Disclaimer: Harry Potter doesn't belong to me! :-)

Chapter Seven

The rest of the day was a blur, and the remainder of the week followed in a similar fashion.

When the day of the scheduled Hogsmeade trip finally came around, Hermione found herself resting in a state of complete giddiness all morning, smiling at anyone and everyone she came in contact with and giggling over the smallest things. Her mood was so bright, in fact, that it spilled into a confrontation with Malfoy in the corridor on the way to breakfast. When he called her a good-for-nothing Mudblood, she merely shrugged in response and told him that his hair looked rather nice. To this, Malfoy opened his mouth as if to give a scathing retort, closed it, then proceeded to sputter nonsense as she walked (with a spring in her step, of course) away.

She took deep breaths to calm her nerves after returning to Gryffindor tower to finish getting ready before heading to the common room. The fireplace was a barren, ash-filled wasteland and all was quiet without a single student besides herself in sight. Hermione took a moment to collect herself and looked out the long window on the wall closest to her, admiring the crisp layer of snow that blanketed the grounds.

She checked the clock on the mantel and jumped. Eight fifty-five, already? The carriages left at nine!

She made a start for the portrait hole and sprinted across the school. She took the stairs nearly three at a time and stopped once she reached the entrance hall to catch her breath. She righted herself once her breathing was steadier and looked around, ignoring the stitch in her side. The room was completely and utterly empty.

"You have got to be kidding me!" She puffed as she pushed through the double doors, immediately greeted by a cold blast of wind.

She raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sunlight that glinted off the snow. The last of the students were boarding the carriages, many of which had already closed their doors. She braced herself and ran as fast as she could down the path. By the time she had reached the black thestral-drawn buggies, the last one had just begun to set in motion.

"Wait!" she cried, trailing it as quickly as her legs would carry her. She flailed her arms wildly in the air, desperate to get the attention of its occupants.

As if on cue, the door opened and a gloved hand shot out, grabbing a firm hold of the collar of her coat, and pulled her inside. She stumbled backward upon landing, barely catching herself by reaching out and grabbing the door handle to pull it firmly closed.

Seconds later, her eyes dizzily landed on the person who, she assumed, had pulled her into the carriage. Sitting with a relaxed air about him was none other than Scott Logan, reclining back against the leather seat with his arms folded across his chest.

He flashed a joking smirk and said, "Almost missed your ride."

"Clearly," Hermione puffed breathlessly, trying not to gape at him.

His hair was perfectly spiked up in the front and he wore a pair of denim jeans, sneakers, and a warm-looking black coat—very muggle-like. Looped around his neck was a thick yellow and black striped scarf.

He gestured around the carriage to indicate the other occupants whom Hermione had not previously noticed. Hermione picked up on an ever-so-slight Scottish lilt accentuating his British accent as he said, "I don't think you've been acquainted, have you?"

Hermione shook her head as she was met with wide-eyed stares from the other Hufflepuffs in the carriage. She took a seat beside a boy with shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes. He moved over so that she could have more room beside the window in the seat across from Scott.

"Andrew McMeens, Seventh Year," He introduced himself. She instantly recognized him as one of the Hufflepuff chasers from the Quidditch match. Andrew held out a hand and gave hers a sound shake.

"H-Hermione Granger," she said, still reeling from her rather abrupt entrance into the carriage. "Sixth Year."

Andrew released her hand, a pleased expression on his face. The other two passengers were a boy with short dark hair and tan skin that sat beside Scott and a petite girl with almond shaped eyes and black hair on Andrew's other side.

"This," Scott clapped the boy on the shoulder, "is our good friend Aiden Moretti."

Aiden gave Hermione a smile and tentative nod before picking up a leather-bound notebook and returning to his sketch.

Scott pointed diagonally from himself toward the girl. "And that's—"

"I can introduce myself, thank you very much." She snapped. She turned to Hermione and rolled her eyes in Scott's direction. "Sorry about that. He does that every time I meet someone new, like I don't know how to speak for myself."

