Disclaimer: I own nothing, I tell you, nothing! Except for, um, Bridget, and the others that you don't recognize, as well as the small amount of originality in the plot. What you do recognize comes from pages 289-301, Chapter 18, "Weighing of the Wands," from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. If you do not know who wrote that you should not be here.

Author's Notes: I am very, very late. It's not the latest I've been, but I am still very sorry. So, without further ado, I present…

Chapter 13: Didn't Ask For It

"Never explain—your friends do not need it and your enemies will not believe you anyway." –Elbert Hubbard

Bridget yawned, stretching tiredly, and rolled out of bed. It was still early, only about an hour past dawn, and she wasn't quite awake, but she already knew that there was no way she would fall back asleep. She slipped on her clothing, almost tripped over something either nonexistent or invisible, and grabbed her backpack before heading downstairs.

Ginny and Harry could find her in the Great Hall when they eventually got up. She was hungry and a little restless. There was no way she was going to wait in the Common Room for what could be hours.

It didn't take very long for her to remember what had happened the night before, although it took longer than it really should have. When Bridget stepped out of the portrait hole, her stomach dropped, the corridor spinning around her. Everything rushed back in a flood of sounds and pictures and, with a sigh, she turned right back around to wait in the Common Room.

"Is the champion not up, yet?" a familiar voice asked bitterly. "Have a long night, did he?"

Bridget took a deep breath and looked up slowly, dreading what was about to happen. If was entirely too early and she was entirely too exhausted to deal with a jealous, upset, hurt Ron Weasley.

"No, I don't think Harry's up yet, if that's what you're asking," she said, maintaining her calm as best as she could so early. "You're his roommate." She just stopped herself from adding dimwit, although it was rather apparent in her tone.

Ron scowled down at her. "You didn't seem very surprised last night."

"Of course I was surprised," she snapped, feeling the marginal amount of pity she had for him trickle away into nothing. "I just trust him. God damn it, Ron, if Harry says that he didn't put his name in, he didn't!"

He snorted and the sound grated against her more than it usually would.

"You should trust him, too!" she finally shouted, dropping her backpack and gesturing widely. "He's your best friend!"

"Well he should've trusted me enough to tell me when he put his name in."

Oh, for the love of—Bridget let out a huff of air, annoyed. "Are you even listening to be you close-minded, jealous idiot? He didn't. When has Harry ever wanted to be the center of attention?"

"He always is," Ron replied. The heat of his short temper was leaking into his voice a lot more than Bridget's was. "Maybe you'd be able to see that if you weren't snogging him."

Her mouth dropped open. She'd known that people thought that, but to have Ron of all…

"I am not snogging him," Bridget ground out. "Harry and I are just—"

"NO ONE BELIEVES THAT!" The words seemed unbearably loud in the empty common room. Her mouth snapped shut with shock. "Bonded couples are never just friends," he finished.

Somehow the silence was even louder than their shouting had been. Bridget felt frozen in place. No matter how much she wanted to turn away, she was stuck there by her stubborn refusal to let him win.

They were only about six inches away from each other; she had stepped closer during the argument. Both were breathing having and Ron's ears were bright red. If it had been a movie, this would normally be when they would start making out. Thankfully, they were neither in a movie nor attracted to each other. So, she just really wanted to hit him.

"Ronald!" as sharp voice called.

Ron and Bridget turned to see a slightly mussed Hermione standing at the bottom of the girls' staircase. She looked like she had gotten dressed in a rush and Bridget wondered if they had been louder than she had thought.

"Let's go to breakfast," she said. "Now."

There was a commanding tone to her voice that even Ron dared not cross. He muttered something, refusing to look Bridget in the face now that the moment was over, and left the room.

Hermione trudged up to her (well, as much of a trudge as the girl ever did—it was still pretty brisk). She looked tired. It seemed like she knew how much a Harry/Ron feud would take out of her and was dreading it.

"I'll wait for Harry," Bridget said. She was giving the other girl a safe out and they both knew it. "You go on with Ron; we'll be fine."

