Stevie: Hey guys, just wanted to say that cheapxperfume was overwhelmed by the great response she got for the last chapter – she'd be telling you herself, but the thing is she's on vacation AGAIN. Not that I'm bitter or anything. Because I'm not. Ahem. But anyways, here's the next chapter…

Cedric stares hard at me. "Skylar, do you really think I'd just throw you away like that? Didn't you listen to anything I said back there by the lake?"

I just shrug. "After what Cho said, I didn't know if…"

He snorts. "Like I'd believe anything that comes out of her mouth anymore. I found out that she was cheating on me with Roger Davies a week ago."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He takes my chin in his hand and turns my face so that his grey eyes can have my full attention. "I think that after all this time, Skylar, you were always the one for me. I tried so many different girls, but none of them had what you have. I can't even explain what you've been for me; after all these years. Believe me, Skylar Clark. It was always going to be you."

He kisses me, and for the second time in my life, I feel like I'm falling and flying and diving and soaring and coming alive all over again, all at once. It's purity and passion and everything and nothing and I wonder why we waited so long if we've always been meant for each other.

Because I know we are now. Nothing has ever felt so right.

After awhile, we break away and suck in that pure, wonderful thing called oxygen. For the first time in seventeen years, I feel like I can breathe.

I don't know how long we lie there together. He holds me in his arms and occasionally buries his face in my hair or leans in for another kiss, muttering sweet things that we won't remember when tomorrow comes. I just bask in the feel of his arms around me; inhaling his scent. He smells like fresh cologne and something foresty.

And when we kiss, he tastes like… bloody hell. There's no word for it. Cedric Diggory.

x x x

I don't remember falling asleep, but I wake up the next morning to catcalls and whistles.

I look around sleepily, wondering what all the girls are cooing at, and what all the blokes are muttering, "About time," for, and then I realize.

My head just so happens to be resting on Cedric Diggory's chest.

He yawns and stretches; I sit up and rub my eyes. He lazily looks up and the crowd and gives them all an overdramatic wave: they laugh and disperse.

I'm on the edge of the couch, putting on my shoes, when he looks over at me and clears his throat.

I look over at him. "Yes?"

He kisses me out of nowhere. "I'm just so happy I can finally do that."

I smile. He smiles. I return to my shoe.

He starts to speak again. I don't need to look at him; I can hear the smile fading from his words. He's serious now.

"Skylar, I was just thinking… about what Flint and Cho were saying yesterday… was there any truth to that?"

I fumble with the laces, determined not to look at him. "Some."

That intensity of that grey stare makes me nervous. "How much?"

I've tied and untied my shoes five times now – I can't use that as an excuse anymore. I face him, playing nervously with the tassel of a pillow. "Look, Ced. I'm not blaming any of this on you. More on my own stupidity, and on Flint for taking advantage of me."

And I tell him everything. The night of the Yule Ball, where things first started to change. My downward spiral into addiction. The late nights of firewhisky and meaningless conversations. The Ashby Disaster. And the Flint Fiasco No. 2.

"I didn't want to… I don't know what I was thinking… we were drunk…" Two crystallized tears slide out of the corners of my eyes and down my face, leaving two wet tracks in their wake. I fix him with my watery green gaze and wait for a reaction.

He casts aside all my stupid mistakes and wrong decisions, and opens his arms. "Skylar, it's okay," he says as I bury my face in his sweet-smelling shirt. "Nothing will change the way I feel about you, I promise."

I look up at him, smiling through my tears. "Even if I was Romilda Vane using Polyjuice Potion?"

He blinks, then breaks out into that million-dollar smile I love so much. "Even if you were Romilda Vane using Polyjuice Potion… I guess."

We laugh, and I feel alive again.

x x x

That first day of together-ness is the definition of perfection. Although all the Ravenclaws avoid us like the plague, most of Hufflepuff is happy to see that Ced and I finally got together. Carla even gives me a thumbs-up at breakfast – one thing I never thought I'd see.

Classes are all review for our fast-approaching N.E.W.T.s, but now that Cedric's by my side, I know I can do it. I do so well in Transfiguration that I out-perform half the class. Our job is to turn a whistle into a watch as part of our review – I manage a miniature grandfather clock. McGonagall is grudgingly impressed. Cedric makes faces behind her back for seventy-five percent of the class as I hold in my laughter.

I feel like someone performed a Cheering Charm on me as class ends. But even as I walk hand-in-hand with Cedric and we near the dungeon stairwell, I feel the happiness start to ebb away.

Just like that, he feels it. Almost like there's a seamless emotional bond that runs through us; he can feel everything inside of me. So he feels the worry now.

"It's Flint, isn't it? You're afraid of seeing him again."

I don't respond; just look up and shrug. He knows the answer anyway.

He squeezes my hand. "I'm right here, Skylar. I'm willing to give him another black eye if he needs it."

"In the middle of Potions?" I say incredulously.

He grins, flashes a wink, and guides me to the steps. "Yes, in the middle of Potions. Now, forward march!"

It's not as bad as I expected. Then again, I don't know what I was expecting. We walk into the class and Flint's already sitting there, looking glum with a ring of dull purple around his left eye.

"I feel like I should sign the masterpiece; you know, leave my mark, being the artist and all," Cedric whispers as we sit down. I smirk, feeling the tiniest bit more confident.

So we did It. No big deal. He has no power over me because of it. None.

Snape spends the whole class lecturing us about the finals. Since Cedric's a champion, he doesn't have to take them. Therefore, he doesn't feel the need to pay attention. He chucks pieces of paper at me when Snape's not looking and whispers about the abnormal size of Flint's head. I have to fight giggles the whole time. I'm probably going to end up failing my Potions final…

Flint's at the table in front of us, sitting next to one of his cohorts, Lance. When Snape turns to write something on the board, Cedric seizes the moment and throws a broken quill at the back of Flint's head.

Flint yelps and turns around, but Cedric is studiously copying down notes from the board with not even a hint of a smile. I don't know how he does it. It's all I can do to press my lips together, keep my head down, and try not to laugh.

Snape heard Flint's howl. He spins around angrily, his greasy hair framing his sallow face as he marches over to the desk and stares hard at Flint.

"Do you want to tell me, Mister Flint, why you felt the need to disrupt the class?"

Oh yeah. Snape's definitely angry about having to cover Flint's arse in the aftermath of his fight with Cedric. I guess this could work in our favor.

"I – but – they – he –" Flint sputters.

"Not good enough, Flint. See me after class."

Flint groans and glares at Lance, who shrugs helplessly.

"Justice prevails," Cedric mutters, glancing up from his notes to look at me.

I hold in another laugh.