"I understand completely," Hermione assured her, reminded of how Ron always did the same thing.

"Naomi Sasaki, Sixth Year," she said warmly. At this, Andrew slung his arm lazily around her shoulders and kissed her lightly atop her head.

Scott rolled his eyes halfheartedly. "As well as Andrew's girlfriend, if you couldn't already tell."

Naomi looked up at Andrew and let out a giggle. "Took him long enough."

"A relationship works two ways, love," Andrew said.

"Is that right?" Naomi asked with smile that betrayed her pointed look. "I recall correctly, the girl doesn't usually have to come 'round to do the asking."

"Oh, would you two please get a room!" Aiden groaned as Andrew made a move to tickle her, though a hint of amusement was laced into his voice.

"Not possible," Andrew replied solemnly, his blue eyes flickering from Aiden and back to Naomi. "I want to make sure that everyone knows she's all mine."

"Of course you do," Aiden countered, smiling now, "considering that it's taken you since the moment you saw Dumbledore place the Sorting Hat on her head to get her to even look in your direction."

"That's not entirely true," Naomi said with a playful wink. "I looked his direction all the time, just when he wasn't looking."

"Hey now," Andrew said, "you never told me that!"

Naomi shrugged, a knowing smile on her face. "You never asked. Ever thought about that?"

"Well, no…"

Hermione turned and looked out the window with a small smile on her face. She was surprised at how comfortable she felt with them. Although she hadn't contributed much toward the conversation, she already felt as though she was a part of their group.

"Have you figured out who those letters were from?"

Hermione turned and met Scott's inquisitive gaze, surprised that he even remembered that. "Yes, I have."

The others had already quieted back down, Aiden returned to his drawing while Naomi and Andrew sat with their hands intertwined. A look of hope came and went across his face answer so quickly that Hermione thought she had imagined it.

"We're here!" Naomi squealed, pointing out the window. Hermione looked and saw Hogsmeade's modest village just over the hill. Naomi stood in one fluid movement as the carriage came to a stop. "Let's go," she said, tugging on his hand.

"Lead the way," Andrew chuckled at his girlfriend's excitement. Just before the door closed behind them, he called over his shoulder, "We'll meet up with you guys later!"

Aiden marked his place in the sketchbook with his pencil. "I'll be outside," he said, shutting the door firmly behind himself.

Hermione and Scott were now alone. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, gazing out the window at the students disembarking from their own carriages and moving toward the village.

Scott cleared his throat and Hermione turned to look at him.

"Granger, I just wanted you to know that…" He looked down, readjusting his scarf. "If you need someone to talk to about anything, I'd be more than happy to lend an ear."

Hermione gulped, her heart pounding as she wrestled with the conflicting feelings that unfurled in her stomach. She wanted to tell him about Cedric but the guilt of breaking her promise held her back. She opened her mouth to reply, when the door banged ope again.

"You two planning on spending the whole day in this carriage or what?" Aiden asked as his head shot through the doorway. Hermione barely kept her jaw from falling open at the suggestive edge to his voice.

Scott let out a laugh, the serious moment between them instantly shattering with it. "Bugger off, Aiden. We're coming."

Hermione released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as she slowly drew herself up and walked through the doorway. Snow crunched beneath her boots as she hopped down. She turned just in time to see Scott disembark.

He nodded in her direction and put his gloved hands in his pockets, walking away from her with Aiden at his side. As she watched his retreating form, she thought of the stories Cedric had shared about the mischief they'd gotten into together. He always said that Scott was like the brother he'd never had. Surely he would understand if she shared this secret with the one person, besides his own father, that he clearly trusted the most.

Before she had a chance to think it through, the words were already flying from her mouth: "Scott, wait!"

She gaped at him as he turned, uncertainty swirling within her as he called back, "What?"

