Disclaimer: I checked my birth certificate, and I am still, sadly, not J.K. Rowling. I own nothing besides the plot of this fic and a few characters. Oh, and while I'm doing a disclaimer, I might as well throw in here that Scott Logan is not my character.

He is an OC that the beautiful sissou brought into the world for her story Lover's Return Spell (it is a brilliant Cedmione fic that not only made me ship them with my whole soul but also inspired me to write my own). I thought he was canon, but when I did some research, it turned out that I had unknowingly borrowed him. :-)

Chapter Two

The next morning in the Great Hall brought a burst of much-needed excitement. Students were a bubble of anticipatory chatter about the Quidditch game that would take place on Saturday: Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff.

Here it was, Harry Potter, captain of one of the most well put together Gryffindor teams that Hogwarts had seen in a while versus Scott Logan's equally talented team. While the rivalry between the two houses did not come close to that of Gryffindor's and Slytherin's, there was still much to look forward to at the match.

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt. She felt that she should sit on the Hufflepuff side since Logan had gone so out of his way to owl her – twice, might she add – but she had to support her friends and her house.

She leaned forward, reaching for the pumpkin juice. Just a little further and she'd have it...

Hermione's arm was directly in front of Ron, who was on her left. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye to see him staring at her blankly, his mind apparently far away from the chit-chatting of young wizards and witches alike as they ate their breakfast. His jaw had stopped moving mid-chew.

She looked at him and raised an eyebrow. "Something the matter?"

He choked on his bite of toast and cleared his throat.

"N-no," he replied, resuming whole-heartedly to his daily act of face-stuffing.

Hermione could've sworn that the tips of his ears were red, but before she could get a better look to make sure she wasn't crazy, her hand found the handle to the jug of pumpkin juice. She did a silent cheer and pulled it to herself, ignoring the blatant fact that she could have just as easily used a levitating charm and saved herself the trouble. Some things were more satisfactory when done without magic.

Hermione had busied herself with pouring the light orange liquid into her goblet to keep her mind off of that slightly uncomfortable moment with Ron when owls began swooping through the Great Hall to deliver the morning post. Hermione ate without looking up, since her parents weren't particularly fond of using an owl to send mail unless it was about something extremely important.

She coughed on a bite of toast as a familiar small, tawny owl fluttered towards her and landed in front of her plate. Its eyes flickered over her curiously as it stuck its leg out to her. She swallowed hastily, taking the letter and tearing off a piece of crust for the owl.

"It's nice to see you again, too," Hermione smiled, watching as it pecked the remaining crumbs off the table. She glanced toward the Hufflepuff table with an almost imperceptible smile as she caught sight of his cropped, light brown hair. He was talking animatedly with a few of his friends, hands moving through the air as he gave life to some story.

He looked up briefly, his shining eyes scanning the Great Hall before catching hers. Hermione's breath caught in her throat as he raised an amused eyebrow at her, returning to his conversation. His friends laughed as he made a particularly wild gesture, leaning closer to hear more, and Hermione briefly wondered how it was that he could feel so alone around them.

Without further ado, Hermione tore open the letter in her hands. She was delighted to discover that this one was longer than usual.

Dear Hermione,

Maybe there really was a point to all of that waiting—ha!

Everything's been going well since my last letter. Every day has been along the same lines: wake up, attend class, Quidditch practice, then go to bed. This letter-writing thing to you has been a great new addition to that rather strict schedule. Makes my everyday routine a little different, which is nice.

Everyone sure is excited about that Quidditch match, huh? Since all of your Gryffindor mates are on the team and all, I'm sure I'll see you there. One day, I promise you that I'll personally see to it that you sit on Hufflepuff's side during one of them!

Oh, can you imagine the talk that would happen after people saw you? No one, not one person, will see it coming!

Till next time,

Scott

P.S.

I almost forgot to tell you something. Can you believe that?

Anyway, my owl's name is Heather. Not really one to warm easily to people, I've got to admit. Two years have passed since the last time she trusted someone, but clearly she sees something special in you. With your kindness, I can't say I'm surprised.

Hermione noticed a subtle change in the handwriting. It became sloppier, as if Scott had rushed to pour the words out.

Alright, I have a confession to make. I debated not telling this to anyone but I feel like I can trust you. The mere thought of getting this off my chest is relieving, even if it's only on paper.

The reason Heather finds it hard to trust people nowadays is because she used to belong to someone else. One of my old friends. Since it wasn't that long ago, perhaps you knew him?

