"Yes, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall held open the door to her office, letting Hermione inside. Hermione had made an appointment with her head of house one week before the first Hogsmeade weekend. She was following the rules to the letter, and now handed McGonagall a written request that included person, dates and location - exactly as required.

Surprised and curious, McGonagall looked down through her glasses at the parchment. Hermione watched her lips thin slightly. "I am seventeen," Hermione said - needlessly. She was quite certain McGonagall knew that.

"Indeed," was all McGonagall said, weaving back through the organized chaos of her office towards her desk. Dipping her quill, she signed the parchment, tapped it with her wand to make a duplicate, then returned one of them to Hermione. "You'll need to show that to Mr. Filch when you leave, and when you return as well. But I suspect you already know the procedure."

"Yes, professor. And thank you." Hermione turned to leave.

"Hermione," McGonagall said, her voice soft with the unexpected familiarity of a given name. Surprised, Hermione looked back. "Try not to grow up too fast, all right? You have your whole life ahead of you."

Hermione refrained from qualifying, 'if I survive the war', merely nodded and gave McGonagall a small smile. "Don't worry - I'm not. And I haven't lost sight of my own ambitions, either." She knew that was the older woman's real worry.

Smiling back faintly, McGonagall just nodded.

Hermione didn't tell the boys - or anybody else - about her permission slip. She just didn't feel like arguing with them about the wisdom of her choice. The autumn term had been rough; she needed this - and let the rest of the school talk. It wasn't as if they weren't talking anyway.

That Saturday dawned unseasonably cool and quite stormy, the sky glowering at the earth with low, dark clouds. Hermione applied a water-repellent charm to her coat and hat, then packed her rucksack with a change of clothing, a little book (not even homework), and her permission slip. She skipped breakfast, joining Harry and Ron as they waited in line to leave the castle. Ron had to tell her all about a new spell that Harry had tried on him that morning. ". . . just hanging in the air upside-down. And then, with another flash of light, I landed on my bed again!"

Hermione glared from Ron to Harry, unable to fathom why they thought it funny to be yanked up into the air to dangle helpless. Narrowing her eyes at Harry, she asked, "This spell didn't happen to come from that Potions book of yours, did it?"

Harry's expression turned mulish. "Always jump to the worst conclusion, don't you?"

"Well? Did it?"

"Yeah. But so what?"

"So you just decided to try out an unknown, handwritten incantation and see what would happen?" She was aghast.

"Why does it matter if it's handwritten?" Harry asked, clearly not getting it.

"Because it's probably not Ministry of Magic-approved!" Hermione replied, throwing up hands. "You had no idea what it would do! I'm starting to think this Prince character was a bit dodgy."

Both Harry and Ron gaped, then Ron said, "It was for a laugh, Hermione! Just a laugh!"

"Oh, honestly! Dangling people upside down by an ankle? Who puts time and energy into inventing spells like that?"

"Fred and George," Ron answered without even pausing. "It's their kind of thing, and, er - "

"My dad," Harry added, looking as if he'd only then remembered something.

Surprised, Hermione blinked at him. "What?"

"My dad used this spell. I - Lupin told me."

Hermione didn't think that was what Harry had intended to say; he was a poor liar. "Maybe your dad did use it, Harry," she replied, still unhappy, "but he's not the only one. We've seen a whole bunch of people use it, in case you've forgotten. Dangling people in the air. Making them float along, asleep - helpless."

Surely they couldn't have forgotten that. It had been the stuff of nightmares for Hermione for weeks afterwards, imagining her own parents subjected to such humiliation by wizards who cared little for human dignity, or at least didn't consider Muggles (and Muggle-borns) fully 'human' in the first place.

Harry was looking suitably chastised, but Ron just shrugged and insisted, "That was different. They were abusing it. Harry and his dad were just having a laugh. You can misuse anything, Hermione, and you don't like the Prince because he's better at Potions than you - "

"It's got nothing to do with that!" Hermione snapped, irritated. "It's not always personal, Ronald. I just don't think it's very responsible to start performing spells when you've no idea what they're for - and stop talking about 'the Prince' as if it's his title. I bet it's just a stupid nickname and it doesn't seem to me as though he was a terribly nice person!"

"Don't see where you get that from!" Harry retorted. "If he'd been a budding Death Eater, he wouldn't have been boasting about being a 'half-blood,' would he?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, the Death Eaters can't all be purebloods. There aren't enough pureblood wizards left, even if you count the ones like Ron's family who definitely aren't on You Know Who's side! I expect most of them are half-bloods, or part-bloods like Cedric, pretending to be pure. It's only us Muggle-borns they hate. They'd be quite happy to let you, Ron or Ced join up."

"Oh, certainly!" Ron replied. They'd almost reached the head of queue at the door, and Filch glanced up at Ron's raised voice. "There's no way they'd let me be a Death Eater," he said more softly. "Nor Cedric, either. We're both blood traitors. That's as bad as Muggle-borns to them!"

"And they'd love to have me," Harry added sarcastically. "We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in."

