Disclaimer: Yeah, you know the drill by now but I'll say it again for kicks. I own nothing but the plot of this story.

Chapter Ten

Scott returned eight minutes later with tamed hair and dressed in a pair of black slacks, a white, long sleeved button-down shirt and black lace-up Oxford dress shoes, his yellow and black tie slung haphazardly over his shoulder.

"So," he said casually as he approached her, "where to?"

Hermione felt the corners of her mouth turn upwards ever-so-slightly as she replied, "The library. Where else?"

Scott chuckled and followed her through the tunnel and out of the barrel. They walked there in companionable silence.

Only after Hermione was certain that they were safely tucked away in her little nook did she finally speak. She settled into one of the stiff-backed wooden chairs, suddenly wishing that she could transfigure it into that yellow beanbag chair she'd come to greatly appreciate during her prolonged stays researching as she shifted uneasily in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position in her seat.

After a few more moments of listening to the chair groan in protest every time she moved, she gave up and looked across the wooden tabletop at Scott. He was seated nonchalantly in his chair, one arm hanging over the back of it and the other draped across the surface of the worn table in front of him. Despite his casual position, his eyes were trained inquisitively on her, his brows knitted together seriously.

Hermione emitted a sigh that had been built up from months of silently having to carry such a large weight on her shoulders, one that gave rise to a flicker of hope that the burden would be shared between them. "Scott," she began, "do you remember when Professor Trelawney went to the Hospital Wing earlier this year?"

He nodded. "Yeah, who doesn't?"

Hermione's unsmiling expression didn't change. "Do you remember the rumor that went around school as to why she was there?"

He nodded again, suspicion creeping into his voice. "That she tripped over the hem of her skirt and fell into a tea table?"

"That's the one." Hermione affirmed, twisting her fingers anxiously in her lap.

"Okay," Scott said slowly, "but what's Trelawney got to do with anything?"

Hermione bit her lip. "She didn't actually trip over her skirt and fall into a tea table, Scott," Hermione confessed in a low voice. Scott straightened in the chair immediately and leaned forward, indicating that she had his full attention. "She told me a prediction." She knew from past experience that Scott shared her opinion that Trelawney was a fake who didn't possess any sort of foresight at all, so she was certain that her serious expression was the only thing holding him in place.

He shifted a little in his chair as the information sank in. "What was the prediction about?" Scott finally asked her, wariness evident in his brown eyes.

"Here," she said, "let me show you." Hermione undid the metal clasp to her satchel and reached inside, pulling out the parchment that she had written the prophesy on and handing it across the table to him. As he reached out and took it, she explained quickly, "It's a riddle of sorts."

Scott's eyes looked over the words and he mumbled, "I see that." He looked up at her when he'd finished, placing the parchment on the table. "What's all of this about, Hermione?"

Hermione sighed exasperatedly, snatching up the parchment and waving it in his face. "Can't you see, Scott? It's about the letters! The ones I thought were from you!"

Scott's eyes widened nearly imperceptibly and he grabbed her wrist lightly, stilling her hand. "You figured out who they were from?" His voice was a hoarse whisper, his eyes pleading. He had bent so far across the table that his face was only a few inches from hers, so close that she had to flick her eyes back and forth to see both of his.

She blinked, startled by his sudden actions, her hand caught right between them. "Yes," she whispered. Then he was seated once more, her hand released from his grasp.

"Who was it?" He asked after she had resituated herself in her own chair, the prophecy sitting in the middle of the table, abandoned for the moment.

She pulled out the letters and spread them out across the table. "Read these first."

"Okay." Scott picked up the first one and read it, followed by the second, and then the last, his brows furrowing more and more the further in he read. He carefully folded the third one back up and slid it into its respective envelope once more, gingerly putting it back where he'd picked it up from and staring at Hermione with a newfound interest and determination burning in his eyes. "What's next?"

"The last letter." Hermione said quietly.

"What do you mean?" He asked in surprise, his gaze looking over the envelopes sitting between them. "There's only three here."

"Well, you're half-right." She gave him a tentative knowing smile at his confusion. "There were three, originally. But those three," she said, gesturing to the ones he had just read, "were from 'you'." She used air quotes for emphasis before holding up the fourth letter.

It was the only one without an envelope.

Hermione traced her fingers down the outward-facing creases. "The fourth letter, however…" she trailed off, hesitating to disclose the final, most crucial piece of information. She looked up into his eyes and suddenly knew that she could trust him with her secret, a realization that made speaking much easier. "Well, that one was harder to get my hands on."

