"The Room of Requirement!" Harry exclaimed, smacking himself on the head with his potions book. "That's where he's been sneaking off to! That's where he's doing . . . whatever he's doing!"

Oh, no! Off he went again on a rant about Malfoy and his mysterious 'mission' from Voldemort. Desperate for back-up, Hermione glanced at Ron, who was busy trying to sop up the ink she'd just accidentally spilled on his essay. Guilty, she snatched the parchment from him and used a Vanishing spell Cedric had taught her to clean it up. Ron sighed in relief.

Hermione listened with only half an ear as Harry mulled over the information that Dobby and Kreacher had brought, tossing out theories about the Room of Requirement and why it didn't show up on his map - and how he might get into it anyway. Hermione used her focus on the essay to avoid looking at him as she (gently) explained that he probably wouldn't be able to catch Malfoy in the room itself. Malfoy had got in to expose the D.A. because he'd known what the room became and could therefore ask it for that manifestation. Harry had no idea what Malfoy was doing in there, so just knowing he went there wouldn't help.

Harry brushed off her objections and threw his arms wide. "How great is this?" He was grinning ear-to-ear. "We know where Malfoy's going! We've got him cornered now!"

"Yeah, it's great," Ron said, accepting the cleaned essay from Hermione. He didn't sound that enthusiastic.

"But what's all this about him going up there with a 'variety of students'?" Hermione asked, finally turning her attention back to Harry. "How many people are in on this . . . whatever it is? You wouldn't think he'd trust lots of them to know what he's doing . . . "

"Yeah that is weird. I heard him telling Crabbe it wasn't Crabbe's business what he was doing, so what's he telling all these . . . all these . . . "

He trailed off as a very strange look crossed his face and he stared into the fire. Abruptly, he went on, "God, I've been stupid. It's obvious, isn't it? There was a great vat of it down in the dungeon . . . he could have nicked some any time during that lesson . . . "

"Nicked what?" Ron asked.

"Polyjuice Potion - he stole some of the Polyjuice Potion Slughorn showed us in our first Potions lesson . . . There aren't a whole variety of students standing guard for Malfoy, it's just Crabbe and Goyle as usual." Harry leapt to his feet. "It all makes sense!"

And he was off again on one of his wild theories - or at least they often sounded wild, although Hermione had seen before how he could make these ingenious leaps. She envied it a little, and that envy made her bite her tongue now. She didn't doubt her own intelligence; it was her one virtue in which she had total confidence. Yet she'd come to realize there were types of intelligence. She was a researcher. She knew how to find facts and then construct theories from them. Cedric was a visionary with the most amazing ability to draw parallels and find points of similarity. By contrast, Ron was a pragmatist; he saw and understood the 'obvious' that she and Cedric forgot or overlooked in their flights of fancy. But Harry . . . Harry could fill in the blanks. Give him a set of imperfect clues and he could still build a theory - but in a completely different way than Hermione, which was why she often found herself questioning him. Hermione built theories from data. Harry didn't need data - or not complete data. He had an uncanny ability to discern what was missing, his mind making connections that seemed more like fancy than logic. Yet annoyingly - or astonishingly - he was often right.

But sometimes he was wrong. His very ability to guess the truth inclined him to trust that talent too much. Cedric had the same personal certainty about his ideas, but he was older and had made more mistakes, which had taught him a caution that Hermione wished Harry had more of. Even so, she was reluctant to remind him of the debacle at the Ministry the previous summer in order to make him see reason. That would be cruel.

She decided on a different tactic when Harry brought up Malfoy's supposed Dark Mark. "A Dark Mark we don't know exists," she reminded him. "Harry, before you get all excited, I still don't think you'll be able to get into the Room of Requirement without knowing what's there first. And" - she tilted her chin down to pin him with her eyes - "I don't think you should forget that what you're supposed to be concentrating on is getting that memory from Slughorn." Grabbing her (too heavy) bag, she heaved it onto her shoulder. "Good night." She headed up the stairs to the girl's dormitory. Yet whatever she'd told Harry, Hermione did believe Malfoy was up to no good - she just didn't want Harry distracting himself from the job Dumbledore had given him. Hermione was certain getting that memory was critical.

On Monday, she and Ron had Apparation practice in Hogsmeade during the afternoon. The day dawned beautiful and blue-skied, and morning classes passed quickly. Before leaving the Great Hall after lunch, Hermione pulled Harry aside. "Listen, I know what you plan to do today. You're going to lurk around the Room, hoping to catch Draco, aren't you?" Harry's expression was mulish but he didn't deny it. "You'd do better to go straight to Slughorn's office and try to get that memory from him."

"I've been trying!" Harry snarled back and stalked off. He didn't wish her luck with practice, which hurt.

Apparation was draining, but they'd be tested in a little over a month and she was nervous. Even if she were growing fairly consistent, she still sometimes failed entirely, or lost bits of hair, and once, half her foot. Fortunately, Instructor Twycross was at her side instantly and her toes were reattached before she even felt the pain. It was still enough to make her hyperventilate and have to sit out a while. When supper came around, they were all released either to return to the castle or - despite some concerns for student safety - to eat at the Three Broomsticks. A special treat after a day of hard work. Hermione had fully intended to return to the castle to see if Harry had had any luck with Slughorn, but Ron nudged her side and nodded towards a figure standing outside the door to the pub.

"Cedric!" Hermione practically shrieked and went flying, throwing herself on him like she had that rainy day the previous autumn which had ended badly for Katie Bell. Cedric grinned just as widely now as then. "Why aren't you at work?" Hermione demanded.

