A/N JK Rowling gave us Goblet of Fire, I give you reading material you would be embarassed by, if someone was reading over your shoulder.
"You'll never guess!" Ron slumped onto the bench seat beside her. Hermione scowled and pulled her robes and skirt out from under him, before returning to her place in the book on the table. "I turned a mouse into a matchbox and then back into a –"
"Merkin," interjected Harry
"It had a tail," Ron adopted a wounded tone.
"It was flat, Ron."
"All right, all right, so I forgot about the innards.."
Hermione tuned them out, thinking instead about how she had turned a Sixth-former into a pile of goo. No restitution necessary. He was going through with the TT. He deserved it
Any minute now, Dumbledore is going to call his stupid name, Hermione thought. The Hogwarts champion is… it still came as a punch to the gut. Cedric Diggory…He looked so bloody cheerful, did anyway, until he caught her eyes, then he dipped his head and she couldn't see what he was thinking. She hoped he was thinking about earlier. She gave him a slow clap, which was drowned by the enthusiastic applause all around her.
0.0
Someone tweaked her plait, she didn't bother to look around, it was enough that her wand had stirred up her sleeve and was even now eking a leaf out her cuff. She thought the Library would be safer than the carrel, it was at least a little more public, although come to think of it, the studious were thinner on the ground than they had been. She shook off the thought that she might be bordering dangerous territory simply through his company, all the situation called for was a modicum of decorum and besides, there was work to do.
"You should see this," she said, frowning and keeping her finger on the page.
A hand that could have rested on the back of her chair rested on her shoulder instead and the thumb brushed over the back of her collar. A thumb that was long enough to sneak over the top and rub directly against the back of her neck, right where the stress from hunching over a book was.
She put a hand up to rub her own neck, scratch over the shivers and pushed his hand away in the process.
"Bolts too tight?" He teased.
She made a point of ignoring his conversational tone and covered the back of her neck with her hand. "See, here where it says about a 'Bound Wand'?"
Cedrics face came level with her own and with it, a warm front of scent. It reminded her of his practice jersey, tucked safely under her pillow with a vanishing charm over it.
"Hogwarts is the only place where a 'whomping willow' may be found. Believed to have been planted by one of the Founders, its dangerous nature only became apparent when a student was fatally injured by the tree, and a second saved only by his bound wand and the residual ability of an amber orb."
Hermione turned to face him and scooted her chair back a bit, he was always so close that it was hard to take in his face as a whole, instead she found herself focusing on his ear. It was safer than his mouth, until that too started looking biteable.
"They only knew it was dangerous after it was planted? Something happened to make it dangerous later more like, why put it near a school otherwise? Doesn't say who either of the students were, does it say what year? Why are you looking up bound wands anyway?" Cedric said nonchalantly, his fingers flipped the page backward and forwards, looking for more, before letting it fall. Hermione watched his fingers tap a tattoo on the desktop, then retreat to his pants pocket. She looked sharply away from below his belt line.
"I was looking up the Willow and the bound wand bit was there. Why am I looking up..?" Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "Professor Sprout left me this, – " She lugged a book from the floor to the desktop and dragged it open. The cover made a soft whumpf sound as it flopped on top of her Hogwarts, A History.
Passiflora are extremely physical with selected hosts and will twine about another enthusiastically. This is no cause for alarm and will encourage tandem efficacy. Care must be taken to separate the wands post event so that tendrils are not torn away from the parent stem or dragged away from a peer wand which can be both traumatic and damaging. In these cases the wound on the donor vine will appear pale for up to three months, but will eventually darken to its original colour. There is no noticeable lasting damage other than the scar and the wands ability is not affected in any way, but it may function erratically for a short period if the separation has been forced.
The exception to this, in particular circumstances relating to tendril separation, is during domestic interactions of a personal nature, where a more permanent bond is desired with the partnering wand. See further information on bound wands under notes on seekers, divining, binding and life-pairs. Ref#152
"Have you finished reading yet," Hermione started in exasperation when Cedric didn't say anything. "The reference is for another book, 'Advanced Wandlore, the illustrative guide to wand behaviour.' I sent an owl to Olivander asking him for the extract, but you know what I think?" Hermione paused to let Cedric join her train of thought, but when he didn't, she carried on anyway. "It doesn't say it's a Guild book, so I think there might be a copy here somewhere."
