So it goes like this:
I'm stupid. You're smart. I was wrong. You were right. You're the best. I'm the worst. You're very good-looking. I'm not attractive...
I'M SORRY.
The All-American Rejects – Gives You Hell
When you see my face, hope it gives you hell
Hope it gives you hell!
When you walk my way, hope it gives you hell
Hope it gives you hell!
CHAPTER SEVEN – The Side Of Cedric
"Just leave me alone, Cedric." Hermione snapped, trying to pack up her books that were strewn across the small library table. It was all in vain, as Cedric was just taking them back out of her bag and placing them on the table once more. Ever since the "incident" - as Hermione liked to label it - three days ago, she had been avoiding him like she tended to skirt around Draco Malfoy. Embarrassed beyond belief, Hermione didn't think she could handle talking about it at the moment, if at all. It was better left ignored, in her opinion. She was under the influence of a spell, for Merlin's sake! It wasn't like she was her normal self.
No, you weren't. A voice agreed. But sometimes mood-altering charms can bring forth hidden feelings.
No, Hermione denied at once. You're wrong. Cedric is a friend, if even that. She took a deep breath to calm herself. My job is to save him, that's all. I can't get attached.
If you're so adamant, then don't let yourself become friends. Another voice said snidely. Make it clear what you want and then ignore him.
For once in what seemed to be her entire life, Hermione listened to the rather Slytherin side of her.
"Why are you doing this?" Cedric demanded, boring his eyes into hers. She knew he was trying to scare her into blurting out everything, but Hermione wasn't known as a know-it-all for nothing. She could see right through his attempts, and the truth of it all just made her more convinced of her decision.
Hermione glared right back.
"I don't want to talk to you anymore." she spat as hatefully as she possibly could. Saying that they couldn't be friends didn't seem right. Were they even friends? She supposed he thought, in some twisted way, that they were. She knew better. He wouldn't want to be friends with her if she was as popular as he was. What a kick, to spend time with someone as anti-social as Hermione.
"Why not?" he fired back, a frown on his chiselled face. Hermione chose not to acknowledge his good looks, instead turning her blazing eyes onto her books. She was still having no luck in getting them away from the Hufflepuff.
Insufferable, she thought, exasperated.
Knowing he wasn't going to let his precious entertainment go so easily, Hermione decided the best way was to say things directly, even if it meant distorting the truth a little.
"I don't like you. Go away." Hermione pronounced her words slowly, as if to let them sink into Cedric's brain. He drew back at the insult. Her guilt sparked, but she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind. There was no way she could back out of this now.
"You seemed to like me the last time we were here." Cedric stated, sounding confused but with an undertone of anger.
Hermione turned to him sharply, glaring.
"That was a mistake." she said darkly, finally managing to pull her bag out of his reach and therefore pack it properly. Never did Hermione want to think of her unforgivable actions again. They only brought her trouble, and so did Cedric. Going to walk around the table, and holding her bag loosely, she did not see his hand snatch her forearm, preventing her from her imminent escape. Hermione just wanted to leave as quickly as possible, so she could flee to the confines of her room. She hated acting this way.
They stared at each other for a moment, and Hermione was waiting for the line that she was sure he hoped would keep her in his presence. Her stubborn nature had never relented before, and so she was not surprised when she felt no sign of giving in.
"And why would that be?" his voice was precise, calculated. Hermione held back the shiver at the intensity of it. Blinking, she turned her head away, choosing to glare at the floor instead. She was unable to stop the slight flush that filled her cheeks. Her glare deepened. Her body betrayed what she was thinking, and ultimately ruined her chances at distancing herself from the tall boy before her. She mentally shook herself; she had to stay focused on the task at hand.
Lifting her head with a new determination, she felt like her eyes were on fire with the way she was staring him down. She did not blink.
Her lips formed around the words that he never expected to hear.
"It was lust, plain and simple. I feel nothing for you now, and I have never felt anything for you in the past. I cannot help that you are–" she paused, trying to remain unapproachable, but needing to get the words out. "–attractive. My body reacted before I knew what was happening. The charm didn't help matters in the slightest."
