A/N: Wow! It's been a while. I apologise. Three months worth of apologies actually. It's been far too long and I'm very sorry. I couldn't decide on what this chapter should be about, then once I did decide I couldn't get the motivation to write it, and then when I did I wrote myself into a corner where I just couldn't seem to progress from so I deleted a pretty big section of it and finished it off this evening. I'm really chuffed with all the reviews that I've had for this story, keep them coming if you're still interested after the absence. I will desperately try not to leave it this long again, but writer's block is an awful awful thing. Exciting bit coming up in the next chapter, I may get onto it now, although I feel a Tom Riddle urge presenting itself. Sorry for the babble, hope you enjoy this and I hope you let me know what you think. =]
Eclairs.
by Flaignhan.
Soon enough, though probably not as soon as she might have liked, Hermione's hands were blister free and healthy once more. The advantages of this were the fact that she could now eat with dignity, rather than struggling with a knife and fork before giving up and going down to the kitchens to suffer on her own, she was able to write once more, and turning pages in books was easier than blinking. She could also use her wand again, something which she very much appreciated.
There were also disadvantages. Firstly, when she decided to suffer in the kitchens on her own at dinner time, Cedric always arrived a few minutes after, on hand to cut up her meals for her. Now, however, she was able to eat at the Gryffindor table with Harry and Ron, occasionally offer her opinion with regards to the odd goings on and more often than not, reiterate that Snape was trusted by Dumbledore and Dumbledore was not an idiot. Although this wasn't necessarily a bad thing, she did find herself sighing every now and then, her eyes wandering over to the Hufflepuff table, just to catch a glimpse of him.
What it came down to, really, was that Cedric had spoiled her when she had been out of action, and she had grown used to it. He would write her essays for her while she dictated, read to her, using funny and sometimes downright disturbing voices for the characters in the books, as well as making sure she always had an escort between classes, so the Slytherins were not taking advantage of her inability to use her wand.
Sometimes, she had found herself feeling mildly grateful for the pus-drenched letter she had received. When she caught herself thinking like that, she would always tell herself that she was being ridiculous, and that no amount of fussing from anyone, let alone Cedric, would ever make her grateful for what was essentially a dangerous and personal attack based on fabricated stories that a wretched, vicious, insecure, little pathetic woman had penned during the long and lonely hours of her sad and bitter life.
Needless to say, she had enjoyed the fuss, though she'd never admit it aloud, and definitely not to Cedric himself.
She was eating toast one morning, her eyes wandering over to the Hufflepuff table as they were wont to do. Cedric flashed her a smile, then shoved the boy next to him, who was waving at Hermione while feigning a pathetic smile. Whether this was to annoy Cedric or her, Hermione didn't know, but what she did know was that Cedric had knocked half a bowl of cornflakes into his lap and he wasn't laughing as much now.
"Potter, you're to meet with the other champions and Mr Bagman on the Quidditch pitch this evening," Professor McGonagall had stopped at their section of the Gryffindor table on her way out of the Great Hall.
"Are we finding out the next task, Professor?" Harry asked after he had swallowed a mouthful of egg.
"Yes, Potter, you will find out," she had a small smile on her face. "And somehow, I think you may just about cope with this one."
"What, like he just about coped with the other tasks?" Ron snorted.
"I think it's more up Potter's alley than the others were. No hostages to keep you waiting, Potter, remember that, won't you? I'll see you in lessons this afternoon."
Ron gaped as McGonagall strode away, her dark green robes swishing around her ankles. "Did she just make a joke?" he asked, his jaw still hanging low.
"Yes, Ron, it's not illegal, you know," Hermione answered, turning towards Harry. "What d'you think it is?"
"I don't know," Harry said with a shrug. "Could be anything, couldn't it? Maybe we've got to capture a chimaera or something."
Ice plunged through Hermione's body. "No no, don't say that," she said quickly. "Why are you meeting on the Quidditch pitch? Why not in here? Why not in that little room you all went to after you were chosen."
