The Mudblood's Logic

by Cervantes Diderot

Hermione Granger was a a plain mudblood. At least until one rash action leads to her battling Voldemort first year and miraculously surviving. Stuck in a whirlwind of political ploys, fame, wealth and power along with assassination attempts Hermione has a rather difficult path. But what is that saying, "The ends justify the means," and she will do whatever it takes...

20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty: Slutty and Scrumptious.

Disclaimer: I own none of the material written by J. K. Rowling, or her publishing company, or Warner Brothers.

OOOO

"Foul, slutty, mudblooded little bitch! Strutting through my home lik-."

"No one shall speak to Hermione Granger that way!" Dobby the House Elf wailed indignantly in turn. Snapping his fingers and silencing the portrait swiftly.

Hermione Granger, who had been rifling in a closet off the third floor hallway, peered backwards in an unperturbed fashion. In her first two weeks back home she began to intensively clean the Townhouse, a difficult feat given that her parents had not been regularly habitating the place for a year. This was, according to the pair of Dentists, punishment for having failed to inform them over holiday that the Heir of Slytherin had grown dangerously obsessed. Cordelia agreed with the two wholeheartedly, proclaiming that Hermione would be removed from Hogwarts the next time something so absurdly dangerous put her life in jeopardy. "Thank you Dobby," She sidled up beside the free Elf, eyeballing this portrait.

Over the course of cleaning some of the many portraits in Pyrites' Townhouse had revealed their true colours. Jeering at Hermione whenever they got the chance. "I do believe," She announced, "That this is my great-grandmother Saila. Its nice to know who I can blame for giving me this horrendous hair." Indeed, Saila Travers was a sadistic-looking, long-limbed witch with Hermione's uncontrollable hair. "Don't toss this one, Dobs," The Elf smiled at her nickname for him, "Hide it in the dungeon for now." With a crack of apparition her companion did just that.

Trying not to think of how they had discovered a hidden dungeon below the basement earlier that week, she moved into an empty guest room full of new furniture. Tugging a sleek little muggle painting into the light, Hermione wasted no time at all hanging it on the wall. Many gaps had been left behind as she took down the more repugnant portraits of bigoted Purists. Now in the spaces left behind her muggle artwork was giving a big breath of fresh air. Hermione found that the decor had benefited greatly from her idea as her own muggleborn touch melded in with House Pyrites' historicity. Apart from the furnishings was all of her back breaking labor too. The Grangers had only cleaned what was necessary that prior summer. Now all five, sprawling stories were sparkling.

Together Dobby and Hermione managed to beat rugs out, kill Doxies, polish hardwood flooring, clean out dilapidated chambers, and even fix an old plumbing blockage that had affected the upper levels. Dobby determining rather swiftly that a Boggart, of all things, was blocking the drains. Apart from discovering entire stacks of PlayWizards magazines in one room, horrifying sex devices under what had been Japser Pyrites' bed in the master chamber, as well as a literal skeleton, though perhaps it was like the ones Victorian Doctors once owned, she naivel hoped, nothing else truly caused much surprise. Pausing at a final door near the stairs on the topmost floor Hermione considered going inside.

Instead she decided that a break was in order. Especially given that so many ominous possibilities awaited her on the other side. Patting at her shirt, a green button-up with white stripes stolen from her father, and dust smothered jeans, the muggleborn witch stepped into the kitchen for a drink of water. Wasting no time of it Hermione decided to quickly whip up some shrimp scampi. "Dobby!" Her voice was not loud at all though the small Elf popped into existence. "Let's eat lunch."

Perhaps two weeks earlier the House Elf might have been shocked at being cooked for. Now, however, Dobby simply thanked her profusely whilst laying thick the platitudes that Hermione was a truly, most wonderful witch. Finishing quickly Hermione peered at the pile of mail sitting on the table. There was a letter from Harry as he eagerly accepted her invitation to visit later that summer. One from Daphne regaling her with tales of her glorious internship with a cousin who also served as the Head of the Wizengamot Administration Services Office. Then another from Luna who happened to be travelling off to Norway for a month with her father hunting for something called a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. In between these two she was relieved to have finally received a notice of full acceptance into the Witch's League. That only served to remind Hermione that she would need to begin planning for a societal debut later that summer.

