"Dumbledore's gone?" echoed around the castle the next morning. Students weren't sure whether to be proud of their headmaster for escaping capture and confounding Fudge, two aurors, Umbridge, and Percy Weasley, or to be astonished by what he'd done -- and scared of the consequences.

The consequences -- by right of Educational Decree Number 28 -- put Dolores Umbridge in charge of Hogwarts as Headmistress. Nearly everyone in the castle seemed to know what had happened on Monday night, even those who hadn't heard it from Harry or McGonagall . . . which puzzled Hermione until she realized that at least some of the information had come from the ghosts. Not all of them were as prurient as Myrtle, but they were quite curious, and widely aware -- and didn't sleep. Gossip traveled quickly.

"Dumbledore will be back before long," Ernie McMillan announced after Herbology. "They couldn't keep him away in our second year and they won't be able to this time. The Fat Friar told me that Umbridge tried to get back into his office last night after they'd searched the castle and grounds for Dumbledore. Couldn't get past the gargoyle. The Head's office has sealed itself against her. Apparently, she had a right little tantrum . . . "

This information pleased Hermione no end. "Oh, I expect she really fancied herself sitting up there in the Head's office. Lording it over all the other teachers, the stupid puffed-up, power-crazy old --"

"Now, do you really want to finish that sentence, Granger?"

Hermione, Ernie, Harry, Ron and Hannah all spun around. It was Draco Malfoy with Crabbe and Goyle. "Afraid I'm going to have to dock a few points from Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."

"It's only teachers who can dock points from Houses, Malfoy," Ernie reminded him.

"And we're prefects too, remember," Ron added.

"I know prefects can't dock points, Weasel King," Malfoy said as Crabbe and Goyle snorted. "But members of the Inquisitorial Squad --"

"The what?" Hermione demanded.

"The Inquisitorial Squad, Granger." Malfoy pointed to a small silver "I" on his robes beneath his prefect's badge. "A select group of students who are supportive of the Ministry of Magic, hand-picked by Professor Umbridge. Anyway, members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points . . . so, Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new headmistress . . . MacMillan, five from you for contradicting me . . . Five because I don't like you, Potter . . . Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll have another five for that . . . Abbott, you're standing a little too close to MacMillan, so five there. And oh, yeah, I forgot, you're a Mudblood, Granger, so ten for that . . . "

Ron pulled out his wand, but Hermione shoved it down with a "Don't!"

"Wise move, Granger." Malfoy smiled. "New head, new times . . . Be good now, Potty, Weasel King . . . "

He sauntered off, laughing. Ernie and Hannah appeared both appalled and dubious. "He was bluffing. He can't be allowed to dock points . . . even Cedric's not allowed to do that. It would be ridiculous -- completely undermine the prefect system . . . "

But Hermione had turned to look at the giant House hourglasses set in niches in the entranceway that recorded House points. Stones were flying upward even as they viewed it. Only Slytherin still had any notable amount in the lower bulbs, and Hermione was quite sure the Inquisitorial Squad all came from Slytherin.

Fred and George clomped down the stairs, pausing with the other five in front of the hourglasses. From their account, it seemed the New Order had taken hold quickly and viciously, although Hermione was appalled (and amused) to hear what they'd done to Montague, shoving him into a Vanishing Cabinet. "You mustn't!" she said when they admitted to plotting deliberate mayhem. "You really mustn't! She'd love a reason to expel you!"

"You don't get it, Hermione, do you?" Fred said, smiling. "We don't care about staying anymore. We'd walk out right now if we weren't determined to do our bit for Dumbledore first. So anyway, phase one is about to begin. I'd get in the Great Hall for lunch if I were you, that way the teachers will see you can't have had anything to do with it."

"To do with what?" Hermione wanted to know, both fear and excitement rising inside her.

"You'll see. Run along now." George warned.

They obeyed, and Hermione looked about anxiously for Cedric. If Fred and George feared they might be blamed, then Cedric could be too. But Cedric didn't seem to be around and almost as soon as they arrived, Filch appeared behind Harry, saying, "The Headmistress would like to see you, Potter."

"I didn't do it," Harry replied instinctively.

"Guilty conscience, eh?" Filch asked. "Follow me . . . " And he headed off.

Harry glanced back at Ron and Hermione, yet had no choice but to follow. "I don't like this," Hermione told Ron, who simply shook his head in agreement.

Less than a minute later, Cedric came through the doors with his mates. As it was lunch, not dinner, he settled in beside Hermione and bent towards her, whispering, "Something's up. Not sure what, but --"

"Yes, Fred and George warned us to get in the Great Hall to avoid being blamed for it." Hermione glanced around to see who else was present: most of the school, actually, and it struck her that only Slytherin kept wholly to themselves these days. Ginny was at the Ravenclaw table by Michael, Cedric sat with Hermione along with Scott and Peter who were talking to Lee Jordan. Ed had gone to sit with Susan, but Neville occupied Susan's other side, reviewing Herbology with her while Ed tried to decide if he should be jealous. And those were but a few. "You know," Hermione said, "Umbridge may have closed your Common Room but I think the Great Hall's turning into a substitute."

Eyes on his plate, he was grinning, "Yeah, I sort of noticed that. Not a bad outcome, is it?"

She covered his left hand with her right, rubbing her thumb over the gold signet ring he always wore now, marking him hers. "Not bad at all," she agreed.

But his eyes were raised towards the Slytherins. "Just wish it wasn't only three Houses."