"Weather's nice now," Ron commented. "Maybe Bagman thought it'd be nice to get a bit of fresh air rather than staying in the castle."
"I doubt it," Hermione replied.
Harry shrugged and turned back to his breakfast.
"Whatever it is, you're to tell us as soon as you get back and we can start helping you prepare for it. Perhaps this is a task that needs planning carefully. I mean, you've had thinking under pressure, you've had a puzzle, and you've had dealing with magical creatures, what with the grindylows and merpeople. Perhaps they're telling you early because you need to plan it carefully. Perhaps this is a strategic task."
"Yeah, well we'll find out, won't we?" Harry said offhandedly, picking up his goblet so he could take a sip of pumpkin juice. "Come on," he said to Ron, "we'll be late for Divination if we don't go now. See you at lunch."
"Yes, all right," Hermione sighed, reaching forward for the marmalade.
A piece of parchment fluttered down onto the table in front of her as she spread the marmalade on her toast. Frowning, she picked it up and unfolded it.
Kitchens at 10pm?
Hermione looked over to the Hufflepuff table, recognising the handwriting immediately, for it was the same handwriting that several of her essays had been written in for the last few weeks. Cedric, eyebrows raised questioningly, was looking over at her, waiting for an answer.
Hermione nodded and he turned away.
"Harry's not back yet," she said as she sat down on the steps next to him. She took an éclair from the plate that was immediately offered to her without even thinking and took a small bite from it, chewing thoughtfully.
"Really?" Cedric frowned. "We finished about an hour ago. He should be back by now."
Hermione tried to ignore the feeling of dread that swooped through her body. She knew she would feel very silly if she started worrying that Harry had been kidnapped, murdered or tortured, only to find that he'd merely gone to the library before returning the the common room. Even so, he hadn't returned to the common room by the time she had left, and if they had finished an hour ago...
"Probably just gone for a walk. Isn't he seeing one of the Patil twins?" Cedric asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from anything that might involve Harry being in trouble, realising that Hermione's lip was going to end up rather messy if she continued to chew on it in such a worried manner.
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "If by 'seeing' you mean he convinced Parvati to go to the Yule Ball with him then barely said a word to her all night, which, by the way, was months ago, then yes, yes he is seeing her. If, however, you mean 'is he going out with Parvati' then no, no he's not."
"Blimey, I only asked."
Hermione sighed and stared glumly at her éclair.
"Don't worry about him. Just because somebody tries to kill him every single bloody year it doesn't mean it's going to be tonight. Probably next week or something," he shot her a winning smile but it dropped when she didn't express any sign of remote amusement.
"Can I gets you anything else, Sir and Miss?" Dobby had trotted over. "More éclairs? We has tea if you is thirsty?"
"No, thanks, Dobby," Hermione replied absently. "I don't suppose you know where Harry is, do you?"
Dobby looked around carefully, as though checking for eavesdroppers. "I took Professor Dumbledore's evening tea up to him, eight o'clock, he always has tea and biscuits. Minister Fudge was there," he looked around again and lowered his voice to a whisper so Hermione and Cedric had to lean forward to hear, "they was saying something about an attack on Mister Krum, but house elves do not listen in on private conversations, you must understand!"
"Somebody attacked Viktor?" Hermione gasped.
"Stunned," Dobby replied quietly, "but that's not the worst of it."
Hermione looked towards Cedric, who had his mouth hanging open slightly, anxiously waiting to hear the rest of what Dobby had to say.
"What's the worst of it?" he asked.
"Winky's old master," Dobby said, in a whisper so quiet that Hermione could barely hear him. "According to Master Harry, he was on the grounds, and he was mad, but you mustn't tells Winky! She will be drinking even more Butterbeers than ever if she finds out!"
"Mad in what way?" Hermione asked.
"He was shouting, and Master Harry had said that he looked like he'd escaped from a prison. Then he started talking to a tree, pretending it was a person. But you mustn't tells Winky! You mustn't!"
