Author's Note: I've altered the time line a bit to make Oliver a seventh year while Harry, etc are in fourth. All other ages are still canon.

Disclaimer: I still don't own anything recognizable as being trademarked to J.K. Rowling... Dammit.

Chapter Two: Strange Awakenings

For the first time in weeks, Hermione didn't see Cedric's death behind her eyelids. Instead when she woke up in a cold sweat, it was after a nightmare of the riot. The memory made her shiver.

An arm tightened around her hips, and her mind went blank. 'What the...' she thought, eyes popping open immediately. She was face to face with Cedric Diggory, and a look out the corner of her eye showed that Oliver Wood was nuzzling into the curve of her shoulder. For a moment she wondered what alternate reality she had stumbled into, before everything came back to her.

Gradually, Hermione relaxed. 'I'm safe,' she told herself, 'They can't hurt me here. Cedric is alive, we're at his house, everything is fine.'

Except that everything was better than fine, it was spectacular. Sure, it would be very awkward when they woke up, but in that moment Hermione allowed herself to luxuriate in the feeling of security they gave her. It was entirely new and possibly addicting.

The thought of Ginny's face if she ever found out made her smile, but she was quick to resolve that this would be kept to herself. More would be read into it than there was.

Wide awake now, Hermione raised her right hand. She hesitated for a moment, just watching Cedric sleep soundly, before she swept his hair out of his eyes. It was very smooth, something she envied him tremendously for.

Less hesitantly, she reached behind her and fingered Oliver's shorter hair. It wasn't exactly smooth but very soft between her fingers, like down. Secretly, she'd always wondered what it felt like and a pleased smile came to her lips at knowing.

Although she was nowhere near done investigating, Hermione forced her arm to drop back onto her side. It would be more than a little creepy if they woke up to anything else. As it was, they were all in for a very interesting wake up.

Their combined body heat and the comforting motions of the boys' breathing lulled Hermione back into a doze. It could have been ten minutes or an hour for all she knew before either began to stir. Oliver came into awareness first, from the stiffening of his body behind hers.

"Morning," she mumbled sleepily. Without much thought to it, she curled farther back into him although she kept a grip on Cedric's arm at her waist.

Oliver relaxed again, though his fingers began to trace little circular patterns on the front of her hip. "I always wondered what this would be like," he mused.

"Hm?" hummed Hermione, raising an eyebrow. That he couldn't see the gesture didn't matter, it was the concept.

"Wakin' up with a bonny girl in my arms," Oliver murmured, his warm breath making Hermione shiver as it hit her exposed collarbone, "I could get used to this." Chances were that he was still half asleep or tipsy; she was sure that he would never say anything like this when fully awake.

"Not happening, Wood," Cedric unexpectedly put in, eyes still closed, "At least not on my damn bed."

Between the two, Hermione rolled her eyes. It was better than the awkwardness that she had expected, but still. 'Boys,' she mentally huffed.

They settled down again, none wanting to get up yet. From the sparse light coming in under the curtains, it was barely dawn.

Unfortunately, it was right as the three were dozing again that the door burst open. "Cedric, my-" it was Mr. Diggory who burst in and fell silent just as fast.

Behind Hermione, Oliver tensed dramatically. His hold on her hip tightened and he dragged her closer, curling around her protectively. It was impossible to not feel his breathing speed up nervously against her neck.

Thee young witch refused to open her eyes, instead curling up tighter. 'Go away,' Hermione chanted in her mind, 'Go away, go away, go away...'

"It's barely even sunrise, Dad," Cedric mumbled, "Give us a couple more hours." He didn't seem bothered at all by what had just happened, implying that it did often. Somehow, the thought was disappointing to Hermione.

The door closed again and they were left in peace for a while longer. Hermione relaxed again and Oliver resumed tracing invisible patterns on her hip. In an unexpected move, Cedric pulled himself closer until he was able to tuck Hermione's head under his chin and Oliver had to lay his hand flat to avoid bumping him.