That made Ron laugh, and even Hermione had to smile at the dark humour of it. It was time to stop talking in any case, as they were next. It had taken forever for the line to advance as Filch was checking not just permission slips, but everybody's person with his Secrecy Sensor. "What does it matter if we're smuggling Dark stuff out?" Ron muttered, eying the long, thin, needle-like instrument with distaste as Filch aimed it at him. "Surely you ought to be checking what we bring back in!"

"That I will, laddie," Filch replied, poking his cheek hard with the sensor. "Take off that cloak."

As Filch gave Ron a thorough going over, Harry asked Hermione, "Why are you bringing your bag?"

She just shrugged and didn't look at him. "Probably planning to buy a load of books and they're easier to carry that way," Ron suggested, holding out his arms for Filch. "You can see how light it is - must be empty."

She ignored that too. Unfortunately, Filch wasn't as disinterested. When it came to her turn, he eyed the bag suspiciously and despite what her slip said, he insisted she open the bag and take everything out so he could run the sensor over it. Annoyed to find it all innocuous, he shoved it back at her to repack. "You can go," he snarled.

Whilst she repacked her bag, she tried to ignore the confused glances Ron and Harry were giving each other, and her. "Why've you got clothes in there?" Ron asked finally.

"Because I won't be coming back tonight," she replied calmly.

"What?" Ron and Harry said together, and Harry went on, "You're not leaving school, are you?"

"Of course not!" she replied, slinging the rucksack over her back and starting down the path towards the school gates. "I'm just not coming back tonight."

"Where are you going? I mean, staying? And I didn't think you were allowed to - "

Spinning around, she glared at both boys. "I'm seventeen - and the rest is none of your business."

Pansy Parkinson and several of her friends were passing on the path and now laughed at the trio, Pansy calling, "She'll be staying with her lover boy, of course." The start from Ron and Harry was almost comical, and Hermione resisted rolling her eyes, wishing she could just sink into the earth. She really hadn't wanted to give Pansy and the old Inquisitorial Squad anything more with which to rip at her reputation. "It's called 'married student dispensation'," Pansy added, "except of course, she's not married." And that brought derisive laughter as the five Slytherin girls disappeared up the path.

"Stupid cow," Hermione muttered, "like she's one to talk about being married first."

Ron's face had turned stubborn, Harry's was just . . . bemused. Perhaps amused. "He's meeting you in Hogsmeade," Ron asked without asking. "Cedric."

"If you must know, Ron, yes, he is." Rucksack back on her shoulder, she returned to making her way up the path. "Do you really want to know the rest?"

"Er, no thanks."

"I didn't think so. And," she added after a moment, "it's not called 'married student dispensation' anymore. Pansy is at least fifty years out of date. It's just the policy for any student of age. You can request to leave the school grounds and even stay overnight, as long as you give a specific destination, contact information, and the name of an adult non-student you'll be with. It's most commonly invoked on Hogsmeade weekends, but not limited to them. And as you know, the seventh years have a later curfew on those weekends than the rest of us as it is."

"You're not a seventh year," Ron pointed out.

"Oh, Ron," she said, sure she sounded tired. And she was. Tired of defending Cedric to him, tired of the need to conceal the seriousness of their relationship from most everyone at school, and tired of the stares she sometimes felt on her back in the hallways.

Now, Harry came to her rescue. "Well, I'm glad Ced'll be there. It'll give me a chance to tell him about that first lesson with Dumbledore."

Ron didn't reply to that. It was taking enough effort just to make it up the road against the bitter wind. Given the weather that day, she might not have bothered going to Hogsmeade at all if Cedric weren't waiting there for her.

But waiting he was - and not in The Three Broomsticks, as they'd agreed. He was waiting in the middle of the lane that led between the village and the castle. Even wrapped in a heavy cloak and a navy scarf, he still cut a distinctive figure on the crutches. Spotting him, she gave up on a stately pace and simply ran, pulling up only at the last moment to avoid knocking him over in her enthusiasm. But he was grinning widely and she could smell the familiar warmth of him as she flung her arms around him. One of his arms went around her too as he balanced on the other crutch. "Missedyoumissedyoumissedyou," she said, then pulled away to glare at him. "But I told you just to wait in the pub."

He'd been laughing through her stranglehold on his neck and didn't stop at her glare. "Didn't want to wait," he replied, but then he was glancing past her and his smile widened. "Harry! Good to see you, mate."

Hermione moved aside to let Harry approach. He looked a little surprised when Cedric used his free hand to pull him into a brief hug too, but Hermione smiled. Harry wasn't used to touching or being touched, but it was good for him. With Cedric getting a job at almost the same time Harry had left the Dursleys that summer, they hadn't had a lot of time to meet, but Hermione thought it important for Harry to have Cedric. He had the Weasleys too, of course, but his relationship with Cedric had always been different.

Now Ron was glaring slightly, but Cedric ignored that to smile at him too and offer a hand, which Ron was too polite not to accept. "Congratulations on making Keeper again," Cedric told him. That lightened Ron's face a bit, and he nodded back. If not completely friendly, he no longer looked set to chew nails, either. "Where shall we go first?" Cedric asked them.