They were still eating when the explosions started. Cedric actually dropped his fork in surprise and tried to stand, forgetting he couldn't . . . and almost fell off the bench. Hermione grabbed for him to steady him. They didn't say anything just looked at each other. Then she was on her feet, handing him his crutches and making sure the other students didn't knock him down in their haste to exit the hall. "Go on, go on!" he told her. 'Find out what's happening and come and tell me!"

Hermione hurried away, squeezing between people as she said, "I'm a prefect, let me through." Some paid attention to her rank, more didn't. She skidded to a halt in the entranceway as fireworks whizzed down the stairs -- glittering dragons and Catherine wheels and shooting rockets. Her mouth dropped open in stunned surprise. Realizing who must have let them off, she wasn't sure whether to laugh or gasp in horror, but she could hear Umbridge's shrieks of rage upstairs along with Filch's kow-towing whine . . . Oh, she shouldn't giggle at what might get the twins expelled, but this was priceless and knowing Fred and George, delight was the best compliment she could offer.

Running back to Cedric, who'd finally made it out of the Great Hall, she threw her arms around his neck and just laughed helplessly. "Fireworks!" she said. "Fred and George."

"They're not burning down the castle, are they?"

"Oh, no."

"Then I say we enjoy them." She pulled away enough to see his delighted grin, the one that showed all his teeth, as he watched a gold dragon sail down the hallway over their heads. "Brilliant."

"Quite," she agreed.

The fireworks continued to burn for the rest of the day, entertaining students and teachers alike -- everybody but Umbridge -- and the mutinous atmosphere left Hermione feeling happy and agitated and wanting to do something against the rules herself . . . just because. With Dumbledore gone and Umbridge in charge, Hermione had a hard time taking school seriously. She knew she had OWLs coming up, and knew those exams would determine what she'd do with the rest of her life, but for that afternoon and evening she didn't care -- didn't care about studying or about behaving herself. When she met Cedric in the library after supper at their usual table, she tugged him down behind it below the Butterfly Woman where they'd hidden at the beginning of the year to exchange caresses they weren't ready yet for others to see.

Laughing softly, he asked. "Are you feeling all right, Granger?"

"Now that you mention it" -- she kissed him quickly on the mouth -- "d'you know . . . I think I am feeling a bit . . . rebellious."

"Mmm," he said, catching her around the waist and pulling her to him. The next kiss wasn't quick. They spent ten minutes snogging until she just wanted to peel him out of his clothes and watch him convulse as she brought him off. He was panting from need and excitement.

"Room of Requirement," she whispered. "I'll get Harry's map -- meet you there." She started to rise.

"No, Granger." He pulled her back. "We can't get stupid for sex, much as I'd like to. We shouldn't even be doing this. If Pince catches us . . . "

"Cedric --" It was almost a whine. "Umbridge is a bit busy tonight. I think we're safe."

"Better not." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Come home with me instead."

"What?"

"Easter Holidays --"

"We have exams!"

"You were the one just advocating taking a night off."

"Well, that's a night! We can't afford --"

"Not all of Holidays," he interrupted. "But we need to get out of this castle, poppet, before we both go mad. Remember Christmas?"

She found herself smiling and pushing her face into his neck. "Yes, I remember Christmas."

"A week, then. We'll take a week at my house, then come back here and work for the second week. We can take our books with us, and my parents have a bit of a library. Not big, but with some good books -- things we'd use here." He pushed her back to stare into her eyes. "Please."

She had no ability to turn him down when he looked at her like that, beautiful eyes wide and expression so serious. "All right," she said. "But we're going to study."

He grinned. "Absolutely."

Although she knew perfectly well that wasn't all they'd be doing -- and knowing made it possible to let him go and return to their books, even if they played footsie under the table and sometimes broke into giggles for no reason.

Cedric sent his parents a letter the very next morning. After Christmas, he doubted they'd mind if he brought Hermione with him but didn't want simply to show up with her. Knowing it was already Wednesday with only two days to wait put him in an exceptional mood -- enough so that when Umbridge called him into her office that evening along with Violet Sykes, he shrugged and went with equanimity. "Please have a seat," she told Violet. Cedric was already in his chair. Violet, Cedric noted, hadn't been made a member of Umbridge's 'Inquisitorial Squad' any more than he had, and he briefly wondered if Madam Toad had called them here only to show them another educational decree relieving them of their offices.

Instead, she smiled at them with sickening sweetness and said, "I thought it time to sit down with you both and outline what I expect of you as student heads. Professor Dumbledore appears to have been a bit . . . well, lax." She steepled her hands. "As I'm sure you both know, the offices of Head Boy and Girl are singular honors, and I expect you to conduct yourselves as examples to the larger student body in terms of academic diligence and impeccable discipline. They aren't offices to abuse, you understand?"

Her eye lingered on Cedric. He just lifted a brow in reply.

She cleared her throat. "I'm sure we won't have any problems, but I did want to stress that I have . . . somewhat higher standards. The student body needs some consistency in these topsy-turvy times, so I hope I can count on you both to help me make this transition as smooth as possible and not condone any . . . mischievousness." Meaning the Weasleys' stunt. "If you have any information about such matters, I expect you to bring it to me just as you would have to Professor Dumbledore. After all, our goal here is the safety and proper education of our students. I'm sure you'll agree."

Violet had straightened in her chair. "If I may ask a question, professor?"

"Certainly, my dear."

"Why have you instituted an 'Inquisitorial Squad'? We have prefects, and with students able to dock points -- something even Cedric and I aren't permitted -- it undermines the authority of the student officers. I can hardly be expected to keep my prefects in line if I'm afraid one of them will take points from Ravenclaw if I scold her for being late to report -- as happened last night."