"I'm done for the day, Granger. It's after five. I Flooed here instead of home. You said in your last letter you'd be practicing all afternoon. I thought maybe we could have dinner together." He spotted the silver chain to the red crystal heart she wore all the time now and tugged it out from under her robe to run his thumb over it. "I'm glad you've got this on you."

"I never take it off," Hermione assured him, then awarded him a big kiss, which he returned with enthusiasm despite the public space. Then they went in for a lovely supper, Ron joining them at Cedric's suggestion so it wasn't as intimate as Hermione might have liked. But even sitting beside Cedric, able to touch him and hold his hand, meant a lot to her.

Cedric relayed what he'd learned from Scott and Peter about attacks on Muggles and Muggle-borns outside the castle, as well as what he'd been seeing around the Ministry. Ron shook his head and Hermione felt her stomach clench. "What will I do when I finish here?" she muttered. "If they're discriminating against Muggle-borns . . . "

Cedric laid his hand over hers. "Discrimination's still illegal, poppet. The employees who got the boot had all slipped up - well, all but one, and we only think she was framed, we're not sure. It's notable mostly because getting sacked was rather severe as punishment - like they were looking for an excuse. And not all departments are firing Muggle-borns for minor infractions."

"Only a matter of time," Ron muttered over his soup.

"You're not helping, Ron," Cedric warned him.

Ron just shrugged. "It's got nothing to do with Hermione. She's brilliant. It's just - "

"I know," Hermione said, slumping in her seat. "How long is this going to go on?" Neither Cedric nor Ron replied; both just kept their eyes on their food. "It was years last time, wasn't it?"

Reluctantly, Cedric nodded.

"But how will people survive? They have to earn a living . . . "

"We're not at war yet, Hermione," Cedric said softly, and she didn't miss that he'd used her given name - always an indicator of seriousness on his part.

"Only a matter of time for that, too," Ron said, then abruptly let go of his spoon, which fell with a clunk against the side of his bowl as he straightened his back. "I wish we knew what Dumbledore was planning - if there even is a plan!"

"I don't think he can plan anything until Voldemort makes a move," Cedric replied.

"That's not how you play chess!" Ron replied. "If you want to win, you can't just react to what the other player does. You have to walk them into doing what you want them to do. Dumbledore has to have a plan. I mean, he's Dumbledore!"

"Maybe he does," Cedric allowed. "But right now, I think his main plan is to let Harry finish his education."

"And find out whatever's in that memory of Professor Slughorn's," Hermione added. "I doubt he can plan too much without knowing what Slughorn is hiding."

"Maybe," Ron said, returning to his soup. Little kept him from food for long.

"What about your job?" Hermione asked Cedric. "Given what you're doing . . . "

"I'm safe for a while yet," he told her. "Major just - today - asked for and received the dissolution of his parliament, and the General Election is set for the first of May. So things are changing fast in the Muggle world and the Minister needs me to stay on top of it."

"Major's called for an election already?" Hermione asked, shocked. "That'll be a long campaign! Six weeks!"

"Is it?" Cedric asked. "I saw a couple of papers say so, but I wasn't sure."

"Oh, campaigns are usually much shorter. We're not like the crazy Americans who start months ahead."

"Months? Merlin! Where do they get the money?"

"You'd be surprised," Hermione told him, voice grim. "But anyway, I'll owl mum and dad and ask them to send me their old copies of The Guardian so I can keep up with the news."

"I'd send you mine but they go directly to Scrimgeour's office. Anyway, the good side of all this is that I'm too important right now for him to let me go, whatever pressure he may be getting from other quarters."

"What's a General Election?" Ron asked, obviously bemused by their whole exchange.

Hermione and Cedric just stared at him. "Muggle General Elections, Ron," Hermione said. "For a new majority party and Prime Minister. They have them at least every five years, and this time, you can bet Major and his party will be leaving office."

"Oh. The Prime Minister is that Muggle bloke who runs their government?"

"Well, technically, that's the queen," Hermione corrected. "But yes, in point of fact, it's the Prime Minister. After elections, the leader of the winning party will have an audience with the queen, who gives permission for that party to form a government, and then the party leader becomes the new Prime Minister."

"Bloody confusing," Ron muttered, tearing apart a dinner roll.

"Labour will probably win," Cedric said. "Unless the Lib Dems form a coalition with the Conservatives. Scrimgeour is getting me into The Royal Festival Hall to be present. He wants me to survey Blair's inner circle - see if any of them act Imperiused. He doesn't think Voldemort would try cursing the PM, but cursing somebody around him is not only possible, but likely."

Hermione sat up in her seat, hands clasped in front of her. "You're going to the Labour election party?"

Cedric seemed to realize what she was thinking, because he grinned back. "I already asked Dumbledore if you could come as my date. He said he'd think about it - see how dangerous things looked at that point. But it would help to have somebody Muggle-born along; I've learned a lot but it's the simple stuff that's likely to trip me up. It's a Thursday night, so you'd have to skip Friday classes."

"Only Hermione would complain about that," Ron said, but his smile was teasing and friendly, not bitter or sarcastic.

"If I got to attend the election party, I wouldn't complain about missing classes!"

After dinner, she and Cedric didn't get much time to themselves - just a few minutes in a back corridor near the toilets to trade serious kisses - but even seeing him buoyed Hermione's spirits. "Only three more weeks," he whispered in her ear before letting her go, "then you're mine."