"How so?"

"Look here," Hermione said, handing him the prophecy as well the notes she'd taken on it. "See how it translates? The letters were just pieces of a puzzle, and it took a careful eye to inspect them to figure out how to piece them together to see the whole picture."

Scott looked up at her, putting the pieces of parchment in his hands down, and nodded at the letter in her hand. "So that's the answer, then?"

"Yes, it is," Hermione replied. Scott held out his hand for it, but Hermione withdrew it from his reach, drawing herself very close to him. "This is very important, Logan, so listen closely." He blinked, stunned by her stern tone, but he didn't utter a sound. "What I'm about to show you is something you cannot tell anyone under any circumstances whatsoever. I haven't told a soul – not even Harry, Ron, or Ginny. Do you understand the magnitude of that?"

Scott's expression grew very solemn. "Yes, I do. You have my word, Hermione: everything that we've discussed this morning is only between us." His voice was genuine, a voice that didn't hold a single shadow of doubt. He was undoubtedly too deeply in it to turn back, and his trust in Hermione was written all over his face.

Hermione nodded once and put the letter in his hand, watching him unfold it slowly and his eyes drink in the words on the page. They were wide in disbelief when he'd finished, his jaw slack and his mouth slightly agape. The letter was clenched tightly in his hands. "Scott?" Hermione whispered softly, biting her lip. "Are you okay?"

His eyes locked with hers, and she was astonished to see a slight glimmer of tears in his eyes. "Is this–" He cut himself off, swallowing hard before continuing in the same hoarse voice. "Is this your idea of a joke?" A bit of hurt managed to make its way onto his face and the look he was giving her was breaking her heart.

Hermione leaned over the table and took one of his hands in both of hers, a purely platonic gesture, never breaking eye contact. "Why would I lie to you about something like this?" she murmured, her voice trembling.

The wet sheen in his eyes vanished at her reply, and his faced hardened with determination. "Take me to him, then." Hermione opened her mouth to protest but he cut her off. "I want to see him for myself."

Hermione squeezed his hand tightly. "Okay," she said quietly, letting out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding in, "okay." She let go of his hand and gathered her things, carefully tucking them back away into the satchel, and stood up. "Let's go."

He stood and trailed behind her out the library and into the corridor. She managed to start up some idle chit-chat about nothing in particular on the way to the Room of Requirement to help calm him back down, Scott only asking where they were going once. "You'll see," was Hermione's reply, coupled with a wink. He laughed and shook his head at her in mock-disapproval.

Before she knew it, they were standing at the end of that familiar empty corridor watching the door materialize in front of them. Hermione reached for the handle but Scott's anxious voice interrupted her. "What do I do?" He asked, quickly running a hand through his unstyled hair. "What do I say?"

Hermione smiled encouragingly at him. "Don't think about it too much. He's still Cedric; his being dead or alive doesn't change that."

Scott swallowed hard and nodded toward the door. "Well? Are we just going to stand here all day or are we actually going to go inside?" Hermione rolled her eyes playfully at his teasing and opened the door.

Her eyes immediately zeroed in on Cedric's translucent form sitting in his favorite recliner, his head turned toward the low flames in the fireplace. "Cedric, you've got some company," Hermione announced. He looked at her, puzzled, but an unreadable expression took over his face when Scott stepped through the doorway. Hermione ushered him toward the couch and they both sat down.

Cedric's expression saddened. "He can't see me, Hermione," he said emotionlessly, his eyes dull. "There's no use in him being here if he can't see or hear me."

Hermione glanced at Scott, who was currently staring at what Hermione guessed appeared to be an empty armchair, and smiled hopefully at Cedric. "Maybe not."

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. "What're you on about now?"

"Just trust me, okay? I want to try something." Hermione said.

"Excuse me," Scott interjected. Hermione and Cedric both looked at him. "I hate to interrupt, but it's a little awkward that I can't see who you're talking to, Granger."

Hermione sighed exasperatedly. "You two are just alike!" she huffed indignantly, blowing that annoying strand of hair out of her eyes and crossing her arms. "If you would kindly allow me to try this before you question me further, that would be great."

Silence greeted her outburst, the only noise in the room coming from the crackling of the fire in the fireplace, which had grown much warmer since Hermione and Scott had seated themselves on the couch. Both boys wordlessly stared at her.

"Thank you very much." She muttered before holding out her hand to Cedric. When he only looked at it questioningly, Hermione said softly, "Hold my hand, Cedric." His eyes locked with hers, his gaze smoldering with an emotion that Hermione couldn't quite place burning in their depths, before he obediently took it.

