Across the inordinately breezy courtyard, I hear my name being called.

"Granger. Granger!"

Clutching my books to my chest, I turn and see Cedric Diggory break away from his ever-present throng of admirers and head in my direction.

The closer he gets, the farther I press my books into my chest. I feel exposed. The weather inspired the loose bun I now regret wearing today.

"Granger," he says breathlessly as his jog ends right in front of me.

"Diggory." I really don't know what he wants. It's not like we've ever spoken apart from pleasantries at the World Cup over break and I can feel everyone watching our unusual encounter.

"Well, I hear you're the brightest witch Hogwarts has seen in years."

My mouth drops open. This is something that people seem to say all the time, but it doesn't ever keep them from simultaneously being annoyed when I know the answers. Has he singled me out for public humiliation? What have I ever done to him?

"What of it?"

He looks taken aback. I suppose being the golden boy doesn't afford him much opportunity to interact with the unimpressed. "Um, well, I was hoping we might team up. You're good at figuring things out, logical and all that, right?"

"If this is regarding the tournament, need I remind you that, as a Tri-Wizard Champion, you stand alone?"

The corners of his mouth turn up, making his face even more handsome. "Of course, but I am allowed to utilize resources as I see fit. You, Hermione, are far too good… and clever to go… unused."

Heat tinges my face. I realize I'm studying the cobblestone walk.

"Loo-…Please, look at me." Warm words move across my ear.

His proximity flusters me and when I look up he's towering over me, his grey eyes searching my own. I'm uncertain if it is a good or bad feeling that flickers within me.

Several moments have passed in silence while he holds my gaze.

I'm not sure what to say, but he must have seen something because he pulls back almost as if he's seen a ghost for the very first time. "Yeah, well then, what do you say,Granger? What better way to manifest the 'spirit of magical cooperation' than to form an inter-house team?" He finishes the last few words in a winded laugh. It sounds a bit off, actually.

He beams down at me and I wonder momentarily if he has always bewitched the entire world with his charms.

"Well, alright then," I hear myself say. "What did you have in mind?"

"You recall the golden egg the dragon was guarding in the first task?"

Cedric goes on to tell me that the egg makes a horrendous noise whenever he tries to inspect it further. He's desperate to figure out its secret as it holds clues about the second task. The idea of working with him – on the task, of course – is thrilling. Besides, it will give me the perfect excuse to refuse to do Ron's and Harry's homework for them. It's high time those boys completed their scrolls on their own.

.

McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Sorry," Hermione squeaked.

"Oh, pish posh. It's not like I didn't know what the three of you were brewing up most of the time."

.

In the off-hours, Cedric and I have taken to meeting at the library.

I'd known he had to be gifted to be selected as Hogwarts' champion over all the students in sixth year with him. Never mind the seventh years who had an entire year of studies over him. At times, I found him downright intimidating… so, I did my best in those moments to try and trip him up with some obscure reference.

We were about 50/50 on who won those moments.

In a way, Cedric and Harry led similar and yet utterly disparate lives. Both garnered attention without effort or even desire to do so. Everyone had high expectations of them.

Cedric doesn't seek the attention, it finds him. People are drawn to him. He's charming and tall and… handsome. It seems an old-fashioned term, but Cedric's is a timeless beauty.

"Diggory," I whisper, as I chuck a balled bit of scratch parchment across the library table, aiming for his head. "I don't understand something."

"Really? Somebody call the Daily Prophet – Granger is stumped." He does this often. Teases me in a way that might bother me if it were anyone else.

"Be serious. We've spent – what? – upwards of one hundred hours researching?"

His brows knit, some confusion there, and he nods as if to say "what's your point?"

"I don't understand why you're in this tournament."

"Merlin! Thank you for the vote of confidence Granger."

"No, that's not what I meant." I move around to his side of the table. The air is different here and I wonder why I felt the need to relocate. He straightens, but doesn't look like he's going to bolt. "You don't showboat or gloat or even, really, seem to want all the attention you already have. So why do this?"

He frowns.

"You… you think this is a bid for glory."

I shrug. There seems no other explanation for putting oneself in harm's way.

"I'm in Hufflepuff. Huffle-Poof. Sure, I told myself that I let my mates wrangle me into putting my name in… but that's not it. I drew on their courage.

"Thing is, it's all theoretical, isn't it?" He gestures at the books then, slowly, at himself. "I'm no more proven than conjecture in a book. Sometimes… sometimes I think the Goblet had it right with Harry and I'm the glitch."

"Cedric! You're the most talented wizard here. McGonagall let you lead a whole Transfiguration class in her absence. I feel like I need to set off my habit of doing a little light reading and do heavy reading just to keep up with you."