"Okay, Dobby, okay!" Hermione hissed quietly. "We won't say a word! But what happened? Is Harry all right?"
"Master Harry ran to get Professor Dumbledore. Left Mister Krum with Mister Crouch. When he got back with Professor Dumbledore, Mister Krum was stunned and Mister Crouch had gone," Dobby retreated slightly, signalling the end of his story. His eyes were wide as he watched Hermione, who was chewing at her lip nervously.
"Are they searching for him?" Hermione asked.
Dobby nodded.
"He wasn't at the second task," Cedric said quietly. "If he was being held captive..."
"Then that's probably why he couldn't make it. But to get all the way here from London...I don't imagine he was in any fit state to apparate and you can't -"
"Apparate inside the grounds, I know," Cedric finished her sentence for her.
Hermione looked mildly surprised.
"I've read Hogwarts: A History, you know. You're not the only one who has."
"It feels like I am sometimes," Hermione replied, with a slight hint of bitterness at her fellow students' lack of interest in their school.
Cedric rolled his eyes. "Where's Harry now?" he asked. "Is he still with Dumbledore?"
Dobby shrugged. "Master Harry was there at half past nine."
"Could you check if he's still there?" Hermione asked.
"I can check when I takes Professor Dumbledore his hot water bottle. But not before, Miss."
"Well how long will that be?" Cedric asked, looking towards the big clock on the wall. "When does he normally have it?"
"Half past eleven. I prepares it at twenty minutes past, and then take it up to him at half past."
"Well that's no good," Hermione sighed. "I'm going to go back to the common room to see if he's there."
She got up, and Cedric stood also. "You're not walking back on your own. Not if Krum's been attacked, and definitely not if there's a madman roaming the grounds."
"I'm perfectly capable of handling myself," Hermione retorted, feeling a strong urge to prove that she was not a weak ad feeble little girl. "I'm not -"
"If there are dark wizards on the prowl then I will not sleep safely in my bed unless I know you are safely tucked away in Gryffindor tower, is that understood?"
Hermione couldn't argue with him, didn't want to argue with him. Not that she'd ever admit it, but her stomach had turned over in an almost pleasant sort of way when he'd said he wouldn't be able to sleep unless he knew she was safe. Rolling her eyes as Cedric grabbed the last two éclairs on the plate and handed one to her, the pair of them left the kitchen hurriedly.
"What's the third task?" Hermione asked as they walked. "You never said."
"It's a maze," Cedric said, wiping a splodge of cream from his lip and licking it off of his finger. "Obstacles, etcetera, cup's in the centre. Should be a diddle," his mind clearly wasn't on the task as they climbed the stairs, Cedric taking two at a time in long strides as Hermione jogged along behind him.
"Don't get complacent," she warned. "This tournament is dangerous. They should never have brought it back and they most definitely should never have let Harry compete."
"Left or right here?" Cedric asked, completely ignoring what she had just said.
"Right," Hermione replied with a frown. "It's just up here."
After a few moments, they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, who raised an eyebrow at Cedric's presence. "What are you two doing out so late? And why are you so out of breath?"
Hermione ignored her and said the password, causing the Fat Lady to purse her lips disapprovingly before swinging open.
"I'll be back in a second," she told Cedric, who nodded and leant against the wall. She disappeared through the portrait hole and the Fat Lady swung shut behind her.
"So," said Cedric, charming smile in place, his eyes twinkling cheerfully as addressed the Fat Lady, "what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"
The Fat Lady giggled.
Harry was sitting with Ron over on one of the window sills, deep in conversation, only noticing Hermione when she was standing right next to them.
"Come outside," she said quietly. "Cedric's waiting, Dobby told us about Viktor and Crouch."
"What's Diggory got to do with this?" Ron demanded with a scowl.
"He's a friend," Harry said sternly. "Besides, if Krum was attacked, who's to say the other champions aren't in danger?"