Everyone else, it seems, did. Even now, it still surprises me how long people asked about him, mourned for him. You were at one of the vigils, I think.

Oh Merlin, I'm rambling.

Usually I'm a bit better with words, but talking about him is a bit—shall we say, difficult—because he's, well—

Cedric Diggory.

Hermione's heart flew to her throat.

Her eyes widened as she looked from the name written at the bottom of the letter to the owl and back. She didn't even want to think about it, didn't want her mind to wander back to that dark place that haunted her nightmares.

Hermione felt her cheeks get hot and tears forming in her eyes. Cedric wouldn't want this. He wouldn't want her to cry.

She thrust the paper into her bag, startling Heather into flight.

"I have to go," Hermione murmured to Ron, who turned around to look at her as she stood up.

"Where are you going?" He asked through his mouthful of food, a few crumbs falling out of his mouth.

Hermione swallowed thickly. "I-I don't want to be late for class."

He glanced at the clock. "There's half an hour before class starts. And you hate Divination."

"Ron," Harry cut in just as Hermione opened her mouth to defend herself, "just let her go."

Ron turned around to face Harry in a flash. Harry stared him down with his piercing green eyes, almost daring him to argue. Hermione suddenly wished that she could see his face to understand the emotions that flickered across Harry's.

Ron sighed, breaking their gaze, and picked up his fork again.

Harry shook his head slightly and returned to his own plate after saying a cheerful, "See you in class!"

"See you, Harry!" Hermione replied, turning around to take her leave.

She really didn't want to go to the Divination classroom and have to sit in there with Professor Trelawney, but wasn't enough time to make a quick trip to the library and then run to the Divination tower on the opposite side of the castle. So, reminding herself to take steadying breaths, she ascended up the stairs that led to her first class of the day.

"Hello," Professor Trelawney said airily from her desk when the door opened. "and allow me to welcome you to my class."

She looked up from her – fake – crystal ball and squinted her eyes at Hermione through her oversized, round glasses.

"Hermione Granger, why have you arrived so early? I had been expecting you much later…"

Hermione rolled her eyes and set her things down on a nearby desk. "Did you see that in your crystal ball?"

"Why, yes. Yes, I did," Trelawney mused, indifferent to Hermione's derisive tone. She gestured for with Hermione to come over, the bangles on her wrist tinkling together with the motion. "Come, child. See what the future has in store for you."

If Hermione hadn't made showing respect to her professors such a high priority, she would have snorted in a rather unladylike manner.

"Professor, I really don't think-"

"That's right, dear," Trelawney interrupted. Her attention returned to the crystal ball. "Don't think, just do."

Hermione rolled her eyes but acquiesced all the same.

"I must take these back to my desk…" Professor Trelawney murmured as Hermione settled unhappily into the rickety chair across from her. She picked up a glass teapot and teacup. "I'll be right back, and together we shall see what is soon to come."

Hermione stood up at the same time as Professor Trelawney, willing to take the first chance she could get to blow off a 'future-seeing' opportunity. "Here, Professor," she said, reaching for the chipped cup and short, squatty porcelain teapot, "let me—"

Her hand touched her teacher's and a bolt of painful electricity shot through her fingers. She jumped back instantly with a yelp, clutching her scalded fingertips over her racing heartbeat. The glass objects shattered on the ground as tea splattered all over the stone floor and Trelawney's colorful multi-patterned skirt.

"The letters…" Trelawney croaked, turning slowly toward Hermione.

Something about her was off—more than usual. The wide-eyed expression on her face sent chills down Hermione's spine.

"W-what?" Hermione asked cautiously, taking a small step back.

"The letters!" Trelawney screeched, her eyes widening and her face beginning to turn red.

Her voice was high-pitched and raspy. Hermione was so shocked that she couldn't bring herself to utter a single word. Trelawney drew in a shuddering breath that made Hermione jump.

"Though seemingly sent by one, it is written by another," Trelawney's eyes were glazed over, unseeing. "Through disguise and careful wording, a plea is made clear. Once and you'll miss it, twice, you won't see. Look to the start of every stop and find the hidden meaning."

She fell to her knees and Hermione rushed forward to catch her head before it smashed into the hard stone flooring. Hermione's voice returned to her, panicked and trembling. "Professor, what do you mean, find the hidden meaning?"

"The riddle..." Trelawney gasped, reaching out and grabbing firm fistfuls of Hermione's school robes. Her skin was as pale as a sheet, and with her eyes as wide as they were, passerby might have been convinced that she'd just seen You-Know-Who in the flesh.

