A/N: I won't waste time apologizing for taking over three months to update. I will, however, say that there is good reason... or rather reasons. First and foremost, my grandfather passed away on the twentieth of March, which put me into quite a depression. Then school started a week later. Throughout April and May, I was juggling that and work and day-to-day things, which left no time to really work on my writing. On the fourth of June, I graduated Ohio University Eastern Campus with my Associate's in Arts degree for Arts and Humanities and now I'm off for the summer, at least from school. I'm back to working full-time, though, so don't demand too much yet. Nonetheless, I should have more time to complete this story.

Now, I need to thank everyone who reviewed the last chapter (while I pray that they're sticking with this fic until the end, lol): Tecumseh Dean, Shirbells Whitlock Swan, Elliesmeow, pottersgirl91, Rin1507, lucyferr, Dramione-Fan 17, Lizzy Evans, TeamEdwardAndTeamHayley, Mary-La, Rachelli, dragon junkie, Ceralyn, CheshireCat23, and thecoolestloseryouknow.. Y'all are just too wonderful for having put up with the fic thus far. I just hope you'll continue to deal with my unpredictable behaviors and give the rest of the story a chance...

Chapter 26 – Taboo

"Take good care of her, won't you, Cedric?" Mrs. Granger fretted as she glanced over her shoulder at her daughter, who was hugging Mr. Granger and the rest of the family goodbye.

"Of course, Mrs. Granger," Diggory vowed as Hermione's mother smiled feebly at him and touched his cheek affectionately with her palm.

"It was a pleasure having you here, dear," she whispered. "I hope to see you return for another visit fairly soon... and hopefully under better circumstances." Mrs. Granger's warm, but half-hearted smile turned into a concentrated frown that all mothers wore when they were worried about their children. She sighed as she heard Hermione approach from behind, wishing her daughter did not have to go. However, she kept telling herself that her only child was in good, trustworthy hands.

"I'm ready," Hermione beamed, positively bubbling with true excitement for the first time in days.

When Cedric had told her that she would be visiting his home for the remainder of the holidays, she had been ecstatic and overjoyed. The first thing she gushed about as she thanked him had been the fact that she would probably get to see Harry and Ron and the rest of the Weasley family because she knew they did not live far away from the Diggory residence.

"Be careful, please," Hermione's mother muttered as she cupped her daughter's face in her hands and gave her a serious and pleading stare.

"I'll be fine, Mother," Hermione sighed for the umpteenth time since that afternoon. "What's the worst that could happen?" Mrs. Granger blanched, and Hermione immediately regretted that comment, so she added, "I'm going to one of the safest places that I can right now. No worries, okay?"

"She's your mother... she'll always worry," Mr. Granger said, stepping up to his wife and placing an arm around her shoulder as she grimaced away some tears. "You had better get going," he mentioned a moment later as he saw guilt flash in Hermione's eyes. "It's getting rather dark, and you don't want to keep Cedric's parents waiting."

Nodding with both agreement and appreciation of her father's portal to opportunity, she grabbed her suitcase from the floor by the front door and looked to Cedric.

"Be sure to let us know that you arrived all right," Mrs. Granger instructed as she pulled her husband to the door when Cedric stepped forward to open it.

"I'll have to write to do that," Hermione reminded. "The Diggorys do not have a home telephone."

"No telephone?" Noah gasped in disbelief.

"Why?" Daniel chimed in, his tone wild with shock as he and his friend exchanged looks of horror.

"My family thinks they're... impractical," Cedric supplied, trying to find the most Muggle-friendly way to explain his family's lack of the communication device that most humans saw as a household necessity. "They feel that they are too impersonal. My family much more prefers visiting rather than using a... one of those," he finished, forgetting for a moment what the name of the mechanism was.

"Weird," Noah mumbled as he shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest, giving Cedric a suspicious eye.

"Well," Hermione piped up merrily as she looked around at everyone one final time. "Shall we?" she suggested as her eyes landed on Cedric and her stomach did an anxious little squirm.

"Indeed," Diggory smiled as he gestured for her to lead the way out onto the snow-dusted front porch. "Thank you again for your hospitality. It was very nice meeting you all."

"You, too, dear," Hermione's aunt giggled as she winked at her niece. "He's a keeper," she whispered a second later as Mr. Granger shook Cedric's hand.

