A/N JK Rowling gave us the Prefects Bathroom. I give you Neville on toad venom Cedric with a Mohican. Resistance is futile.
Hermione gave up on trying to get the stairs to move and stomped up them instead, the trouble was that she was too wired to concentrate enough to get a grip on the whole flight of stairs and the best she could do was make a single tread lift. It would clearly take longer than she had, this time around. When she reached the top and just to be sure that she was going to be ok with Neville, she held up a thumb in the darkness.
"incendio," she muttered.
A roaring blue flame shot from the tip of her thumb and she shook it frantically until it calmed to its wobbly yellow cousin. She used it to light her path, coaxing it back to an inferno and then finally extinguishing it at the door of the bathroom. Perfect. Pushing open the door, she stepped inside and paused.
"Nev?" oil lamps around the walls lit themselves and the mermaid in the arched window in the far wall coloured herself in and stretched languorously.
"Neville? Hermione tapped her foot in annoyance. The mermaid inspected the ends of her hair and smiled winsomely. Hermione walked over. "Have you seen him? A boy about this big, dark hair, dilated pupils?" she held a hand up to indicate height, but the figure shook her head and pouted, then beckoned Hermione to come closer. Would she speak? Hermione wasn't sure.
Moaning Myrtle sank through the ceiling and hovered at Hermiones side, "he's not been here, I've been waiting…." she said and ended with an odd squeaky chuckle, "and waiting," she repeated batting her eye-lashes and sighing heavily before sinking through the floor. The mermaid nodded in agreement and leaned forward. Hermione jumped at the cool touch of fingers on the back of her hand where the mermaid has reached out for her from the glass. The mermaid tilted her head and smiled again, guiding Hermiones hand up her glass front.
0.0
"He'll be all right, he'll be all right," Neville gasped to himself as he rushed from the Professors study to the foot of the stairwell. The Professor had been quite understanding, if a little distracted and he hoped desperately that he had been addressing the right one. Now that he knew his toad would be fine, he couldn't imagine anything worse than having to reach the bottom of the barrel in Snapes study, although setting fire to Hermione by accident might run a close second. There was something harder and unforgiving about her more recently and she frightened him in a way that he was ashamed to admit, excited him.
Neville was so lost in his own thoughts that he caromed off a figure moving silently through the shadowed hallways so hard that he landed flat on his back and his ears rang. His wand toppled uselessly from his hand when he jarred his elbow as he fell and spidery pain scrambled up his forearm. He slapped a hand across his eyes just in case there really were spiders and peered out through his fingers. When none appeared, he painfully cradled his arm close to his chest and scooted across the floor until his back was against the wall. Frantically he stared about him for the obstacle he had hit, but there was nothing obvious, the hallucinations must be getting worse.
"You're out of bed late Nev," Cedrics voice came from the dark. Metal scraped, something hissed and a smoky, yellow flame illuminated the bottom half of Cedrics face. "Not that I don't approve," Cedric continued with amusement in his voice, "coming or going?"
In Nevilles befuddled state, both options sounded the same. "I have to get back, she's waiting for me," he said urgently. The thought of Hermione being angry with him made his collar tight.
"You don't look like you're in much of a state to be doing anything but heading for bed, Nev." Cedric watched with interested eyes as Neville staggered to his feet and retrieved his wand. He certainly looked as if had been shagged seven ways from Sunday.
"I've left her in the Prefects bathroom," Neville tried to explain, spinning on the spot as it appeared that Cedrics fanned out to surround him.
"Tell you what," Cedric said expansively, "I'll pop by and let her know that you'll reschedule." He was going to hit the bathroom anyway and this way it sounded like he might get more than he bargained for. Cedric turned Neville away from one staircase to another that led to the Gryffindors common room and gave him a little shove.
"You don't understand!" wailed Neville, "she was going to teach me control."
"Mmhm," agreed Cedric. "She who?" Better and better, he had no trouble with being schooled himself as long as turn and turn about was fair play.
Cedric tripped over the first stair, Nevilles reply was the second time he had heard her name tonight.
0.0
Cedric pushed open the bathroom door gently, he knew who he would find, just not in what context and the centaurs liquor made his blood hum in his ears. What he did not expect to see was Hermione fondling a mermaid. He almost dropped the parcel of clothing he was carrying in surprise.
He cleared his throat delicately and promised himself he would save the look on her face in whatever media it allowed.
Hermione flinched away from the window, shock made her question sound harsh, "what are you doing here?"