Umbridge managed to look both uncomfortable and irritated at once. "I'm sure you don't mean Miss Parkinson --"

"That's exactly who I mean, professor." As usual, Violet was blunt and to the point, and Umbridge was torn between increasing annoyance and embarrassment at being called on the carpet by a student. Fortunately, Violet hadn't had any direct confrontations with Umbridge before, or not anything serious, so she could say such things. Cedric would have been silenced immediately. "Pansy was half an hour late with her rounds," Violet went on, "and when she finally did deign to show up, I told her she had detention -- but she told me I couldn't give her detention and took ten points off Ravenclaw out of spite."

"Well, it's a matter of authority --"

"Exactly," Violet interrupted. "Mine. Either I'm Head Girl -- or I'm not. Cedric and I can't do our jobs if some students are allowed to go over our heads."

Umbridge looked between them, clearly torn and Cedric watched the frustration play out over her doughy features. She no doubted wanted to maintain some continuity as she'd said, but she couldn't grant Violet an exception and not give it to Cedric -- although Cedric was one of the students she most wanted to contain. "Very well," she said finally, and Cedric was a bit surprised that she'd conceded so easily. But maybe this meeting was more than it seemed? Had Umbridge been given, through the antics of the Weasley twins, a taste of what could happen if the student body rebelled en-mass? She didn't hold as much power as she might seem, and needed to keep Violet, and Cedric, from outright rebellion. Apparent authority wasn't always actual authority.

"Neither of you must answer to my student Inquisitors," she went on, "and for those who are also prefects, you retain your usual authority over them, including the right to hand out detentions. Miss Sykes, Ravenclaw's ten points have been restored. But all that said, the two of you do not have authority over them in the duties for which they were appointed -- specifically surveillance of the student body in order to root out rebellion against Ministry Decrees. And they may, in fact, have authority over you, requiring you to divulge information pertinent to an investigation."

Cedric didn't argue; he knew it fruitless. Violet appeared set to for a moment, then reconsidered. "All right, fair enough. But I retain my right to halt anything I doubt is legitimate and request the High Inquisitor's approval. And they shouldn't be allowed to take points from me or Cedric without your approval, either."

It wasn't an argument precisely, more a clever bargain. "Very well," Umbridge agreed. "But I want to stress that I expect both of you to be models of, well, decorum for the other students. Shining examples of Hogwarts' very best."

Cedric thought he might gag; Violet's face was impassive. "Of course we will," Violet said, then stood. "We should get back to our offices, professor. It's almost time for evening rounds."

"Yes, yes," Umbridge said but before Cedric could move his chair, she added, "Cedric, may I speak with you a moment?"

He glanced at Violet, but could hardly refuse. "Of course," he said, wondering what this was about and why she was calling him by his first name. He didn't like what that portended.

Violet left and Umbridge seated herself in the chair Violet had vacated, leaning forward to pat his knee. He went rigid. He didn't want Madam Toad touching him or watching with that predatory gaze, and he wondered now about the wisdom of what he'd done in the prefects' bath, desperate or not, letting her see him half nude. He shifted his chair's wheels under the pretense of turning it to face her . . . and backing it up in the process. She was forced to withdraw the hand and sit up.

"I was quite serious when I said I expected the student Heads to be models of decorum," she began. "That goes for your . . . relationship . . . with Miss Granger. I wonder, in fact, if it might not be time for you to bring that to an end? At your age, there's such a thing as a relationship that's run too long -- become too serious, with all those natural temptations. Perhaps you and Miss Granger should consider seeing other people? After all, you're both still so very young."

Cedric couldn't believe what he was hearing, and wasn't sure if the woman were threatening him -- he must break up with Hermione or lose his office -- or if she were under the quite twisted impression she was genuinely looking out for him. Even more, he wasn't at all sure how to reply.

After a long minute while he thought furiously, he said, "I don't think I'd be a very good example to other students if I dropped my girlfriend of over six months for no reason and started seeing other girls. In fact, it'd be a rather poor example, don't you think, professor? Quite callous."

"Oh, Cedric," she sighed in contrived disappointment, "let's be candid. I'm well aware of the . . . pressures that certain girls can put on young men. I'm only concerned for your reputation with a girl like Hermione Granger." She coughed delicately. "After all, she's shown a penchant for famous boyfriends who're older than she is. She may, well, promise certain things . . . but girls like that can get a boy into trouble before he knows what's happened."

It took every bit of control Cedric had not to spit in Umbridge's face. "I assure you, professor, Hermione is nothing like you've implied." He'd have liked to say more but it would've come out at a shout, which would not only get him a detention, but would provide her with proof that Hermione manipulated his emotions. "She's clever, responsible, and honest."

Umbridge sighed again and looked at him almost pityingly. "Muggle-born girls . . . you have to understand -- the Muggle world isn't like ours. Their girls don't know proper behavior. All one has to do is look at their clothes -- some of them are barely dressed!"

"I'm sure Minister Fudge shares your thoughts on Muggle-born witches and wizards," he said, viciously pleased when she sat up a bit in alarm.

"Well, now -- Minister Fudge has to think about the whole Wizarding World, but you and I -- both of us wizards born . . . I don't dislike Muggles, of course. That would be bigotry!"

"It would, wouldn't it?"

"But you have to admit, there are differences."

She was good. Cedric had to admit she was good. She'd changed tactics three times now when he'd fended off each new one. "Sometimes," he told her, "difference is a source of strength. And now I'd best be going, or I'll be late for report."

In fact, he was quite late and Violet had already handled it. She met him at the door. "All right, Cedric? What did she want?"