Rubbing both temples in frustration she moved on to a package from Cedric. He had been downright ecstatic to have impressed a prominent Metal Charmer in France with their Pressure-Manipulation Charm. The man apparently offered Cedric an in-depth apprenticeship, and the opportunity to obtain a Mastery next summer as well. Smiling at how happy he was, even though his father idiotically refused to support such an incredible opportunity simply because it was not located in the upper echelons of the Ministry. A photograph that came with a book on Ancient Runes displayed Cedric shirtless on a sandy beach while a Sea Monster rose from the Atlantic Ocean behind him on repeat.

Blushing, quickly tucking the photo safely away before Dobby could see it, Hermione scowled at the stack of newspapers sitting untouched nearby. All of them mentioned her in some way or another. The oldest copies discussed at great length her discovery of the Pressure-Manipulation Charm while her friends had been name dropped due to association as co-editors. That meant Daphne, Luna, and Cedric all gained recurring roles in the gossip columns. Partly from the massive interest in Hermione's private life. Mostly because they were all young, attractive, Purebloods whom the public already both idolized and envied by scores. Then as the dates grew closer Hermione noted that the titles became even more unbearably fanatic.

'Chamber of Secrets Closed by Hermione Granger.' 'All of the Windows in Hogwarts Broken!' 'Ronald Weasley, Son of Impoverished Prewett Heiress Dead by Gilderoy Lockhart's Wand.' 'Trial of Gilderoy Lockhart Set for mid-July: Will Hermione Granger Testify?' `Interview with a Magizoologist: 'A thirteen-year-old girl slayed a Basilisk!?' 'Insider Details on the Chamber of Secrets Debacle: An Anonymous Gryffindor Spills the Details on Hermione Granger's Triumph.'

As though that were not enough it was not just her friends who were being highlighted by the rabid press. People had begun to write investigative reports about how her parents worked as professional torturers, specializing in oral techniques, for the muggle government under the title of 'Densists.' Then a whole new blitz exploded into life when Cordelia attended a joint press conference with Dumbledore, Griselda Marchbanks, other members of the Governor's Board (Fortunately Malfoy Sr. had been sacked), hoity-toity government officials, and plenty of professionals across many fields.

In the Great Hall of Hogwarts Hermione's grandmother had announced that Hogwarts' curriculum was being restored to greatness. More OWL's were being introduced, as a result of the additional options for extracurricular subjects offered to Third Year's the prior term. Many new courses dedicated to specialization and advanced concepts were to be instituted for NEWT students, requiring those exams to be altered as well. Furthermore, even First and Second Years had been subjected to a far more rigorous Core program whilst elementary extracurricular electives were being listed as well. This went without mentioning that prominent scholars would be visiting frequently on weekends to give students optional lectures.

Those announcements in turn left Cordelia only right behind her granddaughter in a most venerated position on the gossip pages. Then there was the response as well. Minister Fudge's numbers plummeted as people remembered just how bad Hogwarts had gotten in the first place. This meant that he eagerly agreed to fork over thousands of Galleons a year to the Hogwarts' trust in repayment. Many bigoted parents were infuriated by the news that Muggle Studies was now compulsory for students who could not test out of it. Though their arguments were negated by the fact that a Wizarding Culture class had also been instituted. Between all of these developments came the news that Professor Binns had been sacked from his post. With money to actually spare the Board of Governors made breaking news by hiring Bathilda Bagshot to replace the despondent Ghost.

Immensely pleased that her education was finally out of the shitter, and that Hogwarts was once more turning into an institution to rival all other schools, Hermione had felt much relief. Finally taking the time to throw away the pile of newspapers she was shocked when a tapping noise came on her kitchen window.

