I lost control of my life. It's the Bitch of Living.
Christmas Day, those remaining in Gryffindor Tower (the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione) planned to meet in the Common Room to open their gifts. Hermione, wearing thick, fleece pajama bottoms with sushi on them and the sweatshirt Cedric got her for her birthday, entered the First-Year dorm and found Ginny curled up in bed wearing a much too big, navy sweater with a 'G' on it. She seemed to stare at nothing as she absent-mindedly stroked the head of a stuffed bear. Her other presents, stacked on her trunk, were left untouched. Above the girl's bed were Quidditch Posters and, tucked behind one of a triumphant looking woman in orange robes holding a Quaffle, was a newspaper clipping of Harry that day at Flourish and Blotts. Poor girl had it bad.
"Hey, Gin," said Hermione, resting a hand on her shoulder. "We're all meeting downstairs to open presents."
"Mmkay…"
"Oh, and you dropped your diary on the floor," Hermione knelt down to pick it up, but was immediately stopped by Ginny.
"Don't worry about it," she said, leaping to her feet with sudden energy. "I'll take care of it later. Come on."
The two of them entered the Common Room, the other Weasley boys (and Harry) were wearing their Christmas sweaters. Harry's was green, Ron's was maroon, Percy's was red, Fred's was purple, and George was wearing a much too tight, pink sweater with a 'G' on it, showing off his midriff.
"Nice jumper," said Hermione.
"Thanks," he replied with a grin. "Nice hoodie."
"It was a birthday gift."
Hermione got books, jigsaw puzzles, and clothes from her parents. Luna also got her a gift. A homemade bookmark that smelled like daisies and had a pretty painting of a forest with the quote Escape into a Book written in curly letters.
Sitting here like this made Hermione feel bad for Cedric. He was all alone in his Common Room. He probably never spent Christmas alone before.
"I'll see you all at dinner," she said, jumping to her feet.
"Where're you going?" Ron asked, mouth already full of Christmas fudge.
"To hang out with Cedric."
She ran up to her room and pulled on a pair of boots and her cloak, then grabbed Cedric's gift out of her trunk. The castle was frigid, so Hermione moved quickly. A small group of ghosts lingered in the Great Hall singing a haunting Christmas Carol. The portraits were already moving around to visit friends and get their festivities going.
Third barrel up, second barrel over, Hermione pounded out the beat of 'Helga Hufflepuff' with her palm as if she were pounding on a drum. The lid opened, allowing her to crawl into the Badger Den. A rather awful sight greeted her
A big Christmas tree was knocked over, and so were a few chairs one of which was splintered. Copper pots and spilled dirt littered the ground, the plants rattled by what had transpired. Cedric was sitting on the floor, in the middle of the destruction. His breathing was shallow and wheezy. His body was tight like a clenched fist, he shook violently from cold as well as like he was simultaneously containing anger and trying not to cry. The bottoms of his white feet were scratched from shattered ornaments.
"Crikey O'Reilly, what happened here?" Hermione breathed.
Cedric stiffened and scrubbed his face before turning to greet her with a big (and absolutely fake) smile on his face. His grey eyes were puffy and had dark circles.
"Mimi, I didn't hear you come in," he said. "Turns out Luna's Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are real a-and they tore up my Common Room!"
With a sad sigh, Hermione sat down on the floor and wrapped an arm around him.
"Cut the act. You don't have to keep up appearances around me."
He slumped over and dragged his hands down his face.
"What's going on?" she asked. "This behavior isn't like you."
Unable to answer, he handed her a crumpled-up letter. She smoothed it out on the floor and read it.
Cedric,
I know it's difficult this holiday season without your mother, however, I do hope that you will be home next Christmas. It's time you start presenting yourself seriously to society. I've written your Professors and noticed that your grades are beginning to slip. I certainly hope you aren't wasting your time with those radios. I expect you to apply yourself, Cedric. If you can't handle the work load, then perhaps you should consider dropping Muggle Studies.
— Father
P.S. Your grandmother and grandfather say hello and sent you a gift.
Damn, that was cold. No wonder he was so upset. Hermione drew her wand, cleaned up the mess, and put the tree to rights. It wasn't spick and span, but it was better than nothing.
"I know what might make you feel better," said Hermione.