"He didn't mean it," Hermione said after a moment. She flinched when Bridget gave her a surprised, disbelieving look. "All right, maybe he did mean it, but he didn't mean to hurt you."

Bridget sighed. "Yes, I know. Inadequacy and jealous, and what-have-you. Just do me a favor." She smiled, sudden and bright. "Please bring us some toast. I don't think we should go to breakfast right now. It's a distinct possibility someone will get hurt."

"Harry would never…"

Her smiled turned sharp, "He might not, and, admit it, the guy has some anger issues, but I definitely would."

Harry woke up feeling miserable and he couldn't remember why. Then he got up, saw that Ron's bed was empty before eight on a non-Quidditch Saturday, and remembered.

Sometimes he really hated his life.

He got dressed and went down the staircase, hoping that it was still early enough that there wouldn't be too many people there. Surprisingly, considering his recent luck, there wasn't really anyone there. He would've thought it was empty if it hadn't been for the girl fast asleep on the couch.

As if she noticed his attention, she turned over, towards him, and rolled right off. Harry rushed over, reaching her only in time to help her up.

"Are you okay?"

"Harry?" Bridget blinked up at him, looking confused. "I was, um, waiting for you. Must've dozed off. Stupid couch." Without seeming to realize what she was doing, she leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder. "M' tired," she muttered before yawning widely and cuddling closer.

"You know," an amused voice said from the portrait hole, "this is why people think you're dating."

He groaned. Merlin, Hermione had terrible timing.

Bridget knew that she should fell embarrassed, or at least a little self-conscious about holding hands with Harry as they walked around the lake, but she honestly couldn't be bothered. There were more important things than school gossip or overactive hormones. And she was honestly just too worn out to be stubborn.

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry asked, interrupting whatever tired Hermione had been on.

Bridget stiffened before moving closer to Harry, refusing to answer. Hermione hesitated before she said, "Erm… yes… he was at breakfast."

"Does he still think I entered myself?" said Harry. His green eyes were hard and he had cut the sentence into short, sharp syllables.

"Well… no," Hermione started pulling at her curls nervously, "I don't think so… not really."

His voice dropped so low it was almost a growl, "What's that supposed to mean, 'not really'?"

"Isn't it obvious?" she said. She shot Bridget a desperate look, and she decided to oblige.

"Well, Harry," Bridget said, "he's jealous."

"Jealous?" he said, looking incredulously between the two girls. "Jealous of what? He wants to make a prat of himself in front of the whole school, does he?"

Bridget sighed. "You're not going to make a prat of yourself. I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Look," Hermione said to him, voice full of patient understanding, "it's always you who gets all the attention, you know it is."

"Not that you wanted it," Bridget interrupted, seeing Harry open his mouth furiously. "But you know it's true."

"We know you don't ask for it," Hermione said pleadingly, "but—well—you know, Ron's got all those brothers to compete against at home, and you're his best friend, and you're really famous—and he's always been shunted to one side whenever people see you, and he puts up with it, and he never mentions it, but I suppose this is just one time too many…."

"Great," said Harry bitterly. "Really great. Tell him from me I'll swap any time he wants. Tell him from me he's welcome to it…. People gawping at my forehead everywhere I go…"

This wasn't going well. Harry's voice was getting louder and she was a little afraid that he was going to start crying or shouting, which would really freak her out.

"I'm not telling him anything," Hermione said. She really wasn't helping the situation any. "Tell him yourself. It's the only way to sort this out."

Bridget took one look at Harry's face. That so wasn't going to happen. Well, st least he didn't look like he was going to burst into tears anymore.

"I'm not running around after him trying to make him grow up!" he shouted.

"Okay." Bridget stepped between him and Hermione. "I think that's enough. We're all very—"

Harry didn't seem to agree. "Maybe," he shouted at Hermione over Bridget's head, "he'll believe I'm not enjoying myself once I've got my neck broken or I—"

He broke off mid-sentence and there was a moment of barely disguised horror on his face before he looked away. Bridget felt nauseous at the thought and was staring up at him with her hands still in front of her, frozen where she had had them raised, trying to calm them down. Poor Hermione looked even more high strung than she had before.