He was only about five feet away from her, his interested expression carefully guarded. It was a distance she could easily cross in a few quick, short steps. She hesitantly started towards him, although she hadn't the faintest idea what she wanted to say.

"Hermione!"

Ginny trotted up and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder to steady herself while she caught her breath.

"We – thought – you might've – missed the carriages."

Hermione dropped her gaze from Scott's questioning face. "I almost did."

Ginny glanced behind Hermione and stiffened. "What's going on here?"

"I—" Hermione turned and looked at Scott briefly, attempting to swallow her rising guilt. "Thank you."

Scott's face fell. "No problem, Granger."

Ginny's eyes narrowed in suspicion as he turned to follow after Aiden, but Harry and Ron caught up before she could comment further. It was then that Hermione turned back to her friends and immediately indulged them with the whole story of how she'd managed to get to Hogsmeade, all the while ignoring that nagging voice in the back of her head that whispered how terribly wrong of her it had been to brush Scott off like that.

O-O-O

"…so I said, 'Now your nose has no excuse for being so big!'" Ron finished with a broad grin, taking a large gulp of butterbeer.

Everyone burst into laughter except Hermione. "That's absolutely horrid, Ron!"

"You would've laughed if you were there, I promise you," Ron chortled.

Hermione sighed and dropped the subject, opting to take a sip of water instead. Nothing about their date today was going the way she'd hoped.

She had planned a nice walk through the village, possibly holding hands, then a trip to Honeydukes for some delectable sweets and candies that they might carefully feed each other. Lastly, they would round out the day at the Three Broomsticks to meet up with Harry and Ginny for some good laughs over a bit of butterbeer before heading back to the castle.

Instead, they'd started off at Zonko's Joke Shop, where Ron, Harry, and Ginny ran wild and tested every single new product they had and then went to the Three Broomsticks, where they had been for the past two hours.

Hermione looked at their seating arrangement. She had been the one who thought of sitting in a booth, so naturally Harry and Ginny sat on one side and she and Ron on the other. At least she was sitting on the outside.

She buttoned her coat and tied on her scarf, grabbing her things as she slid out of the booth. She hadn't bought a single thing this trip. "I need some air."

Ron touched her wrist. "Why?"

She lightly shook her wrist free. "I really wanted to go to Honeydukes before the carriages return."

"I'll come with you, then." Ron offered, standing. He looked at Harry and Ginny. "You two good?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "We're fine, Ron."

He picked up his jacket and put it on, zipping it up as the two of them made their way outside.

"I'm having a great time."

Hermione held back a scowl. "That makes one of us."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked with a frown. "We got to do everything we wanted to do today."

A nerve twitched in Hermione's forehead. "Actually, Ron, we've done everything you wanted to do."

"That's not true!"

She leveled him with a flat look. "Yes, Ron, it is."

"No, because you—well, you've never complained before!" Ron said defensively. "You always want to do whatever I want to do!"

Hermione stopped as tears collected at the edges of her eyes and suddenly she felt like she was standing in a blizzard of her own making. He was Ron and she was Hermione—there would never be a Ron and Hermione.

She rounded on him in an instant. "Did you ever consider that I didn't want to upset you by asking to do something else?"

"What's that got to do with anything?" He demanded.

Her cheeks flushed, but it wasn't from the cold.

"Are you blind?" She spat bitterly. "I do everything you ask, any time you ask me to—even your bloody homework—because I thought it would make you appreciate me, make you appreciate all of the effort I've put into—" She gestured wildly between them. "Whatever this even is!"

Hermione could care less by that point that they had attracted a growing crowd, and Ron's gaping mouth only heightened her frustration.

"All I am to you is a ruddy doormat, for Merlin's sake, and I'm tired of it!"

Ron's jaw tightened. "You're wrong."

"Oh really now?" Hermione shouted, tears freely spilling onto her cheeks. "Because that's certainly not what you've demonstrated to me over the years!"