Hermione flushed slightly, but the bitter cold winter wind that was blowing around her in the twilight was enough to cover up for that. She waved goodbye once more to her family and started down the walk towards the waiting Ministry car with Cedric right beside her. He opened the rear passenger door and waited for her to slide in first before following her in. When the door was shut, the driver glanced into the rearview mirror, his eyes only gracing them for a moment before he gave one last check to the house. Once he saw the hare huddled under the barren front shrubbery near the porch, he made a large U-turn and headed straight into town.

"So, what did your aunt mean? I thought she didn't know anything about the wizarding world?" Cedric quizzed in hushed tones, trying to keep the conversation between himself and Hermione.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione asked distractedly as she watched her house shrinking in the back window.

"She said that I was a Keeper. I never played Keeper; I was the Seeker for Hufflepuff. What made you tell her?" Diggory explained.

"What?" Hermione said, feeling slightly confused. She thought for a moment about what he had said, then it dawned on her. "Oh!" Hermione giggled softly and shook her head as amusement glittered in her eyes. "She wasn't talking about a Quidditch Keeper. She was talking about a different kind of keeper."

"Well, what other kind is there?"

"Surely you've heard the expression that someone you're dating is a keeper, haven't you?"

"Your family thinks we're dating?" he asked, completely ignoring the real point behind her quizzical comment.

"No, no," Hermione denied quickly. "My aunt always does that with my boy friends... I mean, that is, my male companions... In fact, she always used to tease me when I got letters from Harry over the summer holidays. She even pestered me about Ron one summer when he and his father came to pick me up to stay with their family at the Burrow, so you don't have to worry."

"I wasn't worried," he assured her in a soft, slow murmur that should have relaxed her nervousness and anxiety about the situation, but it made her skin tingle instead.

If he could bring about such a reaction from her with just words, she wondered what more he could do with a touch...

She shook her head minutely, trying to rattle the thought out of her brain as she looked away from where his hands rested on his lap. She was not supposed to be thinking like that. She was letting the idea of going to stay with him and his family get to her too much, in too odd of a way. Her visit was merely meant to make things easier and safer.

Tomorrow she would wake without disturbance from her atrocious admirer and her family would be pulling out of their driveway, destined for her grandparents' home. And that was what she was supposed to be excited about. As well as getting to see Harry, Ron, and the rest of the Weasley clan, too, of course.

She had not seen them in months, and she was sure that they would all be there. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Fleur, George and Angelina, Percy and Audrey, Harry and Ginny, and Ron and Charlie. Hermione could hardly wait to step foot into the packed living room and sing wizarding Christmas carols or help Mrs. Weasley in the always cramped and busy kitchen. She was relishing the idea of their traditional snowball fights; sneaking looks at presents at midnight; and breaking open Whacky Wizard Crackers that held Chocolate Frogs, Ice Mice, and real little sugarplum fairies.

"Hermione?" Cedric whispered, leaning closer to her as he waved a hand in front of her face, trying to draw her out of her reverie.

"Hmm?"

"What were you thinking about? You looked absolutely delirious with glee."

"Just thinking about all the fun I'm—I mean, we're going to have," she replied, feeling even more joyous at the thought that Cedric would be beside her through all of the events she had just imagined.

"I'm glad that you're excited for this," Diggory stated with a brilliance dancing from his smile to his eyes. "I thought, at first, that you might be mad at me for having gone behind your back to the Minister."

"I cannot say that I think it was right for you to do that without my consent, but it was a fitting solution to the problems that have been arising," Hermione conceded as the driver turned into a small alleyway and stopped the vehicle.

He stood in the woods behind the Granger home, glaring out from the dense trees at a small gray rabbit hopping around and around the house.

Roden had watched Hermione get into a Ministry car with her annoyingly noble companion, Cedric Diggory. He fumed at the very memory of the car idling at the curb in front of her home. He had no idea where she was heading, which meant that the gift he had in the works for her was going to be useless. How was he supposed to find her now? Where had they even been going? It was obvious that the pair would not be returning to this residence because they were packed too heavily. Would they be returning to school already, or were they destined for another location?

He turned and pulled out his wand, clutching it tighter than necessary as he prepared at Disapparate. With a noisy crack, he was gone, whizzing through time and space back to his uncle's home. When he finally came out of the darkness of Apparation, he stood at the gates of the large mansion he now lived in. He trudged towards the front door, and as he drew closer, he could make out the faint screams of his house elf. Throwing open the front door, Roden instantly saw why the pitiful creature was bellowing in terror.