An Augurey.

With great speed she opened the sash allowing it to sidle in. Almost ravenously she tore open the letter to quickly read the letter.

'Miss Granger,

You have done far more than intrigue me. I am simply astounded by the information I have read about you in the Daily Prophet. They say that your Pressure-Manipulation Charm will vault Wizardkind into frontiers unknown. One of my contacts in the Department of Mysteries claims that the Unspeakables will soon be using it to journey to the moon. Albus Dumbledore, a dear friend, as you well know by now, wrote me a week ago. He regrets having misjudged you so grievously when I contacted him last summer seeking recommendations. Your Headmaster attested to your valor, intelligence, and ceaseless determination to do right in this world.

Additionally, all of your Professors provided strong references and spoke at length about your other accomplishments this year. I initially fretted over taking a pupil who was only in their Third Year, though am pleased to know that you are at an advanced level in Transfiguration and Potions. This means that you might very well be able to succeed in absorbing the lessons I have to impart upon you. Though I must warn you now. Such an experience will challenge you like nothing you have ever done before.

My wife, Pernelle, has also expressed an interest in helping to shape your tutelage. Few have been given such an opportunity before, and I assure you that my wife is infinitely more powerful than I could ever hope to be. To that end we shall be moving back into our summer home in London. Next Monday I will send the address. You will be free to return to your parents in the evenings and will have weekends off. If you feel capable of handling the rigors of our tutelage, please sign and return the enclosed apprenticeship paperwork with my familiar.

Nicolas Flamel

Hermione had signed, dated, and dispatched the Augury back to the Flamels in the blink of an eye.

OOOO

Her parents soon returned from another business trip. Both of them still unwittingly involved in the Greengrass' illicit business. They were so pleased at her having secured an internship with an immortal Alchemist and his wife that her grounding was revoked. Good news since Hermione was in desperate need of a new wand.

She spent the morning painting a magical landscape of the garden. Dobby had uncovered the sprawling health hazard of magical specimens right when he arrived at Pyrites' Townhouse. Apparently, however, he was a talented gardener. The thickly overgrown Devil's Snare that had been wrapped around the back of the Townhouse like macabre ivy was now gone. Any grass was neatly trimmed while dead patches sprouted with fresh greenness. All of the non-lethal magical specimens were neatly categorized while newly uncovered lawn ornaments tied the whole look together.

Byron, who liked to sit with her while she painted, informed his great-granddaughter that Jasper Pyrites' had been a noted Herbologist. Then when noon passed he eagerly floated off to spend time with her father. The pair of them having developed a bond rather swiftly. Hermione did not want to leave her painting work behind. It often let her sink away from her body. Far beyond gloomy thoughts of Ronald, or how Wizarding Britain had labelled her the 'Basilisk Slayer' when actually the XXXXX Beast still slumbered underneath Hogwarts. Sighing, the girl tugged her sleek hair into a ponytail prior to slipping out of Pyrites' Manor. Telling her parents that she was going to meet with Daphne for lunch at Diagon Alley.

That much was true, though only half-so. Boarding the Knight Bus, Hermione tossed the fee at Stan Shunpike's hands. "You're 'Ermione Granger? In'it you?" He recognized her this summer where he had not the last. "Woy, you look e'en prettier 'n person." Repulsed to have a grown man hit on her, Hermione quickly shuffled over to a corner. Fortunately it was not incredibly crowded, and there were no Snakemen. Thoroughly nauseated some minutes later she dropped out of the contraption whilst wondering why she had not taken a taxi to the Leaky Cauldron. Righting herself once the bile went back down the girl smoothed out her black culottes, topaz-coloured blouse, and marched her new sandals into Diagon Alley.

