Disclaimer: I wish I could claim the Harry Potter series as my own, but sadly, I can't.

Chapter Eight

Hermione was met with hushed whispers and turned heads as she pushed through the Great Hall doors. Her hair was a mess of frizzy curls since she hadn't felt quite up to styling it that morning, a decision she was beginning to regret.

She froze when she arrived at the Gryffindor table and saw that her seat was occupied by none other than Lavender Brown.

"Where am I supposed to sit?" She asked in a strained voice.

Ginny's fork clattered to her plate and Harry eyes fell wordlessly to his goblet of pumpkin juice.

Lavender gave her an apologetic look, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "I can move—"

"That," Ron interrupted, slinging an arm loosely around Lavender's shoulders, "won't be necessary." He sneered as he pulled Lavender flush to his side. "She should've come sooner."

Hermione clenched her teeth, her hand twitching to smack him, as she fixed her fiery gaze on Ginny instead.

"We saved you a seat like we usually do, but," she shot a glare at her brother, "Lav wanted to sit with Ron and we didn't want to say anything."

Hermione stiffened. Lav? Since when we did they refer to Lavender bloody Brown by such a ridiculous pet name?

A burst of laughter from across the room caught her attention and she lifted her chin defiantly. "Fine. I'll just go eat with some other friends instead."

It was Ron's turn to be surprised. "You have other friends?"

She smiled tightly, not bothering to offer a response, and spun on her heel in the opposite direction.

Before she could change her mind, she marched to the Hufflepuff table, striding right over to where Scott and his friends were eating. Naomi was the first to notice her and elbowed her boyfriend sharply.

Andrew let out an indignant yelp, but his annoyance faded when he saw Hermione standing behind them with watery eyes. By that point, the conversation between Aiden and Scott had fizzled out as well.

"Rough morning?" Andrew asked sympathetically as he moved aside.

Hermione's chin quivered, trying to keep it together, as she slid onto the bench. "You have no idea."

Naomi patted her back gently. "I was sorry to hear about what happened with Weasley. He's either blind or stupid if he can't see how wonderful you are."

Across the table, Scott and Aiden watched the exchange curiously. After a moment, Scott scooped up a tray of toast and pushed it Hermione's way. "Well, Granger, you're welcome here any time," he said warmly. "You know what they say—build a bigger table, not a higher fence."

"Even if it makes you look like the barmiest Gryffindor there is," Aiden added with a wink.

For the first time in days, Hermione let out a giggle as she grabbed a piece of toast. From then on, every meal Hermione ate after that was spent among the Hufflepuffs.

O-O-O

Hermione made her way through the stacks in the library. In the months that had passed since she first agreed to help Cedric, she had spent more time than ever there, poring over tomes about dark magic, life-altering enchantments, and the like. She'd struck out so far, but she still wasn't ready to give up just yet. Besides, it was a Saturday, which meant that she was free to spend all day doing research.

As she tossed and turned in bed the night previously, she remembered reading something about Nicholas Flamel's elixir of life in her First Year while trying to help Harry solve the mystery shrouding the Sorcerer's Stone. She cast a wary glance around before casting a disillusionment spell on herself, and slinking over to the Restricted Section, hopeful to find something that would at least point her efforts in the right direction.

Slipping carefully under the chain at the entrance, her fingers lightly touched the spines of each book as she whispered the titles aloud to herself. Her hand hovered over one that had piqued her interest: Bridging the Gap and Other Theories, by none other than Nicholas Flamel himself.

Just as she went to pull it from the shelf, she jumped at the sight of a familiar, ethereal light at the end of the aisle.

"I never expected you'd be the sort of witch to wander into this part of the library," Cedric said, the details of his silhouette becoming clearer as he drifted closer. Hermione nearly commented on this when she remembered that she was currently covered by a disillusionment charm.

"You can see me?"

"Ironic given the circumstances, isn't it?" Cedric chuckled. "Ghosts aren't limited by their senses in the same way that living creatures are, particularly our sense of sight. It would take something a little stronger than a simple disillusionment spell for that." His gaze wandered to the book she had been so keen on moments ago, softening. "Research?"

