Hermione had been to Diagon Alley when it was busy before; school supply shopping in August with Harry the previous year, for example, or last-minute Christmas shopping over break. Despite seeing Diagon Alley bustling with business, Hermione was utterly unprepared for the mass of people assembled in Carkitt Market square on a random Wednesday afternoon.

Hermione had arrived in the alley bright and early herself at 8am, not wanting to miss anything. Blaise had shown up half an hour later, but other people didn't start to trickle in until nine.

With Gabriel roughly 'scheduled' to give his speech at noon, that left plenty of time for Hermione to circulate and talk to people. And she was very curious to talk to people. Hermione had heard vague statements and rumors about the hedgewitch community over the summer, but she'd never really interacted with them knowingly before, and she was insatiably curious to learn more about this entire sect of the magical world she'd never considered before.

As more people started arriving, all of them between age eleven and seventeen, she began to pick out differences between her classmates and the others, the ones she knew must be the homeschooled ones.

Hermione had often thought that wizarding clothing and fashion seemed stuck in the Victorian Era. If that was the case, it seemed hedgewitch fashion was still in medieval times, with how the hedgewitches dressed.

The girls blended in the best. They were all wearing what Hermione would say at a glance were long robes, but upon closer examination, they lacked the buttons up the front that identified robes from dresses. The girls wore dresses that seemed to be made of cotton, some of them brightly dyed, and many of them wore belts around their waist to cinch in the dress and give it more of a shape as well as to hang things off of. Several of the girls had bags and pouches tied around their waist.

Hermione saw precious few with wand holsters.

The boys from the hedgewitches (Hedgewizards? What was the proper term?) stuck out more. A few of them had on obviously-worn robes, looking extremely uncomfortable and stiff in them, but more of them were either wearing open robes or no robes at all. They wore what looked like tunics and breeches that ended just below the knee, mostly in shades of brown or gray. Some of the boys wore vests over their tunics, and nearly all of them wore belts that cinched in their tunics, again with pouches hanging from them.

Again, there were few wand holsters, and Hermione wondered how they even did magic at all.

As the square filled up, Hermione noticed a distinct divide occurring. The more formally-clad wizards were staying on one side of the square, nearer the shops and entrance to Horizont Alley, while the hedgewitches took over the other side of the square, all talking loudly and drinking at and around the Hopping Pot. They seemed like a rowdy bunch.

Taking a deep breath and gathering her bravery, Hermione went over to make friends.

Despite her (nice) robes, Hermione immediately felt like part of the group when she went to buy a Butterbeer, only to have a hedgewizard boy laugh at her and pay for her drink, insisting that 'a pretty lass like she shouldn't pay for her own drink'. Hermione blushed brilliantly and the boy grinned at her, revealing a missing tooth, but he walked her over towards a table with his friends, and just like that, Hermione had an in.

"I'm Derek," the boy said, grinning. "I'm ten an' four this year."

"I'm Hermione," Hermione said, introducing herself back. She started to curtsy, only to stop, confused, and Derek laughed and waved her off.

"We don' stand on any o' that fancy stuff," he dismissed. He grinned again. "You worried 'bout your folks catchin' you slummin' it with the hedges?"

"My parents aren't here, so I'll do as I please," Hermione said with a smile. "Is that what you call yourselves? 'The hedges'?"

Derek shrugged.

"The fancy ones call us all 'hedgewitches', but that's a bit sexist, innit?" he said with a smirk. "Just 'hedges' at least includes the lads."

As they reached the table, Derek gestured widely, getting the attention of his friends.

"Look, I got us a witch!" he crowed. He looked to her. "Go on, introduce yourself again."

Sensing this was a bit of a show, Hermione gave them all her best curtsy.

"My name is Hermione Granger," she said with a smile. "I'm pleased to meet you all."

"And how old are you?" Derek prompted.

"Oh, I'm thirteen, nearly fourteen," Hermione said. "Err – almost ten and four?"

The hedgewitches all nodded. Many of them looked amused.

"So I'm Derek, I told you that," Derek said. He began pointing to his friends in sequence. "That's Jerran, that's Clover, that's Argin, and that's Worm."

"Worm?" Hermione repeated, blinking at the last boy indicated. The boy in question laughed.

"My real name's Caelum," he told her. "My mum had grand aspirations for me, she did. But with a name like that, you end up with a nickname real fast."

"And you got 'Worm'?" Hermione questioned.