Even for a not-so-busy day the crowd that soon overtook Hermione was intense. Dozens of people crowding around her as she fought her way into a nice little restaurant off of Horizont Alley. Slipping into the peaceful quietness easily she was guided by a waiter to the table where Daphne was already sitting with a steaming pot of tea. "Took you ages to get here," The other girl wore silk robes of a light grey with unfathomably tall stiletto heels. Her hair was swept up into a flawless, blonde bun. Overall, Daphne looked incredibly professional, if not exhausted. "My cousin works me to the bone. During the day we go to meetings non-stop with the bats from the Wizengamot. Then she assigns me at least three reports every night to finish." A furtive glance in Hermione's direction was punctuated by a whisper, "Almost didn't let me out for an extended lunch until I told her it was you I was meeting."

"You like being busy," Hermione remarked knowingly, "It gives you an opportunity to complain."

"You know me well," Daphne sneered like a true Slytherin as they both ordered. "The Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Barty Crouch, said that he was incredibly impressed with my references, accomplishments at Hogwarts this year, and how I took charge in a meeting with his Department when my cousin was not able to attend. He offered me a position as a Junior Secretary next summer. My parents are thrilled."

"But you are not?" Hermione asked carefully.

Daphne hesitated, for she was a Slytherin after all. Sharing emotions with a muggleborn Gryffindor went against all her instincts, but alas, this was the same Gryffindor for whom she had been Petrified. "No. Flitwick's Defense Club last term, and seeing how good I am at it all." She sighed, "Hermione. I am not you. I am average in everything else but Charms. Being so great at duelling made me want things… Things my parents will never let me have. I want to be an Auror." Her blue eyes sparkled with vitality, "This year I am going to practice to qualify for the British Junior Duelling Championships. Professor Flitwick already said he would keep the club going and help give me tips." Then the excitement faded, "My family needs me to curry influence in the Ministry though. They would never approve of me hunting Dark Wizards for a living."

"Why couldn't you become the DMLE Head one day?" Hermione asked, "Besides, I have seen how good you are at duelling. If you studied hard enough you could definitely become a really good Auror."

"The DMLE hasn't been influenced by family connections since Tonquil Travers got the boot," Daphne answered. "I could work as hard as I want for the DMLE Headship though it would never be a sure th-."

"You are a talented witch, Daphne Greengrass," Hermione's eyes were suddenly blazing, "I refuse to believe that you could miss out on anything you set your mind to." A smile lit up the muggleborn's face as she made a realization, "I am two years ahead in Potions and Transfiguration. You need NEWT's in both of them. If you put in the effort with Flitwick to qualify for the Junior Duelling Championship and study with me then you could get an internship in the DLME before Seventh Year!"

"You would really do that for me, Hermione?" Daphne asked suddenly, "Even when you have two OWL's, clubs, and more classes?"

"You would do the same for me, Daph." Hermione corrected herself, "You have done loads to help me. Now it is my turn to pull through for you. Mark my words, Daphne, I will not rest until you are an Auror."

They fell into a companionable conversation after that. Digging into their soon delivered lunch. Of course, the only blimp occurred when Daphne almost choked on her baked Shrake. Hermione had confided that she was soon-to-be-apprenticed to Nicolas and Perenelle Flamel.

OOOO

"I hate it here," Hermione shivered despite the summer heat, "Gives me the creeps."

"You just feel that way because you have no wand." Daphne dismissed easily as they walked through Knockturn Alley. "Trust me," She continued, "This woman is the real deal. Ollivander is owned by Dumbledore, and there is no reason to travel all the way to France for the Lefebvres when another, more excellent option exists here in Britain."

A Hag with black jowls smiled sinisterly at them as they passed a dark alcove. "Hello little pretties. Might you spare a bite for m-."

"Fuck off!" Daphne barked, wand pointing threateningly down at the creature. "I'll Stun you into next week."

"Well!" The Hag stood tall in response. "You snide little bitch." Her hands slipped down to both misshapen hips. "What is up your smelly snatch?" With an indignant huff the foul thing strode off into the alley.

"I don't smell, do I, 'Mione?" Daphne asked Hermione in mock concern.

"Like a ship full of dead fish, Daph," The other girl retorted good naturedly. Both of them giggled as they moved further into Knockturn Alley.