"Er, do you mean the half-concealed threats, the attempt to get me to break up with Hermione, or the anti-Muggle commentary?" He made a face, "She's awful," then added, "Thanks, for standing up to her in there. If I'd said those things, she'd have given me a detention, not given us back some authority."

Violet frowned. "Well, it is true you've become a bit of a lightning rod, don't you think? Almost as bad as Potter. You didn't used to be so controversial, Ced."

He clenched his teeth. "Controversial? For what -- telling the truth? I was less controversial before I saw Voldemort come back from the dead and lost my legs."

She didn't reply immediately, just met his eyes where he occupied his chair. "I believe what you reported about You Know Who -- that's not what I'm talking about. But you catch more flies with honey than vinegar."

"And sometimes you have to forget both and just swat the damn things. We're on the eve of a war. I can't do anything but what I've done -- not and look myself in the eye in the mirror of a morning. Umbridge and Fudge are trying to conceal the truth, pretend nothing is going on -- and not teaching students a thing about self defense. That's going to get people killed. How long do you think you could hold your own facing a Death Eater?"

Her face went white. "Why would they come after me?"

"Maybe just because you're in the wrong place at the wrong time -- like me." He rolled past her towards his office.

"Cedric --" He turned to look at her. She came forward and knelt beside his chair so they were on a level. "I'm not really one for causes, but I'm not on Umbridge's side. And, well, the Head Boy and Girl should present a united front."

He grinned. "Thanks, Vi."

She smiled back, then spoke softly. "Actually, there's another reason I was waiting for you. There's somebody in my office who needs a sympathetic ear and I never know what to say."

His eyebrows went up but he wheeled towards her office. This wouldn't be the first time she'd asked him to intervene, or sent somebody to talk to him because she wasn't sure how to handle an emotional crisis.

He wasn't prepared for who it was, however.

A red-eyed Cho Chang looked up when he appeared in the doorway. She'd clearly been sobbing but straightened in her seat upon seeing him and wiped her eyes. "Er, um -- I thought you were Violet coming back." She glanced around as if seeking another door to escape through.

He sighed. Violet had set him up. Well, partly -- Cho clearly was upset, and crying students did make Violet uncomfortable. Nonetheless, she'd been dropping increasingly unsubtle hints that he should talk to Cho, and now she'd seized an opportunity to force his hand. He rolled in and gestured the door almost closed. It probably wasn't 'proper' but he didn't want to be overheard. "What happened?" he asked gently.

"Like you care!"

"I do, Cho."

Realizing he wasn't going to let her escape, she dropped pretense and glared. "Do you want to gloat? Are you happy I'm miserable? Are you happy Harry hates me too, now?"

He blinked. This was about Harry? "What did he say? And no -- I'm not happy at all." She frowned at her hands and wiped her running nose again. He Levitated the box of tissues on Violet's desk over to her and she took one, crinkling it in her hands, but seemed reluctant to talk. "Cho, look -- Violet sent me in here because she's no good with this sort of thing. I'm really not here to laugh at you, whatever you think. If it helps any, think of me as Head Boy, not your former boyfriend."

That made her roll her eyes in exasperation. "Cedric, don't be ridiculous. I can hardly think of you as some stranger, and it's a bit, well, weird to talk to an ex-boyfriend about a current boyfriend -- or new ex-boyfriend, I suppose."

"He broke up with you?"

"Not in so many words, but yeah, I think that was pretty clearly the implication." She paused, looking up at him, then went on, "He practically screamed at me -- about Marietta. Marietta made a mistake. I admit that -- she admits that -- but she's my friend. We've been friends for six years. And Harry just . . . he didn't want to hear any of that! Or why she did what she did! He didn't even try to understand." And she related to him the gist of her conversation with Harry earlier that evening. Cedric was reminded of something Remus Lupin had told him back in August about Harry counting loyalty very highly, so he supposed it was no surprise if Harry held a failure of loyalty in especial contempt.

And he was inclined to agree -- loyalty mattered a great deal to him, as well -- but Cho had a kind heart and tended to make excuses for people. It was why she'd put up with his own behavior at the year's beginning for as long as she had. "Why did Marietta tell on us?" he asked as gently as he could -- not in accusation. "She was a member of the D.A. from the beginning and could have turned us in months ago. Why now?"

Cho blew her noise. "Well, to be honest -- it's what happened to your father, Ced. When Fudge sacked him, Marietta got very worried for her mum's job. She didn't . . . she didn't think, she just panicked. I went up to hospital to talk to her. She's extremely sorry." Cho looked down at her hands again. "She apologized to me over and over; she hadn't meant to get me into trouble."

Cedric chewed that over. He suspected she'd apologized to Cho more from fear than regret, knowing Cho would forgive her. Wheeling further into the room, he maneuvered his chair until it was next to Cho's, she facing one way and he the other so he could see her face. "You're too kind-hearted," he told her. "To Marietta . . . to me . . . "

"Harry doesn't think so."

"Harry's on a short fuse. Doesn't mean he had the right to yell at you, but he did have a point about Marietta."

"Not you, too!"

"Cho, stop a minute and think, will you? I can understand her fears -- but that doesn't make what she did right. And, well, I'm not so sure she's really all that sorry. I'm irked with her because she knew you'd accept her apology and then defend her. She's taking advantage of you. Don't let her."

Twisting her head, she glared. "You're one to talk."

Yet their breakup was far enough in the past that her words stung less than they might have, and he shrugged. "Why d'you think I've avoided you? I felt guilty for what I did and didn't really think I deserved forgiveness -- but I knew you'd give it if I apologized. It's the way you are. You don't hold grudges and you forgive people, because you're nice. A truly nice person; it's not just a front with you." He smiled at her. "That's what attracted me to you in the first place."