"That's not funny," she said in a quiet voice. "That's not funny at all." She took a deep breath, stealing herself up for whatever she was about to tell him. "Harry, I've been thinking—you know what we've got to do, don't you? Straight away, the moment we get back to the castle?"

"Yeah, give Ron a good kick up the—"

"Write to Sirius."

Harry scowled. "Come off it. He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He'll probably come bursting right into the castle—"

"Harry," Bridget said in a small voice. The thought of him hurt because of the Tournament had made her blood run cold. "Listen to Hermione. I mean, he'll find out anyways, because of the Prophet, and well, it's you so it'd be best if you wrote to him. Tell him before he finds out himself."

He seemed to realize that if both she and Hermione agreed on this (a rare event during their short acquaintance) then it was probably best. And he definitely wasn't going to win any argument.

"Okay."

He threw the last of his toast to the giant squid and took Bridget's hand again. She stopped walking halfway to the castle, frowning. Draco had just emerged from the front door, determination in his stride, and was making his way straight towards them. It was time for some quick thinking.

"Um, Harry?" she said. "Tell Sirius I said 'hi' when you write."

"But, you don't know him."

"Yes, and you're point?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, having caught the archness in her tone and wisely choosing not to question it. "Wait, aren't you coming?"

"No." Her voice got softer as she realized that this might very well come to blows. "I need to talk to Draco."

"Malfoy?"

She looked desperately between Harry and Hermione. He looked absolutely furious, and Hermione didn't look very happy either. Bridget hoped she could get this all over with before Draco reached them.

"Oh, Harry, don't be like that. Draco's tutoring me and he's kind in his own strange, odd way."

"He's a Slytherin."

Oh for the love of God. "Yes, Harry. That means that he's clever enough not to kill me when you were the last to see us together. Now, please—"

"Bridget Ashlyne, if you have a moment?"

Crap. "Draco—"

"No, Malfoy, she does not have a moment."

"I don't believe I asked you, Potter."

Draco spat the name like it was a curse word, one that even he found distasteful, and Bridget saw both boys' hands wander to their pockets. She decided that this had gone far enough, thank you very much, and stepped between them.

"Okay, boys, let's stop this now." Hopefully they'd at least pause before hexing each other if she was between them. She chanced a look at their faces. Maybe. "Harry, go with Hermione to finish your letter. Draco and I have to talk." Harry opened his mouth and she fixed him with a stern glare. "Go. I'll see you for lunch."

Harry sighed and stormed off to the castle. Hermione gave Bridget a desperate look.

"She'll be fine, Granger," said Draco blandly. "I wouldn't want to incur your intelligent but unfortunately Gryffindor wrath."

"Ignore him." Bridget glared at him briefly and he smiled back. "I'll be fine, Hermione."

Hermione gave Draco a stern, pointed look. "I'm sure you will be."

With those parting words of encouragement, she caught up with Harry. Once she managed it, Bridget turned back to Draco. He looked rather amused.

"Okay, what is it?"

"I'm offended that she doesn't trust me."

"It would be an insult to her intelligence if she pretended that she did." She crossed her arms over her chest. "You said you needed to talk with me. But, before we continue I have one thing to ask you."

"Only one?" he drawled, raising a single eyebrow as he looked down at her imperiously. She rolled her eyes. "How novel."

"You, sweetheart, are starting to sound like Snape." He scowled at her. "Yes, only one thing. Do you believe Harry put his name in the Goblet?"

"Potter? Fuck, no."

"Language, Draco."

"Yes, darling." He gave her another crooked smile. "Of course I don't believe Potter entered himself. He may be an egomaniac, but he doesn't need to go looking for fame: the population's stupid enough to fawn over him all on their own. Besides, he's not nearly clever enough to pull a stunt like that without your or Granger's help. Granger wouldn't break school rules for something unworthy of sainthood and you would have told me."