"What could possibly make me feel better?" he asked.
"Incarnum Inflamari." A ball of blue flames appeared in her palm. "Blast a fireball at it. Hold out your hand." When he did, she carefully dropped the ball into his palm, then slid across from him and held the parchment to the side. "Toro! Toro!"
Cedric lobbed the ball of fire, hitting the letter dead center. It burst into flames and disintegrated within seconds. Hermione quickly dropped it and patted the flames out with her cloak.
"I feel a little better," he said, smiling weakly.
Hermione crawled back beside him and gave him his Christmas present. It was a graph paper notebook with some measuring instruments and a few skinny tip pens. Nothing too fancy since she got him the nice stuff for his birthday.
"Happy Christmas. I'm afraid it's not much."
"I'm sure it's great," he said, handing her a box wrapped in silver paper. "Happy Christmas."
Hermione ripped the wrapping off and held up a book. It was a forest green and on the front was two wands clashing with A Beginner's Guide to Dueling printed in silver lettering. With it was a wand holster that went on her forearm.
"Oh, my gosh! I love it!" said Hermione, giving him a side hug.
"Thanks, Mimi," he said. "This is great. Now I won't have to try and organize my parchments."
There was a slightly awkward moment of silence. Hermione looked around and found an old-fashioned record player in the corner. She jumped to her feet and found some records of bands she never heard of. There was a Christmas album in the mix, so she put that on and turned to Cedric.
"Ever made a pillow fort?"
"No. What's that?"
Using furniture and stolen pillows and blankets, Hermione and Cedric constructed a fort that was open towards the fire to allow heat and light in but closed them off to everything else. They cracked open some sweets and played games and read from comic books aloud. Just like old times. As they were putting together a giant puzzle of a wizard fighting a dragon, a voice sounded from the entrance of the room.
"My, this is a rather cozy set up."
Hermione and Cedric peered out and found Professor Dumbledore staring at their construction with amusement.
"Pillow fort," said Hermione sheepishly. "We'll clean it up, I promise."
"I'm sorry to impose on the fun, but I merely wanted to check on you, Mr. Diggory," he said kindly. "I know it's not easy being alone on Christmas, especially after what happened to your mother. She was a sweet woman, very studious. Always did well in Transfiguration. I'll leave you to it and I will see you at the feast" He turned and left.
Though his words and intention were kind, they were the wrong thing to say. Cedric sat back and stared down at the puzzle. Hermione pursed her lips and crawled out of the fort to turn off the cheerfully inappropriate music. When she returned, Cedric was biting his fist as he tried not to cry. She sat down and wrapped an arm around him.
"I miss my mum," he croaked, leaning against her.
"I know you do," she said, rubbing his back. "You cry as much as you need to."
He released a shuddering sigh. "Actually… I think my tears are spent for now."
"Do you need a nap?" she asked.
"Yes… I'm rather tired now."
"I can leave if you want me to."
"No," he shook his head and curled up on the ground, "can you stay here, please?"
"Of course." Hermione gently stroked Cedric's hair, knowing the motion soothed him.
That evening, Cedric managed to be okay enough for dinner after washing his face and drinking a glass of water. They cleaned up their fort and went to the Great Hall. Everyone was sitting around one table and a grand feast had been spread out. Little crackers were spread around the table.
"Ah, Miss Granger, Mister Diggory," said Dumbledore, greeting them with a wave of his goblet. "Please, sit anywhere you'd like."
"Thank you, sir," said Hermione, sitting between Cedric and Harry.
During the dinner, Draco was bragging loudly about his new jumper. It was apparently made from Angora or some sort of snobby, expensive textile.
"It is a nice jumper," Cedric whispered to Hermione. "Think it comes in men's sizes?"
Hermione spat out her cider and cackled so loudly it would make the Wicked Witch of the West proud. Harry overheard the joke and some of his pumpkin juice came out of his nose as he tried not to spew like Hermione did.
"Wonderful idea," said Dumbledore. "Does anybody know any decent jokes?"
That started a spur of jokes. Professor McGonagall was particularly good at one-liners and Hagrid just had funny stories that happened to be true. Draco Malfoy glared, but Crabbe and Goyle seemed to find the jokes (the ones they were able to get anyway) funny.
"What about you Hermione?" said Fred and George.
