Disclaimer: Nope, I'm still me, which means I didn't come up with the magical wizarding world we all know and love.

Chapter Nineteen

Hermione sat motionlessly in the Gryffindor common room, her eyes gazing unseeingly into the bright orange flames as they lapped against the thick logs in the fireplace. She had originally intended on doing homework in there for a change of scenery from the library, but she couldn't think straight. After re-reading the same passage from her Charms textbook fifteen times before accepting the fact that she wasn't absorbing any of the information, she set it aside for later.

She knew she shouldn't, but her mind kept drifting back to two weeks beforehand when Cedric finally woke up in the infirmary. Her eyes involuntarily watered for the umpteenth time when she recalled that his only request was to speak with Cho Chang. He hadn't wanted anything to do with her and it stung more than she wanted to admit.

A week later, he had been released and rejoined the school population with her as his girlfriend at his side. Hermione had seen the meaningful glances they shared and the handful of kisses he had leaned over and stolen from her. Her heart ached and she was miserable, but nothing mattered more to her than his happiness. She hadn't spoken to him since that day in the infirmary, so she assumed that he was content without her in his life. It was a reality she didn't want but forced herself to accept because at the end of the day, she was still Hermione Granger the bookworm and know-it-all. She may have been smart, but she was as plain as paper while Cho was clever in her own right and beautiful. Even Harry had fallen for her before.

Scott and the other Hufflepuffs hadn't given up pestering her to sit with them, but she gracefully refused every offer so that they could spend time with Cedric again without her making things awkward. The truth was, she was falling apart and she knew in some dark corner of herself that her friends recognized it, too, but no one seemed to know how to help her. Scott had helped her the most out of everyone because he had been there the most throughout the whole ordeal, but she couldn't help but try to push even him away to shield him from her inner turmoil.

She stirred herself from her self-pity and pulled her robes tighter around herself as if it would block out the bitter coldness in her chest, pushing her unruly hair from her face. She felt a hard lump forming in her throat and she swallowed hard, but it only manifested and grew bigger. She saw it again: Cedric's lips ghosting over Cho's cheek and then her lips, and felt herself gag. Her whole body wrenched forward and she dragged herself up the stairs to the bathroom in her dormitory as quickly as she could, throwing herself on the floor in front of the nearest toilet.

Tears collected in her eyes and hair fell in her face, her whole body aching from the force of her dry heaving, but she couldn't stop. She felt herself choking on half-sobs that morphed into more fruitless heaving. Fifteen minutes went by before she collapsed to the floor and wept, pitifully alone and heartbroken as realization finally set in.

She loved him. She loved him. She loved him.

Merlin, she was so deeply and irreversibly in love with that boy, but he didn't want her. No one did.

"Hermione."

She pretended she didn't hear, tendrils of hair falling in her face as she bent over her work. She guided her quill in careful loops over the page, the ink glistening with each motion.

"Hermione Granger, stop ignoring me right now."

The sharp tone startled Hermione, causing her hand to jerk and a bit of ink splattered off the tip of the quill onto the page.

"What do you want, Ginny?" She asked blandly, pushing the rebellious curls out of her eyes and looking up.

The younger girl had her straight, fiery hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her blue eyes held no room for argument from Hermione as she sat beside her. "You've got to talk about it."

Hermione shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Ginny," she said, "there's nothing to talk about." She picked her quill back up and went back to translating her ancient runes homework.

"How did you meet?" Ginny pressed, bulldozing over the undertone of warning in Hermione's voice.

Hermione sighed, putting the quill back down and looking at Ginny. They were currently sitting at a table in the library because Ginny had followed Hermione and insisted they set up their study materials there. "You're not going to let me study, are you?"

"Of course not." Ginny replied, wrinkling her nose. "You're going to make yourself a hunchback from crouching over books all the time."

Hermione shook her head and opened the flap of her bag that was settled beside her chair to stow away her belongings that were scattered about her workspace on the table. She stood up, causing Ginny to frown. "I really don't want to talk about this right now," Hermione told her, feeling tired all of a sudden. "I'm going to find somewhere else to study for finals and I suggest that you do the same instead of gossiping and trying to pry into my life."

Hermione collected her remaining books in her arms and was just beginning to walk away when she heard Ginny call out after her. "You can't keep it all bottled up inside of you forever, Hermione."