It was Bridget's turn to look amused. She raised an eyebrow in question and she could feel her lips curving into a smile despite her best attempts to stop herself. "I would, would I?"

"Of course. You admire me too much to even think of doing anything else."

"Right… did I ever mention I took a picture of your Potter hairdo?"

Draco grinned proudly. "That's positively devious," he said. "I find the blackness of your soul captivating and wonder how you managed to get Sorted with those incompetent, self-righteous idiots. You have Slytherin written all over you."

Bridget finally smiled completely. After a few weeks of tutoring, Greg and Vincent had joined them, then Pansy and Daphne. Draco had relaxed considerably and declared several times that the Sorting Hat had been wrong about her and should be burned.

He threw an arm around her shoulders and made to pick her up. She dodged out of his reach.

"Stop that now, Draco."

He sighed dramatically. "You're right, my sweet, we can't be seen. Our love is beautiful, but misunderstood."

And he was the most melodramatic person she had ever met, boy or girl.

"You just like upsetting Harry."

"Perhaps." Draco grinned. "But I'm not going to be the only one now."

Draco had, unfortunately, been very, very right. Ron still wasn't talking to Harry, and Harry was, in turn, refusing to even look at Ron. The Hufflepuffs, who never got much glory in, well, ever, were angry that Harry had stolen the limelight from Cedric. The Ravenclaws seemed to think Harry had some complicated psychological-emotional problem that basically meant he needed attention because he was an orphan and/or the Boy-Who-Lived. And the Slytherins, well, they were enjoying how Harry was no longer the Golden Boy of Hogwarts.

Big surprise there.

The stressfulness of the week was only augmented by the fact that Bridget spent most of her time trying desperately to remember why Harry had been entered and who had done it (oddly enough, she'd only been able to think of Dr. Who, which made no sense unless the culprit was a Time Lord). It had one, very unfortunate, side effect: the Bond had been activated in full force. She had spent most of the week tagging along to Harry's classes, and the only rest she'd gotten had been from night spent in the Common Room or in the boys' dormitory, with Harry.

It was really starting to annoy her. And, as if that wasn't enough trouble, she had spent the past 20 minutes dodging stray desks in Flitwick's classroom. Harry collapsed in the seat next to her, burying his head in his arms.

"I'm terrible," he said.

"No you're not," Bridget murmured reassuringly, despite how he really was quite bad. "You just… aren't very good."

Harry groaned. Maybe she should have been more tactful about it. "I mean, well—I have an idea."

She stood up and grabbed both backpacks before heading towards their professor, pulling Harry behind her. They reached him after a few minutes of dodging heavy objects. Flitwick, gave Harry a wary look: he'd almost been hit by one of Harry's mistake.

"May I help you, Miss Griffins?"

"Yes, Professor. Do you think you could give Harry leave to come to my lesson? Remus could help him work through whatever's bothering him with the Summoning Charm and, as much of a help as sitting in on your class has been, I'm not quite up to this level."

Flitwick looked between her and Harry and sighed. "Very well, Potter, you may go."

At least they'd have a break before Potions.

Double Potions, Bridget had learned, was barely short of torture. Last week Harry and Hermione had sat next to each other, with Hermione muttering some sort of calming mantra the entire time. It probably hadn't helped that Snape had had Bridget sit with Draco the entire period.

But when the three of them made their way down to the dungeons after lunch, Bridget got the feeling that this one was going to be a lot worse than the last time. Each and every Slytherin waiting for class to begin were wearing badges that, in bright, glowing letters, said:

Support CEDRIC DIGGORY—

The REAL Hogwarts Champion!

"Oh my God," she groaned, eyes wide.

"Like them, Potter?" Draco said loudly. "And this isn't all they do—look!"

He pushed the button and the words disappeared. They were replaced by glowing green letters that, imaginatively, read:

POTTER STINKS

Bridget felt her heart sink. She had thought that Draco had a brain, but it apparently disappeared when Harry was involved. No wonder half the fandom thought the had a thing for each other.