There was silence as her word-vomit finished, hanging in the air, waiting to be digested properly.
"So it meant nothing?" Cedric controlled the involuntary reaction to tighten his hold on her arm. His fingers felt stiff, and he did not want to let go of her just yet.
Hermione did not reply, instead choosing to avoid his gaze and try to remove her arm from his grasp, but Cedric no longer cared and submitted to his urge, nearly bruising her arm in the process.
"I can see you're different." he muttered rather disjointedly, narrowing his eyes. Hermione gave an internal sigh of relief. It would be moments now, and she could wallow in her own self-pity alone for the rest of the school year. She would be alone in everything she did from now on as she didn't expect her two best friends to aid her in any way. Harry had enough on his mind, and Ron was being his usual jealous self. How could they help her, anyway? 'Oh yeah, by the way, I'm having dreams about Cedric Diggory dying, and that's why I've now chosen to stay from him so that if it does really happen, I won't be too torn up about it.' She could just imagine their faces now.
Selfish! A voice erupted. You unbelievably selfish cow! It sounded desperate, cracking on the last insult. She fought to suppress the side with feelings for Cedric, and felt the boy himself had been waiting long enough for her to say something.
"You would be correct." Hermione stated frostily. Her gaze never wavered as she looked up at him. She knew she had to end it now, or he would never let her go. Blissful loneliness awaited her.
"Don't come near me again." she managed to stop herself from collapsing on the floor as he let go of her roughly, making her stumble back. She gave him one last false – to her – contemptuous glare before stalking toward the entrance, leaving Cedric behind. Hermione's face broke into a tortured expression when her back was turned, and was thankful no one was there to see her face.
She strode through the corridors, struggling with the weight of her tomes as she searched blindly for a distraction. Something to get her mind off the loving boy she had so willing abandoned.
Go back! someone screamed, Go back before it's too late!
No, Hermione growled, gripping her bag tighter and twirling around in the middle of the corridor, frantically searching for something to ease the guilt, the worry, the love – the pain.
It was better this way, Hermione had convinced herself. What was the use in being his friend anyway? Sure, she had someone to talk to, and she guessed having him around eased things a little. He was on her mind constantly; it made it a whole lot easier if she were talking to him at the same time. Cedric's presence gave her the reassurance that she was only thinking about him because she was his friend; because they were conversing. Now Hermione saw it as it truly was. Pure denial. Denial of her supposed fate, denial of Harry's entrance in the tournament, and denial of her faltering mental health.
She was feeding herself lies the longer she stayed in his company. Of course there was the denial, of course the escape from her worries… but there was also the feel that she belonged in a totally different world when she was with him. It was a world that she much preferred, and almost longed to live in permanently. It was Cedric's world, consisting of being able to maintain high grades while remaining respected and well-liked. It was the world that the inner fifteen year old girl in her wanted so desperately; to be popular.
Who was she kidding? Herself? Please, she knew that she would never step even a toe into that world. She was Hermione Granger, know-it-all muggle-born with little to no friends.
I have friends. Hermione defended herself, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.
No, that disparaging voice chimed, making Hermione frown. Harry only started to hang around you because of his 'saving-people-thing', and Ron just uses you!
They are my friends, she thought, vehement. I've just helped them out of some tricky situations, that's why it seems that way.
You're just handy to have around, it spoke up again. Admit it.
Hermione chose not to respond, fed up of the many conflicting personalities of her mind. She sighed heavily before pushing her shoulders back and holding her head up, containing the someday-inevitable breakdown, instead choosing to make her way to the common room to relax. Hermione scoffed at herself. Relaxation was not a state of mind she was in very often these days.
Reaching the portrait hole, Hermione scoured through the large amount of information stored in her brain for the current password.
"Balderdash." she said finally, eyes half-lidded. Climbing through, and nearly stumbling with the weight of her bag, Hermione trudged her way to the large armchair by the fire – her favourite.
She dumped her bag on the floor, seeing half of its contents slip out but not caring to kick them back into their place. Hermione collapsed onto the furniture before her, her face cushioned by the soft pillow beneath her. She let herself be still for a moment, until groaning at the thought of more research. Was that all she was doing now? Research, research, research. To hell with research!