That same sensation as all those months before overtook her once again as his fingers closed firmly around hers, tingles running from her fingers and trailing their way up and down her spine. His touch was cold as ice, biting her skin like a bitter wintry draft everywhere it touched her skin. She couldn't feel the skin on his palm or fingers as they brushed over hers to get into place, only that chilling feeling.

But she did not release his hand, not even as heat bloomed across her cheeks, blush dutifully painting them red.

She thanked Merlin that it was already warm in the room.

Hermione held out her other hand for Scott and he timidly took it. She took a moment to study his pensive face for any change. "Well?" she asked somewhat impatiently. Did it work?

Over and over, again and again those three words played like a broken record in her head. She had to know.

He was staring past her, over her shoulder at the armchair. Hermione's eyes followed his gaze and saw that he was looking directly in the place where Cedric's eyes were. And when she looked back at his face, she saw, for the second time since she'd come to know Scott Logan, tears in his eyes. He blinked and a glittery tear rolled down his cheek, a smile lighting his face. "Hey there, Ced," he whispered.

Cedric's eyes were wide in shock but he recovered quickly, flashing his trademark crooked smile, his eyes positively glowing. "Hey, mate. Where've you been?" Hermione's own eyes grew glossy with tears of happiness as she watched their reunion.

For the remainder of the day, Hermione simply watched the two best friends talk again for the first time in two years, taking in the gratitude and joy shining in Cedric's eyes every time he looked at her as well as the gleeful smiles that both boys couldn't seem to wipe off of their faces, and she felt good again for the first time in a long while.

"Now what?" Scott asked. Hermione had already gotten the sneaking suspicion that he'd get around to posing the question eventually, so she already had an answer prepared for him. She looked from Cedric to him from her comfy perch on the soft, brown plush couch in the Room of Requirement.

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but Cedric beat her to it. "We're – well, Hermione, mostly–" Hermione blushed at that comment, lowering her head to hide her flushed cheeks. "–trying to figure out how to bring me back."

Scott nodded his head slowly. "Okay." He turned to Hermione. "What've you got so far?"

Hermione shook her head sadly. "Nothing. I've searched everywhere, read every single book the library has in stock about ghosts, dark spells, and ancient magic. I've even perused through the Restricted Section—" she spared Cedric a glance out of the corner of her eye to see him staring at her intently, his eyes shining slightly with what she believed was awe, "but still. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing." She growled in frustration and gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to rip her hair out since both of her hands were currently in use.

"And you've already tried the bookstores in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley?" Cedric asked her.

She nodded. "Yes. I went to Diagon Alley over Christmas Break and it was a lost cause. I even went to Knockturn Alley to pay a visit to Borgin and Burkes, but not even they any books of that sort in stock." Hermione explained, more than a little disgruntled after recounting the memory.

"I want to help," Scott said suddenly, his voice holding no room for argument, "and I think I've got some ideas that might help us widen our range of available books."

Hermione and Cedric shared a questioning glance before they both shrugged and turned back to Scott, just missing his eyebrow raise at their silent interaction. "What do you have in mind?" Cedric spoke up.

Scott's lips spread into a mischievous smile. "Something that could turn out to be very good for us."

His expression worried Hermione, making her thoughts wander back to all of those adventures with Harry and Ron that she had tagged along for, breaking all sorts of rules in the process. While the guilt of never gotten caught whispered that she shouldn't do it, that she shouldn't add more to that or worse, actually get herself caught and getting into trouble, most likely forever staining her unblemished permanent record, the thrill of doing something reckless – the larger part of her moral being – screamed that she absolutely should.

After a quick battle of pros and cons between the two, Hermione made her decision. She turned her head toward Scott's expectant face and said, "Get on with it, then."

Scott grinned widely and leaned forward, laying out the details of his plan.

And when he was finished, Hermione couldn't help but smile herself. His plan, assuming that it worked, was absolutely ingenious. She only wondered later, after they'd bid their goodbyes to Cedric and she'd retired herself to bed, why the thought had never occurred to her.

Hermione awoke in the middle of the night after hearing a creak in the floorboards. She shot up, grabbing her wand to defend herself against the intruder, and found herself looking at the sheepish face of Lavender at the end of her bed. "Sorry, Hermione." Lavender whispered apologetically. She held up the glass in her left hand, a transparent liquid sloshing around inside with the motion. "I got up to get a drink of water. I didn't mean to wake you up."