The Easter holidays. Hermione could hardly wait. Lately, she'd been feeling a need to see Cedric for more than a few hours at a time. "I really miss you," she told him as they made their way back out into the main dining room.

"Trust me, it's mutual," Cedric told her with low fervour and she wondered if he, too, was starting to feel some sort of uncertainty. "It's been harder than I expected, not having you around."

They'd reached the door and he hugged her again, holding her very tightly. "Please be careful, poppet. I worry, not being around to watch your back."

She pushed away from him a little to look up into his face. "Well, what about you? I'd say you're in as much danger as I am, Mr. Advisor to the Minister on Muggle Affairs."

"Yeah, well, I'm not hanging out with the Chosen One. I'd say he's chosen to have a big target painted on his back."

Hermione knew Cedric was thinking about what had happened with Ron, and she gripped the crystal heart under her robes. "I wear this. And I'm careful. Do you have one?"

He reached into his pocket to pull out his watch, holding it up so she could see the little charm attached to it - just a simple jade dragon that looked much more masculine. "Fred and George gave me two-for-one. Really, I think they just wanted to know you'd be protected."

She pursed her lips and wrapped her arms back around his waist. "Honestly, Cedric, which did you buy first - mine or yours?"

"Yours of course."

Grinning, she tugged at his hips, pulling him closer to her so she could kiss the middle of his chest. "That's what I thought, and silly man, they gave you two-for-one because they were worried about you. I know the three of you don't always get along, but they don't want you to come to harm."

"Yeah, I reckon not."

They stood there for a few more minutes, reluctant to let each other go even though everybody who exited the Three Broomsticks shot them a glance, then looked away in embarrassment. Ron waited out in the road, back turned to give them privacy. "You should go," Cedric muttered.

"I know. Don't want to."

Smiling sadly, he gave her one last soft kiss and stepped away. He didn't say anything more, just looked at her for a minute, then turned and motioned the pub door open so he could return inside where he'd Floo home to London. Sighing, Hermione turned to trudge back up the road with Ron, headed for the castle gates.

Only a few days before Hermione was to arrive for the Easter holidays, an unexpected guest turned up in Cedric, Bill and Fleur's kitchen on a Tuesday morning. Cedric was startled when he made his way out to start coffee, Esiban at his heels.

"Charlie?" he said, blinking at the shorter but older man. Despite the fact it was still nippy in the mornings, Bill's brother wore nothing but a pair of Muggle sport-shorts. He was barefoot, his curly hair didn't look combed, and he obviously hadn't shaved in several days.

He looked up at Cedric. Unlike most of the Weasleys, his eyes were brown, and his hair more ginger than auburn. He had more freckles than Cedric remembered, too, and a lot of burn scars on his arms and torso. Dragons. There was an enormous colour tattoo of a Chinese Fireball on one shoulder blade. "Little Cedric Diggory?" he asked, clearly surprised. "Good God, you've grown!" Embarrassed, Cedric looked down. The last time he'd seen Charlie Weasley this close, he'd been a scrawny second year. "I guess I should've noticed at the First Task two years back," Charlie went on, "but compared to a Swedish Short-Snout, you were tiny." He chuckled, and Cedric laughed too, shifting uneasily on his crutches. Charlie hadn't stared at them at all. Most people stared, or tried not to, at least initially. Charlie had done neither.

Esiban picked that moment to sit up on his haunches and chitter. Charlie started, then his eyes got big and he squatted down. "A raccoon! Where in hell did you get a raccoon?"

"Canada," Cedric replied. "I raised him from a kit. He's eight now. His name's Esiban. It means 'raccoon' in Ojibway."

"Cute. But eight and not feral? That's unusual for a wild animal - usually they start to get unmanageable after five." Charlie gestured with his hand to pull a muffin he'd got out into his grip. Breaking off part, he offered it to Esiban, his hand lower than Esiban's head. Cedric was impressed that he didn't need to explain that to Charlie, but then like Hagrid, Charlie had a way with animals. Esiban hurried forward to take the muffin piece and Charlie grinned, letting him get familiar with his scent before attempting to scratch him. "How do you keep him from making a complete mess of the flat? Aren't raccoons supposed to be bad that way?"

"I guess, but he just never has - like he knows better. He will get into food - you'll notice all the cabinets are spelled closed, and he stays shut up with me at night - but otherwise, he's good."

Charlie studied Esiban a minute, then said, "I think he's half-magical, Cedric."

"Magic Seepage."

"Maybe. Or raccoons have a natural bent for it - some animals do. I'm not as familiar with North American species but it's often the cleverer sort, and raccoons are famously clever."

Cedric just laughed. "He is that for certain." Then he asked, "You came to visit Bill?" He didn't want to be nosey, but was wondering how long Charlie planned to stay. Things could get tight with five people in their little flat and Cedric wasn't inclined to send Hermione to her parents' the whole time. He needed her with him.

Charlie looked up. "Wedding planning, some of it. Mostly Order business though." He gave Esiban the rest of the muffin, then rose to pour himself a cup of the coffee he'd made. Noticing Cedric looking at the pot, he asked, "Want some?" He made it sound like a courtesy, not pity, so Cedric nodded.

"Thanks. Er, how long will you be here?"

Charlie's face turned amused as he fetched a second cup and poured, then offered it to Cedric, who'd leaned into the other counter so he could free a hand to take it. Esiban had already finished the muffin and was busy looking for any crumbs he'd dropped. "Bill warned me that your lady - Potter's friend - is coming to visit," Charlie said. "Don't worry. I won't be around much during the day, and I'm sleeping on the couch. I assume she'll be in your bed?" His brows went up as he blew on the hot liquid. Cedric blushed and stammered. "Oh, come on, Diggory. You're a big boy now. Surely you're trading more with your bird than chaste kisses."