She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of her lips, her mouth curling into a humorless smile. Of course she could. And she would. "Don't worry about me," she said, turning her head to glance at her friend briefly before making her way toward the library exit.

As she stepped out of the doors and they banged shut behind her, she felt the smile fall away from her lips. She sighed and pushed her way down the corridor, dragging her feet up to the common room. It was nearly time for dinner but she hardly ate anything anymore anyway so she was just going to go to bed. She was rounding a corner, her head down, when she ran into something solid and her books fell out of her arms. "Sorry," she muttered without looking up, crouching down to pick them up.

"Let me help you, Granger," an unmistakable voice said, and Hermione's eyes went from his polished black shoes and traveled up to his grey eyes that sparkled apprehensively.

She shook her head and averted her gaze, reaching for another book. "It's fine, Ced - Diggory. I've got it under control."

He crouched down despite her response and grabbed a few books. "You know, there's a spell you can use that will shrink these down to size so they're easier to carry."

"I know," Hermione murmured, her heart beating quickly as she recalled the handful of times that he'd pestered her about it until she finally cast the spell herself and put the books in her pocket.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and found him regarding her curiously. "Have I told you that before?"

Her heart skipped a beat and she swallowed. "Yes, once when I was in second year," she said, choosing to gloss over the other handful of times.

That handsome smile she had come to know so well spread across his lips and his eyes shone with clarity. "That's right! I remember that."

Hermione glanced around the corridor for any other stray books. "Well, that's all of them," she said softly, scooping up the stack in her arms and standing. She knew she should have cast the spell to please him, but she was too emotionally drained. She brushed aside the immediate thoughts of the past few weeks since she had returned to her classes of the sharp pains casting spells would cause.

She was Hermione Jean Granger, which meant that she was a problem solver to the core of her very being. They were probably aftereffects from being in a comatose state for an extended period of time like she had been and her magical side needed some time to regenerate. She wanted to ask Cedric if he'd had any of the same problems, but she wasn't about to trouble him any longer than she already had.

He raised a questioning brow at her as he brushed his hands off on his thighs and stood, his lips twitching with amusement. "You're a stubborn girl, Granger."

She shrugged, blowing an annoying lock of hair out of her face. "People tell me that." She felt her cheeks heating up as she stared into his eyes for a few seconds, neither of them saying anything, and turned on her heel to hurry away. "Good evening, Diggory," she said in one breath as all her blood seemed to rush to her face.

"Same to you," he called after her retreating back, watching until she disappeared around another corner before walking to the Great Hall with a puzzled look on his face.

Scott and Cedric sat out in the sunlit courtyard on a lazy afternoon, tossing a ball back and forth between each other beneath the shade of a tree. Cho was in Divination at the moment, so it was just the two of them like old times. Sometimes when they were alone, Scott would fill Cedric in on things he'd missed during his absence. Cedric thought it was nice of his friend to be so patient with him, but he always felt like there were pieces that he kept leaving out.

His thoughts drifted toward the bookish Gryffindor again, something that kept happening and breaking his concentration. Cedric didn't know what to think of his sudden strange fascination with the girl, but it started with the weird dreams he kept having every night after he woke up and she'd left him in the infirmary.

In one, he recalled Hermione walking barefoot in nothing but a soft white robe over a pale pink nightgown, noticing that her hair had been a mess of unmanageable curls as he watched her make her way across what looked like a grassy plain. It had been dark in his dream, but the moon was out. Parts of the dream had gotten jumbled up as she neared the strange, still lake that looked like a fragile sheet of glass. For some reason, they walked through a large hollow in the trunk of a willow tree that led them into a room with brown couches and a fireplace.

That room seemed so familiar to him for some inexplicable reason that he couldn't explain, and as he threw the ball back to Scott with ease, he thought of another dream where she seemed to have been crying. The pain he felt in that dream still felt tangible to him as he watched the tears run down her pale cheeks. He couldn't remember why she had been crying in the dream, only the insatiable urge deep within himself to comfort her through whatever means necessary.

"You seem kind of spacey today, mate." Scott said, and Cedric shook his head to clear his strange thoughts. "Is everything alright?"

Cedric realized that Scott hadn't thrown the ball in quite some time. He briefly considered keeping the dreams to himself, but ultimately decided that it was best to be honest with Scott. Perhaps maybe then he could figure out what they were supposed to mean. "Yeah, I was just thinking about some bizarre dreams I've been having lately."

Scott raised a brow. "Yeah?"