"Well, we were planning to go to Zonko's," Harry replied carefully, as if uncertain whether Cedric would be interested in the joke shop, or hanging out with 'the kids'.

"It's closed," Cedric replied, making a face.

"Closed? But it's a Hogsmeade Saturday!" Ron said. "Why would they close on a Hogsmeade Saturday?"

"Sorry, I didn't mean 'closed' for the day. I mean it's shut down and boarded up."

"Oh."

Ron and Harry looked so distressed at the loss of the joke shop that Hermione would have laughed if not for the probable cause behind the closure. "The owners haven't - ?" she began.

Cedric shook his head. "I don't think so. I think they just moved back to the continent - decided it was safer. But let's go somewhere out of the wind, yeah?"

The news of the joke shop's closing put a bit of a damper on the mood, but the four of them decided to try Honeydukes. Harry and Ron wanted to stock up on sweets and Cedric said he wanted fudge. "Ced - you go on," Harry suggested. "You can Apparate, so take the short cut and we'll catch up."

Cedric appeared dubious, but Hermione nodded firmly and with the weather so horrid, he took the suggestion without arguing. She, Harry and Ron hurried as much as they could - "Leg it!" Ron ordered - grateful to duck into the warm sweets shop at last. But almost immediately, Hermione wished they hadn't when a great, booming voice called out, "Harry, m'boy!"

Harry looked no more pleased than Hermione felt, and they all three turned to see Professor Slughorn standing there taking up the space of three people in the little shop and crowding Cedric on his crutches. Hermione sighed. Of course Slughorn had already spotted and snared the Triwizard Champion.

"That's three of my little suppers you've missed," Slughorn was saying, motioning Harry over with the hand that wasn't holding an oversized bag of crystallized pineapple. He wore an enormous fur hat and fur-trimmed coat that Hermione suspected would have caused her PETA card-carrying mother to breathe fire. "It won't do, m'boy, I'm determined to have you! Miss Granger loves them, don't you?"

And what could she say to that, but, "Yes, of course, they're really -"

"So why don't you come along, Harry? And Miss Granger, why on earth didn't you tell me that you're seeing Lucretia Malfoy's son! My heavens, young lady!" Hermione blinked; it wasn't how she'd expected Slughorn to describe Cedric, but now that she thought about it, of course he'd have known Mrs. Diggory. She'd been in his house, and as a painter, Potions would have to have been one of her better subjects - a point that Slughorn confirmed. "Lucy was one of my most talented students ever - no slight to your own dear mother, Harry. Lily Evans was quite the potions mistress - "

"It's okay," Harry was saying, "Ced's mother is sort of, er, famous. And we've had Quidditch practice, Professor. I haven't been free most evenings for a supper party."

"Well, I certainly expect you to win your first match after all this hard work! But a little recreation never hurt anybody. Now, how about Monday night? You can't possibly want to practice in this weather -"

"I can't, Professor, I've got, er, an appointment with Professor Dumbledore that evening."

"Unlucky again!" Slughorn cried dramatically, placing a pudgy hand over his heart. "Ah, well - you can't evade me forever, Harry!"

"Of course not, Professor. I'd love to come . . . sometime." His smile was utterly fake and Hermione was quite sure he was crossing his fingers behind his back, but he swiftly dragged off Ron to look at sugar quills. She would get him later for abandoning her and Cedric to Slughorn.

Cedric, however, was looking more bemused than distressed. Slughorn had turned back to her and clapped her shoulder in a friendly way. "Well," he said, smiling at her, "I don't suppose I should be surprised the Triwizard Champ" - (ah, so he wasn't oblivious to that) - "should cast his eye on such a clever young witch as yourself." He glanced up at Cedric, who even on the crutches was still a full head taller. "You mark my words, Mr. Diggory, this one will go places. I know how to spot 'em." He tapped the fleshy folds beside his eye. "I knew your mother would be somebody almost from the moment her shadow darkened my classroom door. Brilliant girl, simply brilliant. Certainly she turned out to be the only one from that lot to amount to anything." He wrinkled his nose as if to indicate his opinion of the rest of the Malfoy clan, and Hermione viciously wished Draco could be around to hear that.

"But you're telling me you were sorted into Hufflepuff?" Slughorn went on. "Your father a lion, your mother among the crown jewels of my house - but you wore the yellow and black? Tosh!"

Cedric's expression turned a bit hard. "My house has its virtues, Professor."

"Of course it does, of course it does. I meant no slight to the noble house of Helga, I was just surprised." Hermione wondered if he'd be so surprised if he could have seen them all last year set Dolores Umbridge on her ear when the other houses had been impotent. "Be that as it may" - Slughorn reached up to grip Cedric's cloak as if afraid Cedric would get away - "and while this is a bit early to be offering invitations, I'm planning a little Christmas Party. Miss Granger will be invited, of course, along with some other promising students, but I plan to have a number of adult guests - some of whom you might want to meet for your future career in the Ministry, Mr. Diggory. You'll have to come as our lovely Hermione's escort for the evening, and please bring your mother, too. I'll send a card to the Ministry for you as a reminder later."