"Well, yes, actually, she's staying in my room." He didn't point out that the living room was right beside it but Charlie seemed to get it.

"Use a Muffling Charm," Charlie warned, winking. "Wouldn't want you two not to have a little fun. Merlin knows, we can all use whatever fun we can find these days." He drained his coffee, then stepped past Cedric and headed down the hallway. "I've gotta shower and meet Remus down in Diagon Alley in half an hour. See you around, Diggory."

"Yeah, later," Cedric said, watching Charlie disappear into the bathroom that Cedric supposed they'd be sharing for a while. He knew he shouldn't resent Charlie's arrival; the Order could use all the help they could get. It was just that he wasn't used to living in such tight quarters. The Weasleys, however, were, and he doubted either Bill or Charlie had given a second thought to Charlie crashing on Bill's couch while he was in London. Yet if Cedric had got used to Bill and no longer found the older man intimidating, Charlie was another matter, even though he was the younger brother. Top Seeker, dragon-tamer, popular student, all-around athlete and known ladies man even back in his Hogwarts days, Charlie Weasley had awed Cedric all during his first and second years. And if Cedric realized that he'd probably awed a few youngsters during his last year - like Rose Zeller - it was hard for him to erase that overwhelming sense of inferiority around Charlie and see him as just another bloke.

He heard Fleur pad into the kitchen and turned. "Charlie?" he asked.

"Ah, oui. He came last night. He and Bill do the planning for the wedding, and other things."

"He said he was meeting Remus later."

She just nodded. Her hair was a silver-fine mess around her face and her silk robe clung to her curves, but Cedric had grown used to her. She poured her own coffee, took a sip and made a face. "You English! Your coffee is like to water!"

But she didn't pour it down the drain like she might have once. They were all pinching knuts these days, unsure of what was coming. Despite what Cedric had told Hermione, or his friends, he'd already begun saving for the inevitable morning he arrived at work to find all his things in a box and a P45 waiting for him. He feared Scrimgeour could hold out against the inevitable for only so long.

Now, he said, "Don't blame me. Charlie made it. I know you like your meat mooing, your veggies lightly steamed, and your coffee thick enough to cut with a knife."

Laughing, she sashayed past him, headed back to her room. "Dinner is at seven-thirty sharp!" she called before closing the bedroom door. Despite her urbane veneer, Fleur was surprisingly domestic. At least once a week, usually on Tuesdays, she wanted the three of them to sit down together for "a real meal." Four of them now, Cedric supposed - and five when Hermione got there. Fleur would be delighted.

The next few days passed quickly. As Charlie had promised, Cedric saw little of him except in the mornings. He liked to sleep in, but stayed out late in pubs. "Chasing arse," Bill said, laughing. "Sometimes I think that boy will never settle down."

"You have not much room for talking - until me," Fleur scolded him with a grin, then turned to Cedric. "Hermione is arriving tomorrow, yes?"

"I was hoping tonight," Cedric said, "but I haven't had an owl with an exact time so it's looking like tomorrow."

"We will have a special dinner then!" Fleur said.

"Twice in one week?" Cedric asked.

"She has a new recipe book," Bill explained.

"Ah."

Indeed, Hermione didn't arrive until ten the next morning, by Floo. "McGonagall had to schedule appointments. I didn't get one last night," Hermione said against Cedric's neck where he was crushing her to him with all his strength.

"Fleur is out shopping with Mrs. Weasley, and Bill and Charlie are . . . somewhere. We've got the place to ourselves."

Bemused, she looked up at him. "Charlie?"

"He came for visit. Naturally he picked the same time you were coming." He rolled his eyes.

She snorted. "He's a Weasley. I'm sure it never occurred to him that there might not be much elbow room here."

Cedric laughed and stepped away, cocking his head towards his bedroom. "Let's not waste what time we've got before the masses descend. Fleur is planning to make a big dinner."

Nobody came home until late afternoon. By that point, the two of them were dressed and sitting at the kitchen table, sharing strong tea and the ginger thins that Hermione's mother had given him on Thursday when he'd paid his weekly dinner visit. Cedric felt like he should be in a "most British" ad for Witch Weekly, but he was actually quite fond of Helen Granger's ginger thins and devoured most of them, which made Hermione laugh. She had Esiban on her lap, feeding him bites. "Between you and Charlie, I'm going to wind up with a fat raccoon," Cedric told her, but without much heat. Anybody Esiban accepted got a free pass in Cedric's book.

When Fleur entered, loaded down with Shrunk market bags, she commandeered their assistance in the kitchen. She was planning a full, multi-course meal, French style, which took the rest of the evening to make. They ate continentally late. When Bill came home, he cast an Enlarging Charm on the kitchen dining area, then on the table. Remus arrived shortly afterwards, accompanied by Moody and Tonks - but not Scott, who was apparently on an assignment.

Charlie didn't show up until Fleur had already served the salads. "You are late!" she scolded him.

"Sorry." But he didn't sound sorry, and he didn't look entirely sober, either, his cheeks flushed, although he was far from drunk. "Got stuck in the pub."

"Held hostage by a beer, I'm sure," Bill teased as Charlie took off his cloak and hat, hanging them on the coat rack near the back door, then accepted the chair at his brother's side, leaning across the table to shake hands.