"Me?" Cedric smiled wolfishly and sauntered forward. "Prefect?" he gestured to himself and ended with a sweeping gesture. "Prefects bathroom. You?" He tried to see her presence in the light of Nevilles comments and then tried very hard to see past it without imagining her in thigh high boots.
"I have an arrangement with Neville, not that it's any of your business," she replied archly and folding her arms. Her eyes flicked over him without her permission. Nothing broken, no blood, dirty though and his hair looked like he had been dragged through a hedge backwards. Her shoulders dropped a fraction. Bastard.
"With Neville? Huh. He did mention something about that, but he's not coming." Cedric pursed his lips. Not the boots, not the boots. "You might want to move away from the window, Kit."
The mermaid was leaning forward, there was enough of a gap between the window and Hermione, but only barely. Cedric waved his quidditch jersey to distract the threat. Whilst he was happy to live life on the edge, he found himself strangely reluctant to allow Hermione the same liberties he took for granted. He told himself he was older, wiser and there were reasons, other than purely snob value, that the bathroom was restricted.
"He'll be here," Hermione insisted, stepping forward.
Cedric sighed in relief and the mermaid mirrored it with her own strange isobue. "I told him not to." Cedric shrugged and turned towards the sinks leaning into the mirror to watch Hermiones reflection loom larger.
"You did what?" Hermione spat out.
"You're only a Fourth year. You shouldn't be tutoring anyone without supervision," he smiled at her furious reflection, but it did nothing to take the sting out of it.
"He needs my help!" said Hermione aghast. "Did he tell you what Snape did?"
"Snape eh?" Cedric gritted his teeth and turned to face her. "He's becoming your regular go to. You should change Houses." His irritation with the referee incident bled through his tone.
"It's not like that….the Professor was helping me and Neville had detention." Hermione sounded whiney, even to her own ears.
"Snape doesn't help just anyone, there is always something in it for him. What would he want from you?" Cedric reached over his shoulders to grasp his hoodie and tugged it off over his head.
"Nothing." Try as she might, Hermione couldn't help inspecting his dorsal musculature in the mirror. Smudges of dirt decorated one shoulder, but other than that, he was completely unscathed. She should be happy, could be, but rage had a better fit and more temperatures to choose from. Normally she would have a book to tattoo her emotion, her empty hands squeezed themselves sore.
"Nothing?" Cedrics drawled, his hands moving to his pants waistline. He could see plenty. With or without boots.
"What are you doing?" Hermione tried to focus on a point just past his shoulder. It wasn't working, mostly because whatever he was doing was making the reflection of his back flex in new and interesting ways. And actually she knew what he was doing. She knew what male parts looked like anatomically speaking and had several colourful conversations overheard in the common room that described Cedric intimately to draw from, then of course there was the incident on the train, but none of those seemed to count in this instant. It wasn't like she wanted to get near it or anything, she just wanted to know. Right after she finished berating Cedric about screwing over Neville.
"Isn't it obvious? This is a bathroom, Kit." He loved the way the nickname made her scowl. The corner of his mouth fought a losing battle with a sly grin.
"Stop saying that, doing that," she huffed and then in exasperation as the clasp of his belt parted company with the leather tongue. "I'm talking to you!" She grabbed his wrists to make her point.
His lips curved in a slow smile. "Carry on," he said merrily and let go of his waistband. She wasn't sure how long it took for the material to slide down his legs, only that it was long enough for the Vine on her wand to sneak out and circle his wrist before the quiet clink of the belt buckle sounded against the floor tile.
She focused on the Vine and grabbed the trailing end before it could complete a circuit over her own wrist, unwinding it from him with a rising tide of irritation that turned to embarrassment when her peripheral view registered that today of all days, Calvin was missing. She spun away as he stepped out of the puddle of his clothing with lithe movements and clapped her hands over eyes, trying to wipe out the thought that the subject of her closet fascination might have nodded 'hello.' Mollys voice saying 'last turkey in the shop' sprang to mind, she pushed it away to deal with her unruly equipment.
"Will you behave!" she hissed at her wand.
The sound of the door of the shower stall punctured the silence. The roar of water almost drowned out his groan of appreciation. Almost, but not quite.
"So you're talking to it now?" Cedric asked curiously.
Now that they were safely separated, Hermione replied acidly. "We were talking about Neville."
"Oh, that's good," he moaned. He leaned against the tiled wall, angling so that the scorching water hit him between the shoulder blades. Trickles of water running down his front followed gravitys urging and fell in a steady stream that made it look like he was peeing pure water. Something thumped the shower stall door, making the reeded glass shake and he turned his back.