"Thank you, sir. And I'll be sure to pass on your invitation to her."

"Excellent, excellent." He released Cedric and patted his arm. "You two kids have a lovely afternoon, terrible weather not withstanding."

"And you as well. It was very good to meet you finally."

Slughorn gave a rather pompous wave as he turned down the flaps of his fur hat and waddled out into the sleet. As soon as the door closed, Cedric startled giggling. "He is something else!"

With Slughorn gone, Harry and Ron wandered back over. "'Something else' is one way of putting it," Harry muttered.

Cedric shot him a grin. "He may be a bit of an old fart, but he's not all bad. My mother's actually rather fond of him."

"Really?" Hermione asked, finding it hard to imagine the curt and honest Lucy Diggory being fond of that old bag of wind. In fact, she'd assumed coming to Slughorn's Christmas party would be the last thing Mrs. Diggory would want to do.

"Oh, yes. He's a blow-hard, no mistake, but he's also an excellent potions teacher - certainly better than Snape. I might have got better marks in Potions if I'd had him."

"Sure you would," Ron said. "You've got a famous mother, and it's not like he plays favourites or anything."

Cedric ignored that, but Harry's lips thinned; Hermione elbowed Ron, wishing he'd think a bit more before running off at the mouth. Cedric wasn't the only one with a mother Slughorn had been fond of. "Let's go to The Three Broomsticks," Harry suggested before Ron could say anything else. "At least it'll be warm."

"Did you get what you came for?" Cedric asked.

"Yeah."

"Then you two go on; I really do want some fudge."

"All right, we'll see you there in a bit."

Cedric got his fudge - some of which Hermione recognized as her favourite flavour. "Is that for me?" she asked.

"Maybe," he replied as he waved open the shop door so they could exit. There was a little awning there where they paused before heading out into the messy weather. Carefully juggling the bag and his balance, he levitated out the block of white-chocolate raspberry, slicing off a little piece with his wand. She opened her lips in anticipation of being fed, but he popped the piece into his own mouth.

"You prat!" she gasped.

He opened his lips, showing the white square caught between his teeth. "Come and get it," he said, words garbled by fudge. He leaned down a little.

She wanted to laugh. She wanted to say 'ew!' because fishing even fudge out of his mouth was a little off-putting. But the look in his eye was too wicked, and expectant, and hopeful. He wanted to be kissed. So she leaned up on tiptoe and obediently closed her lips on his, accepting the fudge he pushed into her mouth with his tongue. Drawing back, she sucked on it. "You could have just asked for a kiss, you know," she told him. "Bribes aren't required."

Putting away his wand and secreting the bag of fudge in a pocket of his cloak, he asked, "Where's the fun in that?"

She laughed around sweetness. One of the things she loved about him was his ability to surprise her even after a year together. "Do you remember our first Hogsmeade a year ago?" she asked.

"Mm, I was thinking of that earlier." He smiled down at her. "First date."

"Yeah, it was."

"Did you think, then, that we'd still be together now?"

She tilted her head, watching the sleet come down into the street rather than looking up at him. "I didn't even consider it. Not because I doubted it, but because I wasn't thinking that far. What about you?"

"I think I knew then this was different, what we had. But yeah - not thinking that far yet."

"Do you think that far now? A year ahead?"

"Absolutely."

She looked up at him finally; he wasn't looking at her either. "I do too."

He blushed a little at that, but turned his head to smile and she reached up to touch his cheek. "Ready to brave the elements?" she asked, changing the subject before it could get too serious.

"I suppose," he replied. "Want me to Apparate us?"

"Sure." She wrapped her arms around his waist, and a moment later, they were in the little alley beside the pub and inn. It was just a few steps to the door, but Hermione still felt chilled to the bone by the time they reached it, her damp hair frozen stiff. It opened before she could reach the handle, revealing - of all people - Scott Summers. "What are you doing here?" she squeaked.

"Waiting for Tonks, who had to keep Harry from hexing Mundungus Fletcher."

Baffled, she hurried into the little vestibule, moving aside to let Cedric enter. He pulled back his hood and peered at Scott. "Why on earth was he going to hex Dung?"

"Stupid plonker nicked some silver from the Black house. Harry's . . . pretty upset. Why don't you two go on in and try to calm him down?"

"What are you and Tonks doing here anyway?" Cedric asked as Hermione took his cloak to hang beside hers on the coat rack.

Scott shrugged. "Tonks has been on and off duty up here. I volunteered to come with her today."

"I take it that means no beer?" Cedric asked.

Scott's smile was wry. "You take it correctly. Sorry, mate. Maybe tomorrow. We can head back to London together."

"I'll see you later then," Cedric replied, and let Scott open the door into the bar for him.

Hermione followed, glancing over her shoulder and whispering, "He's looking rather . . . serious . . . these days." She turned her attention back to him. "And are he and Tonks - "

"Hermione!" said a voice at Hermione's elbow, making her start. Tonks, of course. "How are you?"

"Fi-fine," Hermione stuttered, hoping Tonks hadn't overheard the beginning of her question. "Scott said Harry almost hexed Mundungus Fletcher?"