"I don't suppose I'm as nice as Hermione Granger."

"Cho -- don't." He tilted his head forward, looking at her from under his brows. "You and I both know it wasn't working, and it wasn't working before I knew Granger. We're too much alike, you and me, and not enough alike. You found me tedious." She jerked her head up to stare, mouth open. "Go on -- admit it. You listened very politely to everything I said, but it went in one ear and out the other."

She laughed. It was the first time he'd made her laugh since September. "Well, you'd . . . blather about this or that law or decree or act, and how it was going to have this or that consequence and I just . . . I don't care that much about politics! It's so . . . abstract!"

Grinning now, he felt relieved. This was the most honest they'd been with each other in over a year -- maybe the most honest ever. "The only thing we could agree on was Quidditch."

"Well, we didn't exactly disagree on things . . . "

"True. Just bored each other to tears." He held out a hand and after a moment, she put hers in it. "I'm glad you're on our side, Cho. But stop letting Marietta and people like her make you their doormat, yeah? As for Harry, I'll talk to him --"

"No," she said, drawing back her hand and shaking her head. "No. I don't . . . I think I understand him even less than I understood you. And he's . . . " She trailed off, rubbing her nose. "I hate to say it but, he's pretty messed up. Sometimes I think he's just going to fall apart. I always feel like I'm walking on eggshells with him. I'd thought maybe . . . well, he doesn't deserve what he's lived through, and --"

"It's not your job to fix him, Cho. We're back to your tendency to make apologies for people. You can't live your life like that. Stop it." He frowned at her. "Did you ever like Harry or was it --"

"Yes, I liked him! It wasn't some . . . pity date. But I don't feel that anymore, not really."

He nodded. "Then you're better off with somebody else."

She raised her head and looked at him. "But not you." It was half self-admonition, half question. He could still see some interest in her eyes, but more like an echo, a memory of what they'd had, and perhaps a bit of gratitude to him for understanding.

"Not me," he agreed. "Although I wouldn't mind being called your friend again. We were pretty good friends before. If you can forgive me for last autumn." He shrugged. "I was a prat. I just didn't want to hurt you so I avoided everything."

Shaking her head, she half smiled. "You were a prat. But you could've been a lot worse. So yeah" -- reaching out, she gripped his forearm -- "friends. But, well, don't ask me to like Hermione Granger."

"Girls. You're vicious little green-eyed monsters."

Her chin came up. "We are not! She just grates on me. She grated on me even before she took a fancy to you -- I think that's why I was so angry! I couldn't . . . I can't see what you see in her, Ced. She's so bossy, such a know-it-all. And you're nothing like that."

He was a bit offended, but also determined not to take it personally. "That's what I see in her, Cho -- she's not like me. And it's why you and I didn't work. Hermione and I balance each other. You and I -- we just exaggerated each other's faults. Like I said -- too much alike and not enough. Same personality, different interests. With Hermione, we have the same interests but different personalities." He shrugged. "What can I say? We seem to work."

Cho rolled her eyes. "Fine. So you two work. I still don't like her." She got to her feet, dropping a platonic kiss on the crown of his head. "Thank you, for understanding about Marietta. She's still my friend and I'll give her a second chance. We learn from our mistakes." She headed out. "Assuming we can find the counter-jinx and she'll ever come out in public again."

She was almost out the door. "Cho?" She looked back in. "I know the counter-jinx."

Her face was astonished. "You do? Will you tell me -- ?"

"No. But I'll Unjinx Marietta . . . if she promises to sign another parchment -- knowing this time it's jinxed, and by me -- promising not to change her mind and tattle on the D.A." Cho was frowning. "That is a second chance, Cho. I can't trust just her given word. She forfeited that. But I'll take the jinx off if she'll make that promise. Sometimes, with second chances, you have to prove yourself."

She met his eyes, then nodded. "I'll tell her and let you know what she says."

"You are not going to Unjinx her!"

"Yes, poppet, I am -- if she signs the promise letter."

"Don't call me poppet! And I can't believe you're going to . . . just . . . "

"Just what? Didn't the jinx work? It stopped her from talking. And she's lived with it for days now; the whole castle knows what she did. Isn't that punishment enough?"

Hermione glared. She was angry, but also guilty. She knew she was being vindictive but Marietta had violated their trust and could have ruined the life and future careers of everybody in the D.A. And for what? Because she was afraid her mother might lose her job if the D.A. might have been discovered? "I'm still not certain she didn't do it to get ahead with Umbridge."

Cedric shook his head. "I think if that were the case, she'd have done it earlier, and wouldn't have agreed to this. Cho talked to her last night and --"

"So you're chatty again with Cho?"

He cocked his head, gray eyes going silver and hard. "Don't be jealous. You've got no reason."

She wanted to believe that but felt caught off guard. "You used my affection to get that counter-jinx."

He made a disgusted sound. "I asked you about the counter-jinx days ago -- before I talked to Cho or even knew I would. I just wanted to know what it was. Don't accuse me of using you. That makes me furious."

And he did have that look she'd come to associate with Cedric on the edge of losing his temper. She also knew he was right. "Okay. Sorry. I just -- she betrayed us, Ced."

"Yes, she did. And apparently she feels very badly and realizes that what she did was cowardly. I'm as angry with her as you are, but don't tell me you've never done something you knew was cowardly?"

She opened her mouth to say she hadn't, except she wasn't sure she could. "Fine. You can lift the jinx." Not that he'd asked her permission; he'd told her he was going to. "But she'd better not expect any of us to be her friend after that!"