"Well," he said, grinning, "I do like digging in the dirt."

Hermione was fascinated. It was like an entirely different sect of wizarding culture she'd never known about. The hedgewitches seemed to find her curiosity incredibly amusing, answering her questions about employment and magic without flinching.

"Most o' us work the land we live on," Derek said. "Either that or potions at a potions brewery."

"Work the land?" Hermione asked.

"I work on the Greengrass land," Worm said, chiming in. "I help till the soil and keep the plants. That sort of thing."

"I work at a potions brewery," Clover said, tilting her chin up proudly. "I help prepare ingredients and sometimes get to help brew."

"Clover's always been the smart one," Jerran complained. "I jus' watch Crups."

"Wait," Hermione said. "Aren't you all around my age? Over eleven, but under seventeen?"

The hedges looked at her.

"Yeah," Jerran said. "What about it?"

"But… you're all working already?" she asked. "How do you balance that with school?"

At this, they all burst into uproarious laughter.

"School!" Argin hooted. "She thinks we go to school!"

"We couldn't go to school if we wanted to," Derek told her, laughing. "Too expensive. Don't qualify, anyway."

"You don't qualify?" Hermione repeated.

"Don't have enough magic," Derek said simply. "Gotta have enough magic to work a wand, to go to school."

"Some of our folks teach us at home," Clover said. "My mum had me helping with her potions and garden since I was a young girl. But that's the most, really."

Hermione felt very thrown off.

"So…" she said slowly. "Have you learned to read?"

At this, they exchanged uncomfortable looks.

"Most of us," Jerran admitted. "But not very well."

"And you've never gone to school?" she repeated. "Not even Muggle primary school?"

"Why would we?" Argin asked. "We're not muggles. Can't go to Muggle school – our magic could give us away, couldn't it?"

"So you just… start working? At eleven?" Hermione could barely comprehend it. "What about a career? What about your hopes and dreams?"

They looked at her with bafflement.

"Careers are for people with O.W.L.s," Worm said finally. "We don't have any of that fancy stuff. We do simple work, and we have simple pleasures in life – food, friends, fun."

The others nodded, and Hermione bit her lip.

"Have any of you ever tried to use a wand?" she asked.

The hedges gave each other sideways glances, suspicious of each other, before Worm spoke up.

"I have," he confessed, raising his hand. "My mum has one. I never got so much as a spark out of it, though."

"How old were you?" Hermione asked.

"Err…" Worm considered, wrenching his face up. "Maybe eight?"

"So none of you have ever tried to wield a wand since coming of age," she summarized, looking them over.

"Wands are expensive," Clover said flatly. "What's the point in buying one if you won't be able to use it, anyway?"

"How would you know you can't use a wand unless you tried?" Hermione asked, frustrated.

"'Cause we're hedgewitches," Jerran said simply. "Our magic's not strong enough."

Jerran's words were assured and confident, but what he spoke like a fact made no sense with Hermione's image of the world. She let the conversation continue around her as her mind stalled, stuck on his odd statement.

Hermione had gotten her wand when she was eleven, and she'd worked with it for a year before being able to do basic Transfigurations. Her power had started growing, which had helped, but it was only through patience and practice had she gotten any good at using her wand. Which was largely what Hogwarts was for, Hermione figured – teaching students how to use their wand and making them practice over and over again, expanding their magic slowly over time.

The idea that there was an entire group of wizards – a large group of wizards, from the looks of it – who were simply denied the opportunity to have a wand and learn to use it baffled Hermione. It baffled her.

And they had magic. They worked with magical plants, they brewed potions, and it sounded like a few of them could manage a couple wandless spells. So they had magic. But they never trained in it, never used a wand…?

As conversation continued, Hermione taking a backseat and just listening, she began to get a clearer picture of things. Many of the hedgewitches mentioned names Hermione recognized, though never in a flattering manner – Greengrass, Malfoy, Abbott, Longbottom. As she looked over the crowd, getting an idea of how many of the people here were hedgewitches and how many were not, her mind began to turn a thought over and over in her head.

"Clover," Hermione asked, cutting in when the girl was relating a story of a hopping toadstool almost getting away. "How much do they pay you, at the potion's place?"

"Pay me?" Clover blinked. "Err—I get a galleon and two sickles a day, I think. They pay me all at once at the end of the week, though."

"You only get that 'cause you can brew," Jerran complained. "I get four sickles a day for watchin' crups."

