Author's Note:

Okay, so... First of all, I owe everyone a HUGE apology. This new chapter is way overdue; I don't even know how to say I'm sorry, not in a way that covers it all. I mean, damn… Some readers have commented recently and only then did I realize, "hey, I wrote a story on almost four years ago about Cedric Diggory, who I don't even like that much as a character." Now that I reread it (thank god I'm not 17 anymore), it does seem a little clichéd and whatnot, but I'll try to fix that—after I get this new chapter out, of course. :) This is for you guys, because I know how annoying it is when you read some chapters of a story you like, only to find out it was never finished and the author has vanished off the face of the earth. Ahem… So that's why. I don't feel that connected to the story anymore, but maybe that'll change. I'll try to finish it at the very least so you guys have an ending. That said, JKR is the goddess of seemingly effortless flow and plot development, so it's not going to be anywhere near as good, but I'll do my best. Previous chapters will be rewritten over the course of the next, say, 2-3 weeks? So I don't die of shame every time someone stumbles on my pubescent drivel. :)

I will also humbly ask you guys to let me know what you think, so please do help me out. Do you want to keep chapters 1-4 the way they are, with just some minor adjustments in terms of style and grammar, or do you want me to rewrite the entire thing? Right now it strikes me as a lame teen chick flick, honestly—which I love, but they're still lame. It would also fix some of the serious plot holes.
Oh, and since finals are coming up soon (too soon), I will try my very best to update more frequently, but I can't give you any regular schedule, I'm sorry. Anyway, here it is, three years late. *cringe*

Chapter Five: Mission…Success?

"This doesn't look very promising," the three friends thought to themselves as they followed the path leading up to the Hogwarts gates. This whole situation was rapidly getting out of hand.

Catherine blamed it on that Diggory character; Emma was more prudent with her appropriation of blame. Still, both girls felt strongly about this. Their friend deserved a break, and she was going get one.

Sophia just wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. There had to be a shrinking spell for humans out there. Yeah, a shrinking spell or a spell that turns you into a leprechaun or something.

"Can girls turn into leprechauns?" she wondered aloud. Catherine and Emma looked at each other like she had just sprouted another head. Sometimes it was so hard to refrain from checking whether her head was on right. A collective sigh was heard in the chilly September air, but they marched on, determined not to give up on their plan just yet.

"So, what are you going to wear when we get back up to the common room?" Emma asked to diffuse some of the tension. "Maybe that cute dark blue cable-knit jumper?" she added with a look over to Sophia and a small smile. Her friend was just too serious sometimes.

Sophia twisted her mouth off to the side in thought, considering her options as they walked.

"Yeah, that jumper is cute. I don't know." She looked down at herself as they finally neared the castle doors. "I still can't see what's wrong with what I have on."

Sophia plucked at the dark hoodie she had on and shrugged. Why can't he accept me the way I am now? The question she really wanted to ask but was never going to. The answer would undoubtedly be one she didn't like, so why bother? She felt like a hypocrite—a big, sodding hypocrite. If she was all about emotional depth and intelligence and Gryffindor values, then why was she trying to change herself—even such a small aspect of herself—in order to please someone who obviously didn't know she existed? Sophia kept her eyes fixed on the cold, hard stairs as they climbed them, one by one, lest she give in to the melancholy fighting its way to the surface.

They'd reached the Fat Lady's portrait, and Emma turned to Sophia, her gaze softening visibly. Why did Sophia always have to be so hard on herself, she sighed internally. "I think you look just fine, but it's not about that. You could look so much better if you put in a little effort. That's what this is all about." Emma spoke the password and elegantly climbed through the portrait hole, a feat Sophia hadn't quite managed yet. Well, she thought, at least I don't launch myself through there like an intercontinental ballistic missile on crack anymore. Not that her friends knew what any of that meant. Still, she decided, it was an improvement.