"We stopped him. Well, Dung Disapparated first, actually. I thought the boy was going to burst a blood vessel, he was so angry."

"Where is he now?" Hermione asked. Tonks pointed towards the back of the bar. Fingers tangled in Cedric's robes, Hermione pulled Cedric along after her, patrons scooting feet and chairs out of the way so that he could pass.

Once Tonks was out of earshot, Cedric said, "Scott's always had a serious side. As for Scott and Tonks, er, your guess is as good as mine. They seem to be attached at the hip - except not. They spend half their time off together, but I've never seen them touch - beyond her punching him for being a git. And I'm pretty damn sure they're not sleeping together. I haven't figured it out, either. Fleur says it's a mating dance, but Scott never takes this long to move on a girl."

Hermione smiled faintly. "I don't think Scott's ever liked a woman" - she stressed it - "as much as he likes Tonks."

"True, that," Cedric replied.

They'd arrived at Harry and Ron's table; Harry stared glumly at the top while Ron watched Madam Rosmerta behind the bar. Before they sat, Cedric whispered to Hermione, "Could you . . . distract Ron for a bit, take him somewhere? Not necessarily outside. But I need to talk to Harry for a minute."

"Okay," she whispered back, trying to figure out where on earth she could take Ron without going outside into the sleet. She let Cedric settle into the chair beside Harry and ask him about Mundungus whilst she sat beside Ron. Harry exploded into a hand-waving rant that began, "That tealeaf nicked Sirius's things!" The more he talked, however, the more it became clear he didn't care about the missing silver, only that Mundungus had taken objects that reminded Harry of Sirius. Cedric seemed to realize the same, and was speaking to Harry calmly, one hand on Harry's shoulder.

Realizing that none of them had anything to drink gave Hermione the excuse she'd been seeking. "Ron, come and help me get drinks." She looked around at them. "Butterbeer?"

"Mulled mead for me," Cedric said. "I want something warm."

She half expected Ron to object to helping, but Rosmerta was behind the bar and he seemed pleased with an excuse to talk to her. "Let's go," he said.

Cedric nodded his thanks to Hermione as she led Ron away. In truth, it wasn't Ron he'd wanted to get rid of, however. "Harry," he said, gently interrupting the younger boy. "I need to talk to you about that Potions book."

"Oh, not you too!" Harry replied, glaring.

It made Cedric smile. "Yes, me too - although maybe not like you expect. I wanted to say this while Hermione's not around." He kept one eye on her as she talked to Madam Rosmerta, but his comment had snagged Harry's interest. "Why do you think Hermione's so upset about you using that book?"

"Because it's not 'Ministry of Magic approved'," Harry replied in a mocking sing-song.

"Oh, please - use your head. Try again."

"Ron says she's jealous because this Half-Blood Prince was better at Potions than she is."

"That may be some of it. But not most of it."

"Well, what is it then?"

Cedric looked away from the bar to meet Harry's eyes. "Harry, you've known her over five years now, right? How does Hermione tell a person she cares about him?"

The question seemed to puzzle Harry, who Cedric could almost see turning it over in his mind. Finally, lips twitching, he replied, "Er - nag him to death?"

That brought an equally small smile from Cedric. "Not the politest way of putting it but correct, essentially. It goes deeper than that, though. Hermione's not cut out to be the front woman; it makes her nervous. But ask her to work behind the scenes or help with something and she'll bend over backwards - and all she wants in return is a 'thank you'. She needs to be needed, Harry. As much as getting her to do your and Ron's homework isn't fair" - he tilted his chin down to glare - "by the same token, she likes to be asked. That's why it's easy for you to take advantage of her, isn't it?" Harry was blushing and not looking at Cedric. "Yet now, all of a sudden, you're better than she is in Potions. It's not about marks, Harry - not entirely. It's that you don't seem to need her anymore. That puts her off balance."

Cedric wished he'd had time to lead Harry to that conclusion, not just lecture him, but he wasn't certain how long it would take Hermione to get the drinks.

"So you're, er, saying I should ask her advice?"

"It wouldn't hurt."

"But her advice is to get rid of the book."

Cedric shook his head. "A bit of caution about it isn't a bad idea, you know."

"Now you sound like her!"

"Would you stop being so defensive? There's more to spells and potions than just following directions. There's theory behind it too. I'm not going to tell you to get rid of your Potions book, but I would tell you to sit down with those modified recipes and look at them - what's this Half-Blood Prince done? Why do his versions work better? Figure that out and you'll have learnedsomething."

Harry had his lips pursed but at least he wasn't arguing, and Ron and Hermione were headed back in any case. "I'd talk to you more about it but we're out of time. Just . . . remember what I said, all right?"

"All right."

Hermione handed him his mulled mead and he noticed she had one for herself too, which Harry eyed with surprise and Ron with envy. "She wouldn't buy any for us, mate," Ron said, handing over Harry's bottle of Butterbeer.

"You're not seventeen," Hermione replied. "And Madam Rosmerta knows it."

"Yeah, well, it's freezing out there," Harry said. "I could do with hot chocolate at least, but she doesn't serve it."