She pulled it from the shelf and tucked it under her arm. "Hopefully," she said. He followed wordlessly as she wound back through the maze of shelves toward her favorite spot, briefly pulling out her wand to break the disillusionment charm from earlier. An involuntary shiver crept down her spine as she returned to normal, after which she settled into one of the chairs to begin reading.

"Hermione," Cedric said after a while, breaking the silence. "Mind taking a break for a little while?"

Her brow furrowed at this. "But I've barely read anything in this one. If I stop now, I—" As she looked up, her voice died in her throat.

Cedric, ever the illusion of sitting in the adjacent chair across from her, was staring wistfully toward the window overhead. The smallest of smiles was tugging at his lips. "Moments like this feel so real, you know?" His voice was soft as his silver eyes landed on her, bright yet vulnerable. "It almost makes me forget what we're doing here in the first place. Is that odd?"

A quivering breath she didn't know she'd been holding escaped her. "No, it's not odd," she conceded. She swallowed as her eyes dropped to where his hand appeared to be resting on the table. For a moment, she thought of his outstretched hand and wondered what it might feel like to touch it—if it would feel like anything at all. "Sometimes I… I think about that, too."

Something heavy settled between them, a feeling that Hermione wasn't sure she was ready to acknowledge yet. He almost looked angelic as he regarded her, so peaceful and yet…

So sad.

She cleared her throat, her eyes falling back to the page she had been reading. The words swam before her, suddenly unreadable.

"Not yet," he whispered. Her heart thudded soundly as she caught the imploring look on his face. "I'm not ready to…" He cleared his throat, eyelashes fluttering as he dropped his gaze. "Can't we stay here, like this, for a little while longer?"

She was baffled by the way he yearned for a normalcy of life that, if only in this moment, included herself. Slowly, carefully, she bookmarked her page and closed the book.

"Tell me something new, then," she murmured. "Something about you. Something good."

A beat passed between them and an involuntary flush warmed her cheeks as he shifted before her, every part of him instantly illuminated by a warmth that she couldn't quite identify.

"Have I told you about the time Scott and I accidently blew up the Potions classroom?"

He grinned and she couldn't help but return it.

"I have a bad feeling about this story…"

As he recounted the tale, animatedly illustrating his points using gestures that mirrored those Scott used in conversation, she couldn't help the newfound spark of hope that ignited within her. The mission meant the tearful reunion between friends, a father and his son, and so much more.

It meant that, perhaps, this moment could truly become something real.

O-O-O

It was a few minutes shy of curfew when Hermione finally reached Gryffindor tower. Two or three different games of Wizard's Chess were going on simultaneously around the common room as she stepped through the portrait hole, a few rousing games of Exploding Snap interspersed between them.

She quickly spotted Ron, Harry, and Ginny sitting together on one of the couches in front of the fireplace, but thee irritated expressions indicated that their conversation didn't really seem to be going anywhere. Briefly, she considered brushing past them as if she hadn't seen them at all; it had been weeks, after all, since she had last spoken to any of them. Upon noticing the exhaustion that lined their faces, however, guilt won out and she made her way over.

Surprisingly, Ron was the first to notice as she shuffled closer.

He let out a gasp but choked it down too late. Harry saw her just after, but only a tenth of a second before Ginny. Ginny's entire demeanor brightened immediately and she looked as though it was taking everything she had to keep from jumping up to collect Hermione in the tightest of hugs. Delicately, Hermione set down her books beside the couch and straightened, waiting.

Harry was the one to break the silence.

"Hermione," he hesitated for a moment but caught himself, his eyes speaking volumes that his voice could not convey. Remorse. Shame. "We're…we're all really, truly sorry."

Ron's eyes were downcast, staring unseeingly at the floor, knuckles clenched tightly in his lap. Ginny twisted her fingers uncomfortably in her lap. The moment dragged on for a few more beats of silence, long enough for Hermione to realize that they were waiting for her to speak. Her eyes softened as she looked at them.

