Title: Methods of Dealing
Characters: Cedric/Hermione, Neville
Disclaimer: None because they're useless
Notes: Set during Order of the Phoenix. Probably based on a The Boy Who Died scenario but not necessarily. Assuming it is, let's say it's set before Unexpected Christmas Gifts which you may want to jump to read after this because this story ends rather sadly (Click on my user name to access the link back to my livejournal). As usual unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own and I'll fix them as I find them or other people tell me about them. The idea for this story popped into my head today - and I'm still not quite sure why.

Hermione sat by the lake staring at the water meditatively. She had her arms wrapped around her legs, her chin resting on her knees as she gazed out at the water steadily. Her face was without expression.

"Say Granger ... how do you suppose the merpeople feel about the fact that Hogwarts flushes its toilets directly into the lake. That's kind of gross if you think about it".

"I would have thought that more gross was the fact that you swam around in it..." At Cedric's recoil she had laughed. "Presumably the pipes contain some sewerage treatment charm ... although Moaning Myrtle told Harry that sometimes she gets flushed out into the lake so maybe there is no charm .. or it doesn't filter out ghosts .."

"That reminds me that what's even grosser is the way Moaning Myrtle perves on prefects who are bathing".

"That's really rather alliterative of you. I had no idea that the heart of a poet beat beneath the surface," Hermione had complimented him and Cedric had laughed leaning across the table to kiss her.

Blue. The sky was an intense blue making the water look deceptively blue and clear instead of its usual murky and ominous black. Hermione closed her eyes, in a vain attempt to let the sunlight warm her even though she knew that the chill she felt had nothing to do with temperature.

"Hermione".

At the sound of her name, she looked up reluctantly and stared at the hesitant-looking round-faced boy with the dark curly brown hair. Neville always looked as though he was frightened of offending the world.

"Hullo Neville," Hermione said without a shred of enthusiasm in her voice.

Neville noticed but didn't show any reaction. He was too used to people not looking particularly delighted when they saw him to even notice anymore.

"Whatcha doing?" he asked her giving her his shy, awkward little smile. His prominent teeth gave his smile a somewhat tentative and foolish appearance.

"Being alone," Hermione told him quietly.

"Can I join you?" he asked her.

Hermione opened her mouth to point out that that would sort of defeat the purpose, but looking at Neville's expectant and almost child-like face, she merely shrugged.

"Why not?" she asked in resignation. "Let's be alone together" and there was a certain truth to her words. Despite always being surrounded by her friends this term, Hermione had been alone even if no one had realised it.

She had never known what an absolutely ripping actress she was. Then again, she wasn't sure if it was due to her own acting ability or the fact that her friends had been too preoccupied by other things to notice anything. This term had been about Harry's pain and fury. Harry dealing with the aftermath of the tournament, Harry and his grief over ... what had happened. It had also been Ron's term for delight at being a prefect, for trying out for the Quidditch team and actually succeeding albeit not spectacularly.

She reached up and pushed her stubborn hair from her eyes, the gesture evoking yet another memory.

"You know there's something hilarious about the fact that your hair dares to defy you the way it does ... doesn't it have any sense of self-preservation?" Cedric had asked her teasingly, reaching down to push her hair from her eyes so that he could look into her eyes.

"I've heard all of the descriptions of my hair ... nothing you can say would surprise me. I've given up on it .. no matter what I do ... it is and will always be ... bushy ..." She had told him gloomily and he had laughed.

"Adorable and unmanageable just like you ... I wonder that it dares to stand up to you. It's endearing - it gives me hope that it's possible to resist you and live," he had said jokingly and she had pretended to scowl at him, reaching up to touch his dark hair.

"We can't all have studiedly tousled hair - how many hours do you spend a day making it look so mussable?" she had demanded and Cedric had pretended to look outraged, assuring her that his appeal was completely natural.

They had laughed as she had continued to tousle his dark hair.

Hermione's attention was far away from Neville as she returned her notional attention to contemplation of the lake whose waters while providing no answers, also never asked her any questions.

If there had been upheavals in Hermione's world, no one knew about them or no one noticed. Sometimes she even fooled herself into believing that nothing had ever happened.

"Are you ... are you ... all right?" Neville asked her very tentatively, plucking up his courage and sitting on the grass beside her.

"Fine thanks, Neville. Why do you ask?" she asked him with a slight note of curiosity in her voice.

Neville looked a bit apprehensive but he took a deep breath and continued. "I notice, you know ..." he told her and Hermione didn't move. "You're different this term..."

"We're all different this term, Neville. Things will never be the same after what happened ... now that we know that You-Know-Who-Is-Back," she told him flatly, interrupting him before he could say anything more.

Neville looked as though he was struggling with himself.

"Last year ... after you got those bubotuber pus blisters ... I went to see you in the hospital wing. Cedric was there already!" He blurted out.

Hermione didn't move and her expression didn't change.

"When I saw him I left right away of course ..." Neville looked very uncomfortable, not having any clue how to continue with what he started. "...ummm Chocolate Frog?" he said, shoving a half-melted Chocolate Frog into Hermione's hands.

Relieved to have something to do, Hermione nodded. "Thanks," she said and concentrated on the complicated task of eating the frog.

"I've never seen anyone make such a to do out of eating a Chocolate Frog, Granger ..."

"So I like chocolate ..."

"I wish I could make you get that expression on your face ..."

"Stop fishing for compliments". There had been a soft laugh.

"And what exactly do you mean by that, Granger?" A slow smile, her arm sliding around his neck.