Hermione pulled out her book, unable to resist the thought that maybe this would be the time her questions would be answered. She snorted quietly, and was glad the third years playing a game of Wizards' chess near her did not hear. I truly do deserve to be alone. Her own pessimism was obvious, but Hermione did not bother to scold herself for it. Am I a masochist?
It was several hours later that Hermione realised, as her stomach started making strange noises, that she had forgotten dinner… again. It was now nearing eleven and, no where near progressing, Hermione decided to call it a night. Her eyes bleary and now thankful, she blinked profusely before shoving her notes and books into the nearly-falling-apart black bag that she carried around with her everywhere. Ascending the stairs to the girls' dorms, and staggering into the fourth year room, Hermione thought of the future that was sure to come.
I can see it now, she mused bitterly, taking off her shoes and getting out her pyjamas from her trunk to change into. I will have fretted over this whole situation, and nothing will come of it. Both of them will not go to a graveyard somehow, and Cedric won't die. I'm just wasting my time.
But something told her that blowing this off was to be a tremendous mistake. Something told her that in doing so, she would not only endanger Cedric's life, but Harry's also. Something told her that if she were to ignore her Death Seer abilities, she would never be content with herself. Ultimately a selfish person at heart, as were most people, Hermione was afraid of this consequence. Something also told her – almost ordered her – that to do nothing, to understand nothing; it would certainly be her downfall. She would never be the same again. Her Cedric-side agreed with this something.
You can't let it happen. Ever. It reinforced, panicking. Think of Cedric. This isn't about you, this is about everyone! One death, one incident – it can affect hundreds. Hermione's brow furrowed as she climbed into bed and turned off her bedside light, having not contemplated this before. Cedric is popular, smart, loved; he's everything. You think him dying will just be that – dying? Nothing is that easy. You can stop this, you can prevent it. And yet you question that power? Cedric leaves a lot behind him, Hermione. Including you. You'd do well to remember that.
The voice spoke no more, and Hermione was speechless, laying there looking up at the ceiling. No longer was her Cedric-side a silly little schoolgirl with an absurd crush. No – it was something much worse; it was protective of Cedric, adamant for his survival–
It was falling in love with him.
And that was very, very bad.
Friday; such a wonderful day in the tiny world of Hermione Granger, especially this particular last day of the school week. Even Professor Snape could not sour her mood in double Potions with the Slytherins that afternoon.
"Miss Granger, hold your tongue." he had growled when her query had preceded his expectations.
"But sir, if you add the powdered ne–" she had tried to ask.
"Enough!"
Weekend: salvation, isolation, loneliness…
Perfect.
"I'll see you guys at dinner. I just have to check up on something quickly." Hermione explained to Harry and Ron outside the Potions classroom.
"You always have to check up on something, Hermione!" Ron whined. Harry's presence was the medium amongst the trio, and Hermione found herself rolling her eyes instead of retorting.
"When was the last time you actually had dinner?" Harry muttered. Hermione hoped she was not meant to hear because she chose not to answer, knowing her reply – "Last Friday." – would not be appreciated. She waved them goodbye over her shoulder, quickening her stride so she could avoid any bothersome students or roaming prefects; more specifically one prefect.
Her bag was virtually weightless today. Well, weightless compared to most days, when she thought her shoulder would dislocate at any second because of the strain.
Hermione walked through the doors to her place of redemption, sighing in relief at the soothing effect of the musty smell that hung in the air, and smiling to herself at the slight dust that covered the shelves no one looked at except the most studious Ravenclaws. She made her way past Madam Pince, giving a small wave in greeting. The librarian seemed to like Hermione, and Hermione alone. Hermione had never seen Madam Pince treat anyone the same way she treated her, and was eternally grateful. She was sure she would not find or acquire half the books she had read over the years if not for the stern lover-of-books.
Books never judged you, Hermione concluded. The Library was her place of solitude, but she very much liked it. It made her calm and cool-headed. It made her attentive and accurate with almost every answer.