Although they were only laying under a sheet, Hermione began to feel overheated. "Just a second," she sighed, lifting her top half up to take off her sweater. She tossed it to the floor thoughtlessly and snuggled back into the gap between the boys.

Only when Cedric's hand resumed its place on her waist did she realize that she hadn't worn a shirt under that sweater. Automatically her cheeks turned pink, but Hermione resolutely ignored the part of her brain that screamed at her to cover up. If they had a problem with it, they could say so.

Neither said anything, and Hermione fell back to sleep.

Waking up was again not awkward, although Cedric was gone. The space on the bed in front of Hermione felt empty, but she ridiculed herself for the thought. It wasn't like she was used to sharing a bed, after all.

Oliver was still curled around her, offsetting the cool of the room like a human furnace. It was nice, even with his breath rolling her curls back and forth across her shoulder. The other side of the bed still felt empty.

With a sigh, Hermione resigned herself to it. 'It's probably because I woke up with him there last time,' she thought, absently laying her hand over Oliver's where it rested on her hip, 'Plus, it's probably his bed...'

A look around the room showed that it was practical, tidy and a little boring. The desk was neat and the walls were pale blue, while a tall and narrow bookshelf was partially filled with everything from Quidditch awards to books to framed photos. There were Puddlemere United and Holyhead Harpies posters up, but nothing else noteworthy in the room other than the dark blue blanket they had kicked to the floor.

After her perusal of Cedric's room was finished, she decided that she may as well get up. If she knew herself at all, she would be tempted to snoop otherwise.

Delicately she lifted Oliver's hand up and rolled away slightly before setting it back down on the mattress. As quietly as possible she got off the bed and tiptoed over the wooden floor to where she saw her sweater, praying that Mr. Diggory wouldn't bound in again.

Instead, Oliver commented sleepily, "I rather like this view."

Hermione shot upward from where she had been bending over to pick up her sweater, covering her chest modestly. She leveled a glare at him, though the red in her cheeks probably detracted tremendously from it. "Pervert," she accused lowly.

"Hormonal teenage boy," Oliver corrected her, stretching out across the bed.

"What's the difference?" returned Hermione dryly, putting on her sweater as quickly as possible. It wasn't that she didn't like the attention Oliver was showing her, it was just so strange to the girl who had always been "one of the guys."

"Yeh wound me," Oliver told her dramatically, playfully swooning back onto the bed.

Hermione couldn't help smiling as she sighed. "You'll live," she commented on her way out of the room. Once she closed the door behind her, she allowed herself a light laugh; this was exactly what she needed after the events of last night.

As she had expected, Hermione found Cedric eating with his parents. They were in a nook right off of the kitchen however, a good deal less intimidating than the more formal dining room table by the door. They didn't seem to have noticed that Hermione was up and continued eating, not speaking much.

"Hello," she said softly, avoiding Mr. Diggory's gaze with residual embarrassment.

Mr. Diggory gave her an appraising look, while Mrs. Diggory smiled warmly. "Don't worry," Cedric's mother told her kindly, "Cedric and I explained everything. No one wants to sleep alone after the fright you all took last night."

No matter how true it was, Hermione still blushed at the reminder. Gingerly she sat down on the bench beside Cedric, not sure what to do with herself now. It felt like she was intruding.

With far less apprehension than the witch, Oliver squished onto the bench beside her. "Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Diggory," he greeted them cheerfully.

"How did you both sleep?" asked Mrs. Diggory with a soft smile, summoning two plates. They landed in front of Oliver and Hermione, gleaming cleanly.

"Perfectly well, thank you," the young witch answered politely, setting small portions of everything on her plate.

To her left, Oliver wasn't quite so delicate about things. He piled his plate high before digging in with relish, although thankfully he didn't pull a Ron and try to stuff everything in his mouth at the same time. "Aye," he agreed after a bite, "Thank yeh for lettin' us stay the night."