More odd characters passed them by until finally the pair of girls came to a stop in front of a relatively new looking business. Nowhere near as ancient as Ollivander's. Scrawled across the sign in weather-beaten bronze lettering was, 'Bluebonnet's Wand and Relics Shop.' "I know, the title could be a bit more imaginative," Daphne said, "But this woman is the real deal. All of my siblings and I went to her for our wands."

They slipped inside. This shop was nothing at all like Ollivander's. Where his store had been repulsively disorganized with 'cozy' furniture everything about Bluebonnet's was highly refined. The furniture was sophisticated, sleek, and mid-century modern. Any wood in the place was well-polished while the wands behind the counter were all elegantly organized. Hermione almost suffered a heart palpitation at her expectations being so upset. "How may I be of service," A watery, exquisite voice asked, as a gorgeous woman slipped out from the other room. She was taller than most men, with jet-black skin that seemingly shimmered under the navy-blue paint of her shop. Her curly, explosive locks of hair exploded beautifully into a frame around her lovely face. Never before had Hermione seen such a magnificent woman. Even with all the models she had met that year.

"My friend needs a new wand. Her's broke this last semester at Hogwarts." Daphne answered.

They were beckoned closer to the counter. A strong hand gripped Hermione by the chin as those curious eyes peered deeply into her own. For a long time they stood like that until she was released in a jerky motion. "This wand that broke was your second. How did the first one snap, and how did this one?"

"I-I rammed the fi-first one into-." Daphne sensed that her friend did not wish to answer such a blunt question which had the potential to bring on bad memories.

"Our Defense Professor attacked her last year. Hermione broke it using it to poke out his eye. Then three weeks ago she had to cut her second wand in half using the Sword of Gryffindor." Her synopsis was as brief and sweet as possible.

"You're Hermione Granger?" The wandmaker asked with surprise. "I had not seen any pictures." She tapped her chin thoughtfully for a moment. "Wands leave marks on their owners when they die. Just as we leave marks on our wands when we allow them to die. I can see it. Any wand I give you will be able to see it as well. None of them will want to choose you." Her voice gained a sudden urgency. "What woods and cores were your last wands?"

"Vine and Dragon Heartstring from Ollivander's, for the first," Hermione began, "Then Madrona and Nundu Whisker in the second which was from Lefebvre's."

She did not expect to have chuckles erupt from the woman's throat in response. "Forgive me Hermione Granger," Came the woman's watery tenor again, "But you have been done a terrible disservice. I admire you even more for having survived what you have with such ill-suited wands." Humming a tune under her breath the witch summoned scraps of parchment her way while she opened a massive ledger.

"Miss Bluebonnet," Hermione interrupted, causing the woman to appraise her suspiciously. Wordlessly she reached in her pocket prior to setting two objects on the counter. "Those are Phoenix Tears," Then she shivered at the next one, "That is a feather from the plume of a Basilisk." Crossing both arms Hermione peered into the face of this newest wandmaker. "I was wondering if you might be able to make a wand. One suited to me."

With an interested, yet not greedy, manner Bluebonnet inspected the items beneath the light. "The Phoenix willingly gave you these tears, and I assume this feather is from the Basilisk you conquered?" Her sharp eyes narrowed at the muggleborn.

"The tears were given to me, and the Basilisk…Gave me that feather. I suppose you could say." At least, the Basilisk's master, the Heir of Slytherin, had.

"That might work," The woman said in response, mostly to herself. "I should be able to finish this wand today."

"Good." Daphne smiled, "I'll leave you here then, Hermione. I have to get back to the Ministry soon. Then you will have a wand and can watch yourself on the way back to Diagon Alley?"

"I should be alright," Hermione answered as Bluebonnet swept from the room with the Basilisk feather and Phoenix tears. The two hugged before Daphne slipped back into Knockturn Alley. Hermione slumped over to a seat by the door. Zoning out occasionally other than to peek somewhat nervously at her watch as mid-morning turned to late afternoon.