"Are you even listening to me?" Hermione, still mad was almost too much fun.
"Oh yeah." Reaching for the shampoo, he combed his hair into a mohican with his fingers.
The bathroom door slammed and Cedric relaxed into the hot downpour and let his mind go blank, but something was niggling at the back of his mind. Not Neville, not even that Hermione almost got dragged off to the Black Lake, but that perhaps he was not yet alone. He ducked his head into the water and finished washing his hair with vigorous strokes, shaking his head like a dog.
"I won," he called out. "Thanks for asking…"
The water in the shower stopped abruptly and he made the mistake of looking directly at the shower head in confusion, just in time for the water to start pouring again with renewed vigour, full in the face and freezing cold.
"Kit!" he howled, throwing himself at the shower stall door with no thought for modesty. The steamy room was empty and the mermaid had faded to clear segments of glass. Water pooled around his feet as the faint movement of the bathroom door caught his eye. Hermione was gone. So too, was his quidditch jersey.
Cedric towelled himself dry, only then noticing the scrubbed out remains of something outlined in the condensation on the mirror glass. It looked a lot like a stick man with a Mohawk and an enormous third leg. There was always tomorrow, tomorrow when he would put his name in the Goblet of Fire for a chance of winning the ultimate accolade. It was odd that he was looking forward to Hermiones reaction to the news almost as much as entering itself. Tomorrow, when, they would again partner for the Transfiguration lesson.
0.0
Hermione swung by the study carrel on the way back to the Gryffindor common room to collect Howarths Insectology to calm her nerves and indulge in a little late night reading. She had already pulled the book from its resting place when something white caught her attention. She stared at the small white sock with a tell-tale bulge in the toe for some time before removing it from its prominent position. She half expected Cedrics timetable to be in the toe, but it wasn't. Cautiously she rolled the cuff of the sock down, taking infinite care not to touch the contents, until the rounded surface of the orb appeared. Against the white of the sock, the orb appeared to have a yellowish cast that was not evident before, it reminded her of gloss paint in a smokers household and she wondered if the orb was somehow aging. Cedric might have more information about the orbs history, she had never thought to ask the detail of Madame Trelawneys musings.
"Where are you?" she whispered. A flurry in the flakes of snow was her only reply. She peered deeper at the interior of the glass. A plain of flat snow covered the bottom of the sphere, except where it was interrupted by animal tracks. She secured the orb again and nosed through Cedrics papers looking for his timetable.
"Bloody Hell!" she swore to herself when it became evident that the timetable was missing.
Shortly afterwards, she pulled a second book, an old favourite, from the shelves, topped it off with 'Applied Arboreal Physiology' by Lwellan Dowd which seemed to have been left by Professor Sprout if the muddy fingerprints all over the dust jacket were anything to go by and made her way to bed.
0.0
Hermione sat in the nave of the Great Hall shortly after breakfast, peacefully annotating the opening pages of AAP with the additional information from her time with Olivander.
"Alder," she muttered to herself, absorbing the species ability to naturalise alongside streams, suffer temporary flooding and successfully restore soil fertility. The next part was more interesting:
Transcends the natural barriers of the elements, serving all four, air, earth, fire and water. Muggle uses: charcoal, panpipes/whistles, dyes, land reclamation. Wands best used for healing charms, in times of conflict performs well in defence.
She added notes about the sap in the green wood staining just about anything and the odd quality of the wood hardening in water rather than decaying, the later making better wand material albeit less flexible and harder to work. An illustration on the opposite page, of a seed cracking into two and sending up a leaf, grew into an entire tree before Hermione skipped to the next subject.
"Ash," Hermione said aloud. She got as far as the seed pods being known colloquially as 'keys' before her equilibrium was disturbed.
As if called, the riot that was Cedric and his entourage rolled up to the Goblet of Fire, his colleagues pushed him forward, but there didn't seem to be a whole lot of resisting on his part, she thought, although he did seem to stop short when he caught sight of her. For a minute she thought he might have changed his mind, but it seemed it was just making sure that he had her full attention. She held his gaze when he dropped his name casually into the flames, he was behaving like it was one huge dare, for a moment she forced him into the same stupidity bucket that she categorised Ron in. Her book shut with a snap and she clutched it to her chest like a heavy shield. If she used it aggressively, it would definitely leave a mark.