He was surrounded by a group of sinister looking corpses, each having been summoned by Roden himself. Four of the ten grotesque beings had once called the very house in which they stood home. Another was a young teenaged girl with skinny limbs and stringy, blood-crusted hair. The sixth and seventh were meddlesome people; one had once been an Auror and the other had been a concerned London Muggle. The last three were much more decayed and reeked more heavily with the stench of a gruesome grave, and they, too, had once worked for the Ministry.

"Leave! Back to your confines!" commanded Avery as he pointed his wand down the corridor.

The Inferi hissed in protest, but they dare not disobey their master. Turning slowly, they walked as the living dead back down the hall to the basement, where they would remain until Roden called upon them for further use.

The house elf cowered for a moment, tears spilling from his large eyes as he wiped at the blood that covered his limbs and face. His tattered, dirty towel, which had served as his clothing, was torn to shreds and hanging from his body like ripped curtains in a haunted house.

Avery waved his wand when the last of the Inferi disappeared through the basement door. It locked as he turned on his elf and glared down with displeasure.

"How foolish are you, you brainless beast?" he growled. "How could you let them loose? What were you thinking?"

The house elf started to stammer out an answer, but Roden snarled and flung his hand at the small creature. The smack connected and the tiny magical being flew backwards, hitting the wall with a sound that resembled a bag of bones being dropped on a wooden table.

"I am sorry, sir!" the house elf screamed as his sobs returned to full force. "I did not means to!"

"Leave! Punish yourself!" Roden demanded as he kicked the elf for good measure. When his whimpering died behind the closed door of the kitchen, Avery turned into the living room and dropped down into a lounge chair. He slammed his fist against the arm of the chair before brandishing his wand in the direction of the hearth. A roaring blaze burst to life as though it were the manifestation of the choler he felt in that moment.

"The company you surround yourself with is atrocious."

"Not now, Uncle," groaned Roden as he slouched in his seat and began pressing his fingertips to the back of his eyelids. "I am not in the mood."

"Not in the mood?" repeated Cicero Avery's portrait. His voice was harsh and disapproving, like the crack of a tough, large whip. "You've become weak and unambitious! Your mother would be ashamed... I know I am."

"Enough!" Roden bellowed, shooting up from his chair and aiming his wand a the painting. He was ready to blast the ornate, tarnished silver frame and delicate, detailed canvas to cinders when another oil-painted figure entered into view. A lady of amazing beauty and youth. Her face was the epitome of aristocracy with its dark eyebrows, thick fringe of lashes, and pale, perfect skin. The goddess of love herself would go pea-green with envy if she were to gaze upon this slender, dark woman of immense attractiveness.

Roden lowered his wand and stared in reverent appreciation of her. The look upon his face made it clear that his life was pained without this lovely woman.

"Is this what I left you to?" she asked in mild, but sincere disfavor. She glanced out of the corner of her eye at her brother, who stood beside her looking snide as he sneered down at his nephew. "Is this how you were raised?" She shook her gorgeous head and a lock of hair slipped softly down at her temple. "I'm appalled, Roden... Useless bickering and pestilent squabbling is beneath you, my son. You sit here belittling one another while unfit creatures rove the depths of our home?" she chastised in outrage as she looked from her son to her brother. She shook her head one last time and turned away, leaving only her brother in the frame.

Roden turned his back as frustration gripped him. He refused to cry, and he certainly refused to let his uncle witness the internal battle that was raging.

"Have you given up? Are you going to let a Mudblood bitch beat you?" Cicero chided. "Have you become so unusable? So ineffectual? Are you so weak that you will dishonor me, dishonor our family name by giving up so easily?" Cicero snorted with disgust as he approached the edge of the frame; he could no longer stand to look upon his nephew. "Your mother is right. You were not raised this way. I expected more of you," he snapped just before disappearing from the painting entirely.

Roden whipped around and let out a fierce yell. The rage and ire he felt colored his face as he stormed off towards the library. If he was lucky, he could find something there in one of the Dark Arts books that would aid him in locating Hermione Granger.

Hermione stood in the bathroom of the Diggory home, her gut whirling about as though it were on a playground merry-go-round, which was spinning way too fast. She felt sick, and she blamed part of that on the rough Portkey ride she had taken with her luggage, two Aurors, and Cedric. The other part was the fact that she was so nervous around his family. They kept hugging her and grabbing her hand while they cooed about how much they adored "Cedric's new girlfriend." Hermione barely had space to breathe because Mrs. Diggory was practically bound to her side, constantly smoothing her slightly bushy curls and making a fuss over how cute her son and Hermione were together.