But the books – oh, the books were everything. She had learned half her life lessons in their pages, and was ever so thankful for the knowledge they shared with her. Books were your friends, regardless of how intelligent you were, or who you hung out with. Books never gave you looks as if to say 'why are you talking to me?' either. Books were simply… there. They were there whenever you needed them. Like true friends, books were always by your side.
It was a shame only Hermione seemed to discern this.
She brushed her fingers along the spines of the many tomes in this section – Arts Of Divination. She was sure that many would question her presence in such an area of the extensive Hogwarts Library; Hermione was known for her disdain of such a subject and all its associative topics.
Her fingers caught on a ridged spine, slightly protruding from the perfect order of the other thick tomes. She snapped back to the task at hand, grasping the edges of the inky black book. It didn't budge. Frowning in confusion, Hermione tugged some more and it slid out somewhat. Encouraged, Hermione pulled her other hand up to help. However, the book slid back into place suddenly. Narrowing her eyes in determination, Hermione tried to wrench the mysterious book out of its position. Again, it hardly moved before shifting back into its spot.
Are you a witch or not?
Hermione whipped out her wand, thankful she had helped Harry with the first task.
"Accio black book!" she exclaimed, brandishing her wand. Unfortunately, she was not specific enough and all the black books in the bookcase came flying toward her. Hermione had little time to react to this barrage of ink on paper, and was flown onto the ground, groaning in pain as she moved a particularly heavy read off her chest.
"I did not think the book had a mind of its own." said a familiar voice, amused.
A bushy head of dark brown hair tilted up to see the smiling face of her Headmaster looking down, eyes twinkling lightly. Hermione blushed lightly, collecting the summoned books into a small pile on the floor and standing with the one she had desired in the first place.
"I apologise, Professor. I didn't realise someone else wanted the book." she said with little volume.
"That is quite alright, Miss Granger." he replied, smiling politely as always. His blue eyes pierced into her, and Hermione felt exposed. She chose to avoid his gaze. "I am curious, however, as to why a student such as yourself would be interested in that book." his long, thin hands gestured to the black book resting in her possession. Hermione, not expecting this, glanced at the cover.
Death Seers And Their Implications.
This was her book.
"I-It's personal research, sir." She had been waiting for this moment since the beginning of the school year. She could think nothing of her Headmaster's raised eyebrows and slightly squinted eyes.
I have to have it. It's mine. Mine, mine, mine.
Hermione forgot to control her wide eyes and tightening hold on the book. Her mouth was slightly parted as she stared at the cover, the glimmering gold title her saviour from the ignorance that had plagued her for a long time.
"Would it be acceptable–"
"Oh, definitely, Professor!" Hermione blushed, realising she had interrupted her teacher. "Sorry, sir." she added in haste. His answering smile was light and pleased. She placed the book in his just-outstretched hand. Her Cedric-side was in full-swing, unbeknownst to her professor.
What are you doing?Hermione plastered a forced smile onto her face. You idiot! That held all the answers, all the answers to saving Cedric! We could be reading and summarising right now, and you go and give it away? What is wrong with you?
"If you could be quick, possibly, Professor." she requested hesitantly, afraid that she would be amended for her rudeness.
"Definitely, Miss Granger." he smiled, and Hermione thought she was imagining things when she saw a sudden tightness to his expression. "I guarantee you will be turning this book's pages by the next week."
But Hermione was not reading the, what was sure to be enlightening book by Sunday evening, her weekend wasted on Quidditch and homework, and not thinking about Cedric, not at all. She had been hoping to run into the leader of the school all weekend. She just wished she could go into his office and read over his shoulder, if it came to it. Hermione had never been particularly patient when learning, but this was slowly killing her. The answers, right there, and she'd let them run away from her. She regretted not listening to her Cedric-side now.
Learn from your mistakes and listen to me next time. Hermione wasn't sure she could promise something like that.
"You are coming, Hermione, and that is final." Harry said, dragging her by the arm to dinner.
"I'm not hungry, honestly!" she tried to convince him to let her go, but to no avail.
"Speak for yourself, woman; I'm starved." Ron grunted, ahead of the other two by about five paces. Harry rolled his eyes as Hermione's shoulders shook in silent laughter.
They were outside the doors to the Great Hall when Hermione pulled her arm out of Harry's grip.