His smile is lop-sided. It's new and I find myself smiling when just a moment ago I'd felt like anything but. It's quiet for several moments before he speaks, not focusing on anything and picking at the corner pages of a text.

"I need to prove myself to myself, you know?"

.

"Begging your pardon, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid's giant voice bounces off the office walls, "I don't mean to be a bother, but the kitchen staff are in a right fit. Pretty near run mad about missing napkins and such."

"Napkins? Are you quite sure?" Minerva seemed more bemused than concerned.

"Well, I can't rightly say, what with it being hard to understand them high-pitched voices of theirs."

Hermione took the momentary interruption as an opportunity to leaf forward in the book. Nothing but blank pages lay ahead but the words she'd already read aloud were emblazoned in dark ink. Every page still flickered rhythmically.

She tried to recognize the beat, but no songs came to mind.

"Certainly they can conjure up more napkins. Mercy." No longer amused, Minerva looked positively annoyed.

Hagrid took up a great, sudden interest in the flooring. "They's a superstitious lot. Claim it's not as simple as a thieving or silly house prank."

"Very well," Minerva huffed. "Miss Grang- Oh, gracious me! I'm clinging to old habits as well. Hermione, please get your chambers sorted. We will continue this shortly."

Hermione reverently ran the palm of her hand over the leather binding. "Might I… that is… would it have the same effect if I read on my own?" The idea of sharing intimate details of her life, even if those details seemed ludicrous at this point, with anyone, was not something she relished.

"I cannot say with any certainty what the outcome might be; however, it is best not to tempt fate. And, dare I say, the intentions of fate seem to have been stretched thin already."

Hermione nodded resolutely and departed, book tucked under her arm, to settle into her new home.

As her belongings found all their respective spots, Hermione tried to casually recall any clearer memories of researching in the library with Cedric. It had seemed so very vivid, very real, as she'd read aloud earlier. Now, any idea of Cedric speaking with her at all, much less opting for long study sessions, was sketchy at best.

Though, as if it were yesterday, she could see his name spew forth from the Goblet of Fire, could see him twirl and lift Cho on the dance floor, could hear his father's wail fill the empty night sky.

A knock at her door jarred Hermione from her thoughts.

Her mouth opened to say, "Come in" but the words dried up in her mouth. Even knowing full-well that the only thing on the other side of the door was one Minerva McGonagall was not enough to override the paranoia of being stalked for the past year.

She checked the door thoroughly and then straightened herself in the hopes that her skittishness would not be terribly apparent.

One look from Minerva made it clear that Hermione was fooling no one with her false bravado, but the older woman was too polite to mention it.

"Shall we?"

Hermione sighed, sank to her mattress and opened the book to its first blank page. The words filled in as she began to read again.

.

"Now, just why is it that my course schedule is being revamped mid-quarter?" The parchment, now tightly wadded in my hand, had arrived earlier in a much flatter, easier-to-read state.

Cedric has the decency to look concerned. As well he should; I am enraged. It's scholastic suicide to enter courses – especially advanced courses – when the lessons are half-taught.

"I thought you'd see the brilliance of it." He has risen from his courtyard bench and begun to back a few paces away.

"You're wasted in those classes," he continues. The parchment wad hits him square in his perfect face.

"Aw, come on now. It's a bloody compliment. I thought you'd be thrilled," he says, and might look genuinely concerned now.

"Thrilled? Thrilled? I've got scrolls and scrolls of notes for reports which I'll never write. Back lessons to catch up on just to be on par with other students in these new classes. Really, Cedric, with all this research for the tournament we need to do, how could you possibly think that getting me into most of your classes – your advanced classes, I might add – would be a good idea?"

"You know more than most of the dolts 'round here anyway. I'll help you catch up. All the extra topics… something is bound to come up to help with the tasks."

I toss him a sceptical look.

"Granger, I know a part of you is ecstatic for this opportunity." He swallows loudly, shoving his hands in his pockets under his robes. "It means spending a bit more time together… but I don't mind so much if you don't."

While I've ranted, I failed to notice that his retreat has purposefully lead us to a quiet corner of the yard.

He seems to search for words for a moment. Then, after a heavy breath, he looks at me without blinking.

"Come on Granger. We're better together."

.

Hermione closed her eyes slowly and deliberately. This was necessary because she had come to realize that her eyes were quite dry; probably because she had failed to blink for the last several minutes while reading.

"Was he – was Cedric flirting with me?"

Minerva let a small laugh escape. "I think that was a smidge more than flirting. That, my dear, was a campaign."