"Why not suggest she add it?" Cedric asked, taking a pull from his tankard and sighing softly as the warmth hit his throat and slid down to his belly.

"Huh." Harry appeared surprised at the suggestion. "Maybe I will."

Cedric nodded. Forthright as he was, Harry rarely tried changing something he didn't like, just accepted it passively until things got so bad he lashed back, as with Umbridge last year. Hermione had organized the D.A., not Harry. And the year before that, Cedric had never heard Harry protest being forced into the Tournament, which was part of why at first he'd believed, along with most everyone else, that Harry had put his name in the Goblet whatever he'd claimed to the contrary. Hermione said she thought Harry had learned passivity living with the Dursleys, which Cedric supposed made sense. Now he pointed out, "If somebody doesn't know you want something changed, they can't consider changing it. The worst she could say is, 'No'."

"True. Don't see her right now, though."

"She seemed to have something on her mind earlier," Hermione said. "She was acting a bit out of sorts. Or maybe she's just nervous these days like everybody else."

Someone accidentally jostled Cedric's arm while passing their table, and he glanced around at the two girls squeezing past. One he didn't recognize, but the other - "Katie Bell!"

She turned, startled, then smiled and held out a hand to him. "Cedric Diggory! What are you - " but she trailed off as she spotted Hermione. "Oh, I suppose that should have been obvious." She grinned. "I heard you're working at the Ministry?"

"I am," he said, giving her hand a brief shake. "And I heard you're the star Chaser for Gryffindor this year."

Blushing a bit, she shot a glance past him to Harry. "Well, we'll see how the first game turns out before anybody's called 'star' anything. Harry's a slave driver."

"Not as bad as Wood was," Harry said.

"Nobody could be as bad as Wood was," Katie agreed. "That boy ate, drank and slept Quidditch. Of course, look where it got him - Puddlemere United. We should all be that demented." They laughed, except for Hermione, who appeared long-suffering, and Katie's friend, who appeared miffed about something. "But we should go," Katie added. "I have to get back to the castle."

"I still don't see why," the friend said, speaking up for the first time. "I thought we were going to order lunch? Then you came back with that package and now all of a sudden you have to go back to the castle?"

"I just . . . do," Katie replied, looking a bit evasive. "I have to deliver it to someone." And she headed for the pub door.

"At least tell me who!" the other girl called, chasing after her.

As if their departure were his cue, Harry stood, finishing off his Butterbeer. "We should go back too. I don't think Ginny's showing up."

"Was she supposed to?" Ron asked, curious and looking around as he rose.

"She said she might meet up with us later, but I reckon she and Dean are all cosy in Madam Puddifoot's."

"You boys should lay off Ginny," Hermione scolded. "She's fifteen; she's allowed to see a boy if she wants to."

"I never said she couldn't, now did I?" Harry returned.

"Well, I think she's a bit young for it," Ron said.

"Ron, you'll think she's a bit young for it when she's thirty."

Cedric just sipped mead and stayed out of it; overprotective brothers weren't to be messed with, even surrogate brothers . . . although the way Harry had spoken of Dean, it had sounded less protective and more envious.

"Well, uh" - Harry scratched his head and glanced from Hermione to Cedric and back to Hermione - "I reckon we'll . . . see you later?"

"Later," Hermione agreed, watching the boys make their way out.

Leaning over, Cedric asked, "They do know 'later' won't be later tonight?"

"Yes. Let's keep an eye out for a smaller table since it's down to just us."

They didn't have to wait long. Between the awful weather and the general social gloom, a number of students headed back to the castle early and a small table for two opened in a corner near the rear. Hermione carried her bag and their mugs as they made their way over to it. If further from the fireplace than Cedric might have liked, it was cosy and they could hold hands on the tabletop without the eyes of half the pub on them. He rubbed his thumb across her palm and smiled like a dope, but she was smiling right back and gripping his fingers. After a minute, she sat up a little and slipped her hand free. "Should we order lunch, do you think?"

"Probably." He wanted more mead but shouldn't have it on an empty stomach. "Then we could go upstairs - if you want." He tried not to sound too eager . . . suspected he wasn't successful. "Madam Rosmerta's rooms weren't full, so she let me have ours early since the weather was so terrible. Not a good day for a stroll."

"No," Hermione agreed. "A better day to stay inside."

"The room has a fireplace with ash and apple wood," he said, warming to the topic. "We can curl up under the covers to watch it burn, and listen to the wind and rain outside." And do other things, but he didn't think he needed to specify that.

She smiled, then sobered. "Did, um, well, did you get any sense that Madam Rosmerta didn't, er, approve?"

He shook his head. "She's not that type, poppet. I told her you had the proper permission slip, and that was enough. She didn't even insist we show it to her, just took me at my word." He finished off his mead. "Truth is, she's a bit of a sop, Rosmerta. She thinks we are - as she put it - 'adorable'." He snorted and set down the empty mug.

Cheeks pink, Hermione finished her own mead, then rose. "I'll go and ask the barman for a menu."