The appearance of the boy from Durmstrang brushing past Cedric raised her spirits, he had promised to translate some of her Bavarian book where English terms were missing or simply made no sense and she smiled at the prospect. For some reason, it didn't trouble her at all that Viktor was competing. She looked down at silvering on the edges of the pages of the book in her lap and only then realised that someone had turned down a corner of a page. It was most untoward, especially if it had been the Professor. Hermione sighed and put it away for later, there were mysteries enough already and it was barely 8 a.m.
Viktor dropped his scrap of parchment into the fire and turned to greet Hermione, only to find his path blocked.
"I don't believe we've met," Cedric began and offered his hand. Viktor returned a firm handshake, in response to a grip that bordered on too firm. Hermione watched while neither of them let go for the longest time, it was kind of hot. Wrong, but hot.
Hermione rose and pushed between them. "Viktor, we don't have much time."
Viktor released his grip, but had to wait for Cedric to do the same before he could move away comfortably.
"Excuse," Viktor bowed his head. "I hav a lady vaiting."
"Indeed," said Cedric softly. It didn't quite sound like an insult, but it wasn't far off. Hermione shoved him backwards.
"We're busy and you owe me a timetable," she growled. Cedric retreated a step.
"Did you take my shirt? You know, from last night," he teased, backing up, holding his hands palm forward defensively. "It's fine, but you know, asking is kind of customary…"
Her colouring told him he was right despite her best efforts to project innocent aloofness. The armpits had been gross, but the front of the collar still carried a trace of his cologne and she had filled her lungs with the scent of it, just once.
Viktor glanced between them and stared awkwardly at his own feet scuffing the flagstones.
"The little guy said it was nice to meet you too…" Hermione dragged Viktor away to the Library.
"'Ermine can explain..?" Viktor started.
"No," she said shortly, collapsing onto a bench seat and patting the space beside her. There was no way that she was going to explain an opposition jersey under her pillow or why Cedric was being so possessive around her, or why she kind of liked it. Up to a point. And she could do without the public humiliation and had a hard time owning up to any of it being her fault. Much. She dragged the book with the double headed eagle sigil on the cover from her bag and placed in front of Viktor. Impatiently she flipped past the opening chapters.
The page now open showed a series of tools and names in Bavarian written underneath, but there were no translations. Viktor smiled broadly and reached for a quill before scrunching up his face in concentration. He put his thumb in place to save the page and redisplayed the cover, pointing to the open hand symbol. "You make?"
"Err maybe?" Hermione replied, then said very earnestly, "I'm keeping my options open."
"Should study Bavarrrria," Viktor rolled the name of his home country around like a pirate and brandished his Gregorovitch. "Is best," he declared proudly.
"May I?" Hermione hedged, gesturing to Viktors wand. "While you are working on the book?"
Viktor smiled so widely she could see that he was missing a wisdom tooth on his upper right hand side. He handed Hermione the wand butt first and she grasped it gingerly, then ran her thumb over the knuckle of the join between the butt and the rod of the wand. Viktor flipped the book open again and tried to hide a shudder. He tapped the open page.
"Vor jewel, precious, make errr," Viktor stuttered with difficulty of moulding his ideas in a foreign language. He pulled a brooch of a silver double-headed eagle with a precious stone set in its tummy from beneath his robes and tapped the milky stone. "Anbar," he said. Hermione squinted at him, trying to understand what he was getting at when he repeated the word louder and balanced a closed fist on his forefinger. "Vizard 'ave, he said, then sketched something that looked just like a penis.
0.0
Something was going on, Hermione swore it. She got kicked into Year 6 for Arithmancy and Runes, the former she could just about keep up with but Runic grammar drove her nuts. She was only in Year 4 Foretelling to keep the boys company and to stop Professor Trelawney from picking on Harry.
"I'm not playing any more," Ron said grumpily and uncurled his fist from 'rock'. He was sat opposite Hermione in the stuffy tower that Professor Trelawney called home.
Hermione rolled her eyes, "come ON Ron! It's not a game, it's supposed to be an exercise." She curled her flat hand out of 'paper' and into a fist, and knocked it twice on the table but resisted a third when Ron made no move.
"An exercise you keep winning," he said petulantly.
"Ok," Hermione sighed. "We can add Spock and Lizard."
"Now you're making it up." Ron put his head on one side and said abruptly, "I'm going to play with Harry. 'Ere, did you know Flitwick is taking us for Potions today?" Hermione stared into one of the dribbly candles in the wall scones, they were completely unnecessary since it was still daylight outside. When she blinked, the negative of the bright flame looked like a scarecrow figure reaching forward, as if to open a door.