"Oh very funny," said Hermione, voice thick with sarcasm, "really witty."

Draco held out a badge to her, grinning viciously. "Want one, Granger? I've got loads. But don't touch my hand, now. I've just washed it, you see; don't want a Mudblood sliming it up."

"Draco!" Bridget stepped forward to tell him off, but was pulled back at the last minute. She turned, intent on giving Hermione a piece of her mind, only to see that it was Ron holding her back.

"You don't want to get between Harry and Malfoy," was all he said by way of explanation. He nodded towards the pair.

"Go on, then, Potter," Draco said, drawing his wand. "Moody's not here to look after you now—do it, if you've got the guts—"

Then, at the same time,

"Furnuculus!"

"Densaugeo!"

The jets of light shot out of their wands and bounced off each other mid-air. Harry's hit Greg in the face and he begun sprouting painful looking boils. Draco's, however, hit Hermione. She fell to the floor, covering her mouth and whimpering.

"Hermione!"

Ron rushed to her and Bridget found herself in front of Draco before she realized what was going on. Without saying a word she pulled her arm back and slapped him, shaking with fury.

Then she, in a level, calm voice the proved just how angry she was, said, "I'll see you only for lessons. I want nothing else to do with you."

"And what is all this noise about?"

Bridget spun around. Snape was behind her. He pointed a long finger at Draco and said, "Explain."

"Potter attacked me, sir—"

"We attacked each other at the same time!" shouted Harry.

"—and he hit Goyle—look—"

Snape took one, long look at Goyle, and said, "Hospital wing, Goyle."

"Malfoy got Hermione!" Ron said. "Look!"

Ron pried her hands away from her face and Bridget could see that the teeth had grown down to her collar. Snape, however, wasn't moved.

"I see no difference."

Hermione whimpered, eyes filing with tears of embarrassment. She spun around and fled, leaving her bookbag behind for, perhaps, the first time in her life. Bridget bent down and had just swung it onto her back with the corridor burst into noise. Simultaneously, Ron and Harry had started shouting at Snape, both red with anger.

"Let's see," Snape said with an inhumanly pleased glint in his eyes once the noise had stopped. There was no way he had understood what either boy had said, but it was also impossible to think it was complimentary. "Fifty points from Gryffindor and a detention each for Potter and Weasley. Now get inside, or it'll be a week's worth of detention."

Harry pushed pass Snape with Ron and Bridget following him. He slammed his bag on the desk. Ron paused and it briefly looked like all was normal between the two boys. Then Ron continued to a seat with Dean and Seamus. Bridget sat next to Harry, in Hermione's usual seat.

"Miss Griffins," Snape said, "Why are you in the wrong seat?"

Bridget gave him a level look. She wasn't sure if her anger was entirely her own, but it didn't matter.

"If I have to sit next to Draco for a double period I may give into my desire to slam my cauldron on his obnoxious yellow head and I don't want to harm a fellow student." She paused. "Also, I can't."

Actually, Bridget was positive she could last the class on the opposite end of the room, but Snape didn't know that and she wasn't about to tell him. Besides, she really was likely to hit Draco.

Snape scowled. He couldn't knowingly cause a Bond disruption without reprimand and he knew it. "Five points from Gryffindor for threatening another student." He looked away. "Antidotes!" he said, now sounding very pleased in his special greasy way. "You should all have prepared your recipes now. I want you to brew them carefully, and then, we will be selecting someone on whom to test one…"

He smirked, letting his eyes rest on Harry.

Author's Notes: Well, there it is. I'm sorry it took so long for me to update. Hopefully, the next one won't be nearly as long of a wait; I am halfway down with it anyhow.

Thanks to Love is the key to the world, and shoveitupYOURass for putting this on story alert; shoveitupYOURass for putting it on favorites; and, finally, thanks to shoveitupYOURass for reviewing.

Next chapter: The Weighing of the Wands and we visit poor Hermione in the Hospital Wing. Skeeter's article is released and we see how Bridget changes her perspective.