"Of course not." His expression was annoyed. "Heaven forbid you should get down off your high horse long enough to offer grace." And he rolled away from her. "I don't trust her either, Granger. That's why I'm making her sign the paper. But I also don't think it's fair to make her live with 'Sneak' across her face for the rest of her life. You've made your point."

Her own face was burning from embarrassment as badly as if he'd physically slapped her. He knew her well enough now to know just where to strike, and she refused to talk to him for the rest of Thursday -- which was just splendid. They were supposed to be leaving tomorrow for a week in each other's constant company?

(The fact he was laughing with Cho before dinner on Thursday had nothing to do with her irritation, she told herself.)

Harry was just as moody, although he wouldn't tell her or Ron why, and in exasperation, Ron moved away from them, down by the twins and Lee Jordan.

Friday morning, Umbridge ran into her in the hall between classes. Her smile was unctuous. "I saw Mr. Diggory speaking with Miss Chang last night -- and this morning too. So good to see them finally making up, although I noticed the two of you aren't together. These teen romances do tend to fizzle after a few months . . . "

Grinding her teeth, Hermione said, "Cedric and I had a quarrel -- that's all. We're still together."

Umbridge's smile widened. "Well, when boys start talking to ex-girlfriends . . . " She let that trail off and waddled away.

Hermione was scarcely able to pay attention in Transfigurations and burst from the classroom when it was over. She didn't know if she wanted to cry or find Cedric and yell at him -- or find him and make him tell her if he honestly was interested in Cho again. They were supposed to leave after her last afternoon class, but she didn't know what to do about that -- doubted he still wanted to take her home with him. At a loss, she escaped into the courtyard. It was damp and cold, but she could smell the tell-tale green that promised spring was just around the corner.

Huddled on a bench near an oak, she wrapped arms around herself and brooded. Lunch was half over before Cedric found her there. He was in his chair and it struck her that he'd been in the chair a lot this past week; she wondered if he were trying to stave off another attack. "I came to ask if you're, er, packed?" he said.

She stared at him. "You still want me to come?"

"Do you want to come?"

"I asked you first."

"Granger -- "

"Did Marietta sign your parchment?"

"Yes, she did."

Her lips thinned and she said, "I still don't trust her." He sighed, sounding exasperated. "You don't approve, do you?" she asked.

"You're just angry with me because I called you on holding a grudge. You want me never to argue with you? I told you at the beginning I wasn't going to do that."

Her anger flowed away and her shoulders slumped. "It's not arguing with you. It's -- " How could she say that sometimes he made her feel very young and not at all clever . . . and that wasn't a feeling she liked.

"It's what?" he asked now, a slight edge in his voice.

"It's nothing."

He frowned down into his lap where his hands were folded together inside their fingerless gloves. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what. Silence stretched. "Why are you in the chair?" she asked after a moment, to change the subject.

He looked up at her. "My legs are hurting. It's been a bit stressful this week." He paused again. "Do you want to talk?"

"About what?"

"Stop being obtuse. You were going to say something, then backed down, and you don't sound like you want to come with me for holidays. I thought -- " He hesitated, then spit out, "Umbridge was happy to inform me this morning that the Bulgarian Quidditch team will be in Edinburgh next week. I tried not to be jealous, but I know you still write to Krum and --"

"What?!" Hermione's jaw dropped. The Bulgarian . . . Umbridge had told him that? "You thought I might want to . . . I didn't even know they'd be here! And I've never made a secret of writing to Viktor! Umbridge told me you were talking to Cho!"

He frowned. "You saw me talking to Cho last night. For all of five minutes."

"Umbridge said you were with her again this morning. In fact, she assumed we'd broken up."

There was a sudden, cold smile on his lips. "That snake. We've been played, Granger. She saw we were quarreling and took advantage of it."

Holding his eyes, she drew her legs up on the bench again and wrapped arms around them. "I have no plans to see Viktor, even if he were in town. But I wasn't sure you'd want me to come with you with . . . well, like things are now." Umbridge may have played them, but she'd only taken advantage of a genuine argument.

"You think if I go away for a week, things will magically be better when I get back?"

She frowned. "I really hate it when you patronize me, Cedric."

His mouth dropped open. "Patronize you! I'm patronizing you if I tell you that you're like an elephant with your grudges?"

"You think I'm immature!"

"I said no such thing! But I do think you're being a stubborn idiot right about now!"

And they were right back to where they'd been the day before. Her pride and his conviction that he held the moral high ground -- yet it was that very same conviction she loved most about him. Cedric was an honestly good person. It had set him in opposition to Umbridge and made him insist that Harry take the Triwizard Cup with him, resulting in his crippling. It had made him help Harry in the Tournament in the first place, and had even made him, two years ago, call for a rematch when Harry had fallen off his broom during a Quidditch game.

That was simply who Cedric was -- that insistence on doing what he thought right, no matter how much it cost him. He could be as shrewd and cunning as his Slytherin mother, but he couldn't not do the right thing when it affected others, no matter how inconvenient. He had too much compassion, and that made him unbelievably strong. Annoying sometimes in his integrity, but she realized he'd become her moral compass. There were lines in the sand he wouldn't cross, even in the name of pragmatism or success -- and he wouldn't let her cross them, either. It was comforting in a way, even as it shamed her a little. She feared letting him down, and so felt a need to justify herself -- even if she knew she wasn't acting quite right.

"Okay -- fine. I got a bit carried away about Marietta, but I was really angry. She betrayed us. She hurt people I care about."

"I know, Granger." Bending forward, he took her hand in his. "You'd make a good Hufflepuff, you know -- you're loyal. And I don't think you're immature. But I also don't think you're always right."