"Hermione?" Cedric called through the bathroom door. He sounded apprehensive, almost like he feared she had secretly slipped out the window to run away. "Are you all right?"

"Fine!" she called back, glancing at herself in the mirror. She spotted a lipstick smudge on her cheek and began rubbing at it with the heel of her palm. "Fine," she sighed again as she smoothed her shirt and willed her insides to calm themselves.

"Dinner is ready," Cedric informed as she opened the door and almost stepped on his toes.

"Sorry," she muttered as she backed up a step, trying to put some space between them. She had not expected him to be standing so close to the door.

"Are you sure you're all right?" he frowned as he noticed a red splotch on her cheek. He smiled inwardly as he realized just what it was from; he had had that same mark many times before. His aunt's lipstick was ridiculously hard to remove after she smothered you with affectionate kisses.

"Yes. I feel brilliant."

"I'm sorry that they're—"

"Don't," Hermione whispered as she shook her head. "Your family is..."

"Overwhelming? Too much? Smothering?" Cedric suggested, trying to finish her sentence for her.

"No, not quite. Charming is more the word I was going for," she chuckled as his shoulders slumped.

"I just wish they would quit calling you my girlfriend and bombarding you with absurd accusations."

"They're family," Hermione shrugged, feeling the nausea return at the sound of his tone. Was it really that awful to him that they suspected her of being his girlfriend? "That's what they do."

"Cedric!" Mrs. Diggory called sweetly from the kitchen. "Your father will be home any second. Come down for dinner! You, too, Hermione dear!"

Diggory rolled his eyes and stepped aside so that Hermione could lead the way into the kitchen. He felt the urge to grab Hermione's hand and run out the front door without looking back, but he knew that was wrong. He loved his family; he truly did. He just wished that they would lay off of the girlfriend thing. They were not making things any easier on him. He was having enough trouble sorting out his feelings for the girl that was currently his houseguest. He did not need his family driving Hermione away by trying to force her upon him.

"Here, dear," Mrs. Diggory beamed as she wrapped an arm around Hermione's waist when they entered the kitchen and guided her to the table. "You can sit next to me and Cedric." She pulled out a chair, and Hermione dropped with surprise into the seat.

Diggory took his place to her right and his mother scooted in on the left as Mr. Diggory came in the back door and began hanging his belongings on the coat rack. He eyed his son and their guest as though he were afraid they might do something totally inappropriate right there on the dinner table. Cedric sighed to himself and wished he could crawl under the table. He had a feeling that this dinner was going to be highly regrettable.

Roden slammed another book down on embellished oak desk and growled with frustration. He had found just about everything from ways to cause agonizing amputation to necro-ridden nightmares and more. However, nothing appeared in the many books on dark practices that could help him locate Hermione Granger.

He dropped down into the chair at the desk and picked at the pealing varnish on the arm. How was he supposed to find her now? He would have to wait until she returned to the Auror Academy, and he had no idea when that would be. His plans were completely destroyed now.

"I always found a nice cigar made of fluxweed and lovage instead of tobacco relaxed my mind and brought about the answers I was looking for," came a rumbling voice.

Avery glanced back over his shoulder at the bookshelf behind him, which was a mess from the amount of books that were missing from its shelves. Through the gap above the leaning tomes, he could see a figure moving in a painting.

"I'm not much for the minty taste of fluxweed," Roden called back as he gathered himself to his feet and stepped around the shelf to peer at his grandfather.

"Our family has never been known for being easily fooled or effortless. Your discouraged behavior tells me that you're not as fortuitous and clever as you were when you were a child."

Roden glared up from under his brow and regarded the man that was his mother's father with deep distain. He did not need another family member's painting telling him that he was spineless or useless or stupid.

"It's almost taboo for our family to be considered anything less than cunning and strong-willed," his grandfather murmured as he checked a golden pocket watch that dangled from his waistcoat. He tucked it back into its pocket and glanced once more at his grandson before stepping out of his frame.

Roden pondered what he had said for a moment and then felt an idea slither forth into his brain like a snake entering a rabbit hole for food.

"Taboo?" he repeated to himself. "Taboo..."

With that, he turned back to the desk and grabbed one of the dozen volumes stacked before him. He lowered himself slowly into the oaken seat and began riffling through the pages, a plan formulating in his brain as his eyes scanned the pages of the book.