"Remus, Alastor, Tonks . . . " He stopped cold and stared at Hermione. "Hermione?"

"Yes - hello, Charlie, it's been a while hasn't it?" She offered him her hand too, but instead of shaking it, he actually walked around the table to kiss the back of it.

Cedric felt a slow burn ignite deep in his chest. What the hell?

Charlie completely ignored him, his eyes on Hermione - mostly on her face but Cedric didn't miss the fact they dropped a time or two to inspect her cleavage. "I knew you were coming, and that you were with Diggory - but my God, woman. You've grown up! And grown up very well, I might add."

Taking back her hand, Hermione turned pink. "Sit down and quit flirting with Cedric's girl," Bill told his brother, but it was good-natured. He clearly didn't see much wrong with Charlie's behaviour, and Cedric felt stupid for his anger. Yet he still felt angry. He wouldn't have reacted to another man's girlfriend like that - or at least, not without paying the fellow a compliment too, and making it clear he realized the woman in question was taken. Charlie, however, hadn't said a word to Cedric upon arriving although they'd been perfectly friendly till now.

Charlie then proceeded to spend the whole meal fixated on Hermione. He was seated across from them, so he had a clear view of her the whole night and lost no chance to compliment her, ask her questions, even butter a dinner roll for her. Hermione seemed confused by the attention. Cedric knew she didn't handle flattery well, not believing herself attractive enough to merit it - a point he considered absurd but struggled to avoid embarrassing her over. Yet confused or not, it was also clear she liked the attention. She blushed and smiled and shot Charlie bemused but pleased glances - even though it was Cedric's thigh her hand rested on beneath the table with a lover's familiarity. He gripped it tightly, barely letting her have it back to eat.

He felt completely set off his mark and unsure what to do. He didn't want to act like a jealous prat, but he wasn't comfortable with the attention another man was paying her. And Charlie was suave, too. While Cedric had never lacked for attention from the ladies, he'd never really learned to flirt because he hadn't needed to. They'd flirted with him. With Hermione, things had just fallen into place like a set of nesting bowls as if she'd been made for him.

Charlie, however, knew how to flirt. Never over the top, completely sincere, and maddeningly witty. Yet nobody at the table seemed to find his behaviour peculiar except maybe Fleur, who appeared annoyed. Even Bill - after that first remark - said nothing, although Cedric had considered him a friend. Then again, Charlie was his brother.

Cedric couldn't wait for the meal to finish. Unfortunately, Fleur had pudding and coffee. Cedric scrambled for some excuse. "I'm sure Hermione is tired. It's been a busy day," he said while Tonks and Hermione helped Fleur clear the table. "I think we'll, ah, retire for the night."

Bill snorted at that. "I bet." But it wasn't said cruelly, and he winked at Cedric. Moody and Remus were grinning and Tonks barely avoided something that sounded suspiciously like a titter. Charlie stood, however, turning to where Hermione was coming back from the kitchen counter with the coffee carafe.

"Diggory here is threatening to take away your company," he told her. "Says you're tired. I don't suppose I could convince you to stay a bit longer? Your lovely face is much sweeter than any dessert."

Cedric ground his teeth at the challenge. All night, Charlie had flattered her, chatted her up and teased her, but had made no attempt to challenge Cedric directly. Now, he had, and Hermione appeared confused, reluctant to turn him down but not wanting to refute what Cedric had said. She glanced at Cedric, who spoke in a polite but cold voice, "I haven't seen my girlfriend in three weeks - and for a couple months before that." If he placed a slight emphasis on 'my girlfriend,' he thought he could be excused. "This is our first evening together."

"You had her all afternoon, didn't you?" Charlie asked, looking directly at him for the first time in an hour. "Surely you didn't waste it?"

Cedric felt his blood boil, but thankfully, Fleur came to his rescue. "We have monopolized them enough. Go you both - shoo! We will see you, ah, sometime tomorrow. Not too early."

Grateful, Cedric rose from his chair with a little help from Remus, who was seated beside him. "Thank you, Fleur. I'm sure the pudding is divine."

"Go," she said again as Cedric followed Hermione out and down the long hall to his bedroom.

"Do you want to use the toilet first?" he asked her. "To brush your teeth?"

She was looking at him with a puzzled expression. "All right." She went into his room to fetch her bag while he sat down to wait. Esiban, who'd been banished during dinner, came over to curl up in his lap. He could hear the talk and laughter still in the kitchen, Charlie's voice rising clear above the others'. After a few minutes, Hermione was back and Cedric took his turn.

When he finished, he found her sitting out on the steps down to the street. She was dressed in loose Muggle track-clothes and had a glass of wine in hand, Esiban curled beside her. A second glass of wine waited one step below her. "Fleur brought it," she said, indicating their glasses. "She didn't want us to miss the wine since her mother sent it from France."

"That was nice of her," Cedric said, manoeuvring carefully to join her. It was a lovely night, cool without being cold, the stars and moon out. Lowering himself onto the top step, he laid aside his crutches and took her hand. She gave it easily.

"What was that in the kitchen, Cedric?" she asked him. "Fleur spent hours on dinner. We didn't have to leave that abruptly."

"He was . . . he was all over you, Hermione. Charlie. I got tired of it. You're my girlfriend."

Turning her head, she frowned at him and actually took her hand out of his, but it was to pick up his glass of wine and hand it to him. "Drink some of this and settle down, Mr. Possessive."

He accepted the glass, but glared out at the street. "I'm not trying to be possessive, but you can't pretend you didn't see what he was doing."