"Besides," Catherine piped up, "it's just so he gets shocked into action, so to speak." She nodded matter-of-factly—she knew about these things. Catherine pursed her mouth. "Also, an oversized t-shirt, shorts, a pair of leggings and a hoodie big enough to fit Millicent Bulstrode does not constitute an outfit. And you're not going to tell me that that thing you call a hoodie is women's wear, because I'm not buying it—literally."

Sophia looked down guiltily, mostly to hide her grin.

"Now, go change." She playfully pushed Sophia towards the stairs leading up to the dormitories. "We'll wait downstairs." She motioned to Emma with a nod of the head and together, they left.

Emma plopped down in the nearest armchair while Catherine just stretched out over an entire sofa. Catherine yawned. "Ten sickles says I'm going to have to go back up there to sort out whatever fashion fiasco that's undoubtedly about to unfold," she joked, eyes falling shut and mouth curving upwards. Emma snorted and grabbed her copy of 'Magical Beasts and where to Find them' from a nearby table. They were going to be a while.

Back in the room, Sophia was already frantically rifling through her bags (which were now back to their normal size), looking for the perfect outfit.

"Screw it." She took the bags and held them upside down one by one, dumping the contents on her four-poster bed. She debated for a minute going 'eeny meeny miny mo', but… No, she was going to do this the right way. Come on, how hard could it be? She picked up a light gray-beige wool-blend cardigan that was only slightly too light for the time of year—damn you, Scotland— and a white sailor-type top with brown horizontal stripes. She'd already pulled on a nice pair of nicely fitting, regular dark-wash jeans, so to finish off the outfit she just put on some socks and her new brown leather lace-up ankle boots. It would have to do. But what about make-up? Was she supposed to wear some? She didn't think she owned any…

Catherine's nap was rudely interrupted when suddenly, there came a scream—she would later describe it as the shriek of a banshee, but that's not important right now. "EMMA! CAT! HELP!"

So they did. Eyebrows were tweezed, mascara and pretty pink lip balm applied. It was show time.

"Will you -stop-fidgeting?"

Emma resisted the snort that exclamation from Catherine brought on. So snappy, she thought.

And so darn entertaining.

The three of them were on their way to the courtyard closest to the entrance hall, where most of the students liked to hang out—even the Slytherins. Not that mattered to her. Except, it did, for some reason. The courtyard had trees, and grass, and benches, and just enough shrubbery and flowers that there was a little bit of the anonymity students so desired when interacting with each other (no, that was not a euphemism), but not so much that Hogwarts professors could not oversee the area. It was also where Cedric and his merry band of admirers could usually be found—undoubtedly busy admiring Cedric and his perfect facial structure.

Emma wanted this for her friend. She did. However, that didn't mean she had to actually like the self-important prick. She happened to think Sophia could do better, but what was the use? She knew people—even her two best friends—thought of her as perpetually kind and accepting. She was, but she had no patience for people who didn't extend the same courtesies to others, especially if they thought they were superior. She filed away her concerns and focused on making this happen for Sophia. She was kind, to people who deserved it. And there was no one she knew that deserved a little happiness more than Sophia.

Her heart was thumping almost in time with the soft yet sturdy click-clacking of her heeled boots on the flagstones—a sound that made her question the reality of what was before her. Was she really going to go through with this? Sophia's gaze darted to her sides, and she drew in a shaky breath. She could do whatever she had to do. If she could make it out of St. Jude's and make it through every summer at a different foster situation, she could do this, too. And she had her friends to Reparo the parts of her she would surely feel break if he dismissed her. She hoped it wouldn't have to come to that, though, as she stepped out onto the courtyard flanked by Emma and Catherine. She took a deep breath and lowered her shoulders, despite the autumn air chilling the tip of her nose, her cheeks, and her hands. She'd been allowed her Gryffindor scarf, at least, to keep her neck nice and warm ("And it will give him clues, Sophia!" Emma had stated). One glance from Cedric Diggory, she thought, and she was sure never to need any such thing ever again.