"Where's Snape?" called Neville joyfully.
Without thinking, Hermione replied, "Diagon Alley." Even Trelawney stared at that one.
0.0
Hermione approached Year 6 Transfiguration with an equal quail of trepidation and frisson of anticipated enjoyment. She made her way cautiously down the steep bank that led to the sunken kitchen garden and sighed, being first to arrive was always strangely calming. She wandered in through a square oak door cracked open in the stone wall and perched on a stone toadstool to wait for the rest of the class. Mulling over the homework, she considered what todays class might be. It had featured heavily on native insect life and reinforced how much of a witch or wizards magical larder came from the world about them.
The pair from the failed wand matching were next to arrive, the girl nodded at her and turned away, rummaging in her bag for something whilst the blonde boy wandered over to stand in front of Hermione.
Professor McGonagall was next to arrive, trailed by Cedric carrying a small cardboard box which he stowed carefully on a bench before making his way briskly to Hermiones side.
"Tomas?" Cedric greeted, offering the knuckles of a closed fist in welcome.
"'Ermione?" replied Tomas, more to Cedric than Hermione herself and knocking his fist with his own. Cedric gaze flicked between the two of them for a moment, which was as long as it took for Hermione to register that what was happening was about the level of dogs and lampposts. She rolled her eyes and rose to her feet between them. Pointedly turning her back on Cedric, she offered her hand to Tomas.
"Hermione," she stated, emphasising the 'H', then squirmed inwardly as he shook her hand, but his thumb brushed oddly over the inside of her wrist. She smiled coolly and wrenched her hand away, knocking an elbow into Cedrics midriff in her haste. He caught her upper arm gripping too hard just above the elbow and held on to it like he thought she might accost his colleague with her fists. With a gasping breath he murmured in a warning tone, "easy" into her hair.
Tomas grinned at Cedric like he had won something huge and sauntered back to the raven haired girl, now shoulder deep in her bottomless bag.
Cedric pulled Hermione away so that they were separated from the growing knot of students, dropping her arm as soon as there was a degree of distance between them and the others. "Keep your temper, keep your head," he admonished.
"Keep your hands off me," she spat back.
"He was courting you, not trying to offend you." Cedric tried to explain. He caught at her hand with the wand up its sleeve, about to say something more when Hermione interrupted. She ripped her hand free.
"You're my mentor, not my minder," she sneered.
"I'll get in line shall I?" he said sardonically flicking his fingers in turn. "Snape, Viktor, now Tomas. Did I miss Ron, I'm sure he thinks he has a chance. Tomas was offering in case you missed it with your nose in the air, rumour has it he's quite good. Not as good as me," he shrugged, looking away. It was as close to an admission as his pride would allow. He snorted at her shocked expression.
"Now, lets get on shall we?" He circled around her adding, "and keep your wits about you, this isn't the fourth year you are dealing with here. Everything is a test," before he joined the students clustered around Professor McGonagall fiddling with the box. Hermione blinked away the burn in her eyes and reluctantly joined the group when she realised that the Professor was speaking in hushed tones and she couldn't hear from where she was. Her head was in turmoil, did Cedric mean what she thought he meant, or was this too a test?
As soon she drew level with him, Cedric stepped back and encouraged her into the space in front of him so that she could see. He hovered his hands over her shoulders until she gave him a backwards glare. He planted them firmly on her shoulders and she left them there, instantly caught up in the Professors instruction.
Even at a low volume, the Professors voice was forceful. "…required reading from last time. The scales from the wings of this Hawkmoth are a basic store cupboard ingredient. We will be topping up the schools supplies and using the collection as a valuable training aid."
"Professor Sprout has been nurturing the larvae in the Subterranean Tropical Greenhouse." Strong thumbs niggled at the knots in her shoulders. She bit her lip to stop herself groaning, but wasn't completely sure that she was successful since McGonagall left a peculiarly significant pause before continuing. Hermione filled it by scraping the heel of her shoe over Cedrics instep. He grunted, but didn't stop, his thumbs moved to the base of her neck. "Which means these particular creatures are not as you would find them in the natural world." She handed out small silver containers no bigger than a thimble and with a snugly fitting hinged lid.
"Are we all here?" The Professor turned and did a swift headcount. She used a flick of her wand to slam shut the wooden door in the wall and passed her wand overhead. A billowing cloud settled over the garden, peaked in the centre like a bed canopy and sealed itself along the upper edges of the walled enclosure. The box lid jumped, giving everyone a fright. A nervous titter spread through the group.