She didn't get far. The front door of the pub was flung open and one of the townsfolk hurried in, all bundled up. "There's been a cursing!" she called out, untangling herself from her scarves and hat. "On the road up to the castle, one of the students. Heard the screaming clear to the station!"

This brought an eruption of questions and exclamations from pub-goers. Cedric felt his stomach clench and he grabbed for his crutches. Hermione had both hands to her mouth. "Harry and Ron - " she said, then was rushing for the door.

"Granger!" Cedric shouted after her. "Hermione! You can't go off alone!" But she wasn't listening. "Granger!" he bellowed, furious that he couldn't run after her. "Fuck!"

Nobody nearby paid him any mind, too intent on what the station woman had to say. Angry, he grabbed Hermione's abandoned bag and tried to fight his way towards the door through the agitated crowd, apologizing and swearing by turns. On the way, he heard enough snatches of conversation to make out that whoever had been cursed was a girl, so it couldn't be Harry or Ron. But would Hermione realize that before she got all the way back to the castle? And if she did go to the castle, would Filch let her leave again? Her bag - and permission slip - were with him.

He couldn't believe he was thinking so selfishly when some poor girl had been cursed, but, well - he was. He'd waited six long weeks for this day, and now that he knew it wasn't Harry or Ron, he wanted to find and take her back to the Three Broomsticks as quickly as possible, keep her safe. She had no business running around alone out there.

The weather had grown, if possible, even worse, sleet morphing into wet snow, the ground slick and muddy. Three times in fifty feet, his crutches slid and he thought he was going to crash to his knees. After the last time - a very close call - he wanted to throw the damn crutches and bellow in rage. He settled on a string of words that would probably have left Hermione gaping. Living with Bill hadn't done much for his vocabulary, or perhaps it had done a lot, depending on how one wanted to look at it.

But there was no way he'd get anywhere in this weather without Apparating, and there was no way he could Apparate onto the castle grounds-

- unless he caught Hermione before she got there? She couldn't be all the way back already, could she? So with a twist and pop, he emerged at the gates . . . only to find Tonks and Scott stationed right in front of them, huddled under rainproof cloaks. He must have startled them because both had out their wands even before they realized who he was, then they hurried over. "What the hell are you doing here?" Scott demanded. "Where's Hermione?"

"You haven't seen her? She's not gone by yet?"

"No. Did you two quarrel - ?"

He shook his head. "There's been some sort of emergency - "

"Yeah, we know," Tonks said. "Hagrid ran by about fifteen minutes ago, carrying some girl. It wasn't Hermione, though."

"No, she was with me in the Three Broomsticks. News made it there that somebody had been cursed on the way back to the castle. Harry and Ron had just left, so she ran out in a panic. Now she's out there alone and I can't move more than five feet in this fucking mess."

Scott set a hand on his shoulder. "She's not been by, don't worry; we'd have seen her. Head back to the pub and get dry. She'll likely go there once she realizes it's not Harry or Ron, and if she doesn't, we'll spot her and send her back, all right? And don't worry about the road, Ced. There are Aurors patrolling all along it. She'll be fine."

Aurors patrolling. That both relieved and left him cold at once. "All right. Thanks."

"No problem."

They stepped away and he Disapparated back to the pub, hoping it wouldn't anger anybody when he appeared right outside the door. People coming and going jumped at the sound, but seeing his crutches, nobody scolded him. One older man even paused to be certain he didn't go sprawling in the muck of the High Street. "All right, lad?" he asked.

"Fine, thanks," he puffed.

He'd almost reached the door when he heard a wild shout behind him. "Cedric!" He turned. It was Hermione. She came panting up, breath making heavy white clouds, one hand on his arm - to support him or herself, he wasn't certain. The old man stepped away. "What are you doing out here?" she demanded.

"Looking for you, you idiot!" Relieved she was back, he could afford to be angry, not just frightened. "Don't run off like that alone! Not these days! It's not safe."

She looked as if he'd slapped her, then her brows lowered. "But it's all right if you run off alone looking for me?"

"I wasn't alone, and I had to find you!"

Abruptly, she sighed and rubbed right between her brows. "Come on, let's go back inside where it's warm and dry. I wasn't really alone, anyway. Harry, Ron and Leanne - Katie's friend - were still on the road. It was Katie, Cedric; it was Katie who was cursed."

"Bloody hell," he muttered, feeling sick. "Is she alive?"

"So far. I'll tell you more inside." He followed her back in and they didn't even pause in the now-buzzing bar, heading straight for the back where stairs went up to the rooms above. Hermione began to climb, but Cedric had to Apparate. The sickness in his centre felt worse. Katie was their age, and if Cedric knew all too well that Voldemort and his followers didn't give a damn about attacking a young person, it was still more upsetting somehow when it happened.

Their room seemed cramped, cold and dismal, Esiban asleep in his cage in the corner. Cedric aimed his wand at the fireplace to set it alight whilst Hermione helped him out of his cloak and scarf and gloves, then put them and her own on the rack in the corner, and left her shoes by the door. He had to sit down in one of the chairs by the fireplace to get his off. They were caked in mud and he'd left a trail across the hardwood floor and throw rugs. Hermione cleaned it up with a Scourgify or three.