Breakfast progressed tamely and without much chatter. The Daily Prophet laid on the table in front of Mr. Diggory, but Hermione didn't feel the need to peruse it- she would hear the details soon enough anyway. Her stomach churned at the thought that Harry and Ron had been in the middle of the mess.

As the meal wore on, she began to feel remarkably comfortable there. It was like she belonged with them at that table, squished between two boys she had never had much contact with before last night.

The notion startled her. "I should get going," she blurted out, "The Weasleys are probably worried about me."

"I'll go with yeh," Oliver volunteered quickly, "I want to get a head start on Quidditch trainin'." His oaken eyes gleamed at the prospect of his passion.

On Hermione's other side, Cedric snorted, "You really are obsessed!"

While the boys bantered over the young witch's head, she sighed and shook her head with an indulgent smile. Mr. Diggory seemed to be observing everything they did carefully, unusually quiet, while his wife winked mischievously at Hermione. She seemed to be used to this behavior.

They all moved into the parlor once Mrs. Diggory banished their empty plates into the kitchen. The debate died down, leaving the teens looking at each other not quite awkwardly. "I'll see you at school," Cedric said with a small smile, offering Hermione the pot of sparkling floo powder.

"I hope so," she returned fondly, "I just realized that I didn't thank you for getting me out off there. So thank you." She took a handful of the sparkling powder and threw it in the fireplace, watching the flames turn green before she stepped in.

A pang went through Hermione's chest as she looked at the Diggorys and Oliver. Somehow, she didn't want to leave. "The Burrow!" she called clearly before she could change her mind.

As many grates passed by almost faster than she could count, she tried to clear her mind of the care she felt welling up for them. It was useless, she reasoned, since she would very likely go back to being a perfect stranger to Cedric by the time school started again. Before the traitorous portion of her mind could come up with a reply to that thought, she was being regurgitated into the Weasleys' sitting room.

Coughing, she shakily got to her feet in front of the hearth. Then a body hurled into her from the hearth, sending her back to the floor. "Oof!" she grunted, ribs aching from the rough landing.

"Sorry, sparrow," Oliver apologized, rolling off of her quickly, "I didn't hurt yeh, did I?"

Before Hermione could reply, she heard Mrs. Weasley shriek delightedly. "Oh, thank goodness you're alright!" the matron fussed, rushing in from the kitchen to scoop her into a hug, "The boys were so worried when they couldn't find you, Ron nearly had a conniption and I was-"

"You'd best let her breathe, dear," suggested Mr. Weasley mildly from the doorway. He looked like he had aged a year from the last time Hermione had seen him, the circles under his eyes dark and his face pale. The expression he had was one relieved of a great burden however, and he smiled weakly.

Hermione heard Oliver shift nervously where he stood behind her. "Hello, Mr. Weasley," he greeted them politely, "Mrs. Weasley. Could you tell me where the twins are?"

Mrs. Weasley released Hermione to wrap her arms briefly around Oliver. "The kids are all in the back playing Quidditch," she told him, smiling warmly, "Hermione will show you where, won't you dear?" She gave the younger witch an expectant look.

Hermione nodded, relieved. If something had happened to any of her friends, Mrs. Weasley wouldn't have been so cheerful. "Of course," she returned with a small smile. Without any thought to it, she took Oliver's hand to lead him through the Burrow.

When she was about to pass by Mr. Weasley, he stopped her to give her a short hug. "I was worried about you," he said, looking down at her fondly, before shifting his focus to Oliver, "Thank you for keeping her safe last night, Oliver. We owe you a great deal." He offered his hand genially.

Although Oliver shook Mr. Weasley's hand, he denied, "It was all Cedric. He saved both of us." He released the red head's hand, but gave Hermione's a squeeze.

Warmth blossomed in her chest at the gesture. It obviously wasn't just her who felt that something had drastically changed since last night. There was a bond between her, Cedric and Oliver now.

They exited the house without further incident. Hermione hummed to herself, enjoying being in the place that had become a second home to her so easily. That she was still holding Oliver's hand didn't bother her, it felt natural.