"And since this is Transfiguration, the requirements are also as follows." She drew a tortoisehell coloured hair shot through with silver from her own tightly wound bun and looped it loosely around her finger. Under the students rapt attention, the hair elongated and wove itself into a net around the tip of the Professors wand. "Engorgio," uttered the Professor and the net trebled in size and cast itself free from her wand, moving in the air as she moved her wand.
"Cedric," she called. "Just one."
He moved to the bench and put his hand into the box, pulling out what looked like a scarlet pellet the size of his thumb and placed it in the palm of his hand. It jerked and rolled itself onto one rounded end and Hermione could see that it was segmented crosswise all but half the way down its length and tipped with black.
"Now!" said the Professor and Cedric tossed it into the air where the pellet flew straight up, turning end over end. As it reached the apogee of its flight, the cocoon split open and first one then four wings flicked open, the two upper wings of the moth a glossy blue-black and the smaller bottom pair a sulphurous yellow either side of a mottled body. The remains of the spent cocoon dropped away as the moth took flight, immediately on the wing, unlike their usual counterparts who would need to bask to dry their wings before they could fly.
"You will be required to fly the net in tandem," called the Professor, guiding the net with her wand after the rapidly moving beast. "There will be distractions, as in real life to make the task more interesting." From her tone, Hermione thought that meant more interesting for the Professor to observe her students making idiots of themselves, than for the benefit of the students alone.
The Professor made it look effortless as the net chased and then encircled its fluttering prey. As the mouth of the net closed, the moth squeaked its fury and the net descended gently to settle on the Professor outstretched hand. Grasping the little furry body of the insect with one hand through the net, the students jostled for the best viewing position as the Professor allowed the net casting to fall away and used a tiny paintbrush to sweep shimmering wing scales into a hovering thimble.
"There," she announced , when the thimble was half full. She tossed the shrilly protesting moth back into the air. "Ready class?" There was a general shifting of unease as the box lid jumped again.
"Cedric," prodded the Professor and he stepped forward, grasping the box with both hands he slipped off the lid and launched the contents into the air. Spent cocoons rained on upturned faces and the silvery grey of the net roof was dotted with flickering shapes.
He plucked a hair from Hermiones head on his return and before she could raise a hand to her head and expel the word 'ow' he had it looped around the end of his finger.
"Make the net," he demanded. She gritted her teeth and spun the hair like a miniature lobster basket.
"Good shape," he encouraged, "now.."
"I know!" she snapped out, concentrating on enlarging the wispy structure without breaking the flimsy filaments. He quirked a small smile and took to studying the prey flitting darkly overhead. One of the pairs of students had a net in the air already, but was having trouble controlling its trajectory amongst the madly fluttering moths.
"Make the bottom strong enough to carry a raindrop," he muttered randomly. With a question rising, she gritted her teeth at the sight of him lost in thought and wove an area the size of her thumbnail more thickly.
"Done," she pronounced, trying to keep her tone even.
"Put a drop of honey inside on that bit," he said thoughtfully, not taking his eyes from the shapes above. Clarity appeared in Hermiones expression and a passage from the book she had immersed herself in last night wrote itself across the back of her eyelids, '…Deathshead Hawkmoth raids honeybee colonies and sucks the honey direct from the comb.'
She settled the net on one hand and inserted the tip of her wand into it, pointing it at the little platform. "Melia," she whispered and allowed herself a small smile when a sticky yellow drop oozed into being and dripped onto the net.
"You will need her help for this," Professor McGonagalls clipped tone drew Hermiones attention. "It's quite a feat, even for a sixth year as talented as you are. Hermione couldn't tell if she was actually praising Cedric or being sarcastic, the tone was quite ambivalent.
"She'll be fine," said Cedric, still distracted with the dance overhead. He broke his study for a moment to lock eyes with the Professor. "That was a little underhand wasn't it?" he said quietly, jerking his chin towards the moths, "only taking one on in the demonstration?"
"Alls fair," retorted the Professor, tucking away a small smile. Above them the moths worked in pairs against the threat and against the students best endeavours, one acted as a lure whilst the other ripped the nets to shreds with tiny claws. Their classmates dismayed cries were as anxious as they were frequent, panic was rising amongst the group like a tidal wave.
Cedric moved so that he stood behind Hermione and offered his left hand palm uppermost and fingers splayed. "Hand," he prompted when she made no move. "You caught up with the reading right?" he queried, "about working in tandem? One party maintaining a conjure and the other controlling its movements." His chest bumped her shoulders as he cast his gaze heavenwards again. "C'mon, c'mon," he snapped his fingers irritably, "I'll maintain the net, it's harder at a distance. We're running out of time."