"I forgive you," she whispered finally. "All of you."

Although the pain of that Hogsmeade trip still hadn't left – every time Hermione looked at Ron, her heart still gave a tight squeeze – it was finally bearable. The redheaded boy was stubborn, obnoxious, loud and messy, but he was still one of her best friends.

It took a moment for her words to set in, and then the group was a mess of hugs, apologies, and tears. Before long, the grandfather clock in the corner struck two o'clock in the morning, and the four friends knew it was time to part ways until morning. Hermione didn't bother changing into her night clothes once she reached her dorm, instead falling exhaustedly to the mattress, fully dressed, and immediately fell asleep.

O-O-O

She opened her eyes and was greeted by a foggy landscape and twinkling night sky, each star like a tiny pinprick-sized diamond pressed into a dark fabric. If she held up her hand, the moon would probably have been no bigger than the pad of her thumb. It had a familiarity to it that Hermione couldn't seem to place.

The best thing to do given her circumstances was to have a good nose around, but she found herself frozen in place when she moved to stand. Instead, she turned in her seated position to see a large, looming silhouette standing amid the dense fog, straining her eyes to make out more details. The fog slowly began to clear, taking her confusion with it as it revealed wooden bleachers. She took in each of the long, wooden benches and the different signs and banners hung around them. It took a moment before she realized where she was – the final competition of the Triwizard Tournament.

That's when she noticed that she was not alone. Someone else was there, sitting on the Hogwarts side of the stands, clothed in a champion uniform. Its yellow and black checkered pattern stuck out like a sore thumb against their otherwise desolate, empty surroundings.

Cedric.

Hermione's lips quivered. "But you—you're dead."

He stood, shaking his head. "Not yet."

"What do you mean?"

Cedric was in front of her now, his eyes shining with desperation. In the distance, Hermione could hear the faint sound of a ticking clock. "You're close, but you need help," he said. "Time is running out."

"But how? Who do I—?"

"Hurry," he whispered, the urgency on his face more than she could bear.

Before she could say anything else, the fog rushed forward and plunged everything into darkness.

O-O-O

Hermione nearly flew across the school in her haste to get to the Hufflepuff commons, which was located down countless flights of stairs and a little past the kitchens. A new wave of determination washed over her as her hand fell to the bag at her side, which contained her wand and all of Cedric's letters. This was, at least, a start.

Just as she'd read in Hogwarts, A History, she was met with an inconspicuous stack of barrels where the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room should be. She took careful steps toward one of the barrels, the middle of the second row, two from the bottom, and reached out a tentative hand.

Her knocks were precise and constant, rhythmic and methodical as she knocked out the tune of "Helga Hufflepuff" in order to get through. If the sequence of tapping or the incorrect lid was tapped, the trespasser got drenched in vinegar and was unable to gain admittance inside. Finally, her hand fell still and she waited, trembling like a leaf.

A few beats of silence passed, seemingly long and unyielding, before the lid of the barrel she had just knocked on swung open to reveal a passageway. Hermione sighed in relief and crawled inside, her anxiety from moments ago already fading. It swung shut behind her and she was momentarily plunged into darkness. At last, she reached the end of the tunnel and tumbled out, brushing off bits of dirt that clung to her clothes and hair.

When she looked up, the sight before her erased all previous thoughts about how tedious it must be to go through such an egregious process each day just to reach one's dormitory.

The room – a basement, due to its location one floor below ground level, from whence it had gained the popular nickname "Hufflepuff Basement" – appeared to be a hollowed-out space in the earth. The shape of the room reminded Hermione of the hobbits' homes from J.R.R. Tolkein's Lord of the Rings series that she'd read with her father as a child; it was round and low-ceilinged with gleaming copper furnishings. It was cozy and homey the same way as the Gryffindor common room was, but it was bursting at the seams with plants of all kinds.

Potted plants of all shapes and sizes and colors filled the room: hanging from the ceiling, sitting in windowsills, and perched on tables and other surfaces around the room. Hermione knew most of them from all of the reading she did, but there were some that she'd never even heard of before – extremely rare ones, that is.

