A/N: I am so sorry for disappearing like I did for that amount of time. I have not forgotten about this story and here is the long-awaited fifth chapter. Please read and review it for me. Let me know what you think. This chapter may not seem much of anything but actually, it is foreshadowing a lot of what is to come later on. Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed for me. Please keep doing so!
Chapter Five – Dreams Knowing Before We Do
Cedric woke with a start, flying into a sitting position, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat, his yellow bed sheets twisted around his ankles like latches, and his heart pounding in his chest at such an alarming rate, he was certain that it was trying to leap from his chest. He gasped for breath, his eyes searching frantically around before he realized that he was in his bed in his prefect room. He flopped back down onto his back with a groan, clenching his eyes shut, putting his hands on his face, attempting to calm himself down.
It had been a dream. Just a dream. A nightmare actually but it wasn't real. That was the main point that Cedric had to remember. It wasn't real. Nothing that he had just seen had been real. Hermione hadn't drowned. She hadn't. It was just a nightmare. He told himself this over and over again in hopes that his mind and heart would calm down.
It had been horrible though. And so real. He had been searching for her in the lake but he couldn't find her. He couldn't find her anywhere and time had run out. In his dream, he knew she had drowned because he could feel his own heart slowing down and he began coughing up water. Whatever Hermione went through, Cedric went through it as well. And when she died, he died with her.
But it hadn't actually happened. Cedric was alive and well and he could feel that Hermione was as well. As if he further needed proof, he pushed the long sleeve of the shirt he had slept in, revealing his half-heart shaped scar. It was still glowing a light red.
He sighed. She was okay. It really had been just a nightmare. In the seven days that had passed since their rendezvous at the Whomping Willow, the glow of the scar remained. When Cedric and Hermione were together, it shone a brilliant red but even when they were apart, it only faded slightly. Hermione had practically been living in the library, desperately trying to figure out what was happening with them and though Cedric had promised that he would help her, he had been too busy with the next task, prefect duties and Quidditch games to sit in the library for hours on end like her. Besides, he wasn't eager to find out what this was between them. He didn't want to find an end to it and he was worried that that was all they would find once they knew what was happening.
He didn't know why Hermione was so eager either to read something about their "condition", which she began calling it. He hated it when she called it that. When they were together and alone, she was so passionate, feeling just as consumed with him as he was on her. Dumbledore, McGonagall, Sprout were still trying to keep them apart and apparently, they had informed the staff with the same instructions. Cedric and Hermione were able to steal moments together that were gone too quickly and when their too short time had passed, Hermione changed into a girl obsessed with explanation and answers.
His breathing and heartbeat slowly returned to normal but a deep hollow ache tightened in Cedric's stomach. This was an ache he unfortunately was accustomed to now though. This ache was with him whenever he wasn't with Hermione. It never went away – not until he was with her again. It was an ache he had never known. This wasn't a run of the mill stomachache. This was as if something had reached inside of himself, taken a strand of his stomach and was now pulling on it slowly, stretching it out inch by painful inch. When he had talked to Hermione about it, she had admitted to suffering through the same ache. Yet another mystery that they now needed to find an explanation to.
Dreaming every night was also now a common occurrence. Normally, the dreams were far more pleasurable. They were the sort of dreams that Cedric had even when he was awake. Much like at the World Quidditch Cup during the summer, when he and Hermione had touched for the first time and he received flashes of images that felt all so familiar to him, whenever Cedric and Hermione kissed or touched, he got flashes of scenes that felt almost like déjà vu. Flashes of skin, of fingers running over bodies, of smiles, of hair spread out on sheets – none of the images showed much or revealed much but it all felt so familiar and he knew that the flashes were of him and Hermione together.
His dreams at night were usually like that. He knew that the patches of skin belonged to her and he knew that the lips and fingers were his. He knew that in his dreams, they were making love – slow and almost desperate, as if they feared that if they ever stopped, they would fall apart. Those were his favorite kinds of dreams. They felt so real that sometimes, he would wake up, hard and pained, having to convince himself that the dreams hadn't actually happened.
But then there were dreams like the one he had just had the night before. It wasn't the first time he had dreamt of Hermione dying. And though he wished it was, he knew that it wasn't going to be the last. He didn't know what any of these dreams meant. He didn't know the first thing about what was happening to the two of them but what he did know was that he was already beginning to have trouble remembering his life before it all started with her.
Cedric dressed and got himself ready for the day quickly. His body was humming with anticipation of seeing her. He could feel her presence grow in strength as he made his way towards the Great Hall. He barely acknowledged those who passed him, saying good morning, and he certainly didn't even glance at the girls throwing enticing smiles in his direction. It was hidden by his sleeve but he knew his left arm was glowing red and it was only growing stronger as he grew closer to her. He could smell her – that exotic smell that he still couldn't place but only know that it was her scent – a scent that belonged entirely to her. He felt like a hunting dog whenever he sniffed her out like he was now.
It was Saturday and the Great Hall was not as crowded as it would have been on a school morning. Only a few students sat at each of the four long tables and only one or two professors were present. Most students were still asleep or had already eaten and were now out and about, spending their morning as they pleased.
Cedric quickly looked at the professors there, sighing deeply with relief upon seeing that none of them were professors that seemed set on keeping them apart. His eyes instantly went to her and he smiled, his heartbeat racing again though this time, it had nothing to do with a bad dream. She sensed his presence immediately upon him entering the hall and she lifted her head from the book she was reading to turn and look at him. Both smiled.