Cedric laughed. "I know that sounds peculiar, but the thing that I keep thinking about is that Granger is in almost all of them."

Scott's expression suddenly changed from humored to serious. "What kind of dreams are they, Ced?"

Cedric raised his hands as a sign of peace, recalling that his best mate was also friends with her. "Nothing bad, I don't think. Most of them are just us talking about different things in the same room."

His friend's eyes widened fractionally.

"What?" Cedric asked, mildly concerned for his friend's mental state.

Scott shook his head and the odd, stunned look disappeared from his face. "Nothing." He smiled a little and leaned back against the tree, tossing the ball up and catching it a few times before continuing in a casual tone, "So, you've been having dreams about Hermione Granger. How long has this been happening? Do you do anything besides talk? And what does the room look like?"

Cedric was a little surprised by all of Scott's questions, but indulged him by answering. "I've had them every night since I woke up. I mean, I hardly even know her so it's all very curious to me." He paused for a second to conjure up as clear of an image of the room as he could. "The room is mostly brown; a brown couch and recliners–two, I think–, a fireplace made of brown polished stones with a big rug in front of it, a couple of brown tables. It's a little room. Usually there's a fire going but not always."

Recognition flickered across Scott's face as realization set in. "And the talking," he said, bringing up another question. "Do you always talk?"

Cedric shrugged. "No, but what does it matter? It's just some silly dreams." He glanced at the ball that rested in his friend's hands. "Do you mind tossing it to me?"

Scott blinked before nodding. "Yeah, of course." He passed it to Cedric, who caught it easily.

"Should've been a seeker, yeah?" Cedric teased, throwing it back.

Scott laughed. "Too bad you were dead for the duration of your years on the Quidditch team."

Cedric let out a mock-sigh. "Well, there is that."

It was quiet between them for a while again, both seeming to be lost in their own thoughts. Cedric, for his part, went back to musing about Granger. There had been a few instances at mealtimes where he'd find himself looking at her from his table and he noticed that she barely ate her food. She would always put a little on her plate but never seemed all that interested in actually ingesting it. Instead, she would push it around with a fork or spoon for the duration of the meal and then leave.

Another thing he noticed in his innocent observances of her was that she seemed to observe him a lot as well. She would have an unreadable expression on her face when she looked at him and he always would avert his gaze so she wouldn't catch him watching her, but for some reason she seemed almost…sad. He couldn't understand why.

A few days ago, he remembered how he'd leaned over to press a soft kiss to Cho's cheek and Granger suddenly stood up and fled the room. It didn't make sense to him. Over the course of the two and a half weeks that had passed by since he awoke, he watched her lose more weight than he thought to be healthy and become more and more withdrawn from her friends. He may not have known her very well, but he couldn't help feeling sympathetic toward her. She must have been going through something really hard to shut down like that.

The memory of the night he'd accidentally ran into her in the corridor a few days ago surfaced to the forefront of his mind. The look on her face when she realized that he was the one she had bumped into was enigmatic to him. There were so many emotions that flashed across her wide brown eyes that he could hardly keep up. He registered her shock, of course, and he thought there was a glimmer of hurt there, too, but it was gone before he could read into it much further.

It had all been so mysterious and fast. She collected her things and seemed in a hurry to get away from him. He thought there had been a hint of redness that colored her cheeks as she turned from him to leave, but even if he accepted that as fact the question that arose next was why she would be blushing in the first place.

The biggest question of them all regarding Hermione Granger, however, was probably the most reasonable one. Why was she the one who brought him back? And why had she seemed so relieved when he woke up? It was almost like she really knew him, which was a perplexing idea when he knew nothing about her besides the fact that she was Harry Potter's best friend and the Brightest Witch of the Age.

"Hey, Ced?"

Cedric eyed Scott, who was regarding him with a solemn look, curiously. "Yes?" He opted not to ask why his friend had been so serious all of a sudden this afternoon.

Scott ran a hand through his hair and didn't say anything for a second before blowing out a breath. "You know those dreams you've been having, mate?"

Cedric blinked. "What about them?"

Scott shook his head and stood up. "Nevermind," he said. "I'm going inside for a bit to see about checking out a book from the library for Defense Against the Dark Arts. I'll see you at dinner."

Cedric raised his hand to fist-bump him before seeing him off with a wave. "See you then, mate."