Yellow tapestries hung all around the room, most of which bore the embroidered image of a black badger. A few yellow and black upholstered couches were placed around a circular, yellow fireplace that currently housed nothing more than the last smoldering embers from what Hermione assumed was last night's fire. A painting of Helga Hufflepuff above the fireplace smiled welcomingly down at Hermione.

Reminding herself of what she was there for, she peered around the room for the entrance to the dormitories. Just then, a black door on the far end of the room opened and a boy with buzzed black hair and ebony skin stepped out.

"Hey!" Hermione called, pointing at the boy. He looked up, startled.

"M-me?" he squeaked.

Hermione nodded. "What's your name?"

"Rudo Kofi," he replied warily. His eyes briefly fell to the red and gold tie around her neck. "And you're Hermione Granger."

"That's right," Hermione offered a placating smile and pointed at the door he had just come through. "Rudo, could you fetch someone for me?" At his disbelieving look, she added, "It's urgent."

He blinked in surprise. "Who're you looking for?"

She drew a nervous breath. "Scott Logan."

"Okay," Rudo said after a moment with a shrug. "I'll be right back."

Hermione nodded as he disappeared behind the door again. As she waited, she tried to quash the feelings of anxiety that had begun to well up inside of her as the reality of the situation dawned on her. Before she could change her mind, the door slowly opened and out came Rudo, positively beaming. As the door opened wider Hermione's heart flew up to her throat.

Scott stood barefooted in the round doorway clad in his pajamas, his hair mussed from sleep and sticking out in different directions. He blinked his eyes blearily and looked at Rudo, scratching his head. Hermione saw his lips move and could just make out what he was saying from across the room. "What'd you say I needed to wake up for, again?"

Scott's eyebrows rose as Rudo's gaze slanted across the room to where she stood, and he righted himself immediately, all the tiredness from a moment ago gone. A smile graced his face as he thanked Rudo. The younger boy simply nodded before walking past Hermione toward the entrance to the common room and muttered, "He sleeps like the dead."

"You look a little out of place down here, little lion," Scott called out to her as Rudo disappeared into the tunnel.

Hermione let out a laugh. "Good morning to you, too, Scott."

He strode across the room and lowered onto the couch in front of Hermione. "Not to discount how flattered I am that you dragged yourself out of your comfy bed this morning to look for me, but what exactly are you doing here?"

"There's something I need to tell you," Hermione's nervousness surfaced again and grew tenfold. As she settled on the opposite end of the couch, she forced herself not to wring her fingers together in her lap. "It's, erm, rather important."

He raised his eyebrows again as he leaned back against the couch cushions. "Talk away, Granger. I'm listening."

She cast a look around the common room as a few Hufflepuff students shuffled in from their dormitory, shrinking beneath their probing stares. "I will, but not here." Her voice lowered, barely above a whisper. "We need to go somewhere a bit more private."

Instantly, Scott's carefree smile dropped from his face and he stood back up again, replaced by a look of concern. "Is everything alright?"

Hermione swallowed thickly, her heart in her throat. "Just trust me, okay?"

He frowned, perplexed, then gave a single nod. "Okay," he said, taking a few steps back. He glanced over his shoulder toward the other end of the room, his expression unreadable but soft. "At least let me change into some proper clothes before we go."

"Alright," Hermione breathed, relief flooding every part of her.

Scott flashed her a warm, kind smile that didn't quite lighten the unease in his eyes before turning back toward the door that led to the boys' dormitories. Her stomach turned apprehensively as she reminded herself of why she was there in the first place.

As she stared blankly at a dust mote floating aimlessly through a shaft of sunlight coming in through one of the round windows overhead, she thought again of the ticking clock from her dream, and of Cedric's ominous words regarding it. Despite her best efforts, months had gone by with no success and Cedric was fading more and more by the day.

Hermione drew a shaky breath as the door opened again and Scott stepped out, fully dressed. More than anything, she hoped that he would listen long enough for her to explain everything.