It was a magnetic pull towards her – one that was so strong, it would be impossible to get away from it though that was the last thing he ever wanted to do. His eyes remained locked with hers as he went to her. He sat down next to her on the bench, straddling it, facing her. Hermione smiled at him and without even glancing around to see what students were there, she slid her hands onto his cheeks and pressed her lips to his in a morning greeting.
She normally wasn't bold in public like this and Cedric wanted to take complete advantage of it. He scooted closer to her on the bench and one of his hands slid onto her hip, the other resting on her thigh, as his mouth moved in perfect harmony with hers. Their lips tingled, their tongues tangled, and both drank one another completely in. He wasn't sure what had gotten into her that morning to be kissing him like this in the Great Hall in front of other Hogwarts students. But as he kissed her, he saw it. He knew why.
Flashes of Hermione's own dream from the night before played in Cedric's mind like a slideshow. Images of himself and Hermione together, in her bed, buried and tangled in sheets of Gryffindor colors, his body moving up hers, Hermione moving with him, her back arching off the mattress as he sped up. The bed shaking with his thrusts, with their intimate dance. Hermione's knuckles turned white from gripping the headboard tightly. Drops of sweat rolled down his back as he sped up, driving in and out of her sweet accepting body.
As they continued to kiss, Cedric continued to see Hermione's dream and he could feel every bit of it. He could feel her body underneath his. He could feel her wet tight heat surrounding him. He could feel it all and it made him kiss her harder and deeper. She moaned softly into his mouth, her cheeks sliding from his cheeks and her fingers plowing through his already slightly messy hair. Her dream the night before had been much better than his and he now understood why she seemed so eager to see him.
Their mouths separated though just by a few mere inches. They were both panting heavily, breathing in the same hot air and they slowly opened their eyes, instantly locking together. She smiled, almost shyly, at him and he grinned.
"Good morning to you, too," he said with that sometimes cocky smile of his and Hermione blushed and chewed on her lower lip, smiling. He laughed slightly, pecking her on the lips, his finger inching between the sliver of skin exposed on the small of her back between the blue jeans and white turtleneck sweater she was wearing. "At least your dream was a bit more pleasant than mine."
Hermione's smile faded and she rubbed a hand on the back of his neck.
Like Cedric had seen her dream, she had seen his. And this wasn't the first time that she had seen herself die through Cedric's eyes. It was a common dream for him. She dreamt about them making love and though he too dreamt of that, he dreamt more of her death. She always drowned. In the Black Lake, she was trapped amongst the weeds and he couldn't find her. She didn't believe in dreams meaning something or foretelling but there was a cold dread behind Cedric's dreams that made her almost think otherwise.
It was a terrifying dream. She had woken up that morning, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling smiling from her thoughts of Cedric, but in an instant, she turned freezing cold and she knew that Cedric had awoken from yet another nightmare. He had been on the other side of Hogwarts in his room but she had known the second he was awake.
"I found something," Hermione informed him. "But we can't talk about it here."
Cedric nodded and stood up, offering his hand to her. She took it, him pulling her to her feet, and she grabbed the book she had been reading. They left the Great Hall, Cedric leading the way. Since neither of them had their coats, they headed in the direction of the library. It was still too early in the morning and the library was deserted. Nonetheless, he pulled her into a back corner, hidden by the tall stacks of books. He leaned against a bookcase, his hands clasped onto her hips, bringing her to stand in front of him, their hips pressed together.
Hermione smiled brightly at him, holding up the book. "Look at what I found in here last night," she said proudly. "It was being sorted right above my head and for some reason, it fell down right on the desk I was sitting at." He looked at her oddly. Irma Pince, the librarian, set those sorting spells for the books and in his years at Hogwarts, he had never seen a book just fall from one. Reading his thoughts, Hermione nodded her head. "I know it's odd but this is exactly what we were looking for."
Cedric looked at her for another moment before looking down at the front cover of the worn brown hardcover book she was displaying.
The History of Love and Their Spells
A stone settled in his stomach. This was it. Hermione had found it. He knew that she would. She had found all of their answers. And amongst the answers, there would be the ways to stop it all. He knew that it was only a matter of time. She was, after all, Hermione Granger, Hogwarts' smartest witch. She could find anything she looked for.
Her finger had been holding a place in the book and she turned it open to the chapter, holding it open for him to read again.
Chapter Fourteen: To Be Bound To Another Individual
"Bound?" Cedric repeated, lifting his eyes to look at her.
Hermione nodded her head. "Have you ever heard of it before?" She asked though she knew that he didn't. "I haven't either but I have been reading this chapter over and over again." She paused. "Cedric, this is it. This is what we are."
"Bound?" He said again, still not having the slightest idea of what it was.
"Bound. We're bound to one another."
As soon as the words left Hermione's mouth, red sparks began to shoot from their scars, making both of them jump in surprise. They tilted their heads back, watching as the sparks streamed upwards like fireworks and then began to intertwine together, forming a braided knot above their heads. The sparks shooting from their arms didn't hurt. It was hypnotizing to watch – to see these mysterious sparks firing from their scars and knotting together, binding together.
Cedric didn't know what to say so he said the one thing that popped into his head. "I think you might be onto something," he said softly as they both continued to watch the spark show above them.