Cedric was curious about why he suddenly up and left, but decided not to question it at the moment and tossed the ball up and caught it for a while on his own, leaning against the tree and diving back into his own thoughts.

A week later, Hermione found herself sitting in Transfiguration. She was barely paying attention—something that was not typical for her—but it didn't really matter since Professor McGonagall was going over subject matter ten chapters behind where Hermione had read to. Transfiguration was a breeze to her at any rate.

"—and now it's your turn, class," McGonagall said. Hermione blinked the emptiness that had crept into her consciousness away and focused on the older witch almost apathetically. Her hair was pulled back into a severe bun as usual and she was dressed in a set of deep red-colored velvet robes that reminded Hermione of the wine her mother and father sometimes drank when their work friends came over.

Professor McGonagall's eyes glanced around the room to make sure everyone was watching as she demonstrated the simple wand motion before clearly uttering the incantation, her wand directed at the quill on the otherwise empty wooden stool beside her. "Flos mutante," she said, and the quill suddenly transformed into a beautiful daisy. She turned to the class and motioned for them to start.

Hermione picked up her wand, which she had placed on her desk at the beginning of class and took a deep breath. This would be easy, she just had to relax. She adjusted her quill so that it sat perfectly in the middle of the polished wood of her desk before slowly drawing a semicircle in the air with the tip of her wand and reciting the spell. "Flos mutante."

A sharp pain shot up her arm from her right hand and she gasped in both surprise and pain, dropping her wand as the feeble spell dissipated. Professor McGonagall appeared before her in an instant. "What's the matter, Miss Granger?" She asked, the concern evident in her voice.

"It's just my wrist," Hermione lied, cradling her hand to her chest and gritting her teeth. She looked up and found McGonagall's watchful eyes observing her carefully. "I'm okay, Professor."

The woman pursed her lips at the obstinate teenager. "You are excused from this classroom to pay a visit to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing, Miss Granger. You can never be too careful, after all."

Hermione gaped at her teacher, the pain that pulsated up her arm momentarily forgotten. "But Professor, I haven't even—"

Professor McGonagall's expression grew very stern. "Miss Granger, this subject is not up for debate. I am also certain that you've perfected this particular spell on your own time, regardless of your protests."

Hermione sighed, knowing that arguing with the woman was a fruitless effort, and bent to pick up her wand from where it had fallen onto the floor as well as her bag with her left hand. Thankfully, she hadn't brought any extra books to carry and left the room after slinging the bag over her shoulder.

She was walking down a corridor in the direction she had been told when she found herself face-to-face with the headmaster himself. "Miss Granger," he said, his blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon spectacles, "what a pleasure it is seeing you this afternoon."

"Same to you, Professor Dumbledore," she said with a smile.

He was clothed in flowing royal blue robes that reflected the light from the wall scones and shone purple. "I've been meaning to have a word with you. Do you have a moment?"

Hermione nodded. "Of course, sir." She followed him to his office—the password, of course, being "Laffy Taffy"—and proceeded to sit in front of his desk. She took a moment to admire the different knick-knacks scattered about the room as he made his way around the desk to his tall, straight-backed chair. He folded his long, wrinkled fingers on top of the desk and cleared his throat.

"I am aware that you were the one who resurrected Mr. Diggory, correct?" He said.

"Yes, that's right," she replied.

His eyes shone with curiosity. "This kind of thing is quite out of the ordinary in the wizarding world, Miss Granger, as I am sure you're aware."

"Yes sir."

"The last time a spell like that was performed was in the Dark Ages. The bubonic plague was running rampant and people of magical and muggle descent alike were dying." Hermione nodded, unsure of where he was going with his history lesson. "You've heard the story, yes?"

"A mother resurrected her only child—a son—after he had been dead for a week. Her actions were driven by the love she had for him and the desperation for him to live." Hermione said. She had read that in one of the many books she'd used to research spells to help Cedric, but it hadn't told her what spell had been used.

Dumbledore smiled. "Correct, Miss Granger, as usual." He reached up to run a thoughtful hand over his beard. "Do you recall why it was banned?"

Hermione looked down for a moment. "The woman died shortly after casting it. Her son was revived, but she gave her life to him in order for him to live." She looked from her hands that were folded in her lap back to her white-haired headmaster. "During the Renaissance, the Ministries of Magic throughout the world came together and decided to have it banned after looking back upon the case because the dark magic it involved was too powerful and unpredictable. All of the books that contained any sort of spell relating to resurrection were burned to prevent similar occurrences."