"Miss Granger." The firm voice of the wandmaker finally sucked her mind back into existence. Rocketing upwards the thirteen-year-old stepped hesitantly over to the desk. What if the wand still did not choose her? She would probably be forced to ask Dumbledore if the Sword of Gryffindor could be carried to all of her classes. Shivering at the thought Hermione stood nervously in front of the counter. Eyes connecting with Miss Bluebonnet's. "The tears and feather melded incredibly well with one another. You might be surprised to hear that, but opposites attract in wands with dual cores. The hard part was choosing a wood for sufficient containment."

Hermione was intrigued, having read a little bit on wandlore after her first wand broke. "Containment? I read that woods were supposed to act as conductors of magical magical activity."

"Not in this case, Miss Granger. The cores you chose are mystical, I doubt a wand like this has ever been made before. When I applied tears to the feather a… Chemical reaction of sorts occurred. Phoenixes and Basilisks are similar to one another with regards to longevity, strength and mastery over death. The materials have been activated in a way I did not anticipate." She paused for breath, eyes twinkling with an undeniable excitement, "They also are starkly different creatures though. The volatility of the newly forged bond speaks to a wielder who has two incredibly different sides of themself. Symbolism is incredibly important when designing a wand specially for one person with materials they provided. Just as your body acts as a vessel for these two sides of yourself, this wand needs protection until harmony can be found."

With that Bluebonnet lifted the lid off the box which held her most recently crafted wand. Hermione knew from the moment her eyes touched its surface that it belonged to her. Silvery wood gleamed in the brilliant light of day. Pointed perfectly with no knots, ridges, bumps. The perfectionist in Hermione's heart was jumping in joy. Perhaps the best part of the wand were the seven pearls which spiralled up from the hilt to the thick tip. So firmly indented into the wood that only the luminous tops could be seen. With absolutely no hesitance the muggleborn picked up the beautiful work of art. Sparks did not shoot from the tip, nor did anything happen to the shop or surrounding area.

Silver light emanated from Hermione's body while the wand soared to life. Fiery-gold and emerald green competing against one another, colours practically bursting into the air as they undulated in never ending patterns. A song like none she had ever heard before echoed faintly on the air, touching her soul and letting it hang like a curtain in the air. For many long moments Hermione Granger basked in the gloriousness of it all. Then it slowly faded until only dim bursts of mixed light were pulsating through the wand. "What. Was. That?" Her breaths were shallow, brown eyes exhilarated.

"That is what should happen when a wand meets its magician," Bluebonnet answered smugly. "Not sparks, or a rippling wind. When I give a wand to a customer I expect it to touch their very core. To tug their aura into existence so it might bask at having a connection to the universe." Hermione felt such a powerful rush that she had to lean heavily against the counter. Unable to even put into thoughts how complete she felt with her latest wand in hand. "12 ½ inches," The wandmaker continued, "With a Basilisk Feather and Phoenix Tears for its core. Unbending wood from my finest sample of Silver Lime. The wood of Seers."

Hermione snorted, "I do not have the Sight." Cordelia had tested it last summer, and likely still felt bitter about having been spurned so thoroughly by the Blood of the Crow. Bluebonnet simply shot that knowing, confident look at her new client again. "How much do I owe you?" The witch asked covetously. Already knowing that this would be the last wand she ever held. In her bones Hermione could senses that it would be buried with her body.

"Because I utilize gemstones and crystals, a secret of mine," The witch dryly noted Hermione's suddenly inquisitive face, "That will be forty Galleons."

The money was rapidly counted out on the counter. Much more where that came from, Hermione decided easily, and every last Knut was more than worth it. Moving to turn towards the exit her back suddenly stiffened. "Miss Bluebonnet." The Gryffindor whirled around sharply. "Did you know that a bookstore across from Ollivander's is closing? Would that not be much more competitive a spot than here in Knockturn Alley? Especially with the undeniable quality of your craftsmanship?"

