It was hard to see Hermione like this.
Still as a wax statue, brown eyes wide and looking up at nothing. Still posed as if she was holding up the compact mirror, her other hand clenched tightly. Her hair, still wild, still beautiful, but somehow as listless and lifeless as its owner.
"I can only get you a few minutes," said Professor McGonagall, her voice prime and stiff. But her stern green eyes looked misty, to Cedric's eyes, and her lips were trembling slightly as she went directly to Madame Proffery's office.
They all awkwardly crowded around Hermione's bed. Except for Percy, who gave Hermione a faint pat on her hand before going to quietly speak in Penelope's ears.
"Fast on your feet, Potter," mentioned Steve, smiling. His eyes weren't looking at Hermione, instead looking at a cabinet of potions.
His hands were in fists and he was trembling, and Cedric gave his best friend a strong clap on his shoulder before he made his way opposite of Harry, standing at Hermione's side.
"First thing that came to mind," said Harry, voice small.
Cedric leaned forward. He knew that in some cases of petrification, the victim could understand what was happening around them. It was dependent on the type of petrification, and the duration. So he pressed a soft kiss on her forehead and leaned forward.
"We'll figure this out, kitten," he promised, he had so much to tell her, had forgotten what it felt like not to have her to talk to.
Cedric had always thought himself an independent sort, but this, this was harder than he had ever thought. Because Hermione had become so vital to his life. Not because she was his girlfriend, but because he loved talking to her. Because she was his friend, and so much more.
Harry gave a soft gasp. His hand went to Hermione's clenched fist.
"She's got a piece of parchment in her hands," whispered Harry, eyes wide.
Carefully, he started to wiggle the slip out of her hand.