She laced her fingers through his. "It's just that sometimes, the way you say it -- it makes me feel . . . stupid. Or young. Or . . . bad."

"I'm sorry." He opened his mouth to say more, then shut it.

"You do think those things about me, don't you?" Shame squeezed her chest again.

He smiled almost sheepishly. "Maybe a bit -- but I think those things about me at times. I won't blame you for not being perfect if you won't blame me for it, all right?" He shrugged. "I don't expect you to be perfect but I'll tell you when I think you're wrong. I won't pretend it's okay."

She rubbed her thumb over his fingers. It was a truce.

For Cedric, among the more annoying problems related to his handicap was moving outside his normal routine. Things he did everyday -- simple hygiene, getting dressed, getting to classes and to meals -- none of these took planning anymore. Traveling was another matter. Even if he were just going home where he'd be back to the familiar, there was still the small matter of getting there.

They could've taken the Hogwarts' Express as they'd done at Christmas, but with only a week, he didn't feel like wasting a day of it on the train, not to mention it would mean waiting another night. He'd reached a point he couldn't bear the thought of spending even one more evening at Hogwarts.

That left limited options. Apparating all the way from Scotland to the south of England simply wasn't possible -- the distance was too great -- and the Knight Bus would leave him smashed like a bug on the back window. Portkey wasn't wise for less than an emergency, as when he'd lost his legs, he'd lost the ability to land in any way besides a heap, and floo presented similar problems.

Unless he was sitting -- that, he thought he could manage. Umbridge naturally tried to block his departure by insisting he go by train like everybody else or not at all, but Sprout pointed out that Cedric was of age and once he stepped off the castle property during holidays, he was outside the school's jurisdiction. Hermione had a letter from her mother, permitting her to leave with Cedric. So they went into Hogsmeade, where Madam Rosmerta let them use the floo in The Three Broomsticks, which -- being an inn -- had been built nice and large to accommodate guests with luggage. Sprout gave them the floo powder.

Flooing while seated was . . . an experience, and he practically fell out of the fireplace when he arrived, but he supposed he'd best get used to it. Hermione had gone first with the luggage, and Crookshanks and Esiban, and his father was there to catch him before he tumbled onto his side, but he still felt ungainly. "Didn't eat anything, did you?" his father asked, helping him to stand. "Do I need to get a pot?"

"No, dad." He was blushing.

Hermione looked quizzically from him to his father and his father opened his mouth to explain even as Cedric pleaded, "Please don't tell her --"

"There was a certain unfortunate incident when Ced was about six . . . "

"Please --" Cedric tried once more, knowing it was a lost cause given the grin stealing onto Hermione's face matching the one already on his father's.

"Do you have to embarrass him, Amos?" Cedric's mother had just entered the gallery, her hands still covered with paint. Cedric threw her a grateful look.

"No, no -- I want to hear this," Hermione said. She'd already released Esiban but still held a squirming Crookshanks.

"Well," Cedric's father went on, "we'd gone shopping in Diagon Alley and Ced had eaten far too many sweets, although we warned him not to. We took the floo home and the minute he stepped out of the fireplace, he vomited all over the gallery rug. So now it's a bit of a joke to ask if he's eaten anything and wants a pot if he arrives by floo."

Hermione was laughing, Cedric was blushing, and his mother was rolling her eyes. "It's really not that funny, Amos, after the two-hundredth time."

"Well Hermione here's only heard it once."

"And I'm sure it won't be the last." She looked from Cedric to Hermione. "Come on, you two. Berry should have dinner ready before long."

However exasperating that start to the holidays, it was also mundane and familiar and easy. He and Hermione spent dinner catching up his parents on everything Cedric hadn't trusted to post, then hearing what news they had about reactions in the larger Wizarding World to recent events at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore's flight. "People bought Fudge's accusations," Cedric's father said with great disgust. "Well, most people. A few have better sense."

"He's the most powerful wizard in England, Amos," his mother said, spearing spring asparagus. "Perhaps the most powerful wizard in all Europe. That frightens people. We have to trust he'll do the right thing because who could control him if he didn't? Granted Kingsley was on our side, nonetheless, I have little doubt that nobody in that office could have stopped his escape."

Cedric frowned. "You're saying that people automatically distrust him just because --"

"-- he's powerful? Yes. When someone attains the sort of influence that Albus Dumbledore has, public opinion tends to run one of two ways -- either he's all good, or he's a villain. There's no middle ground. They hold him to a higher standard." She stared at Cedric. "Keep that in mind. I'm afraid some of it has spilled over onto you."

"Me?" Cedric was genuinely shocked and practically dropped his fork. Hermione looked up too.

"Do I really need to explain to you that you're famous, dear heart?" His mother's expression was amused.

"Well, no, mum, actually, I sort of figured that out." It came out more sarcastic than he'd meant and he saw his father's mouth open to rebuke him, but she raised a hand.

"People want to put you on a pedestal, Cedric -- or knock you off of it. Repercussions of the spotlight."

"I'd be happy to get out of the spotlight if somebody would just show me where to exit the stage."

She smiled. "Not so easy." She glanced at Hermione. "You too. Whether due to Cedric or to Harry Potter, attention sometimes focuses on you. You and Cedric make a very pretty couple and can let that work for you if you give it some thought, but if you try to hide your heads in the sand and let the press make hay, they will. Everybody loves a good scandal. But they also love a happy story and a bit of romance."

Cedric sat back. "Why are you telling us this?"

"Because like it or not, the Wizarding World is watching you. Sometimes you're a bit too modest. Use that spotlight you dislike so."