When she returned, she plopped down in his lap. She looked weary, her bushy hair a damp and tangled mess, her nose and ears and cheeks red. And her eyes too - but not from cold. Reaching up, he wiped away her tears and she snuggled down against him, head on his shoulder. He didn't ask questions immediately, just held her tight to him. If she'd gone with Harry and Ron, would she have been the one cursed? "What happened?" he asked finally.

With a soft sigh, she sat up and ran a hand into her hair, pulling at the knots and making a face. "Bring me your brush," he told her. Esiban had woken and was clicking at them to let him out. She rose to do both, returning with a comb and the raccoon, who climbed up to perch on the back of the seat. Settling down on the chair edge in the spot Cedric had made between his legs, she let him work on her tangles while she talked.

"Leanne told me that she and Katie came into the pub to get out of the sleet. They had some tea and were getting ready to order lunch, but Katie went to the loo first. When she came back, she was carrying a package and told Leanne they had to go back to the castle because she had to deliver it to somebody. Leanne said she was acting all peculiar and wouldn't talk about what the package was or who it had to go to except that it was a present. Leanne didn't want to leave yet, but Katie insisted, and on the road back they got into an even bigger argument over the package. Leanne tried to snatch it from Katie, but Katie got angry and pulled back hard. It tore the paper and the package fell. When Katie bent to pick it up, she must have touched what was inside - an opal and silver necklace. Harry recognized it. He saw it in Borgin & Burkes and said it had a label on it that it was cursed. I saw the same one, when I went in there before school, so it had to have been purchased recently.

"Anyway, the curse lifted Katie up into the air, where she just sort of . . . hung . . . Harry said, with her eyes closed. Then all of a sudden, she woke up and started screaming like she was being burned alive. Leanne, Harry and Ron pulled her down and then she started writhing - like you, Harry said. She was screaming and writhing like you did when you came back from the graveyard. She didn't seem to recognize any of them or be aware at all."

Cedric had untangled half of her hair as she spoke, but now his hands stilled. More than a year later, he could still remember that agony. "Good God, I hope she passed out."

"Harry said he ran to get help, but met Hagrid on the road. Hagrid picked her up and carried her back to the school. I don't know if she passed out or not; I got there just after that. They were examining the necklace - "

"They didn't touch it!" Cedric said.

"Of course not. Anyway, Leanne told me what had happened while Harry wrapped it up to take back to Madam Pomfrey." Cedric had returned to brushing her hair, letting her finish. "Ron and Harry took Leanne and the necklace to the castle, and I came back here to tell you about it."

When Hermione had finished, Cedric didn't speak for a few minutes, just continued brushing. The room had begun to heat up from the fire, the perfume of the apple wood drifting sweet. Between the scent, the furry raccoon body curled against his shoulder, and the repetitive motion of brushing, he'd calmed down a little, no longer so anxious and ill. Hermione was right there in front of him. It hadn't been her.

But it could have been. What if she'd been the one to go into the girl's toilets? He pulled her back against his front. She settled there, not speaking. "She must have been Imperiused by somebody when she went into the toilets," he said.

"That's what Leanne thought. And that's part of why I came back; I was worried about you."

He smiled against her neck. "And I was worried about you. But I'm sure whoever got to Katie isn't still here. It'd be too dangerous when word reaches Dumbledore at the castle."

Hermione twisted a little in his grip and pushed her face against his neck. "Do you think Katie will be all right?"

"I don't know," he answered truthfully. "It depends on the nature of the curse, how much contact her skin had with it - she must not have been wearing gloves."

A sudden, sharp knock on the door startled them both as well as Esiban, who hissed and dug claws into Cedric's shoulder. "Ow," Cedric muttered, flinching.

"Are you two in there?" came a voice from the hall - Rosmerta's.

Rising, Hermione crossed to open the door a little, peering out, then opened it all the way to reveal the innkeeper. "Did something else happen?" she asked.

"No, no, but Professor McGonagall just Flooed, asking me to send all students back to the castle. While she doesn't think this is an attack on students, she'd rather err on the side of caution."

Hermione's expression probably echoed Cedric's own - shock and disappointment. "But I have permission to stay! And whoever gave Katie that cursed necklace is surely long gone."

Rosmerta sighed and tilted her head. "I told Minerva you wouldn't want to come." She glanced past Hermione to Cedric. "She said that if you insisted on staying, you were to remain in the pub, not go outside, and tomorrow, you're to return to the castle by Floo directly to her fireplace."

"All right. I just . . . I haven't seen him in six weeks."

Rosmerta reached out to pat Hermione's cheek fondly. "Love makes us brave and foolish both." Then she stepped back. "Cedric, send a message down to the bar when you kids are ready to eat. I'll have somebody bring up a meal. I'd rather you stayed out of sight, Hermione. It's safer."

"I will."

Hermione shut the door and came back to stand in front of Cedric, who tilted up his chin to look at her. "Remember what you said about me ordering you around?" she asked. "Well, we're going to bed so I can shag you silly."

Startled into laughter, he pushed himself up and reached for his crutches. "Whatever you say, Granger."