"You know what I think?" Cedric cleared his throat to take the edge off the huskiness. He was blocking her exit and looked like the last thing on his mind was looking for another book.
"There is a separate entry for Rubus, but the page is ripped out," she interrupted. "It looks like its trying to regenerate, but there's only about this much of it next to the spine." Her fingers showed a gap of about an inch. "There's nothing for the two genus together," finally her gaze snagged on his, his intent, clear on his face.
"Cedric, wait!" But his hands were already cupping her jaw and she knocked them away in irritation as she rose.
"Now." He insisted. "You keep disappearing on me, I never get to-"
"I need to see the Willow," she countered.
He started to smile, mischief lightened the low pitch of his voice, aimed at keeping the conversation between themselves. "We. It's dangerous," he added as her face took a stubborn turn. His hands settled for the tops of her arms. And secluded.
"Don't be ridiculous, you don't have to come. I'm perfectly-" The brush of his lips against hers derailed her thought process. She tried to say "fine," but when she got to the 'i' sound, his tongue took it as an open invitation and she found herself clinging to the front of his robes. She felt his appreciative hum against her fingertips and slid them down, bumping over the button ridges under his sweater until she reached the jut of his buckle. His hips pushed forward under the weight of her hand against his belt and her fingers scrabbled at the woollen layer, feeling the sharp edges of the latch. He stopped abruptly when she brushed against the front of his pants and he bit off a groan, grabbing at her hand and breathing heavily.
"You're dangerous," she hissed, her breath whistling through her teeth as she tried to push him away without dropping her gaze. Molly always said that size mattered, Hermione could now confirm for herself that size was not going to be an issue. She tried to regulate her breathing. "We should go, while there's still daylight."
"I'm dangerous? You're the one with the banned wand and the wandering hands."
Hermione went to say "wandering hands?" but ended up not saying anything at all and blowing out the breath that she was holding.
"I have the orb, just in case we need it." Hermione closed both books and tucked them back into her bag.
"Right. About that," Cedric started, steering her in front of him as they filed through the narrow passage of the Library.
"Viktor said that when their power waned, they were traded as trinkets." Hermione called over her shoulder. "The residual flux from being a staff headpiece made them useful for visualising ideas." She side eyed Cedric, noting the colour rising on his neck and his non-committal grunt. "I didn't think to ask him how long they would function for, but I think this one is on the blink and I've done some calculations." Just to see what he would do, she added, "I should ask Viktor, you know, to double check my findings."
"I'll double check them," Cedric replied tersely.
"He was very helpful and the design is Bulgarian"
"I don't care if its Double Dutch, I can still tell if you got it right."
"It's complicated-"
"I know what you are doing." Cedric growled and pinched her hard enough on the bum to make her jump. "I'm taking double arithmancy and tutoring the fifth year, I've got it covered, all right?"
Hermione picked up her pace, but suppressed a small smile all the same. She changed the subject as they broke into the fresh air. "Why did you enter the Tri-wizard Tournament?"
"To win," he said simply.
"That's it?"
"It's a comprehensive test of all aspects of magical ability, from mental stamina to courage in the face of the worst adversity. There are your opponents obviously, but really you are competing against yourself." He tapped his own head, "what's in here," he clarified, suddenly serious. They both tramped across the quad to the gap in the school buildings that marked the start of the larger grounds.
He sounded so much like her Father trying to cajole her Mother into sharing a round, she added, "like golf?"
Cedric let out a short bark of laughter. "There is a bit more to it than your Muggle golf."
Hermione nodded in agreement. "It's brutal. Not everyone makes it, you know Cedric. Even this year, with it being held here and how careful Dumbledore is, I'm concerned. I was reading about past tournaments and cross referenced the entrants to the relevant school rosters the following term." She said earnestly.
"Because you were bored?"
"Because I was concerned."