"I get seven a day for workin' the plants," Worm said, shrugging. "Not bad, considerin' I'm just hanging outside all day and getting paid for it."

Hermione had earned four and a half galleons a day at her internship as a twelve-year-old, at a rate significantly under what she presumed to be the standard pay, given her age and the nature of the internship.

"How do you afford anything?" she asked, trying not to sound judgmental. "That's not very much."

Derek shrugged.

"What do we need to afford?" he asked. "We get our houses for workin' the land, and we get protection, too. We grow most o' our food and hunt or trade for the rest. An' clothin' lasts a while if you treat it well and don't wash it too often."

The others nodded, and Hermione fought not to boggle.

"If," she began slowly. "If you were able to go to school, would you want to?"

"We can't go to school," Clover said, now sounding annoyed. "We told you this."

"I know I know, but imagine," Hermione urged. "If you could go to school, would you want to?"

The hedges looked uneasy, but they gamely played along.

"This is hard," Argin muttered. "Don't even know what school is like, to imagine it."

"Imagine a place where you could learn to expand your magic," Hermione described. "It's a building indoors, with chairs and small desks. There are books that you can read that teach you about magic, and a teacher who shows you how to cast different spells."

There was a silence as they imagined the scenario.

"I think I'd like it," Derek said, breaking the silence. He looked at Hermione, slightly uncomfortable. "It'd be nice to be able to use a wand."

"Clara down the hill is good at curses," Clover said, her voice vicious. "I'd love to go to school and learn real ones and curse her back."

"I don't think I'd be good at school," Worm admitted. "I'm not real good at reading, and I'm not real good at sitting still indoors. I think I'm happier outside, digging in the mud all day."

The imaginary school experience thus concluded, apparently, conversation moved on to the reason they were all there today.

"I'm miffed Gabriel grew up so quickly," Jerran said crossly, folding his arms. "He was a good sort. Mitch knew him from ages back, and he wasn't a snobby one."

"Who will be up for it this time?" Clover asked. "D'you know anyone?"

"Warrington will go for it, but he's a dick," Argin said. "I wouldn't vote for him if he were the last man on earth."

"One of the Greengrass girls is of age," Clover said. "They're not that bad."

"They're not that good, either," Worm sniffed. "Sacred 28 and all that nonsense. I wouldn't trust them farther than I could throw them."

"Then who?" Derek prompted. "Do we need to nominate someone? We could put Vidal up – he's a smart sort, and he'd be okay with doin' it, I think."

"The wizard kids would never vote for him," Jerran dismissed. "They never do."

"Do you outnumber them, though?" Hermione asked, curious. "There are a lot of you, it seems. If all of you vote for the same person, would it outweigh the votes of the wizard kids?"

"Nah," Derek said. "We may seem like a lot, but that's 'cause we all come out to see the speeches n' at. Most o' the wizard kids just read them in the paper later and don't show up here. There's more of them than this."

Hermione didn't ask why they came to listen to the speeches if none of them were going to run. She was afraid the answer would be that they couldn't read them in the paper themselves.

"Do you feel like the Youth Representative ever truly represents you?" Hermione asked. "If it's always a wizard kid they pick, do you feel like your voice is heard?"

"Ehhh," Worm said. "The Youth Rep doesn't have much of a voice, I think. Local reps have to listen to us a lot more, though, but even then there's only so many of them. The snobby ones have more seats on the Wizengamot than the local reps do."

"Doesn't matter much, does it?" Argin said. "So long as they leave us alone, we're good. The less the government is interfering in my life, the better."

"Why do you ask?" Derek said to Hermione. He grinned. "Are you going to run?"

"What if I am?" Hermione said, tossing her head back, and to her surprise, Derek crowed with delight.

"That'll be interestin', if nothing else," he cackled. His eyes glinted. "If you want us to vote for you, what'll you do for us?"

"What do you want me to do?" Hermione asked reasonably, withdrawing her wand, and she saw the envious looks the others gave her.

Apparently, what the hedges wanted the most were basic charms and transfigurations. Derek asked her to fix the slipping sole of his shoe, which only took a Reparo. Argin wanted help with a rip in his tunic, which was just another Mending charm, and Worm wanted to know if she could conjure him a waterproof hat. Hermione admitted that while she couldn't conjure a hat from nothing, she could make an existing hat waterproof, and Worm had run off to go home and fetch his hat, and she happily cast an Impervious Charm on it once he returned, to his everlasting delight.