"Got any jokes?"
"Or are you just a big stick in the mud?" George punctuated his sentence with a wink.
A joke came to Hermione's mind and it struck her so funny she giggled a little.
"I just thought of one," she said. "But it's rubbish, so I don't know if I should."
"I want to hear it," said Cedric.
"Okay… okay." Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes. "Why did the chicken cross the road?"
"Why?" Dumbledore asked.
"To get to the ugly guy," she said. There was a little polite laughter. Then, she turned to the Slytherins. "Hey, Goyle. Knock, Knock."
"Who's there?" he asked.
"It's the chicken." She clucked once.
The table erupted with laughter, mostly from the unexpectedness of her follow up joke. Draco slapped Goyle upside the head for walking into her joke.
"Think you're clever, do you?" he said.
"I'm told that, yeah," she replied. "There's nothing like a good joke though."
"Yeah, and that was nothing like a good joke," Cedric bantered.
Hermione snorted and dragged a hand down her face. "So, we're moving on to bad jokes are we? What's that one you told me when we were seven and nine?"
He furrowed his brow and snapped his fingers when he remembered. "Where does a king keep his armies?"
"Where?" Harry asked.
"In his sleevies!" Hermione jumped in, wiggling her oversized sleeves. She and Cedric laughed like it was the funniest thing ever, while the rest of the table was amused at best.
"Why was six afraid of seven?" said Cedric.
"Because Seven 'eight' nine," Hermione replied. "But do you know why seven ate nine?"
Cedric shook his head.
"He needed three squared meals a day!" She smiled big and did jazz hands.
Cedric groaned and shook his head. "Blegh, terrible."
"Think you can do one worse?"
"Well, I went to the store to buy some candleholders, but they didn't have any," he said. "So, I bought a cake."
Hermione paused and thought about it a moment before breaking into giggles. Fred and George booed good naturedly.
"You win," she said.
"Thank you, thank you, you're too kind," he said, tipping his party hat.
After pudding, Hermione gave Cedric a giant hug and went on ahead, so she could check on her potion before bed. It just needed one more week and it'd be ready. Until then, she and Cedric could continue their fun.
On New Year's Eve, Hermione snuck into the laundry for some Slytherin robes. It wasn't too difficult since the House-elves kept everything orderly. After that, she brewed another potion, a sleeping draught, in the lavatory. She figured it would be easier than trying to steal one from Madam Pomfrey and it only took about an hour. Once it was complete, she laced two of the cakes she nicked from the kitchens with the draught. The cakes glowed blue for a brief moment before turning back to their normal color. She pocketed them and finished the Polyjuice Potion. She checked, double-checked, and triple-checked that everything was exactly how the recipe said it should be. Grey, lumpy, and huge cloud of black smoke.
Note: The potion will change in consistency and color depending on the human additive.
When Harry and Ron finally got some hairs from Crabbe and Goyle, Hermione removed the cauldron from the heat and ladled a bit into three glasses. She withdrew Bulstrode's hair from her pocket, pulled the cork off the bottle, and tipped it out into her cup. Harry and Ron did the same and, like the book said, the consistency of the potions changed to resemble something more like troll bogeys. Hermione's glass turned yellow and foamy like bile.
"We better not drink them here," said Harry. "Once we turn into Crabbe and Goyle we won't fit in our own clothes. And Millicent Bulstrode's no pixie.
"Good thinking," said Ron.
The three of them went into different stalls.
"Cheers," said Hermione. She pinched her nose shut and took a large swallow. It slid down her throat like spoiled cottage cheese and she nearly threw it back up.
Right away, a painful prickling sensation spread all over her body. Then, her stomach rolled and writhed like maggots were trying to burst through. However, she knew something wasn't right when her ears moved North, and something sprouted out of her rear. She looked down at her hands and saw that they were covered with rusty fur and her nails became translucent claws.
"Hermione!" Harry called through the door in Goyle's voice. "It worked! Let's go."
"Go on without me!" she squeaked.
"Hermione," said Ron. "We all know Bulstrode's ugly, nobody is going to know it's you—"
"You're wasting time! Just go!"
Once they had gone, a high-pitched cackling came from the ceiling. Myrtle drifted down with a look of absolute delight and mirth. Her normal moans had turned to howls as she relished in the schadenfreude.