Hermione blinked at her before her groggy head realized that she was waiting for a response. "Oh, it's fine." Hermione said softly, glancing around to see if anyone else had been awakened, but her eyes were greeted by the three other girls' sleeping forms. "You didn't know that there was a loose board."

Lavender emitted a quiet, relieved sigh, a tired smile gracing her face. "Thank you." She murmured before scurrying back to the sanctuary of her warm blankets. Hermione heard her place the cup carefully on her night table and her soft, rhythmic breaths as she drifted back off to sleep.

Hermione, however, wasn't so lucky.

She lay back down, pulled the covers up to her chin, and tossed and turned for a good five minutes without feeling the fog of sleep descend upon her mind. She stared up at the ceiling for a while, wide awake, knowing full well that she wouldn't be falling asleep any time soon. Eventually, she gave up and rolled onto her side. As her body stilled and her mattress stopped its infernal squeaking beneath her, a wave of restlessness washed over her. Her hand itched for her wand, and she gave into the urge and snatched it from her nightstand, absentmindedly twirling it between her fingers before casting a spell on the mattress to quiet the springs inside of it and standing up. She shivered in her pale pink silk nightgown and slipped her soft white robe on, tying the sash firmly around her waist, before sliding her feet into her supple slippers.

She padded silently across the room, stowing her wand away in an outward robe pocket below the sash, and stepped out into the hallway. She crept down the stairs and out of the common room, casting a quick disillusionment spell over herself just in case she might run into Filch and his mangy cat, Mrs. Norris. A familiar involuntary shudder ran up her spine as she felt it crack over her head and then she knew that she was invisible. She noiselessly glided down the corridors and staircases until she stood in front of the Room.

Her heart thumped noisily in her chest as she reached for the door handle, nervousness sending her senses into a mess at the prospects of seeing Cedric at such a late hour. She had never done it before, and the thought both terrified and excited her at the same time. Her hand trembled as she grasped the cold metal, and she took a deep breath. It's just Cedric, she reminded herself with a shake of her head before opening the door.

She expected that same comfortable room as always to appear before her, but she was greeted by something entirely different in its place. Lush grass tickled her ankles as she stepped inside and a warm breeze gently caressed her face as it blew past her. The ceiling – or what used to be the ceiling – was a deep shade of purplish-black, twinkling with countless brilliant stars. A full moon illuminated the landscape, bathing a single weeping willow tree in its light. Hermione took off her shoes, leaving them by the door, and walked slowly towards it.

As she drew nearer, she realized that she was going up a slight incline, and when she reached the peak, stopping just short of the tree, she saw a vast lake before herself. The surface was smooth as glass, the moonlight reflecting off of it and causing it to shine silver. Hermione's eyes travelled around herself, taking in her surroundings, and a sad smile tugged at her lips, a dull throbbing embedding itself within her heart.

The place held a note of ethereal beauty to it but also such bittersweet sadness, Hermione thought forlornly, noticing how the willow's flowering branches barely skimmed the water.

"Hermione?" She jumped at the sound of Cedric's voice, and turned quickly to see him staring at her curiously. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in bed?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I came here." Her voice came out barely above a whisper, as if speaking any louder would break the peacefulness of their surroundings.

"Why?" He asked softly, taking a step toward her, his expression unreadable.

She bit her lip. "Because I wanted to see you." She admitted. She averted her eyes and tried with all her might to stop her embarrassed blush from spreading to her face, because she knew that in this lighting he would see it. She looked up, internally frustrated with how much she kept blushing lately, but not in time to catch the pure shock that flashed in his eyes. "I didn't really get much of a chance to talk to you earlier."

He smiled gently at her. "It's okay." He said, his eyes glowing. "I'm glad you came."

"So you don't mind that I intruded, then?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

He laughed. "Of course I don't!"

They shared a laugh for a moment, and Hermione abandoned her earlier attempt to be quiet.

"Come on, I have something I'd like to show you." Cedric said, gesturing toward the willow. Hermione gave him a puzzled look but followed him regardless. She rounded the thick trunk and saw a hollow inside of it. Cedric ducked inside, Hermione right behind him, and he guided her straight into…

The room.

That familiar room with the brown couches and armchairs, the polished stone fireplace already holding a merrily crackling fire inside. Hermione looked around the room incredulously, stunned by the fact that everything was the same. Cedric was facing her now, taking in her mesmerized expression and Hermione snapped out of her reverie when she heard him chuckle. "How did you–?"

"I've told you before that I know this place very well." Cedric said, his eyes glowing with warmth.