Clover, she conjured a rose for, and she put it in her hair with pleasure. Jerran just wanted a keepsake, and Hermione transfigured him a small stone squirrel from a loose rock on the alley.

Word got around that she was doing 'tricks', apparently, and Hermione found herself surrounded by hedgewitches, making small requests of her over and over again. Lots of people asked for help with fixing their clothes and repairing their shoes, and a few asked for waterproofing hats and gloves, once it got out that she could do that, too. Hermione helped as much as she could, trying to stomp down on her instinctive feeling of pity for these people. To be magical and unable to fix your own clothing… even Mrs. Weasley, one of the poorest witches she knew, didn't have to worry or fret over rips and tears in her robes.

Several of the hedgewitches wanted small stone animals like Jerran had asked for, and Hermione found herself transfiguring small stone chipmunks, squirrels, and frogs, to the delight of her hedgewitch peers.

"Why do you like these so much?" Hermione asked, handing one back to a young girl who looked barely eleven.

"You put them in your garden," Derek explained. "Next to an offering dish of honey. Helps keep the Fae happy and your garden healthy and green."

Hermione paused. "…the Fae?"

There was a loud dong as the large clock in the town center began to ring out noon. The clock donged again, and Hermione stood hurriedly, brushing her hands off and sheathing her wand.

"I'm so sorry, I've got to get back to my friends to watch the speeches," she apologized to Derek. "I've got to go."

"S'not a problem," Derek said, grinning. "I daresay you wasted most o' your day hangin' with the hedges. Go back to your own people, witch girl."

Hermione nodded and smiled before hurrying across the square, weaving in and out of people to make her way over to the table where she had left Blaise. She could glimpse Gabriel mounting the steps to a podium that had been put up, and to her relief, her friends were all assembled at the table when she made it back. While she had been gone, the rest of Slytherin had shown up, Draco, Theo, Crabbe and Goyle all standing around the table.

"Where have you been?" Pansy demanded. "We have been campaigning for you all day, and you only show up now?"

"I was networking with the hedgewitches!" Hermione protested hotly. "That's what I was told to do, wasn't it?"

"How was that?" Draco looked concerned. "They didn't attack you and try to steal your magic, did they?"

Hermione held back her horror. "Err—no. They just wanted me to do tricks with my wand."

"There are a lot of Muggleborns here today," Tracey said, surveying the crowd. "Far more than I expected. I think it'll help your chances, though – they might look to you as one of them."

As Gabriel cleared his throat, tapping the podium to activate an embedded Sonorus charm, the crowd fell silent.

"Hello, everyone," he said with a smile. His smile was easy-going, and he looked comfortable and confident. "It's good to see so many people gathered here today, though today will be particularly nostalgic for me."

The crowd gave a soft murmur, and Hermione could see a bit of a conference going on over on the other side of the square. She wondered if someone in the hedgewitches needed to know what 'nostalgic' meant.

"About three years ago, I was chosen as the British Youth Representative for the Wizengamot," he said. "I have enjoyed my time serving on the Wizengamot, and I have done my best to accurately represent the youth of Britain." He gave a sad, small smile. "Regretfully, though, my time is at an end. My birthday is one month from today, and I will come of age, and I will no longer be able to represent the wizarding youth."

There was a loud cry of sadness at Gabriel's pronouncement, especially from the group over by the Hopping Pot, and Gabriel gave them a chuckle and a half-smile.

"I'm proud to be growing up into a full wizard, but it does mean I need to leave this behind," he said. He straightened up. "With that, I announce I will officially be stepping down as British Youth Representative in one month's time. Thank you for electing me, and I hope I have served you well."

A loud round of applause and cheers met Gabriel as he gave the crowd a respectful bow, and he stepped down from the platform, immediately greeted by pats and thumps of affection from his school mates. Hermione watched the platform while the others were busy applauding, where a short figure clad in dark black robes had taken stage. Once the applause had died down, the figure stepped forward and spoke.

"Gabriel Truman stepping down opens the election season for a new British Youth Representative." The figure's voice was almost mechanical, and Hermione couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman under the cloak. "Nominations will occur today, followed by one month of election season, where nominees may campaign to their peers."

"That's an Unspeakable," Millie whispered to Hermione. "They work in the Department of Mysteries. They wear robes that mask their faces and voices, so no one knows who they are or what they do."