Only when they came within sight of the home made pitch did Hermione drop his hand. If she looked to her side, she would have noticed the brief flash of hurt in Oliver's eyes. But she didn't, instead running to embrace her friends.

It was obvious that day that things had changed. Hermione tried to shake her head at her friends' antics and get snappy when her reading was interrupted. She attempted to deny that anything was different than before.

Most of all she struggled to not look at Oliver Wood, because he was a poignant reminder that it was.

By the first of September, Hermione was about to scream in frustration. While her sleep hadn't been the best since the Cedric nightmares had started, it was manageable before. She wasn't the best rested, but she was able to grab a good six and a half to seven hours each night.

Since the World Cup however, it had been nearly impossible to sleep more than three. The Cedric nightmares alternated with those of the World Cup, and she felt lonely whenever she laid down on the trundle bed in Ginny's room. Somehow in the space of one night, she had become accustomed to having Cedric and Oliver wrapped around her as she slept.

Irritated, Hermione hoped that they were having as much trouble as she was. It would only be fair.

Everyone but the twins and Harry had begun asking after her health by the end of August or shooting her worried looks. Even Mr. Weasley had tried to wheedle information out of her about what was wrong, most likely on his wife's orders. As nice as it was for them to show concern, Hermione simply smiled and lied through her teeth that she was fine.

'How would I even try to say what's really bothering me?' she asked herself, running through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ without any thought to it, 'I can see it now: "Well, you see, I've been having nightmares of Cedric Diggory's death since before I even met him and they like to alternate with more nightmares about the riot at the World Cup. Not to mention that I slept in his bed with him and Oliver Wood and now I can't sleep without them, but don't worry, I'm perfectly fine!" Sure, that would work out fine and dandy.'

As Hermione helped look for an empty compartment, her mind was barely on the task at hand. So it was that she was knocked on her butt when she ran into a very solid male chest. She glared, prepared a snappish comment, but when she saw his face, all the fight fled from her.

"Fancy running into you again so soon," Cedric Diggory grinned, offering a hand to help her up, "No pun intended, of course."

Hermione took the offered help graciously, releasing his hand as soon as she was steady on her feet. "I can't stop laughing," she commented dryly, looking around for her friends. They had moved farther down the corridor, still checking compartments.

When her eyes returned her gaze to Cedric, Hermione blushed heavily. He was giving her that look, like Viktor Krum had at the World Cup. She looked down at her feet, shuffling them awkwardly as she tried to ignore the funny feeling in her stomach.

"You'd best catch up with them," Cedric suggested softly, "They might worry."

Hermione nodded, not looking up from the oh-so-interesting flooring. "I'll see you around," she dismissed herself, before practically running to rejoin her friends.

"Where were you?" asked Ginny, exasperated as she looked into yet another compartment, "We thought Malfoy might have gotten you or something." Upon seeing that it was occupied already, she closed the door loudly.

"I ran into a friend," Hermione answered vaguely.

The rest of the journey was pretty much as expected. They found a compartment, in which Ginny, Ron and Harry played exploding snap and Hermione gave the appearance of reading. Not much was said aside of the usual debate about what the Defense teacher would be like this year, or trading chocolate frog cards after the snack trolley went by. Malfoy came by to taunt them of course, but that was normal as well by now.

Only when they filed into the hall did something of note happen- Oliver took a seat beside Hermione instead of the Chasers down the table. "Hello all," he greeted Harry and Ron airily, extending his long legs under the table. To Hermione, he smiled and told her fondly, "Hello, wee sparrow."

Across the table, Harry raised an eyebrow. "You know each other well?" he asked, looking from Hermione to Oliver and back.

"Not well," Hermione corrected, "We both stayed with Cedric after the riot at the Cup." She subtly shifted a little further away from Oliver so that his thigh wasn't brushing hers anymore.

"Don't tell me you're a fan girl of the Golden Boy," Ron groaned.

Hermione felt her neck heat up in the beginnings of an angry blush. 'Calm,' she told herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, 'I am calm, I am relaxed, I am poised, I will not shout at Ronald for his rudeness...'