"Cedric." He turned to look at her. She was smiling at him. "Charlie was just being nice. He's known me since I was little and I'm all but part of his family. He was asking me about school, Harry, and of course Ron - and Hagrid too. He's like the twins and Ginny in being an extrovert, not like Bill, or Percy. That wasn't flirting - or not serious flirting. Why would he? I'm just two years older than his baby sister!"

She couldn't seriously be that blind, could she? "He wasn't looking at you like you were his sister, trust me. Men don't check out their sister's tits - well, not unless they're abnormal."

She's turned bright red. "He wasn't - "

"Yes, he was. More than once. I caught him."

"Um, well." She tucked some of her hair behind an ear. "He's still a lot older than me. I'm sure he wasn't serious about it. He knows I'm with you anyway."

"Yeah?" Cedric took a sip of his wine. "Well, neither your age nor you being with me seemed to register as a hurdle for him."

"Stop it, Cedric." Her voice was quiet. "You know I love you."

"I know," he said with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm just . . . not used to that. I was taught it's impolite to make a move on somebody else's girl. Especially right in front of him!"

"You'd rather he did it behind your back?"

"No. I'd rather he didn't do it at all."

She giggled and he looked over at her, frowning. "You're cute when you're jealous, Ced. But you don't have anything to worry about." Moving Esiban, she stood up and threw back the rest of her wine in one big gulp. It startled him. But then she held out her hand. "Come on, loverboy. It's you I came to see. And it's you I'm sharing a bed with."

He didn't need to be reminded twice and finished his own wine as quickly.

Despite a pleasant repeat that evening of their afternoon entertainment, Cedric didn't sleep well and woke early. Rising, he used the toilet, then went to the kitchen to hunt for something sweet for Sunday breakfast for himself and Hermione, who was still sleeping. Hearing footsteps, he looked up.

Charlie. Damn. He'd seen him snoring in the living room and had hoped he'd stay that way. Cedric hated confrontations but now rose to his full height, glad he was taller even on crutches. Charlie just looked at him. The older man's eyes were bloodshot. He must have had a lot of Fleur's wine. "I need some water," he said.

"Hangover?" Cedric asked, knowing he sounded a little too pleased by the thought.

"Maybe a bit." Charlie pushed past to get a glass and turn on the tap.

Cedric felt as if he should say something, but had no idea what to say. While he stood waffling, Charlie finished his water and turned the glass upside down in the drainer. He spoke without looking at Cedric. "Gonna tell me to stay away from your girl, Diggory?"

Cedric blinked. He hadn't expected Charlie to be that blunt, then remembered what Hermione had said the night before about him being closer to Ginny or the twins in temperament than Bill. Yet this morning, Cedric was feeling a bit smug. He and Hermione had needed that Muffling Charm last night - and he half-hoped Charlie had heard him make her scream anyway. "If I had to tell you that, she wouldn't be my girl."

Charlie actually chuckled and looked over at him. "Good comeback, kid." Cedric bristled at being called 'kid,' but Charlie had narrowed his eyes. "Look, I'm an honest bloke. I don't go behind backs. Hermione - she's turned into quite the beauty. With brains. And if my little brother didn't have the good sense to make a play for her when he could, I'm not that stupid. I'm being up-front about that. You keep her if you can, Diggory, but I'm going to see if I can steal her away." He gave Cedric a half-comical salute. "May the best man win, right?"

Turning then, he wandered back out, leaving Cedric to lean against the counter and curse.

That first night at Cedric's, Hermione had thought him exaggerating about Charlie. A few days later, she was pretty sure he wasn't, but remained conflicted and baffled. She'd never had a man pursue her like Charlie was - not even Krum . . . and definitely not Cedric. Krum had been polite but circumspect, and at the time, Hermione had been aiming to make Ron jealous. As for Cedric, the two of them had been pulled together by sheer gravitational inevitability despite the fact he'd had a girlfriend at the time. Yet as a result, he'd never pursued her - rather the opposite, actually. He'd done his level best to stay away from her until he just couldn't any longer. And if that magnetism was a strange sort of flattery, it was different than having a man go after her as if she were something worth having, even worth wresting away from another man.

That was new to Hermione and she wasn't entirely sure how to respond. She supposed she could ask Fleur - who'd certainly turned down her share of men - but Fleur still intimidated Hermione. Not to mention Fleur was giving Hermione dirty looks on a regular basis. Hermione had already surmised that she was very fond of Cedric in an entirely platonic way, which was why Hermione wasn't nervous that her boyfriend shared an apartment with a part-Veela, whatever Umbridge had implied back at the Minister's New Year's Eve party. Fleur didn't want Cedric that way and - amazingly, pheromones or not - he seemed to have become inured to her. It was much like what Hermione felt for Harry.

The trouble was Hermione didn't know how to politely put off Charlie, and it didn't help that Cedric was spending more and more time sulking. His initial jealousy had mutated into a mulish hostility that left him snappish and unkind. He even stayed late at work on Wednesday evening after he thought she'd paid too much attention to Charlie at Fleur's weekly dinner the night before. Given how little time they had together, Hermione was furious with him for wasting it and packed up that same evening to go and visit her parents. "I need to see them for some of my vacation," she told Cedric. "I'm obviously distracting you from more important things."

He glared at her from where he sat on his bed, his expression a mixture of anger and distress and plain pain. "Fine. At least Charlie won't be there."

"Would you stop it with the Charlie-this, Charlie-that! Good God, Cedric!"