"The Department of Mysteries?" Hermione was intrigued. "What do they do there?"

"Work on magical mysteries?" Millie's voice was uncertain. "Your guess is as good as mine."

The Unspeakable flicked their wand, and a large chalkboard appeared from nowhere. It read NOMINEES at the top left, and had AGE at the top right, starting a new column.

"Who shall next lead the British Youth?" The Unspeakable's voice was unreadable. "Who should be elected to represent you?"

The crowd began to murmur and rumble, conversing and gossiping, before a name was called out loudly.

"Malcolm Smith!" someone yelled out. "Descendant of Hufflepuff herself!"

"Malcolm Smith has been nominated," the Unspeakable intoned. Hermione watched as the Unspeakable wrote on the chalkboard in runes with gleaming silver chalk, before stepping back. The runes on the board glimmered and shifted, before changing to the text Malcolm Smith, 12 in a gleaming gold.

"Malcolm Smith is eligible," the Unspeakable said. "Do we have a second?"

"Seconded!" several people cried out.

"No!" other people cried out. "Boo!"

But the nomination was seconded, apparently, and someone was striding up to the podium. Hermione was surprised to see it was someone who looked much older than twelve.

"That's Smith's cousin, Arion," Daphne said. "He's almost of age himself."

"Must be pushing his cousin to run for the family honor," Draco mused. "Bad idea, really. He's only a second-year. Who's going to vote for that?"

"My dear friends and peers," Arion began. "Malcolm Smith is the best person to represent the youth of Britain. Not only does he come from a well-established line…"

Arion's speech was dull and empty, Hermione thought. He kept referencing his prestigious lineage and magical potential, without actually saying anything about Malcolm as a person at all. The crowd seemed to shift and grow restless quickly during his speech, and when he stepped down, it was to scattered applause.

"Malcolm Smith has been nominated," the Unspeakable said, stepping forward. "Would anyone else like to speak in support?"

No one else did, and the Unspeakable's eyes fell upon a person in the crowd.

"Then, Malcolm Smith, step forward," the Unspeakable bid, "and tell us if you will accept."

A small blond boy clambered upon to the platform. He looked very short and very young.

"Here we go," Theo groaned. "D'you think he has a speech his father wrote for him?"

"He looks like he's about to wet himself," Blaise snickered. "Even if he does, he won't be able to get it out."

As Malcolm began speaking, he stuttered very badly, his eyes wide and alarmed. He managed to get out that he accepted the nomination and somewhat of a thank you before the Unspeakable lost their patience and brushed him aside, sending him back to the crowd.

"Malcolm Smith has been nominated as British Youth Representative," they said. "Who else would you have represent you in the Wizengamot?"

Now that someone had gone first, there were more names called out now, more legitimate proposals, several at once.

"Cassius Warrington!"

"Cho Chang!"

"Percy Weasley!"

Percy Weasley wasn't even there, Hermine snorted to herself. He was off in Egypt still.

The Unspeakable was writing very quickly on the chalkboard in runes, silver runes shimmering before turning to gold as Cassius Warrington, 15 and Cho Chang, 14 appeared on the board. Hermione watched in fascination as the last set of runes shimmered and turned black, as Percy Weasley, 17 appeared on the board.

"Percy Weasley is ineligible to run, as he is already of age," the Unspeakable said. Their tone was entirely neutral. "Do we have a second for Cho Chang or Cassius Warrington?"

The crowd cried out with seconds for both of them, but it was the group of loud, shouting girls that the Unspeakable acknowledged first, and three girls went up to the platform.

"Circe's wand, save me from Ravenclaws who think they know how to play politics," Pansy groaned. "They will make this take forever."

It wasn't forever, but it did take a while. Each of the three girls was eager to talk about how good of a classmate and friend Cho Chang was, how she was an intelligent, kind person, and how she would do a good job of representing the British Youth to the Wizengamot.

"Do we know who she is?" Hermione asked. "I don't think I know a Cho Chang."

"Year over us. Plays as the Ravenclaw seeker," Draco told her. "She's not from an established family, though, so she won't have much name recognition."

"I don't think she'd be brave enough to try and work the hedgewitches," Theo commented, folding his arms. "She looks like a strong breeze could break her."

An Asian girl had gotten up onto the platform to accept her nomination. Her voice was light but strong, and she gave a decent speech about wanting to represent the youth and help make sure their voices were heard. She had dark hair and was rather lithe, but Hermione thought Theo was exaggerating a bit, saying a breeze could blow her over.

