, looking at his mum's old robes and pictures...

But come his sorting, he had been very shocked.

The hat had only explained it briefly, and even all these years later at seventeen, he remembered its words: "A damn good mind, but a better heart... BETTER BE HUFFLEPUFF!". He had been mortified, and he remembered stumbling to the Hufflepuff table beet red. The slaps to his back and the sincere hellos had made him feel numb. He hadn't answered him, just stared at his empty plate. But he also remembered looking at the sea of blue and bronze just next to him: feeling a sort of tug of mortification in his stomach and an anger burning in his chest at the whole ordeal. Cedric had hated Hufflepuff, despite the wonderful kindness and generally good atmosphere his house had. He had felt that anger for a long time, even after he had come to accept his house, and even love it.

For the first three years at Hogwarts, anger still with him, but he discovered ways to work around that... Cedric had been skating through his school years, top of the class out of default, somehow popular, and entering his second year as Seeker on the Quidditch team. That was when Harry Potter came to Hogwarts. And more importantly to him, that was when Hermione Granger had come to Hogwarts.

He remembered her sorting, her smallness only rivaled by Potter, and her wild hair sticking out like a sore thumb, glinting in the candle light a near red in its brown. He remembered clapping for her when her house was called out. And as far as he was concerned, that was the end of that(he should have paid more attention, been more interested if he had just known), and he had watched Potter being sorted with a faint interest, but no real surprise at the choice of his house.

It wasn't until they got their first report on grading that he even thought of her again. Top of her house... Top of her class. Top of the school... In fact, she broke records in nearly all of her classes that first grading period. His records. Hell, she had beaten a few that hadn't been topped in centuries, something he himself had failed to do.

Cedric had never been so stunned.

It was worse than when he had been sorted into Hufflepuff. He had pride in his work, as half arsed as it was sometimes. Hell, he was meticulous at he could ever be about something he didn't like, and he had the advantage of being born into the wizarding world, he had been studying this thing way before this twelve-year-old kid had been born.

He had gotten upset. Really upset. And everyone had noticed. His friends and dorm-mates had given him a wide berth. His grade drops, because why the bloody hell was he working so hard if a kid younger than him could do it so much better? He skipped out on Quidditch. He half expected his father to come in one day and simply snap his wand for being such a bloody failure, and he could just picture the crushing disappointment on his face and his mother crying, and Hermione Granger, who hardly made it to his chest looking at him with a smug face, because she was just that much better than him...

And then Professor Sprout had sat him down and talked. It hadn't been a long talk, five minutes at the most, but it had altered the way Cedric had seen things so vividly that he couldn't help but like Granger for causing it to occur in the first place. He couldn't really remember her words, as important as they had been, despite his amazing memory, those words were lost in everything but intent. The feelings and memories had been front and center, and Cedric believed that was the important thing... But he remembered the conclusion he had made when he had walked out of her office and seen a first year struggling with her potions in the common room, near tears.

It wasn't simply about him, he had thought as the young girl tried desperately to find her mistake in her potion. He had never made a mistake like that... There were always going to be people better, smarter, faster. He wasn't a quitter, but he could acknowledge that truth. And, he could work at becoming better. Hard work was key.

Hard work caused better things.

How many times had he seen that tiny Granger leaf through a book, nearly as heavy as her, and carry it around school with twenty other books just as heavy? She worked for what she had, and he could certainly admire her for that, envy her certainly, but admire her all the same.

He watched the first year in front of him for a second, nothing but apathy in his gaze. She had nothing to do with him, and though she was a Puff, Cedric didn't feel inclined to help her. He had his own work to do, he had to study... But, he had a small start as he noticed how calloused that sounded, even within his own mind. He had never been that kind of person, and the girl threw the book sound across the room and broke out into loud tears, he felt himself move forward.

"Do you need help?" he had asked and she had frozen at the sight of him, his temper and mood as of late infamous by now, no doubt. But then she had looked at him, seen his honest question and gave him a grateful look that had made him feel so, well, nice.

That night was the first of many times that he reached out and helped someone, and as time went on, Cedric was surprised that he had never stopped. But what really shocked him more than anything, was that he enjoyed doing it.