"Good night, Cedric," Mrs. Diggory called from the bottom of the steps as Mr. Diggory grabbed her hand to lead her upstairs. "Good night, Hermione... Don't stay up too late, okay?"

"We're just going to finish this game," her son promised as he gestured to the chessboard between him and Hermione on the coffee table.

"Good night, kids," Amos bid as he tugged at his wife's hand once more and began climbing towards the comfort of their bedroom.

Once they were out of sight, Cedric looked back down at the pieces on the board. He was pleased that dinner had passed as painlessly as possible. But what made him even more relaxed was the notion that his father was warming up to Hermione. In fact, the two had had a riveting conversation about some of the departments in the Ministry while at dinner, which had saved them all the embarrassing small talk Mrs. Diggory had been trying to broach about her son's relationship with their guest.

"It's your turn," he reminded Hermione as she gazed intently at the game. She tilted her head slightly to the right and chewed at a chapped spot on her bottom lip.

"Knight to E-six," Hermione commanded with uncertainty. She was never good at this game; she had only ever watched Harry and Ron play while she studied or read.

"Bad move, love," Cedric said apologetically before commanding his rook to move to H-one and put her king in checkmate. "I thought you would be a more worthy opponent than that," he joked as she crawled across the floor and up onto the couch.

"I guess I'm just tired," she muttered as she drew her legs up beside her and pulled at the hem of the sheets that were draped over the back of the couch, awaiting Cedric to spread them out over the cushions.

"You can go to bed now that the game's over," he suggested as he joined her on the couch and stretched. "We've got all day tomorrow to do whatever we please."

"I don't know that I could sleep, though, even if I did go upstairs to bed," she sighed as she fixed his pillow neatly at her end of the couch. She felt awful about making him sleep on the couch, but the guest room was taken by some of his family, which left only his room. And Mr. Diggory did not seem too pleased with the idea of them sharing a room with only one full-sized bed in it.

"What's wrong? Are you uncomfortable here?"

"It's not that," Hermione assured him tenderly as she stood up off the couch and grabbed the sheets. "I thought I would be relaxed and happy to get away from the nightly terrors that were happening at my house, but the silence and uneventfulness that I'm experiencing here are worse than the trouble at my place."

"What?" he asked, perplexed as he stood and helped her make the couch into a suitable bed.

"It's stressful," she explained as she fussed over a wrinkle in the middle of the blanket that he had throw down. "I don't know where this insane pest of mine is and what he's up to. At least when he was making threats and attacks on me, I knew he was still focused on me. Right now, though, I'm worried for my family and wondering if he's sent some danger their way." Hermione dropped back down onto the couch and knotted her fingers in her hair. She had never imagined that a night of peace from the stalker's bombardment would drive her crazy like this.

"I'm sure that they are just fine," Cedric soothed as he sat down next to her and grabbed her hands in his. His knee brushed against hers as he bent forward to see her downturned face. "The Aurors that were on guard there are staying until your family leaves tomorrow. In fact—if I'm not mistaken—I heard my father say that your family will have an undercover Ministry escort from your home to your grandparents' house... Everything is going to be all right," he promised as he lifted her face to look at him.

She found reassurance in the depths of his eyes as she gazed at him, but even more than that, she found the last of her resolve against forming a romantic relationship with him crumbling. It was like watching the bricks of a wall that had long been weathered finally give wave. Bits of tender, infatuated insanity broke past her reasonable reluctance, which fought to stay in place even as it came undone. And when she leaned forward, those bits of insanity danced merrily around the reluctance until it was dizzy and gave up entirely for the moment.

Her lips found his, partial parted and warm. The chapped spots on both their mouths made a strange, but complimentary sensation when compared with the untoughened smoothness. The kiss was both gentle and freeing, like a mild and docile drizzle after a long drought.

Cedric was taken by surprise, but found his instincts kicking in quickly. He released her chin and the one hand of hers that he still held on to and cupped her face between his hands. When he attempted to deepen the kiss, she pulled back, her reluctance awakened from its dizzied state.

"I should go upstairs now," she whispered a little breathlessly. She lightly wrapped her fingers around his wrists and removed his palms from her cheeks. When she stood, she did not look at him. "Good night," she murmured before turning and walking soundlessly to the stairs. She jogged up them quickly, but he did not pursue her because he did not want to force her into anything, especially at a time when she seemed so pressured anyways.