He turned his head away and didn't reply. She finished with her trunk then hauled it out, headed for the front door, but heard feet behind her - a steady tread, not Cedric's thump-drag. She didn't turn but a strong, freckled hand took the trunk handle out of her grip. "Haven't you heard of levitation charms, sweets?" He tapped the trunk, which immediately rose into the air and dogged her heel like a well-trained pup.

She didn't want Charlie's help either. "Thank you," she told him. "I can get it from here." And she walked out.

She spent the next few days at her parents', sulking as badly as Cedric. Once or twice, her mother or father tried to dredge out of her what was the matter, but she put them off, saying she didn't want to talk about it yet.

The more she mulled it over, the more furious at Cedric she became. Didn't he trust her? She was also angry at Charlie for flirting so shamelessly - but she had to admit, she was more than a little flattered too. He'd made no bones about his interest, nor was he trying to be sneaky, which made it harder to condemn. Unlike Cedric's distrust. That burned. She'd never given Cedric any reason to doubt her and couldn't understand why he would. After all, she wasn't the one who made the opposite sex at the ministry sigh when he passed. Cedric could have anybody. Hermione wasn't so lucky, and knew it.

To make it all the more confusing, she'd started to wonder if maybe, possibly, she'd be better off with Charlie? Over the past few months, her feelings for Cedric had been changing. She still loved him, and she worried about him often. Even the thought of him in danger filled her with terror. But she wasn't feeling that same sparkle, the mad, passionate pull that had driven them together despite everything the autumn before last.

She didn't feel that for Charlie either, but he did make her giggle like she'd had too much wine. And if he was older than her by several years, Hermione had always been mature for her age. She'd dated Krum, who was three years her senior, and now Cedric, who was two. Her mother told her she had an old soul, and if the age difference with Charlie was off-putting, Hermione knew its significance would lessen over time. Charlie was also a Weasley and Hermione had felt a part of that family for years. When she'd been a third year, she'd had a crush on Percy. In the fourth, that had shifted to Ron. Would it be so surprising if she wound up with a Weasley in the end, then?

Not to mention Charlie was much more in her league in the looks department. He didn't stop women in the street by the beauty of his features - although maybe by the beauty of his body. Hermione had been treated to the sight of a bare-chested Charlie on more than one morning. He liked showing off the massive dragon tattoo on his right shoulder blade - and his muscles into the bargain. Cedric had muscles too as a result of working out, but they were nothing beside Charlie, who was built broad and thick. Yet in the face, Charlie was more personable than attractive, with a quick grin, lively eyes, and dimples. He had too many freckles to ever be called handsome, not to mention thin lips and a ruddy complexion. Beside Cedric's aristocratic beauty, he was rather plain.

Like Hermione. He was much closer to Hermione on the beauty scale than either of them was to Cedric. Bill was the beautiful Weasley - and Ginny. Even Ron was better looking than Charlie. And whatever Lucy Diggory had told Hermione about the way Cedric looked at her, Hermione still felt inadequate. It just wasn't smart, in the long run, to date out of her league. With Krum, she hadn't felt so because even if she was no flyer nor athlete, he hadn't pursued her for those things. He'd been attracted by her mind, and he was no great beauty either. Cedric, however, was as clever as she, and a lot more handsome. Charlie had passion, intelligence, wit . . . and a good face, not a striking face. Perhaps the better part of valour would be for her to break things off with Cedric before he broke them off with her.

Yet the way things were going, a formal break-up might not be needed. Cedric hadn't even owled her since she'd left his place, as if he'd forgotten all about her. She knew that was ridiculous - he was only angry - but her uncertainty had left her melancholic and inclined to hyperbole.

On Friday night, her father knocked on her door while she lay across her little childhood bed, a ratty bunny clutched to her chest for stuffed comfort. "Honey," he called, "May I come in?"

"Sure, why not?" Hermione called back and sat up. "It's not like I'll get any other company," she muttered.

Sitting down on the bed edge, he asked, "What are you doing at home on a Friday night with your boyfriend right across town and the two of you not even sending owls or talking on the phone? So talk to me then. What's come between you?"

Hermione didn't know where to begin even while part of her did want to talk to somebody, and she'd always been closer to her father than her mother. After a long struggle while her father just sat and waited, she finally blurted out, "Boys are stupid!"

His grin was faint. "Yes. Yes, sometimes we are. Care to explain?"

Sighing, she sat up - then suddenly was talking, the words pouring out of her about Charlie's advances, Cedric's jealousy, and even her own uncertainty regarding what she was feeling for Cedric these days. She raged and whined and even cried a little, and her dad listened through it all, holding one of her hands in his. When she ran out of steam and words, he sat for a minute, just looking at her, then stood and tugged on her hand. "Come here, sweetheart."

Uncertain, she let him pull her up, then he turned her to look in the mirror over her dresser, smoothing back her hair from her face. She could see the tear stains on her cheeks. Reaching around from behind her, he tilted her head up. "I know you're going to think this is just your old man's bias, but I want to show you something. I want you to see what every boy and man sees who passes you on the street. Look at those big dark eyes. And this hair - it's beautiful, all curly and full."

"Dad! It looks like a tent on my head!"

"No, it doesn't." He touched her cheeks, drawing a line along her cheekbones. "You have beautiful bone structure. Take it from a maxillofacial surgeon, love, there are women who'd kill to have your jawline and cheekbones. You have a good chin and a cute little nose."

"So I look . . . cute. Maybe. Like the girl next door."