"You're charismatic," Hermione said from across the table. "When you want to, you eclipse everybody else in a room." He frowned at her. She was ganging up on him with his mother, and he hoped this wasn't evidence of a future pattern.

His mother was nodding, and his father too. "She's right, Ced," his father said.

And he felt suddenly uncomfortable, even here with his family and girlfriend. He didn't really eclipse everybody in a room, did he? Yet the honest, analytical side of him recognized it to be true. It wasn't only his looks or his height. He had that, to be sure, but it was some indefinable more, and a part of him preened under the attention even while the other side of him was deeply bothered by it. He felt undeserving.

Scratching the back of his head, he kept quiet, unsure how to reply. His father had returned to his roast but his mother watched him think about it. "You know it's true," she said softly. "False modesty is annoying, Cedric. And irresponsible. Own up to the truth and handle it."

"Handle it how?"

"Think about what you do. You must operate in two arenas -- the private and the public. Unlike most people, you simply can't assume that what you do and say is private."

"I know that, mum. I'm Head Boy, and I was a prefect. I'm well aware that people watch me."

"This is more than that."

"What is this about?" he asked. "Do you know something I don't? Because I can't quite decide how this advice relates. Yes, I'm Head Boy. But I'll be done with that office in two and a half months. Then I'll just be one more kid finished with school, out looking for a job --"

"Exactly," his mother interrupted. "Except you're not . . . just one more. You're Cedric Diggory. You can't pretend you're not. Be humble -- people like that -- but don't be ignorant in it." She set down her own fork and met his eyes. Hermione watched and so did his father. "There are people who will interview you just to say they talked to you. There are people who will stop you on the street for the same reason. Think about everything you say and do when you're in the public eye. Harry's no good at this. He's proved it again and again. But you -- I raised you for this, Cedric. You can do it. It's in your blood and bones; it's your natural gift. Use it. People will love you if you let them." She glanced again at Hermione. "Both of you. Be sympathetic, be humble, be heroic and honest, even be pretty. But most of all, be aware, children."

Cedric looked across the table at Hermione, who appeared a bit startled. He didn't think she'd anticipated this backfiring on her, as well. She wasn't comfortable in the spotlight -- preferred to work behind the scenes. Yet he also recognized that his mother was right, and not only in her advice about handling public attention, but in her admission that she'd raised him for it. She had -- from the first time she'd used him as a model, or pushed him forward to be noticed. 'Don't be afraid, you can do it.' She'd schooled him in everything from how to move when eyes were on him, to how to how to speak before a crowd. She'd taught him what she'd been taught. How to be watched, how to be seen, how to be talked about. After all, she was a Malfoy.

And so was he, whatever his last name.

"Yes, mother," he said now.

After supper he headed to his room to unpack and Hermione headed upstairs to do the same. "I need to brush my teeth." It made him smile; daughter of dentists indeed. Yet when he entered his room, he found two trunks nestled side-by-side beneath the window -- hers and his. He was still staring at them, puzzled, when Hermione came back down to stick her head in his door. "Did your parents put me in a different room?"

Plopping down on his bed and rubbing the bridge of his nose, he replied, "Er -- maybe so?" And he indicated the pair of trunks.

Mouth open, she stared as well. "Maybe your dad just moved them in here and didn't finish?"

He shook his head and glanced around at her. "It's not exactly difficult to've moved yours upstairs the same as at Christmas."

Her face was coloring. It was rather cute. "Um --"

He rose from the bed. "Go and brush your teeth. Let me talk to mum."

His mother was in her studio on the second floor, cleaning up from her day's work. "Mother?" She looked around as he entered. "Hermione's trunk --"

"-- is in your room, yes." She cocked her head. "You object?"

"Well, er, I know you knew but, um, does dad . . . ?"

"Your father put them there. We discussed the matter before you arrived."

"Oh." That meant his mother had told his father which end was up. "And he's all right with it?"

She smiled. "Cedric -- you're eighteen. And you've been with the same girl for more than half a year. Your father is hardly a fool." She turned back to her tarps, rolling them. "He quite likes Hermione -- as do I. Act responsibly, behave yourselves in public -- but let's not play games in private, shall we? If you intend to sleep with her, then sleep with her. It's all very exciting when you're sneaking around, almost getting caught in the prefects' bathroom -- "

She knew about that? Cedric felt his jaw drop and his face flush.

" -- but being a grown-up means the whole mundane reality. Perhaps it's time the two of you found out what it's like to share a bed the whole night and fight over the sheets and who takes up all the space, and who snores loudest." She finished her rolling to look up at him again. "That's love, Cedric. It's not romantic. It's pragmatic. Now go and see if you can survive a week in the same bedroom as your girlfriend. If you can, then you just may have something real."

So he went back downstairs and found Hermione waiting for him, sitting on the edge of his bed. He paused in the doorway and, balancing on one crutch, ran a hand through his hair. "Um -- it wasn't a mistake. Mum . . . sort of figured it out over Christmas. The stairs squeak." Her face was stark. "They're not angry," he hastened to add, "sort of the contrary. They . . . want us to see if we can survive a week together."

She was gaping now. "Do they . . . well, do they know we haven't . . . I mean, that we've not, er, done that?"

Coming further inside, he gestured the door closed. "This isn't about sex," he told her. "It's . . . well, it's about getting along."

"They don't think we can?"

"They don't think we have. Not day in, day out like this." Abruptly, his mood flipped from horribly embarrassed to a bit excited. "It could be fun."

Reading his face, she smiled tentatively too. "Yeah, it could."


Notes: Minor change -- Hannah was not originally in the group with Ernie when the trio discovered the "Inquisitorial Squad." The manipulation at the top was made by Ginger001, and is used with her permission.