"She's very pretty," Daphne observed. "That could win her votes."

Hermione bit her lip. She could compete on merit, sure, but if her peers were going to take looks into account, Hermione was in trouble.

After Cho was confirmed as a candidate, Cassius Warrington's friends got up to speak on his behalf. They were large, burly boys, and each one gave a speech that emphasized Cassius' will, his strength, his bloodline, and his power as a natural leader.

As the second friend gave a supporting speech, however, the far side of the crowd began to jeer and boo, shouts of "We don't want a Warrington!" and "Family can't buy you this!" coming from the hedgewitch side. The boy giving his speech faltered but finished, before Cassius was called to the stage.

Cassius looked strong and proud on the stage, accepting his nomination and determinedly ignoring the chants of, "Go home, golem!" coming from the hedgewitches. Nevertheless, when his speech was finished, he was confirmed as a candidate in the running as well, before the Unspeakable called for more nominations.

To her surprise, Hermione heard someone call out "Harry Potter!", and she watched as the Unspeakable wrote more silver runes on the board, before they shifted into white text of Harry Potter, 12.

"Harry Potter is not present," the Unspeakable said, waving their arm, and the Harry Potter, 12 vanished from the board. "Do we have other nominations?"

"Cedric Diggory!" someone called out. "I nominate Cedric Diggory!"

"Cedric?" Tracey's tone was aghast. "He's going to run?"

"Oh," Daphne said. She gave Hermione a sideways look, her eyes wide. "Oh, dear."

Hermione's throat was dry as the girls' eyes all looked at her.

"I didn't know he was going to run," she said helplessly. "Don't look at me."

Tracey winced and Millie gave her a grimace of sympathy.

"How would Hermione know he was going to run?" Blaise asked. "'Cause she's friends with the Hufflepuffs?"

"He's just a pretty boy Seeker," Draco dismissed. "He doesn't stand a chance."

The boy who had gotten up to speak for Cedric, though, made a compelling speaker. He had a jawline that looked too big for his face and shaggy, dark hair, but he knew how to speak, and he could speak well. His story of practicing dueling with Cedric was exciting to hear, and when it ended with him accidentally breaking Cedric's arm and Cedric just making a joke about it and forgiving him immediately, it ended with chuckles and smiles from the crowd.

Cedric was a good friend and an excellent student, it was established. When the boy stood down and another stood up to speak. He began his speech by thanking Diego for starting things off, before launching into a detailed list of why Cedric would be the best representative for the British Youth the land had ever seen.

Hermione felt an uneasy, icky feeling growing in her stomach as Tracey gnawed on her nails. If Cedric had wanted to run too, why hadn't he said so the day before? Sure he knew it wasn't like she would hold it against him.

…right?

"Hufflepuffs have a strong history of winning the election, when they run," Daphne said, her voice soft. "They poll well with the hedgewitches, for some reason. We should have anticipated this might happen."

"How could we?" Millie wanted to know. "It's not like we know Hufflepuff's inner workings well."

After the second boy stood down, the Unspeakable moved forward, their eyes fixing on a figure in the crowd and calling Cedric Diggory forward to speak and accept his nomination, and Hermione watched as Cedric made his way through the crowd, his robes trimmed in yellow and gold.

"Is he a good speaker?" Pansy wanted to know. "If he's not, we won't have to worry."

"He's been wooing Hermione with roses and words for months, now," Tracey snapped. "I think it's fair to say at this point that he can manage to be charming."

Pansy snapped something back at Tracey, but Hermione didn't hear it, because Draco had rounded on her with wide eyes.

"Diggory?" he said incredulously. "Cedric Diggory has been the one giving you roses?"

Hermione could see Blaise and Theo watching from the corner of her eye as she tossed her head, defiant.

"Yes," she said, her tone unbothered. "What of it?"

Draco looked like he wanted to strangle someone.

"You're being wooed by Cedric Diggory?" he demanded again. "And you—you just accept his roses? His gifts?"

"Roses are not a gift of courtship intent," Hermione said sharply. "I have every right to accept tokens of affection from whomever I want."

"Yeah, but—" Draco looked even more frustrated by this, fighting to find the right words. "If he's been giving you roses for so long, now, why hasn't he given you anything else?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Would you have him offer to court me?"

Draco gnashed his teeth.