Unexpectedly, Oliver cut into the conversation. "I think Hermione has more sense than that," he assured the red head somewhat coolly, before changing the subject to the travesty of Quidditch being cancelled.

Sufficiently calm, Hermione opened her eyes. Under the table she reached for the hand that was laying on Oliver's lap and gave it a squeeze, silently thanking him.

Oliver gripped her hand back tightly. He got the message.

When the doors of the hall burst open near the end of the feast, there was a collective gasp. The whole hall was obviously startled, but Oliver's reaction was as extreme as his love of Quidditch: he whipped out his wand and pulled Hermione as far behind him as possible without unseating her. Only when Dumbledore invited the stranger to sit down did the Gryffindor captain relax, putting his wand back in his sleeve carefully.

Luckily, no one seemed to notice the oddity of Oliver's reaction. They were all too busy staring at the man who had just been introduced as Professor Moody, and Hermione could see why. He had to be the most frightening looking person she had ever laid eyes on, scarred and mutilated.

Even when he sat down, there were still more chairs empty. One was explained by Dumbledore, who continued his speech as if nothing had happened, "Due to personal troubles, Professor Trelawney is cutting back to teaching only sixth and seventh year."

Across from Hermione, Harry grinned widely. Ron looked like he had died and gone to heaven. On the other hand, Oliver groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands. From the sounds of it, he was cursing his rotten luck that the new professor wasn't handling the older years instead.

Not for the first time, Hermione felt immensely superior about her choice in classes. The whole idea of divination as an academic subject was barmy, not to mention that the idea of a second Trelawney residing in the castle was horrifying. One was far more than enough.

"Our new professor had personal matters to attend to tonight, but you can be sure that she will be in time for your classes tomorrow," Dumbledore assured them, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. It gave the illusion that he was laughing at a joke no one else got, which always frustrated Hermione.

The highlight of the year was revealed soon after- the mysterious event being revealed that had been hinted at all summer by Mr. Weasley, Bill, Charlie and Percy. The Triwizard Tournament, the most dangerous piece of entertainment that Hermione had ever heard of, was being revived. The horrible thought that Harry would be in it was squashed quickly when Dumbledore mentioned an age restriction, and she almost let out a sigh of relief.

Then she noticed the thoughtful look on Oliver's face and the fear came back full force. It made no sense that Hermione would be so afraid for him. It wasn't like he was the one whose death she saw behind her eyelids so often...

A look over at the Hufflepuff table made her pale drastically. Cedric had a conspiring gleam in his eye that she could see the whole way across the hall as Dumbledore continued his explanation about the tournament. Dread made Hermione regret eating so much, she felt sick with apprehension.

Taking deep breaths, she closed her eyes to try to calm herself again. Instead, the image of Cedric's corpse haunted her with its lifeless grey eyes staring right at her, into her, accusing her-

A hand, Oliver's hand, took hers. "Are yeh alright?" he inquired barely loudly enough to be heard over the mutterings of discontent. His thumb stroked the back of her hand soothingly.

"I'll be fine," Hermione tried to assure him, although she wasn't so certain herself, "It's just that something crazy happens to Harry every year and this sounds likely to be this year's fiasco. But with Dumbledore's precautions, it should be fine." She was careful to not tell a complete lie; she had the feeling that Oliver would see straight through one of those.

"It will be," Oliver agreed solidly, before mentioning, "I think I might fancy enterin', though, and it looks like Cedric does as well." He gestured to the Hufflepuff table, where Cedric still bore that look that made Hermione sick with fear.

It seemed that Cedric noticed something was up, because he was staring straight at her and Oliver. His forehead was creased in a frown and he cocked his head to the side, obviously questioning. "What's wrong?" he seemed to be asking.

Great effort on Hermione's part produced only a pained grimace. Never before had she felt quite so helpless, and unfortunately only two people might be able to help her- Trelawney and her new cohort.

This year was off to a terrible start already.

Will write for reviews.