"For Merlin's sake, I'm not going to run away!" she snapped at Harry, who looked at her as if she might do just that. Ron trotted through, eager for some food to fill his bottomless stomach. Hermione followed, Harry bringing the rear to make sure she would not run off. They sat at the Gryffindor table, and Hermione felt, oddly, like she was on display. Used to the confines of the Library, the common room, or her dorm, the Great Hall was open and loud.
At the pressure of Harry's glare, Hermione put some roast chicken and vegetables on her plate, filling her goblet with pumpkin juice. Sipping her drink to fool her friends, Hermione looked around the Hall, subconsciously seeking out some ruffled blonde hair. Her search was interrupted, however, at the mention of that same head of hair.
"So I reckon I have a chance now that Diggory's out of the way." Harry said, shoving some steak and kidney pie into his mouth as he contemplated how to take his chance. Hermione thought she saw Ginny turn her head toward their conversation.
"You're right, mate. Chang's going to love you now that Diggory's gone and pissed her off. You'll be the first she'll run to." Ron agreed through his mouthful of mashed potato and gravy. Used to this revolting habit, both Harry and Hermione were able to decipher what he was saying.
"Did Cho break up with Cedric, Harry?" Hermione inquired, ignoring the stuttering of her heart and the growing sweatiness of her hands. She gulped noiselessly, looking between her two best friends quickly.
Harry's gaze flickered toward her, answering just before gobbling up some more food so he would not have to expand on the situation, "The complete opposite."
"Yeah," Ron interjected, obviously not seeing the widening glare of his male friend from across the table, instead turning his head to look at Hermione, who was sitting next to Harry.
"It just 'wasn't working', apparently. Good riddance, I say! Now Harry can snag Cho and Diggory can stop stealing all the good ones." His eyes stayed on Hermione a moment longer before he dug once more into his meal.
"You can't 'steal' a girl, Ronald. We are not possessions." Hermione seethed, gritting her teeth against the oncoming anger. Calm down, breathe, she consoled herself. He's an idiot.
"Yeah, well," the redhead paused, "You know what I mean. All the girls fancy him." he glared at the Hufflepuff on the other side of the Hall, the farthest table from Gryffindor. As if feeling the heated glare at the back of his head, Cedric turned and looked at Ron. His eyes roved over him quickly, though, and suddenly they connected with Hermione's. She forced herself to keep an indifferent expression, blank and unreadable. Cedric's dark grey eyes betrayed the anger shown on his face. Hermione thought she saw hurt flash through them before he turned back around to his friends, who all stared at her unsubtly. She turned back around, pushing her plate away from her in disgust. She stood up, bench screeching softly.
"Hermione, where are you–" Ron started.
"See you in the common room." Hermione blurted out, shifting her gaze to Cedric for the shortest moment, not noticing Harry had seen the sudden twitch of her eyes. Turning around, she very nearly bolted from the large room, intent on the seclusion of her dorm, not the common room she had promised.
Is this what it was always going to be like? Was he going to haunt her like this until her Cedric-side won over? It would never happen, of course, but the question still remained. Hermione didn't know how she could deal with his face every day, angry and bitter, yet hurt and subdued. It would drive her crazy. He was her own personal hell at this moment in time, and she didn't know how to snuff out his flames. They consumed her being.
It was a tug-of-war in her mind; to make amends, or not to make amends? He probably wouldn't take her back, anyway. The way she said it, it almost sounded like he was her boyfriend, taking her back even after she cheated on him. Almost.
It was just much, much worse.
The scorching heat devoured her once more.
Hermione didn't know what to do. It was entirely understandable, too.
The answer is simple.
Oh, here we go. Hermione grumbled to herself, but her Cedric-side chose not to acknowledge it.
Save him, it continued. Save him the way only you can. Hermione waited for the staircase she was standing on to still. A life-debt is your only reprieve now.
Hermione sighed at her overly-dramatic self.
He'll forgive me in due time, she thought as she clambered into the common room. I just hope it doesn't take saving his life for it to happen.
Alright, alright, hate mail away. I suck, yes; majorly, I know.
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Thoughts?
PheeCullen