They neared the bench Cedric was sitting on, surrounded by his posse of sycophants. Sophia really felt they were. They didn't seem like true friends to her at all. Cedric deserved friends who were true to him, who talked to him and with him, not about him. As much as she was likely to agree with them that Cedric was lovely and had an exquisitely handsome face, and intelligence and charisma to boot, she didn't think anyone needed to have it constantly repeated to their face. From the way he was sitting there, one leg crossed over the other—something she would have simply found poncy before—he seemed to agree with her. He didn't look entertained. He had a dazed expression on his face, like he was bored but wasn't sure what else to do.

She walked about as far as she felt she could go. What if he said something mean? No, he wouldn't. He'd say something nice but still dismissing, at the most. At least dismissal was something she was used to, she thought, walking up to Cedric and his posse.

One of his "friends", she noticed, was talking to him—something about Cedric's marks on the latest Charms essay—and she almost turned back right then. Oh, Merlin. She was going to faint, she knew it. She stepped up to him anyway. Her friends were putting holes in her back with their concentrated gazes, as if they could make her move faster.

Her mouth opened first, but no sound would come out, and when it did, it tumbled out of her mouth in stutters that horrified her.

"… a-a- H.. Hi." She finished lamely, holding up a tentative hand in greeting.

Sophia snapped out of her trance just in time to catch the remark one of Cedric's friends made to him. Oh, so she was a smitten fan, was she? Not bloody likely. The vision in her head about how things might have gone quickly evaporated, unlike her opinion of Cedric's "friends". Thinking about it would only be jinxing her, she decided, as it involved her stuttering like Neville Longbottom, a boy in their year, when faced with Professor Snape. Worst-case scenario, indeed.

She tilted up her chin and raised a defiant eyebrow at the originator of the statement. He would learn not to mess with her. She hadn't really expected to just get this thrown in her lap, anyways. Nothing ever was, she thought grimly.

So she stepped closer with a confidence she hadn't felt recently, but needed to display—unwittingly provided by unnamed Hufflepuf sycophant, if only he knew. Cedric had been dazedly looking at his hands (she tried not to take offense to that), but he looked up now, and she reveled in the locking of their eyes. He had such electrifying grey eyes.

"Cedric. Hi." She made sure to smile, too, and hoped it didn't look too forced or nervous.

Cedric's mouth was open. He knew it was because, well, it was his mouth, and because there was no other possible way to respond to what had just happened. This girl was…bold, that much was certain. He was used to girls approaching him in all sorts of ways at all times—often inconvenient times, he added with an inward grumble—but he wasn't used to them doing it so straightforwardly. Cedric quickly assessed her appearance and gleaned that she was in Gryffindor—wow, Cedric, no wonder you're a Prefect, he scathingly told himself—and that he hadn't seen her before. Not that he remembered. Must be in a lower year. He nodded to himself and looked up to meet her eyes again. He was used to doing this so swiftly and imperceptibly that he was sure she hadn't even noticed his eyes wandering.

"Hello," he stated calmly. He had to admit he was slightly curious, but he'd been so weary lately that it hardly mattered to him now. She could be here to ask for a favor, for tutoring in one of the subjects he was good at… She didn't have to fancy him to come up to him, he told himself. Still, he was starting to think girls couldn't just have normal conversations with him, not without drooling all over themselves anyway. He didn't ask for the attention! Cedric had gotten himself so worked up, another thing he tended to do lately, that his face had hardened without him noticing it, and he turned away from the girl to face his friends. He was tired of being what everyone wanted him to be. He was so tired. Surely, even Cedric Diggory had a right to be exhausted.

And in her life, so it went.

The nameless follower from before gave her a small triumphant smirk before engaging Cedric in another conversation. Undoubtedly about how god-like he was. And Sophia? She just stood there, eyes wide and disillusioned. She turned and ran, ran all the way across the courtyard, past her friends (who were surely giving her worried looks), uncaring of the sound her heels made, and unable to stop the stinging behind her eyes.

They found her in the common room. They figured she'd be in her bed with the curtains drawn and spelled shut, but she was a smart girl. She knew she had to face them one day. And, Emma noted as she approached Sophia's hunched form at one of the desks, she had decided to drown her sorrows in…Potions homework. This was even more serious than she could have suspected. Normally one of them would joke about it, and they would all laugh, but not this time.