"You're sweet as chocolate, warm ... " She had stood on tip-toes and the kiss was slow, lingering and full of unspoken wants.

"But you're the one makes me melt ... and who melts in my mouth," Cedric had whispered teasingly and he had pulled her close against him, all laughing sallies about Chocolate Frogs forgotten.

"Hermione?" Neville asked with the manner of someone who had been repeating her name several times.

"Sorry did you say something?" Hermione asked him, focussing on the young boy sitting beside her on the grass.

"Yeah ... I said ... I liked Cedric, too. He was a really nice guy ... he returned Trevor to me a few times ..." Hermione's eyes were kind and understanding. Neville's toad Trevor had a rather bad tendency of getting lost a lot. "He also used to help me out sometimes when Malfoy and his mates were giving me a hard time ... he just stepped in and broke it up - but never skited about it to anyone else. Never made a big deal out of it". Neville was trying hard, painfully hard to let Hermione know that he understood.

"Yes, his death was a great loss," Hermione said calmly. "My heart went out to all of his family and friends".

Harry would probably never recover. He still had nightmares of the night. He was still haunted and twisted apart by the memory of that encounter in the graveyard and feelings of guilt. Hermione never told him that he wasn't the only one who had nightmares. The things that Harry had to do were too important. She would always be there for him. Her own small sorrows and heartache were nothing in the scheme of things. She knew that she would be fine.

"I saw you with him in the library .. a lot ..." Neville swallowed hard.

"Cedric studied hard. I don't have the monopoloy on that," Hermione's voice was cool, distant and she was clearly not engaging.

Neville said nothing. He merely looked miserable. He liked Hermione a lot. From first year she had always been kind to him. He would never have made it through the majority of his classes without her. He had never been able to offer her anything in return.

"I didn't know you were such a romantic, Neville," Hermione said in a kind but faintly condescending voice. "Cedric as you pointed out was a nice boy and a good student. He saw that a fellow-student had been injured, he stopped by. He studied as hard as I do ... there's nothing more".

"I saw you holding hands with him..." he said quickly before she could try to brush it off as nothing.

"Your hand is tiny ..." Cedric commented. They had their hands palm against palm as if comparing their sizes. "Hold up your other hand".

"It will be exactly the same!" Hermione had said in laughing protest, rolling her eyes.

"Humour me, Granger," and she had held up her other hand. His fingers had clasped over hers and the ploy to get them to hold hands across the table was ridiculously obvious but neither cared.

Hermione looked away. "That's nice Neville ... but really, your imagination was playing tricks on you ..."

"When people die ... remembering them is the way you keep them alive," Neville told her. He didn't dared to look at her when he said this so hadn't seen the spark of fury and grief that leapt into her eyes at his words.

Hermione said nothing. There was nothing to say.

"I know it hurts, Hermione," he told her. "But Cedric would want the memory of him to make you happy not sad ..."

"Neville. We weren't anything to each other for him to be in the position to want anything of me," Hermione told him, turning and looking at him, a forced smile on her face, giving him a "don't be such a silly duffer" look.

Neville swallowed hard. This had been the wrong thing to do. He had seen Hermione alone and had mistakenly thought that he could comfort her.

"Is this how Muggles deal with death? To pretend that nothing ever happened?" Neville asked, not to reproach her but because he genuinely wanted to know.

Perhaps Muggle ways were more advanced than Wizarding ways because for Neville, the loss and remembered pain of times with loved ones before they were gone still haunted his memories and his thoughts. If he could learn the Muggle way, perhaps life could be easier for him.

"Is this how you honour your dead?" he asked her, unable to stop himself.

He looked into Hermione's dark, dark eyes which were now shining with unshed tears and he flinched violently.

There were no rules and generalisations. There was no Wizarding way or Muggle way to deal with grief and loss.

"It's how I deal with it," Neville," Hermione told him in a soft voice. "It's the only way I can deal with it, Neville and I just hope that one day, I'll get to the point where I do forget".

She controlled her voice with an effort.

"I'm sorry Hermione ... I didn't mean to make it worse. You've always been so good to me ... I just wanted to help ... I should have known better than to think that stupid Neville Longbottom could help you," he said miserably, failure and unhappiness in his eyes as he looked at her.

"No I'm sorry, Neville ... please don't think me mean but ..."

"I'm leaving now," Neville said getting up hastily. I'll see you back later," he told her and disappeared, throwing an anxious glance at her over his shoulder as he left.

"Are you crying? Are those tears I see?"

"Don't be daft, I've got something in my eye..."

"Not a speck of dust around here ... and not a puff of wind..."

"You're delusional...I'd never cry for you .."

"Ah Muggles, you're so into denial ..."

Hermione stared at the sky. Grey. It had turned a bleak and endless grey.

Empty grey eyes staring sightlessly past everyone, the warmth and laughter banished forever as that long, lanky body lay sprawled lifelessly on the grass.

Hermione reached down and plucked a blade of grass. Green. She studied it for a moment. Deep green, the same colour of the green grass outside the maze that had cushioned the empty husk of a body that no longer contained the soul of the boy with laughing eyes and a teasing smile.

A drop of water slid down Hermione's cheek, then another and she reached out matter-of-factly and brushed them away. Rain. It had to be rain. Despite the clearness of the sky no doubt there was unexpected rain.

She stared at the lake which still gave her no answers.

"I'm sorry," she said to the air.

There was no reply but she continued.

"It's the only way I can deal with it," she said softly and buried her face in her arms.

The End