Hermione spun around and saw the door that she had entered the Room of Requirement through behind her, her shoes sitting right beside it as if that's where she'd put them when she knew for a fact that she had laid them in the grass.

"This is…" Hermione couldn't even find the right words to accurately describe what she was feeling. "Brilliant. How did you do that?"

Cedric shrugged nonchalantly. "Patience, mostly. It takes lots of it to get the Room to do what you want it to do, but it's not impossible. People just don't ever take the time to try."

"Show me." Hermione said eagerly. His eyes widened slightly – he had obviously not expected her to react that way. "Please, Cedric. I want to know how to do it, too."

He raised his eyebrows. "You really want me to teach you how?"

Hermione nodded excitedly, her eyes glowing at the prospect of learning new knowledge. "Yes!"

"Well, then let's get started." He said with a laugh. He walked over to her and looked at her directly in the eyes, holding her gaze steadily. "First, think of something. Anything that you want." Hermione pictured the first thing that came to mind, which happened to be an apple-flavored Danish. Her stomach grumbled quietly in approval. "Do you have it?"

"Yes."

"Close your eyes." He murmured. Hermione's eyelids fluttered shut and she only allowed her thoughts to be on the lightly frosted treat. "Think only of that thing that you want. Clear your mind of everything else."

Hermione started when she heard his deep, gentle, melodic voice directly in her right ear, and she started to picture his lips less than an inch away from her ear. Her heart started to beat erratically in her chest at the thought. But then she remembered what she was supposed to be doing and forced everything from her mind except that little circular dessert. No Cedric, no Room of Requirement, nothing.

It was harder said than done.

"Now picture where you want it to appear." He whispered.

Hermione thought of the table in front of the couch. Over and over she thought that same thing, the image of it sitting there waiting to be eaten.

"You did it!"

Hermione's eyes snapped open in surprise at his sudden exclamation, and then she saw him grinning, standing by that very table pointing at something on the tabletop. She moved closer to get a better look and saw, to her utter amazement, a circular, golden crusted Danish with apple filling and white frosting drizzled on top sitting right in the center of it.

Hermione picked it up and took a careful bite, the sweet, mouth-watering taste spreading over her taste buds quickly. It tasted as though it were fresh from the oven, still warm, the crust crumbling into her mouth as soon as she took each bite. It was, by far, the best one she had ever eaten.

Though she was disappointed when it was gone, it made her more confident in what Cedric had taught her, and she quickly started to think of other, bigger things. A lamp, a rosebush, a bookshelf full of books. Soon enough, she was thinking up whole rooms, designing them to fit whatever accommodations she desired.

It was around two or three in the morning when she decided to leave him and she picked up her robe from where she'd discarded it hours before and put on her shoes. "I'd better head off to bed." Hermione said as she finished tying the sash back around her waist.

Had Hermione been watching him closely, she would've noticed Cedric's eyes lose some of their brightness for a moment, but she was far too tired by that point to have noticed something like that. "Yeah, it's late," he agreed.

She was about to leave when something she didn't notice earlier hit her like a ton of bricks. She whipped around and stared at him, raking her eyes over his body. Her eyes scanned every detail, and when they locked onto what she'd been searching for she covered her mouth to smother a gasp of horror.

Her eyes widened as she saw that the hole had grown exponentially over the few months since she'd noticed the first spot. It covered a good two quarters of his chest and had begun to creep its way across his left shoulder. She walked slowly over to him and cautiously raised her hand.

She could feel his eyes on her as she reached out and ran her fingers over the faded part, even though it felt like she was only stroking the air. Her horrified eyes flickered up to meet his, and she saw his mouth was set in a grim line. "I'm fading faster and faster every day, now."

"Do you have any ideas about what it's doing to you?" Hermione asked worriedly.

He shook his head. "No."

Hermione dropped her hand to her side, her eyes never leaving his. There were a few beats of silence that passed between them before she said, "Don't worry, Cedric. Scott and I will find a cure for you and bring you back."

Cedric gave her a small, sad smile. "The chances are looking pretty bleak at this point, Hermione," he murmured.

"Trust me." She whispered.

"I do." He replied instantly, gently. It was right then when she noticed how close they were to each other.

Hermione's face heated up, but she didn't break eye contact. "Cedric," she said quietly, "stay very still." The intensity of his gaze caused her cheeks to grow darker as she leaned forward and brushed her lips softly across his cheek, wishing more than anything at that moment that they both could've felt that.

When she pulled back, she saw his eyes light up brighter than she'd ever seen them. "Thank you."

And then she smiled at him, nodded, and left the room.