"Ooh, you are going to be teased so horribly," she squealed. "Wait until everyone finds out you have a tail! Here, kitty kitty! Want some string?" She broke into a fit of giggles.
"How ironic," Hermione growled, her ears flattening against her head. "The bullied girl died and became a bully just like Olive Hornby!"
Horror replaced amusement and Myrtle's aura grew white with anger.
"I AM NOTHING LIKE OLIVE HORNBY!" she bellowed.
"YES, YOU ARE!" Hermione roared back, her hair was standing on end which only fueled her anger. "BULLYING IS BAD ONLY IF IT'S YOU WHO'S BEING BULLIED!"
Myrtle shrieked and flew around the room. The toilet where Hermione's cauldron sat exploded, washing away all evidence of what had transpired. Hermione stormed out of there. She had to get to the infirmary, might as well go now while the firework chaos caused by the Weasley twins ensued.
Right outside the lavatory was Cedric, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He took one look at her and made a sound that was reminiscent of a pig choking.
"Wow, that is the ugliest sound I have ever heard," said Hermione, unamused.
"I'm sorry!" he wheezed and cleared his throat. He tried to look concerned, but the corner of his mouth was fighting him to quirk up.
"It's not funny."
"It kind of is."
"It really isn't."
"How are Harry and Ron?"
"Well, it worked for them," she grumbled. "Apparently, I got the hair from Bulstrode's cat."
"Yeah, no kidding." He patted her shoulder and guided her to the Hospital Wing. The entire way, he tried not to giggle. At least it wasn't cruel laughter, like Myrtle's.
"Are you going to start sticking your leg out all weird?" Cedric asked, pausing to do a hilarious impression of a cat doing the weird leg thing. He stumbled a little and leaned against the wall, sticking his leg out higher.
Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "I hope not. I'll try not to."
He was quiet for another moment as they walked and then turned to her with a grin.
"Think if a beauty like me pledges eternal love you'll turn back into a human girl?"
That did it. Hermione laughed out loud, though it came out more as a caterwaul, and shoved her shoulder against his. Things didn't seem too bad for the moment. Cedric still knew how to make her laugh and he was trying to get her to laugh with him rather than just him laughing at her. They linked arms and silly-walked the rest of the way there.
"Hello, Mr. Diggory," said Madam Pomfrey. "Is something the matter?"
"No, just a… mishap," he said.
Hermione stepped out from behind him and grimaced.
"Oh, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey tsked. "What have you done? Here. Sit. Sit."
Hermione sat down on one of the unoccupied hospital beds and crossed her furry ankles. The Mediwitch checked her over and cast a charm muttering under her breath all the while about pranks and botched Transfiguration.
In an hour, Harry and Ron asked Madam Pomfrey to be let in to see her.
"It's okay," said Hermione.
The two boys approached her ready to laugh, but then cast wary looks at Cedric wondering if he knew what just transpired and how he'd react to them laughing at his best friend.
"Snitches get stitches," he said, making a zipping motion over his mouth.
"Malfoy isn't the heir," said Harry. "And the last time it opened was fifty years ago. A Muggle-born died last time and whoever did it was expelled."
"The house-elves couldn't tell me anymore than that either," said Hermione glumly. The potion was all for naught and now she was a cat.
"It wasn't a complete waste though!" said Ron, brightly. "The Malfoys have a stash of dark artifacts under their drawing room floor!"
"I knew it," Cedric whispered.
"I'm going to write my dad about it. Maybe that'll get the Ministry off his back about the car and Mum won't kill me when I get home."
"Alright, alright," said Madam Pomfrey ushering the boys away. "Visiting hours are over."
"I'll be by tomorrow with a game," said Cedric.
"Bring chess," Hermione requested.
"Oh, bruv, you know I'm rubbish at chess," he said. "Can't it be cards?"
Hermione smiled, her whiskers twitching. "Fine. But if you suggest playing Go-Fish at any point I'll slap you."
"You said it, not me, Mademoiselle Bête."
"Monsieur Beau," Hermione replied saluting him with two fingers.
"What was that all about?" Ron asked when the trio of boys left the hospital wing.
"Inside joke," Cedric replied breezily. He tucked his hands in his pockets and whistled 'Auld Lang Syne' on his way back to his common room.