"And"
"It was stopped because in the last one, the winner was not the 'winner' so much as the last one standing."
Cedric snorted in approval. "Definition of winning if you ask me. Am I supposed to ask what happened to the others?"
"There wasn't anything that I could find about the other entrants after the Tournament, just that they were listed as having left the relevant school in the roster for the following term."
"So they gave up magic after flunking the Tournament," Cedric shrugged.
"I think they gave up more than magic," Hermione said doggedly.
"You're just worried your wand won't have anyone to play with."
"I'm serious," Hermione said crossly.
"You're always serious," replied Cedric as they hit the bottom of the hill. "Leave your bag here. Do it, drop it," he urged, mischief making his eyes sparkle. He bounced on his toes. "C'mon, race you to the top!" She sighed theatrically at the shift in his mood.
Hermione took her time dragging the strap over her head. She dropped it the same time she set off at a sprint. Adrenalin roared in her ears, acutely aware when thudding footsteps behind indicated that he had taken up the gauntlet.
"Shit!" Cedric gasped, racing after her. "Cheater," he called, gaining ground. "Rotten, dirty, dirty- fuck, you're fast. He bit his lip and saved his breath for the chase, the toes of his shoes digging into the soft turf. Half way up she was still ahead, just. He reached for her back and she felt his hand barely miss snatching at her clothing, it made her laugh recklessly and slowed her a fraction. He tap-tackled her, reaching full length so the tips of his fingers just clipped her trailing heel as he stumbled and pitched forward, barely getting a hand down to break his own fall. She came down just ahead of him, knocking the wind out of herself, but still struggling to rise. He would show no quarter, not now she had started it. The thought made her giddy.
The hand suddenly on her ankle was vice-like. "No you don't," came his panting voice, exhilarated. She pushed cruelly at his knuckles with the sole of her other shoe and he hissed at the scrape on his skin, dragging himself up, not letting go. "Will you stop already," he growled, flinging himself forward and crushing her beneath him. "Say Uncle."
She shook her head, wriggling to free herself and trying not to laugh herself silly at the way his weight on her made her feel. He used the leverage of his toes against the sod to push further up, grinning at the sensation of her giggling under him. "Uncle, say uncle," he insisted, reaching for her ribs.
"Cedric!" she tried to say, but the words caught in her throat when his weight distribution changed again and his thigh dropped between her own. The sensation forced a moan from her lips and her butt rotated against him. He dropped his forehead onto her shoulder and pressed his hips forward with a jerk.
"Kit!" he whispered urgently against her ear as she circled again. "Wait, wait," he moaned into her neck, urging her to turn with his hands, trying to raise himself on his knees to give her space to move. Her hands dragged at his clothing, pulling him out of his robes and forcing his sweater over his head and inside out to get his arms free. She warmed her hands against the planes of his back and hooked a heel over the back of his knees. His mouth found her jaw, his breath warming her on the inside as much as the sensation of his teeth on her skin sparked the heat on the inside.
"I want," he grunted, forcing her arm and then the second above her head, clamping them there with one hand. He ignored the cool slip of the vine against his skin, looping once around his wrist and once around hers like a manacle.
"I want," she echoed him, bucking to reach the part of him he held away from her.
"What do you want?" he groaned into her collar, rocking his thigh heavily in substitute.
"I want you to pull out of the Tournament," she whispered.
He froze, then smiled into her hair and shifted his hips, "is that what this is about?" He waited until he got a breathy moan in reply. "For the record," he panted, "I never pull out" and swooped to claim her lips. Pin sharp prickles broke through the smooth bark of the vine around his wrist and he broke off the kiss with a shocked gasp.
"Kit?" He released her hands and made to move off her.
It took her a moment to catch her breath. She tipped her head back to see what he was looking at. "I'm not doing anything," she said in wonder and then sharply, "pack it in!" Beads of blood smeared as the vine retracted sluggishly.
"What the hell?"
Hermiones reply was diverted by the sound of wind rushing through the leaves on the tree at the top of the hill.
"S-s-s-s-i-s-s-s-s-t-e-r"
A/N Dang cockblocking wand
Merkins are wigs, sort of.