"I…" His eyes looked at something behind her before snapping back to meet her own. In one stride, he closed the distance between them, planted his hand roughly at the back of her neck, and slammed his lips down onto hers.

Pain shot through her as he crushed her face to his, forcing her lips to be pliant against his own. This was not a kiss of love, of tenderness; it was a power struggle on display for everyone to see. Panic began welling up in her chest because his mouth smothered hers and her nose was smushed and Hermione couldn't breathe—

The sharp sound of skin smacking against skin resounded off the surrounding buildings.

They fell apart as Ron stumbled back a few steps, clutching his cheek as a dark handprint bloomed across it. Hermione's stinging hand flew to her bruised lips as she drew a few quivering breaths.

When Ron finally looked at her, his expression was thunderous.

"I thought that was what you wanted!"

Her entire body shuddered as fresh tears pooled in her eyes.

"Not… Not like this," she choked out before turning on her heel to force her way through the crowd. Near the front was Scott and his friends, but Hermione couldn't bear to look any of them in the eye after what had just happened. Once at the Hog's Head, she made it through the passageway to Hogwarts before breaking out into a sprint.

She thought of the whispers that rippled through the crowd around them as his mouth covered hers, the way he'd ignored her hands gripping the front of his coat as she tried to push him away. This was it. He'd gone too far.

He'd hurt her… Humiliated her.

She stopped at the beginning of a familiar corridor, clutching her burning side. The walls were beginning to close in around her, robbing her of air and all reasonable thought. At the end of the corridor was a bare wall and she began barreling toward it. The door to the Room of Requirement materialized moments before she came crashing into the wall and she wrenched it open, throwing herself inside. It was exactly as she had left it before, a fire roaring to life as soon as she came tumbling through the doorway.

"Granger?"

Her breath caught as Diggory rose from the couch, but his concerned expression was what truly undid her.

"Stop calling me that," she cried, her voice breaking, "I'm Hermione—just—Hermione."

Her swollen lips trembled as she thought of Ron's forceful kiss and she crumpled to the floor. Would she ever be seen as more than a walking textbook, someone to cheat off of on a forgotten homework assignment? Even the night of the Yule Ball, after she had undergone a transformation into a wizard's version of Cinderella, she knew all along that when the night was over that her carriage would turn back into pumpkins and her dress would become rags once more.

She looked up from her hands, sniffling, at the sound of something softly hitting the floor nearby. A box of tissues sat prepared and ready to go. Her eyes met Diggory's warm gaze. "You needed them, so the Room gave them to you."

Hermione laughed wetly, thanking him all the same as she grabbed a tissue. After a while, they made their way over to the sitting area and sat on separate ends of the couch.

"So," Diggory said, "do you feel better now?"

Hermione smiled weakly. This particular wound would take some time to heal. "A little."

He nodded and turned his head to look at the fire. Her eyes trailed down from his face and widened ever so slightly. Where there had been a mere smudge in place of the Hogwarts emblem when they met was now a small hole. Its jagged edges reminded her of how paper looked with a hole burnt out of the middle.

"It's gone." Diggory's eyes were transfixed upon the flames as he spoke. "It was getting fainter and fainter until a few days ago when this tiny hole appeared."

She leaned forward. "What do you think it means?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

Hermione stared at him for a long moment before she whispered, "I'll—we'll figure this out. I'll read all the books in the library if I have to."

He gave her a wan smile. "Well, Gr—Hermione," he said, eyes soft, "it's still worth a try."

They fell into a companionable silence for a long while, neither saying a word. A log crumbled in the fireplace, releasing a fresh plume of smoke and embers.

"So, Just Hermione," Diggory said with a growing smile. "Is it acceptable that I can be Just Cedric?"

Her smile back was instant. As the evening drew on, something irreversibly shifted between them as he became Cedric instead of Diggory.