"What riddle?" Hermione urged her. "I don't understand."

"The..." Professor Trelawney took a quivering breath. "start of every stop..."

Her eyes grew even wider as she worked her dry, colorless lips to force something else out. But then her eyelids drooped closed and her mouth grew slack.

"Help!" Hermione cried, looking around desperately. Unsure of what else to do when she was met with silence, Hermione whipped out her wand and levitated Professor Trelawney straight to the Hospital Wing.

Divination was cancelled until further notice.

O-O-O

All too soon, it was Saturday. Game day.

"So, explain to me again what happened?" Harry asked as they walked across the grounds toward the pitch.

"I already told you," Hermione replied for the umpteenth time, "there's not much to tell."

She really wished that he would stop badgering her about what happened to Professor Trelawney. A full school week had passed since their chilling interaction but it was still something she wasn't ready to talk about yet.

"Of course," he said sarcastically. "Divination professors drop cold to the floor and lay unconsciously for days in the Hospital Wing all the time." Harry looked at her seriously. "'Mione, you know you can tell me anything."

"I know that, Harry." Hermione hesitated. "Maybe later, after the match. Don't want to break your focus right before it starts."

Harry gave her a doubtful look. "Okay."

All the same, he dropped the subject and they finished their walk in silence. He looked at her before going to meet with his team.

"I'll see you after the match, then?"

"Of course," Hermione confirmed, offering a small, warm smile.

He returned it and turned around, broomstick in hand.

"Good luck!" she called out to his retreating form. Her smile widened as she decided to add, "You'd better beat those Hufflepuffs!"

"We'll do our best!" He yelled back over his shoulder, sending her a wave.

Hermione turned on her heels after Harry disappeared into the changing room to switch from his billowing robes to his Quidditch uniform. She was happy that everything with Harry got smoothed out before any big issues came up, but his questions brought her mind back to square one. In fact, she felt even more confused than before, if it was possible.

She pushed through the crowd of Gryffindors to sit beside Neville and Ginny on one of the long benches, trying to make sense of her inner turmoil.

O-O-O

The match was over. It seemed that luck was on Hufflepuff's side for this one; their seeker had been just faster than Gryffindor's.

Hermione had a feeling that if Harry still played that position, Gryffindor would've won easily, but there were no hard feelings after such an evenly-matched pair of opponents. The teams gave each other hi-fives and, as a sign of respect to their opposing captain, Scott and Harry shook hands. All was well.

Hermione walked out of the stands to wait for Ron and Harry to emerge from the changing room. Students hustled out of the bleachers toward the castle, making it nearly impossible to make them out in the crowd. Hermione sighed gratefully when she spotted a path amongst them and walked toward the boys.

Her eyes scanned the Hufflepuff players across the way. Scott was standing closer to the outside of the group of students, smiling and laughing and giving out hi-fives to a few of his housemates. It clearly hadn't taken him long to change out of his Quidditch uniform—he was already back in slacks and a long sleeved button-down, his yellow and black tie hanging loosely around his neck with his school robes slung over one shoulder.

In a complete split-second decision, Hermione resolved that Ron and Harry could wait. She took a deep breath and mustered up the courage to push through the crowed toward him. "Hey, Scott!"

He looked at Hermione questioningly before turning to his friends. "I'll catch up with you," he said, patting one of the guys on the back. He ran a hand through his hair, returning his attention to Hermione. "Yes?"

"Scott—er—hi." Hermione said weakly, a flush rising in her cheeks.

He regarded her curiously. "Uh…hi?"

Hermione cleared her throat uncomfortably. "I just, erm, wanted to thank you for the letters."

His eyebrows shot up. "What?"

Hermione stared at him unblinkingly for a moment, speechless, then thought about how strange the pair of them must look. Of course he'd feign innocence in such a large crowd.

"Letters," she repeated. Her flush deepened as she reached into her bag, inconspicuously drawing two of the most recent ones out. She handed them to him, watching carefully for his reaction.

Scott frowned slightly as his eyes glanced over the envelopes. "Er, sorry, Granger, but I didn't send these." He looked up at Hermione. "It—it's not even my handwriting."

Hermione felt dizzy. "Pardon?"

Scott hesitated for a moment before he shook his head, thrusting the letters back into Hermione's hands.

"Sorry I couldn't help you," he said before taking off to catch up with his friends.