"No," he said, "but he should have by now. You're worth being courted properly, Hermione, not strung along by pretty roses and pretty words!"

Her eyes narrowed.

"And I'm just being strung along by a pretty boy with pretty words, am I?" she said, her voice chillingly cold. "Unable to think or look for myself, just a naïve innocent girl caught up in the pretty boy's web?"

Draco flinched. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?" Hermione said sharply. "Because from where I'm standing, it sounds like you're doubting my judgement of who or not to trust and associate with."

"Shut up," Tracey snapped at them both. "Fight it out later. He's going to speak now."

Hermione turned back to the podium. Cedric had made his way to the platform and was now standing in front of the podium with a faint smile on his face, and some of the hedgewitches were cheering. He raised a hand good-naturedly, and the cheering fell silent.

"Well," he said, with good humor in his tone, "I can tell you to start that I didn't expect to be up here today. I'll have to watch for Diego and Ben springing surprises like this on me more in the future."

He laughed, and the crowd laughed with him, before falling silent again.

"Seriously, though," he said. "I would be a good British Youth Representative, as my friends have said. I get good grades, I'm a good friend, and I do the best I can. I'm no one too special, but I like to think I'm a good person who does the best he can to do what's right, and what more can we ask for than that? I would do my best to represent you all, as honestly and loyally as I could."

He gave the crowd a charming smile, and it was as if the goodwill from the crowd could be felt, like a physical thing. Some of the hedgewitches gave brief cheers.

"All that being said," Cedric said with a wry smile, "you should not vote for me for British Youth Representative."

A shocked murmur went through the crowd, eyes darting to widened eyes in surprise.

"I would be a good representative, it's true," Cedric continued. "But there is someone who would be a better representative who you should vote for. You may already know her name—" He grinned. "—or know her as the Heroine of Hogwarts."

Hermione felt her heart catch in her throat. Even from this distance, Hermione knew Cedric's eyes must be dancing with mischief.

"While I get good grades, she gets great grades, making top of her class for two years, and managing to break Dumbledore's Transfiguration record on her first day of school," Cedric said. "While I'm a good friend, she is a great friend, literally risking her life to save her friends and classmates. And while I'm a person who does the best I can to do what's right, she has an unerring moral sense of what is right, and when she knows, she goes after it with all she has."

Hermione's mouth was dry. She couldn't move her eyes from Cedric as he spoke, though she could sense the other Slytherin girls staring at her now.

"I want the best for us all, which means I want the best British Youth Representative," Cedric said with a smile. "And so, I must decline my nomination, as I'm not the best we could do. But in doing so, I would like to take the chance to nominate Hermione Granger to represent us to the Wizengamot – Hermione Granger, the Heroine of Hogwarts, and youngest person ever to receive an Order of Merlin, First Class."

He stepped back from the podium with a respectful bow as the crowd erupted into loud cheers and whistles. Shouts "Seconded!" came from throughout the crowd and chants of "Give us Granger!" started up near the hedgewitches as the Unspeakable wrote more runes on the board, the silver chalk shimmering into gold text Hermione Granger, 13 on the nomination board.

"Hermione Granger has been nominated," the Unspeakable said, unbothered by the ruckus the crowd was making. "Does anyone else want to speak in favor of her?"

Cedric was still on the platform, and somehow, Hermione could feel his eyes meet her from across the crowd. They were like magnets, and she became aware that somehow, she her feet had taken a few steps toward the stage without her realizing it.

"Go," Tracey hissed, pushing her. "You're not going to get a better speech than that."

Hermione made her way through the crowd, many of them still cheering. A subtle press of air magic on the people in front of her helped clear her way, and she could hear the hedgewitches arguing which of them would get to speak for her, though it sounded like a physical fight had broken out.

As she reached the front, Cedric leaned down to offer her his hand with a grin and glint in his eye, and she grasped it, accepting his help as he pulled her onto the platform. As she straightened, shifting to smooth out her robes, he bowed low over her hand and kissed the back of it, his eyes sparkling, before he made his way to the side of the platform, standing there like he had every right to do so.

There were shrill shrieks from the crowd and more cheers. Hermione wondered if it was some sort of romantic wish fulfillment for other girls to see. The Unspeakable gestured her forward, and Hermione stepped up to the podium, her eyes surveying the crowd before her.

From the podium, it seemed like a lot more people than it had from the crowd. Most of Hogwarts had turned out, it looked like, and there were a lot more hedgewitches than she thought.