"Don't knock it." He stepped around to face her. "You look a lot like your mum did at your age. I thought she was the prettiest thing I'd seen - but not too pretty. Let me tell you a secret about boys, Hermione. We're terribly insecure. You think Cedric is some Adonis, but I doubt he sees himself that way. He's a modest, polite young man. To be fair, yes, I think he knows he's good looking and that women notice him, but I don't think he sees himself as all that special. I do know one thing, though - there are pictures of you all over his office, magical and Muggle both. I saw them when I dropped in to help him set up his computer. He's got one on his desk, one taped to his monitor - and one of you as a desktop background on his laptop, too. He's got three tacked to the padded wall of his cubicle. Basically, the boy can't look anywhere in his office without seeing your face - and he made sure of that. He's head over heels for you, and I'm betting he's feeling mighty upstaged by Charlie Weasley. After all, isn't that bloke a dragon tamer or something?"

Hermione felt her cheeks heat. Cedric had that many pictures of her? "Well, actually, Charlie just works with dragons on a reserve in Romania."

"Nonetheless, that's like some poor sod pushing papers back at the office trying to compete with a star football player. And Cedric - he's on crutches. He doesn't talk about it much, but I know it frustrates him. I see it sometimes even when he comes here to visit. He hates those things. They make him feel like less of a man."

"He's not!" Hermione protested automatically.

"Of course not, but it's what he feels that matters. Just like it's what you feel about the way you look that matters, isn't it? I could talk till I'm blue in the face, but you'll still see what's in your head" - he tapped the side of her skull - "instead of what's in the mirror, won't you?"

Hermione was struck by the similarity of her dad's words to what Lucy Diggory had told her back in December. How many times would she have to hear it before she believed it? Tears pricked her eyes. "Doesn't it ever go away?" she asked him. "This feeling of not being good enough?"

Leaning in, he hugged her, swaying her back and forth a little in his arms. "I wish I could say it does, honey - but the truth is . . . not really. No matter how successful we become, I think most of us still feel a bit like a fraud. People are like that."

He pushed her back and she looked down between them. "Dad, how do you know you're with the right person? You and mum, you've always been so good together, for twenty years. How did you know? I feel like . . . I feel like . . . well, that's just the problem." She looked up. "I'm not feeling the same things for Cedric that I did last year. But I still love him - or I think I do."

Her father shook his head. "Love isn't a feeling, Hermione. The feeling goes away eventually. We live in a society that's elevated romance to false godhead. It leads people to expect unreasonable things. They think it's all about bubbles in the tummy and fire in the loins, then when reality descends and the feelings alter - and they always do eventually - they think they must not have been in love after all. They flit off to the next crush - then the next, then the next. There's a reason the divorce rate is astronomical. People are stupid about love. They want that crush feeling forever. They don't know how to grow up and love like adults, not teenagers."

His grin turned wry and he pulled out the chair at her desk to sit down. "Of course, here I am, complaining to a teenager about teen crushes. Don't mind me."

A sick feeling in her stomach, she crossed to stand in front of him. "Is something wrong, dad?" He and her mother weren't having problems, were they?

He sighed. "Your Uncle Phil left your Aunt Brenda, sweetheart. He moved out."

"Oh, no!" Her hands went up to cover her mouth. "What happened?"

"He had an affair. Brenda caught him. He didn't tell me, either - but then, he knew what I'd say." His faced turned pained. "And here I thought I knew him."

Bending, Hermione hugged him and felt him hug her back. "Dad, I'm so sorry - for you, mum, Aunt Brenda." She pulled back. "Why? Do you know?"

"Classic mid-life crisis, near as I can tell. This other woman makes him feel important. Brenda's practice has been doing a little better than his lately and I think he's . . . not jealous exactly, but feeling upstaged. Men can get stupid like that."

Hermione was floored by the news. She'd always loved her Uncle Phil. He'd seemed a cheerful, easy-going person, he and Aunt Brenda a perfect match. "I'd never have expected them to break up."

"We didn't either, your mum and me."

"Can't any man be trusted?" Hermione half-shouted, throwing up her hands, angry suddenly at the whole gender and forgetting to whom she was talking.

Her father's expression was sardonic. "A few of us can be. I'd rather gnaw off my own arm than cheat on your mum, Hermione. And I'm pretty sure she feels the same way. If nothing else, this whole fiasco has got us to talk to each other - reiterate a few things."

Hermione returned to sit on the edge of her bed. "Are they going to get a divorce?"

"I don't know," her dad said. "Brenda wants to go to marriage counseling, but Phil isn't sure. I hope he comes to his senses before he loses a good woman chasing after a feeling. It's funny, isn't it, that you women read the romance novels but it's often the men who fall prey to immature ideas about love? Anyway, I didn't come in here to talk about Phil and Brenda. It hurts to see you hurting, darling."

She dropped her chin. "I know. But thanks for telling me anyway." Oddly, knowing about Phil and Brenda had helped put some things into perspective.

"Go and talk to your boy, Hermione. If you're this miserable, I'm pretty sure he's feeling just as much like rubbish."

Notes: Did you catch my little nod to X-Men: the Movie? While yes, this chapter did end with them in limbo, the next chatper will resolve the Charlie plot-thread. Just as Rowling's book 6 had a 'romantic turmoil' plotline for Hermione, so does mine - albeit with Cedric instead of Ron. And contrary to what some might think after reading this, Charlie/Hermione is, actually, one of my favorite Hermione pairings. Yet he's a perfect foil to Cedric because he's a lot of things Cedric isn't and works as somebody Cedric might feel genuinely threatened by.