"Hey," she said softly, laying a hand on Sophia's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

It was a stupid question, she knew that before she even uttered it, but Sophia's obvious pain was getting to her. But they'd help her get past this, they always did.

"I'm fine, you guys go ahead to the Great Hall." Sophia even attempted a smile, but it just came out broken. Done for their benefit, she knew, but she hoped she'd never have to see that twisted, sad smile on Sophia's beautiful face again. She glanced at Catherine but Catherine just shrugged with a sympathetic expression on her face she knew was mirrored on her own. They left quietly, giving her the quiet space to think she needed. If they pressed her now, she'd only shut down and refuse to talk about it.

Her bed was comfy, it was soft. It was a safe haven, an escape. Yet it could not console her, or hug her. Sophia frowned and closed her eyes sadly. She was steadfastly ignoring the prickling behind her eyelids. She'd become good at that, she thought. Too good, perhaps. Memories of St. Jude's and the friends she'd loved and lost came to her mind, and she refused to let them consume her.

With all the scars and cuts on her soul, how could something so stupid still make her want to cry? She had to have better control of her emotions. She just had to. She had promised herself she wouldn't let herself be hurt by people who didn't even care about her, didn't care that they had the power to tear her heart to pieces.

A shuddering breath left her, and she stretched out her arms above her in a vulnerable gesture that usually made her skin prickle and made her want to curl in on herself.

There were times when he'd been kind to her, she told herself. She wasn't stupid; she wouldn't have pursued him otherwise. She remembered, because if there was one thing she was good at, besides keeping herself from crying, it was remembering.

There were scattered moments here and there when he gave her the time of day, sent a glance her way, accidentally touched her hand. Suddenly, she felt sick. Stupid, is what she was. Stupid and gullible, just like Matron Sullivan had said. But there was something else, and it was the memory she used when she practiced conjuring her Patronus. She'd almost succeeded in producing a corporeal Patronus, and she was only a fourth year student! Of course, Harry Potter had done it in their third year, but that was Harry Potter.

If I had parents, they'd be so proud.

She stopped herself from laughing, and swallowed thickly. Her throat was dry, but she'd made her decision to skip dinner and she wouldn't go back on it now. She'd gone without meals plenty of times before. Thinking back on the memory hurt more than she cared to acknowledge, so she only let herself go over it briefly in her mind.

They'd barely been at Hogwarts a week. Sophia's mind was a whirlwind of excitement, of discovery and of magic. She was so happy she'd been given the chance to leave St. Jude's to come here, even if she had to live with a bunch of strangers during the summer. The euphoria had carried her into a conversation with someone she hadn't talked to before—something she didn't usually do. They'd gotten talking in the Charms corridor, though she couldn't remember how it had happened. He had told her he was a third year, and that alone had impressed her a little, though she'd only admitted it to herself grudgingly. He'd also mentioned he was a Hufflepuff, but she didn't really know enough about Hogwarts to see how or why that mattered at all. The conversation drifted to a boy she was apparently supposed to have heard of: Cedric Diggory.
"Am I supposed to know him?" The question had mirrored her confusion. Yes, the older boy had told her, with a surprised expression on his pale face. Yes, everyone knew Cedric Diggory. He was smart and handsome and knew magic well beyond the grasp of a third-year! He'd tilted his head as he said this, as if he wanted to gauge her reaction, as if he didn't really believe her answer. She'd raised one delicate eyebrow and told the boy this Diggory's last name sounded like a Pokémon—upon which he looked at her like she'd sprouted a second pair of eyes—and that she'd have to see this for herself. This Cedric guy sounded like a right prat.
"You're alright though," she'd told the boy with a smile. "For a Hufflepuff." She added jokingly, even though she still had no clue why Hufflepuff was supposed to be a lesser house.

The boy had the most captivating grey eyes she had ever seen, and they lit up to make them impossibly more beautiful when he laughed unabashedly at her joke.