A gloomy, sad look crossed the woman's beautiful features. "I cannot afford the rent on the main street of Diagon Alley."

"Well," Placing a confident hand on her hip Hermione smiled up at Bluebonnet, "My grandmother wishes for me to begin building a stock portfolio…" She did not mention how sweet it would be to destroy Ollivander's family business after he had almost gotten her killed the summer before with that Tracker Wand.

OOOO

Cedric Diggory was having the time of his life. There had been all of that bad business at Hogwarts, of course, resulting in nightmares of Hermione dying in a dark dungeon alone. His heart still hurt horribly to even think of something happening to her. Then on top of it, when Cedric received a letter from the Wolfram Oddson inviting him to apprentice in Metal Charming that summer, his stupid father went crazy. Threatening to disown him for turning down an internship in the Minister's Office. Sometimes he wondered what his life would have been like without his grandmother Vulpinia or his mother to save him from the, sometimes, egotistical prat.

Simply happy to be in France with a shot at achieving his greatest passion, Cedric tried to ignore those things. With a stipend from his, wealthy, grandparents he had been able to rent out a cozy flat in muggle Toulon. If he was not there or at a lesson with Oddson the young man could be found exploring magical France. There was the one day he spent looking through bookstores. Finding an old tome which discussed the applications of Ancient Runes in Charms. He knew that the girl was ahead in Arithmancy thanks to all of his lessons on it for their research, so a bit of a head start would balance the discrepancy. Then there was the little scrapbook he had put together of photographs of magical creatures on the beaches.

On one of these excursions Cedric even managed to get a stranger to take a photo of him standing in front of a partially surfaced Sea Serpent. Given that it was hard to find other teenaged wizards who spoke English in Toulon the pair had befriended one another. Spending spare moments together whenever they got the chance. "I don't know, Ced," His new friend said after he sent the picture and book off in the mail, "Is this Hermione really worth changing so much about yourself? Why are you so hellbent on impressing her?"

"She is the cleverest, bravest girl I have ever met, Morfin," Cedric answered as they sat down on a bench overlooking the Mediteranean. "Do you ever get feelings like that? That you know something is meant to be a part of your life? How you can never let it go no matter what it takes? That is how I feel about Hermione…" He instantly tried to block out the nightmarish images of her dying in the Chamber that had plagued him since the school year ended.

"Anything?" Morfin asked in his sophisticated, elegant drawl. Since meeting they often had advanced discussions about magical topics later into the night than Cedric should have allowed. Especially with how early in the mornings Oddson expected him to be in the forge. However, the sixteen-year-old secretly loved listening to that smooth voice. Almost like silk as it lulled him into a stupor. Then there was the undeniable fact that Morfin was so brilliant. Well ahead of where Cedric was by bounds even though they were practically the same age. He had always been peculiar in that manner. Where other boys were attracted to pretty faces and robust rumps, Cedric Diggory found nothing more appealing than intellect. Hermione truly drew him in with how she could hold her own even despite being a Third Year.

Never before, however, could the Hufflepuff having recalled being so blatantly impressed by another male. It was intoxicating. Everything about Morfin left Cedric feeling dizzy and light-headed. Ravenous. Even the summer of Toulon could not satisfy his appetite quite so well as his new friend did whenever he praised Cedric's talent, or brains. Though it only ever seemed to make him hungrier than ever before. "That is what… Love is, right?" He queried, "You would do anything at all for them. Just to see them smile, or to make them happy. To keep them by your side."

"I suppose," The handsome youth hummed in slight agreement, dark-brown eyes melting beneath the sun in a way that could make hearts pound like there was no tomorrow. Crossing one of his long legs over the other Morfin shifted ever so slightly. Allowing the bare flesh below his stylish muggle shorts to slip against Cedric's own knee. Barely noticeable, yet it sent the blood coursing in his veins hotter than any magical fire at Oddson's forge ever could. The feelings he felt for Hermione were innocent and purer than anything in the world. What he felt for Morfin was entirely adult in nature. The American transfer student was exposing deep things, yearnings almost, that Cedric had never before realized were quite so unexplored. "Maybe one day I will meet this Hermione." A breeze swept over the brooding man's head causing his onyx-black hair to swirl wildly. "I feel as if we would all get along very well. The three of us, I mean."