Dumbledore regarded her with interest, leaning forward. "Exactly, which is why I was curious about how you were able to acquire the information. I am merely asking for my own amusement, I assure you."

Hermione blushed in embarrassment when she thought about breaking into Malfoy Manor to steal the book. "In order to get the book I needed—which I wasn't sure even existed anymore—I had to break into Draco Malfoy's home to borrow it from his family's library."

He seemed surprised by her actions, but smiled nonetheless. "Sometimes we do things we otherwise couldn't imagine to help those we care about." He was contemplative for a moment before asking, "What did the process involve?"

"A spell and potion," Hermione answered. "The potion was the most complex because it was what molded Cedric's new body, but the spell was very powerful."

"I thought that the spell was the reason you were unconscious for as long as you were. Your magical side was reeling from it, no doubt," Dumbledore mused. "You seem to have done an impeccable job, Miss Granger. Mr. Diggory seems to be as fully functional as he was before the graveyard nightmare occurred during the Triwizard Tournament."

Hermione felt a pang in her chest and she inconspicuously forced herself to keep from blinking to dry out the tears she felt pooling at the edges of her eyes. "He seems quite content," she said, trying her hardest to sound agreeable.

If Dumbledore noticed the way that her voice wavered slightly, he didn't mention it. "I've also had the chance to speak with Scott Logan after hearing that he had a hand in everything, and he's shed some light on a few things as well."

Hermione's inquisitiveness was piqued by that bit of information. "Like what, Professor?"

"Mr. Logan mentioned something about Cedric's ghostly appearance fading and disappearing."

Hermione remembered it all too well. "Yes."

"He explained to me that it had gradually gotten worse until he began missing pieces of his body in some places." Hermione nodded, her eyes unseeing as she saw the gradual deterioration happen in her mind in a matter of seconds all over again. "I have come up with what I believe to be a very possible theory for what the phenomenon was. Granted, I have never had anything prior to this to compare my observations to, but it seems quite possible."

Hermione leaned forward in her chair, as if getting closer to the older man would somehow transpose his thoughts to her. "What is your theory?"

"Well, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, straightening his back and leaning back once more, "I believe that the fading and disappearing of his ghostly body transferred over to his physical body." Hermione blinked, confused for a moment but staying silent in the hopes that he would explain further. "Mr. Diggory can't remember anything prior to his death because each day that his body faded caused him to forget events that happened afterwards. There are some memories that he will never regain—which were represented by the holes in his form—and some that may come back to him in time. It's difficult to tell at this point in time, as I'm sure you understand, Miss Granger."

But Hermione had disappeared within herself long ago as the reality of what had happened set in, drowning in despair and panic.

Cedric didn't ask for Cho because he didn't give two knuts for Hermione. He asked for her because he didn't remember anything about being friends with her.

The last thing Hermione remembered was focusing on one little dust particle lazily floating in a ray of sunlight that streamed in through a window before she fell sideways and smacked her head on the wooden floor of the headmaster's office. Then, everything was engulfed in darkness and she didn't feel anything.

Author's Note: Hi. Please don't kill me, guys. I know it's been longer than it should have been for me to update—over a year—but I've had horrible writer's block. I didn't know how exactly I wanted to go about this chapter and life has happened between my last update and now so I've been busy. I've gone to birthday parties, funerals, my first prom, watched my best friend in the entire world drive away as she moved across the state after she graduated from high school, and a whole bunch of other stuff that doesn't really matter in the context of my apology.

I tried to make up for it with this long chapter (it's almost ten pages in Microsoft Word!) if that means anything. :)

For those of you who have stuck it out despite all of this time that's gone by, thank you so much. I appreciate your support more than you know and I genuinely mean that. I've recently been looking at my reviews and been stunned again and again by all of your encouragement. I love you guys so much that I'm tearing up right now, haha. :')

I'm going to try to start updating more regularly again because believe it or not, this story is actually nearly over! That's insane to think about. I'm shooting for once a week because I love you guys and you deserve that.

Alright, I'll be quiet now and end my author's note here, but I want to tell you again before I go how much I appreciate each and every one of you. Yes, including you. *pokes screen with a smile*

What did you think about that nice little cliffhanger and Dumbledore's theory? Any other theories for what's going on? Only time will tell…

Bye, guys. :D

-Caitlyn