She tossed the net into the air, slapping her hand palm downward onto his and was startled at the ferocity with which his fingers gripped hers. "Draw from me," he urged as the net sank, despite her wands upward motion, "it's heavier than it looks with the airs resistance through the mesh." Again she tried and again it sank further.
"Fricking amateurs," he growled as more nets were destroyed above them and the moths became more bold. They dropped closer to the students to pick unfinished nets from the air.
"What's happening?" she asked, trying to understand his fragmented clues.
"The biological imperative and we are getting in the way," he muttered, tension thrumming through their connection. "There were queens and drones released. For fucks sake," he paused mid-rant, checking himself, "concentrate."
"Please?" he whispered right beside her ear, loosening his fingers and slipping them back and forth between hers. A spark leapt between their joined hands and she jumped at the snap of electricity. The net shot into the air.
"Again," he crooned and she closed her fingers around his hand and dragged magic forcefully from his body with her mind. He bumped incautiously against her and croaked, "good…maybe a little less if you could manage it…" Hermione reduced the pull to a trickle and then a drip as the net continued to climb.
"Which one? Pair," she corrected, trying to quell the giddy feeling rushing through her and climbing the net so that it drifted above the cloud of insects.
His voice was strained, when it came. "Left a bit, swing left, target the pair with a more silvery marking. Drift it in, then away, keep doing it until they smell the honey and follow."
Sure enough she lured the pair to the edge and then away from the crowd just as a mini earthquake appeared to target the kitchen garden. The pair of students furthest from them teetered and fell in a pile of limbs when the stone wall behind them wobbled and collapsed over the top over them.
"Whats…?" started Hermione
"McGonagall," grunted Cedric, "having a little fun. Don't look down." When she moved her chin a fraction, he clutched painfully at her hand, making her gasp. "Just don't!" He shifted his body closer so she could feel him all the way up her back. "Concentrate," he purred into her ear. "Only on what you can trust." She blinked rapidly, the fluttering insects becoming negatives on the insides of her eyelids, moving Rorschach images that appeared clearer with her eyes shut. She could feel the rise and fall of his breathing through her clothing and her dry tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth.
"Use your own fucking eyes," he grunted and Hermione startled.
She forced her eyes open, the light looked to be falling around them and she squinted where she thought the moths and the net were. She closed one eye, it was easier to see the net than the target, she just had to trust that the moths were still following. Another yard and they would be down to head height. A second pair of students collapsed in a heap, followed by a third when the earth rippled like an aired duvet, leaving them and another pairing still on their feet.
"Geez he's good," muttered Cedric.
"Who?" she whispered, dragging the net closer.
"Tomas. His partner is out of her head, he's doing it all. Don't bloody look," he snapped as she twitched her head in their direction. She drew in a harsh breath as the net became heavier.
"They're almost in," he encouraged softly, "the female is in, the male will follow her, whatever happens now, keep the net steady." His hand shook under hers.
"I can barely see it," she admitted, flinching as something small caught her a glancing blow on her cheekbone. He shuffled them a quarter turn away from the direction of the missile.
"That you're even still standing is pretty amazing," he praised. A prickle of unease rippled across her shoulders. As if he could feel her faltering, his feet shifted either side to enclose hers and he rested his left arm more heavily against her. "Only what you can trust," he murmured, "trust me," he insisted. A loud crack sounded and Cedric groaned, "Tomas," under his breath. His right hand came up to weigh heavy on her shoulder, then slipped diagonally across the front of her body, palm out. "I'm closing the net…..now!" Her wand drooped with sudden extra weight, then jerked up suddenly relieved of its burden as he caught at something with his right hand. "Got it!" he crowed. Hermione felt the surge in his emotions rip through their bond, like being drunk on success, just as she also felt the ground drop away under her.
Her knees buckled briefly and Cedric swore vehemently, staggering trying to support her weight without dropping the net. "It's not real! It's McGonagall fucking with your head," he said angrily.
"I know!" she snipped back, she shook her head trying to gather her scattered wits and clutching at the senses that registered him connected to two thirds of her body, suddenly realising why he had felt like a human blanket. He was trying to shield her senses from the effects of what was happening around them. She got her feet under her, still braced against him. He was everywhere, tensed and hot through layers of clothing. Anger burned into something else entirely.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her body taking note of the negative space and brushing more firmly against him with a rocking motion that made them both sway. His face tucked closer in behind her ear and the arm across her front tightened possessively.