"I wish you could come to Hogwarts with us," Cedric admitted, "Beauxbatons is lucky to have nabbed you."

A manly chuckle rang through the British wizard's ears. Shaking him to the core. Morfin's hand crept of its own volition through the air to grip at Cedric's own. Unable to help himself he shakily allowed the American to wind their fingers tightly together. "Not as lucky as I am to have met you." Their eyes, grey on brown, connected squarely then as Cedric felt a blush fill his cheeks. Mentally cursing his schoolboy reaction and shifting discreetly he forced himself to keep the link unbroken. Suddenly, somehow, Morfin's face was only a mere few inches from Cedric's own.

"I am going to kiss you now, Cedric," That silky voice had gone husky with inflamed desire.

Not one to let another person control such a life-changing situation Cedric Diggory surged forth. Willingly giving away his first kiss to Morfin Gaunt. One arm slipping under Morfin's, crumpling his immaculately ironed button-up. The other hand wasting no time digging into those luscious, onyx curls. Their soft lips were gentle enough against each other at first only for the movements to grow more carnal. One of Morfin's hands returned the favour by twisting into Cedric's dark locks while the spare settled properly on the small of his back. Almost cupping his bottom.

With the Toulon sunset as a backdrop they broke away from one another with ragged breaths. Cedric felt his face blazing as a pair of old women nearby strode away in disgust. Muttering something along the lines of 'filthy faggots' in French that he only had the brainpower to half-translate. Feeling sloppy, in a good sort of way, from the French kissing Cedric laughed lightly Morfin attacked his neck. Likely leaving hickies behind along the way. "You are fucking scrumptious, Cedric Diggory," He finally hissed upon reaching the other young man's ear. "Delectable and mine." At that the British wizard froze a bit, Hermione suddenly jumping into his mind. He knew that he was hers too, which made his lusty feelings all the more confusing. "Don't worry," Morfin pulled away, knowing precisely what to say, "There is enough of you to go around. I will never resent sharing you with Granger, if she is as brilliant as you claim."

They snogged even more furiously than before. Finally breaking apart when the sun was sinking. "You need to go off to bed, Cedric," Morfin all-but ordered, "And I have an errand to run." A goodnight kiss turned to another snog session, albeit shorter, and the Hufflepuff wandered dazedly back towards his apartment. Not noticing how the brown eyes he loved so much had turned to a crimson red. Or the way in which they eyed his back possessively the whole while.

Toulon was in for a shock the next morning when to old ladies were found viciously murdered in their homes.

Nonetheless, Cedric was stuck with his head in the clouds, and who could blame him?

OOOO

Cordelia Granger stood in the cold space. Hands on her shoulders as she eyed all of the doom and gloom. Felt the misery settling right onto the sides of her head as a migraine came on. "Can your lot manage it? I need this done by the end of the summer."

"Yes," The wizard looked back up from his floating notepad. Dicta-quill still scribbling furiously alongside him. "We can do just as good as the Goblins can, for half the cost."

"Excellent," The woman felt truly emboldened for the first time in years. It was time for her to stop running from the past. Time to teach Hermione that Morrigans did not shy away from a fight they could more than handle. "It is time for me to come home."

OOOO

This chapter literally just flew right out of me. First, do not worry, that will be Hermione's last wand. I finally made it work in a way that felt right. Also, I need to tell you guys that I looovvveee the long reviews. (Although reviews in general are still amazingly, fantastically great). Y'all really motivated me to crank this chapter out, so thank you, and keep it up! Hopefully no one freaks out over Cedric and Morfin. I have been planning that one out for a long time. Thanks for reading, and all of you have a lovely weekend!

Next Chapter: P, P, and the P's.