When her speech had been originally planned, she had planned to go after Daphne and Draco. Her speech was going to echo their main points, about how she was highly powerful, highly capable, and would be the best leader to the British Youth. But after a speech like Cedric Diggory's, one that had exalted her character… she couldn't just give a speech that spoke to her naked ambition.

Hermione raised one hand slightly, an indication, and gradually the crowd fell silent.

"Thanks, Cedric," she started, unable to stop herself from grinning. "For someone who talked about being surprised by his own friends, you sure do know how to surprise a girl."

The crowd laughed with her, and Hermione smiled as she looked out over them.

She felt confident. She felt strong.

"While I would insist that Cedric flatters me, I can't bring myself to say that he's wrong," Hermione said. "My parents instilled in me a sense of modesty, but the fact is I am the top of my class, I did break Dumbledore's Transfiguration record, and I am the youngest person to ever receive an Order of Merlin. It's a matter of record."

She shrugged helplessly, before continuing.

"But Cedric brought up something very specific that I do agree with," she said, "and that is that I go after what I believe is right, no matter what stands in my way."

"There was a basilisk terrorizing Hogwarts," she said, "endangering us all. I went after it and killed it – not because I'm some brave person or glory seeker, but because it was the right thing to do. I had the ability and skill to kill it and save the school, so I did – even though I was scared shitless the entire time."

There was a murmur of laughter as she smiled self-depricatingly, before she went on.

"As British Youth Representative, I'm sure I would have a lot to learn," she admitted. "I only entered the magical world a few years ago, and I've been learning more and more ever since. But I can tell you – as British Youth Representative, I would fight for what's right and what's fair for the British Youth. I wouldn't let us be ignored, and I wouldn't let us be overlooked." Her eyes lingered on Derek and his friends, and she smiled softly. "I would fight for everyone."

"My friends will tell you that I am bossy, and they're not wrong," she chuckled slightly. "But sometimes, being loud and making sure you're being heard is the most important thing. And if you're not being heard, finding another way to get done what needs to get done. And as British Youth Representative, I am confident I would do both – make sure our concerns are heard and listened to, and make sure that action is taken to make our future a better one."

"So I will gladly accept Cedric's nomination," Hermione said, nodding her head to him. "Though he flatters me with pretty words and pictures, he is right: I would do my best as British Youth Representative that I could—" she smiled, her back straight, her head held high and confident "—and my best is the very best we could possibly get."

Her speech ended to much cheers and fanfare and applause, and Hermione stepped down, grateful Cedric had lingered as he helped her step down off of the platform.

"You were brilliant," he told her with a smile, hopping down from the platform after her, the crowd still cheering. "Did you manage that whole speech extemp?"

"I didn't have much of a choice, did I?" she said, amused. "I could hardly give a speech full of naked ambition and power after such a noble Hufflepuff introduction, could I?

Cedric laughed and grinned at her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Was that okay?" he asked her honestly. "I wasn't sure, but you said yesterday how you intended on running anyway, and when the opportunity came up, I just thought—"

Hermione stepped forward into his space, laying a finger over his lips to silence him.

"Cedric," she told him, her eyes meeting his. "That was probably the most thoughtful, romantic gesture you could ever give a Slytherin."

Cedric's eyes danced and he smirked widely, amused. Around them, the Unspeakable was asking for other nominations, but none of the names called out were ones she recognized.

"If you're already nominated, do you want to get out of here with me?" Cedric asked. "If I recall correctly, I still owe you dinner."

He offered her his hand, and Hermione paused.

Cedric's smile was charming, and his eyes were sparkling, open, and honest. And somehow, where she had before felt flustered, Hermione felt self-assured and confident, now. She felt as if she'd overcome some mental hurdle, that she was his equal, now, in some ineffable way, and when she smiled back at him, it was without nervousness or guile.

"I think I'd really like that," she said honestly, and Cedric's smile widened as she took his hand.

This time, though, when Cedric tried to put her hand in his arm, Hermione resisted, and he looked back at her in puzzlement.

"It's too crowded," she said. "Let's just… like this, for now."

She squeezed his hand, and to her surprise, Cedric's cheeks grew red.

"If you like," he said, squeezing her hand back, and, holding her hand, he led her through the crowd and out of Carkitt Market, holding her hand all the way down the Alley, giving Hermione a warm and soft feeling inside.