"Nnnhhh," sounded against her skin so strongly that she could feel the vibrations. She shivered against him and sank her nails into the back of his left hand.
"Witch," he groaned as she scraped against his body again. "Drop the bond, it's not for…nnnhh."
She wasn't taking anything from him, but couldn't explain to herself why she didn't want to let go. Something warm was coursing up her arm on the inside and it felt delicious combined with him hunched against the back of her. Moths took up residence in her stomach. Unbidden, her wand hand rose and twisted behind his neck, dragging his face closer to hers.
"What are you?" he rasped, rubbing the hinge of his jaw against her neck whilst something slipped pleasantly against the grain of the short hairs at the back of his neck. His teeth nipped at her ear lobe and made her jerk away, trembling. This wasn't supposed to happen.
"You need to get the container…" she shook his left hand free of hers and they both winced at the snap of the magical recoil.
"Owshit," he winced, flapping his hand, before cramming it into a pocket and extracted the lidded thimble. She studied his face, was all of it an illusion? Eliciting that reaction from him had felt heady and kind of addictive. His eyes were narrowed and looking anywhere but her, his colour was too high, even for him and he wet his lips too often for it to be accidental. She stowed her wand and tucked her smarting hand under the opposite armpit.
"Hold the male," he directed huskily, "with the longer thinner body." He cleared his throat and allowed the net weaving to fail. As the female fluttered free piping shrilly, the male began to struggle, making clicking noises like a demented dog trainer. Cedric methodically swept scales into the canister, finally snapping the lid shut, he jerked his chin at her and she let go.
He reached for her left hand and closed her fist around the silver thimble, then enclosed her fist in both of his much larger hands.
"Look at me," he ground out. She met his gaze with a studied air of indifference that wavered when it met his pained expression.
"It's not over yet and I need to leave you…" He turned and left her with the question, "I have to help Tomas….think about what is real?" ringing in her ears.
Professor McGonagall sidled up beside her and held out her hand for the container. Hermione studied her carefully before walking straight through her image and taking a seat on a wooden bench next to a tabby cat improbably sunning itself under a single ray of sunlight. A scarlet pyramid of the spent cocoons was piled directly under where it lay. She placed the thimble under the felines disinterested nose.
"Very good," the Professors raspy voice pierced the air and the cat shimmered into a womans proportions. "I think we are almost ready for the last part!" Hermione watched Cedric stride over to Tomas and crouch beside him, he was down but not out it seems.
"He should have dropped the bond when she passed out," the Professor explained. "They are still connected and her mind is wide open." Terse words were exchanged and Cedric tugged at Tomas' hand joined with the unconscious girl.
"Not sure whether he is shielding her or raiding," the Professor stated matter of factly. "Trust is both a gift and a burden. I hope you have learnt at least that today." Hermione flushed hotly. Although they had been turned away, it can't have been too hard for the Professor to have understood what was happening. Hermione made a non-committal noise.
Tomas gripped Cedrics pant leg and shook his head. Whatever Cedric was suggesting, Tomas didn't want any part of. With no warning, Cedric clipped him with a right hook under the jaw that laid him out cold, then squatted to pull their unprotesting hands apart.
"Excellent choice," the Professor clapped her hands like a small child. "Now then," she began as Cedric approached within earshot. "Stun all of the moths, individually if you can. Consider it target practice." Cedric locked his jaw and jerked his gaze upwards. Hermione shivered at his cold expression, his barred teeth showed briefly, then he started picking them off. Magic arced like wildfire from his wand tip in infinitely small bursts.
"You too dear," McGonagall pushed her forwards. Hermione tried to work out how much energy it would take to knock an insect out of the air without actually killing it, whilst she watched Cedric methodically decimate the shifting cloud above them. Small furry bodies dropped steadily, whirling like sycamore seeds around her. She took a deep breath, squashed the pathetic part of her that wanted to run and never come back, buried the bit that wanted Cedric to see how good she was and took aim.
0.0
A/N An isobue is the sound Ama divers make hyperventilating after free diving, it is also called the sigh of the sea
Venice is built on pilings made of Alder wood
Anbar is the old word for Amber, it comes in just about every colour under the sun
There are World Contests for Scissor, paper, stone. The Spock and Lizard variants have been around since 2005 and are not allowed in the contest.
Hello to all you old hands and welcome new readers. There must be some serious fic diving going on. If you are getting this recommended to you, please let me know so that I can stop by and say are you nuts? thank you.