Hermione whimpered. "Don't say that, Harry, for Merlin's sake, don't say that."
Harry looked at her but didn't reply. He and Ron both stood and the three of them made their way back out of the portrait hole, where Cedric was waiting patiently, listening to the Fat Lady babble on about Violet's affair with Lancelot back in the eighteenth century.
"We need somewhere more private to talk," Harry said quietly.
Cedric nodded in agreement.
"The Shack?" Ron suggested.
Cedric frowned. "The Shrieking Shack?"
"Don't worry," Harry told him, "long story. We're not going outside of the castle either, it's too dangerous."
"Kitchens?" Cedric said. "That's where we were just now, I don't think the house elves will care too much if we talk in there."
"Oh you were just there were you?" Ron asked airily. "How nice for you."
Cedric frowned slightly before he looked at Harry, awaiting a response.
"Kitchens sound good to me," Harry said, and he turned and set off at a quick pace, Ron walking briskly beside him.
"Come again soon, won't you dear?" the Fat Lady cooed at Cedric.
He smiled a slightly awkward, but nevertheless winning smile at the portrait before turning back to Hermione who had an eyebrow raised.
"Some of us are just irresistible to all mediums," he said with a shrug.
"So do you think Crouch attacked Krum?"
Harry shook his head. "Even if he tried to, Krum was more than a match for him. I doubt Crouch could even remember the incantation for a stunning spell, let alone get Krum's wand off him and use it against him."
"It must have been someone who didn't want Crouch reaching Dumbledore. What did Crouch say exactly?" Hermione asked.
Harry sighed, having repeated himself several times over the past hour as his cup of tea grew steadily colder. "He was incoherent. Talking about a terrible mistake, then he just snapped completely and started talking to a tree about his wife and his son, but they've both been dead for a long time now...a long time. And he acted as though Percy was there, well, 'Weatherby'." Harry didn't say this with any hint of amusement. Suddenly Percy's new name wasn't funny at all anymore. Suddenly Crouch's constant mistakes were glaring signs of stress, memory loss, perhaps even a sign of the Imperius curse.
Dobby apparated into the kitchens with a loud crack, causing Hermione to knock her pumpkin juice over with a clatter. Cedric cleared up the mess with a wave of his wand.
"Professor Dumbledore requests that you continue your conversations tomorrow," Dobby said squeakily. "He is going to his bed now and thinks it best that you do the same, sirs and miss."
Harry sighed. "Okay Dobby. We'll go. See you around."
Dobby's chest puffed with pride at being addressed directly by Harry. "Professor Dumbledore also requests that you sees that Master Diggory gets back to his common room safely, because safety has numbers."
Both Ron and Cedric protested at this.
"Oh come on," Ron said, "if the pretty boy can't look after himself he shouldn't be in the tournament anyway."
"Ron!" Hermione shrieked. "If a fully qualified wizard such as Mr Crouch can be attacked then so can Cedric! Viktor was attacked only a few hours ago. It could be someone inside the castle for all we know."
"They've probably legged it," Cedric said. "If they've got Crouch they're not going to hang around while Dumbledore's going to be scouring the grounds for him. I'll be fine. You three head straight back to the common room. Don't stop, don't take any detours and don't get into any trouble."
"Who are you to give us orders?" Ron snapped.
"Dumbledore wants us to make sure Cedric gets back all right, so we will," Harry said, his voice calm and level. Both Cedric and Ron turned to look at him. "If there are dark wizards anywhere near this castle then we need to stick together. The tournament doesn't matter." This last sentence was directed mostly at Ron. He then turned to Cedric. "And I don't care how old you are, how many hexes you know, whatever, we're walking you back."
"Well said Harry."
"All right, fine. But it's only two minutes away from here, there's not much -"
"If it's only two minutes then it'll barely delay us to walk you back," Hermione said bossily, standing up and making her way over towards the door. "Goodnight Dobby!"
"Goodnight, sirs and miss!