Hermione spent the weekend practicing falling over and over and over. Her parents were baffled by her new hobby of hurling herself at the ground and trying to roll or get up smoothly, but they were amicable once she explained.
"I'm glad to hear you asked someone with actual martial arts experience for help," her father commented. "You could seriously hurt yourself if you try this sort of thing wrong, you know."
"Dad!" Hermione protested. "I know that. I'm not an idiot!"
Her father just grinned. "Of course, of course. I didn't raise an idiot daughter."
When she was taking a break from falling practice, Hermione was practicing her wandless magic, doing her best to use small charms on leaves and rocks in the yard.
Though she was more successful than she had been, wandless magic was incredibly difficult. Simple things like summoning, banishing, and levitating were manageable, but Hermione couldn't get a blasting curse or any jinxes whatsoever to work. She severely doubted being able to summon things in an unarmed fight would be of any use, but she kept trying anyway.
By the time Tuesday rolled around, Hermione was thoroughly ready for a break from her self-imposed training, and it was with determination to relax and have a good time that Hermione went to Diagon Alley to meet Cedric.
Even as she exited the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron, though, Hermione could feel her shoulders relaxing as she opened the back wall and strode down Diagon Alley. There was something wonderful, something magical about being able to openly be a witch in a place of commerce. There was a freedom in the air, to her, a feeling of not needing to hide, and Hermione found herself smiling as she walked along, watching witches and wizards argue and bargain as she went down the street.
Cedric was waiting for her at the outside tables at Florean Fortesque's, and he stood and smiled when he saw her coming. She smiled back at him, though her stomach flipped at his smile. She'd forgotten just how attractive he was.
"Hermione Granger, right on time," he said, grinning. "Punctual to a fault."
"If I'm on time, it's hardly a fault, is it?" Hermione shot back, and Cedric laughed.
"Of course not," he said. He grinned at her. "Are you ready for today?"
Hermione blinked.
"Ready?" she asked. "Is there something I'm supposed to be ready for?"
"Well, the book release, but that's not for a few hours," Cedric said. His eyes danced. "I mostly meant for tolerating me for a day."
Hermione flushed under his teasing, and he grinned.
"Come on."
Despite her initial bout of nerves, conversation with Cedric was easy, and Hermione found herself relaxing as they chatted as they walked down the alley.
"My dad's really intense about it, you know," Cedric told her. He rolled his eyes. "Keeps harping on about how it's my O.W.L. year, how I have to do well or I'll stunt my career choices, on and on and on."
"Umm…" Hermione blinked. "Have you ever not done well on a test?"
Cedric shot her a commiserating look. "Exactly."
When Hermione realized where they were going, she had to lay a hand on Cedric's arm, tugging him to a halt before they reached Gringotts.
"I'll wait here," she told him. "I can't go in right now."
Cedric looked surprised. "Really? Why not?"
His tone was mildly curious, not critical or judging, and Hermione found herself telling him the truth.
"I don't have my sword on me," she confessed. "It's insulting to the goblins, for me to not wear the sword they made for me in goblin territory. And I didn't… I didn't want to just wear it around today…"
A slow smile spread across Cedric's face.
"Of course," he said, nodding graciously. "If you'll pardon me, I'll be right back, then."
When Cedric reappeared half an hour later, hair disheveled and looking slightly queasy, Hermione gave him a moment to collect himself.
"You had the right idea, not going in," he told her. "I swear, the goblins try to make that cart as rickety as possible."
Hermione laughed. "Oh, I don't think they're all that bad."
"You wouldn't," Cedric teased her. "After all, they made you a sword."
It was her chance; Hermione looked to Cedric and took a deep breath.
"Cedric," she began. "Why has no one asked me about my sword?"
Cedric looked startled. "Asked you about it?"
"Yes," Hermione said. "Back when I slew the basilisk, I was asked a ton of questions, but no one asked me any about my sword. And it's a gorgeous sword, with the emeralds and the snake hilt and the patterned steel. And it's new; the goblins made it for me. I expected people to be surprised that I pulled it out of nowhere, given my name. But… no one even asked, and I didn't want to bring it up – it'd seem like bragging."
Cedric looked thoughtful.
"It's somewhat of a social faux pas, really," he said slowly. "People don't ask about others' weapons. It's just not done."
"Why not?" Hermione asked. "We know all about Gryffindor's sword from legend."
"I'm not saying people don't notice weapons," Cedric corrected. "I'm saying they don't ask. A fair few families have weapons that they didn't get through conventional means, so to speak. It's just presumed that if someone has a goblin-made weapon that it's theirs, it's a family heirloom, and not to bring it up lest the goblins notice and put up a fuss."
Hermione made a face. "You're saying most are stolen?"
"Some are," Cedric admitted. "You'll learn of some famous thefts in History – actually, maybe you won't, now that Lockhart's teaching it – but the goblins also view ownership differently. Even if you pay for an item, they expect it to be returned after you die, and your heir is expected to buy it again. Most wizards find that ridiculous and just keep their things, which the goblins don't like."
"Their culture is so different than ours," Hermione mused, and Cedric looked surprised, before he changed the topic to her upcoming elective classes.
Hermione happily chatted about the electives she'd signed up for, and Cedric was happy to give her tips and pointers on what to expect in each class. The weather was pleasant as they strolled along, and Hermione found herself enjoying the relaxed walk through the shops.
They took a turn, and they walked down Horizont Alley, Hermione taking in the shops and establishments here. They were ones she hadn't seen as much, given most of her business only required her to go to Diagon Alley.
"This is so fancy," Hermione said, looking around at the shops. "We're not going somewhere here, are we?"
"What if we are?" Cedric challenged, and Hermione flushed and bit her lip.
"I don't think I'm dressed nicely enough for that," she admitted, looking down at her robes. "I wasn't expecting something fancy."
Cedric laughed, then gave her a dashing smile.
"You look lovely, Hermione," he told her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. "The blue of your robes brings out the gold in your eyes, and I must admit to having to watch myself. It would be all too easy to walk into stands and poles with you at my side to distract my eyes."
Hermione blushed a brilliant red, and Cedric grinned.
Their destination turned out to be a flower stand on Horizont Alley. It was set out under a pavilion in front of a formal florist, and Hermione found herself somewhat awed.
"I didn't know there was a wizarding florist!" she exclaimed, looking around the shop, which was bursting with bright flowers. "This is wonderful!"
"Wizards still send flowers with meanings behind them," Cedric said from behind her, as he looked through the flowers. "Centerpieces at public events have meanings in flower language, as do bouquets sent to people directly."
"Do they really?" Hermione asked.
"You'd be surprised how subtle some of the slights upon each other can be," Cedric said, smirking. "Especially the Slytherin pureblood families. I think it's a hobby, figuring out how best to insult each other with flowers."
As it was, all Cedric wanted to do was buy a single lavender rose.
"Can't have you thinking I'm cheap, always conjuring magical ones or stealing them from the bushes," he told her, eyes dancing as he charmed the thorns off. "Figured I'd get you a nice one."
"I think the combs you've made me are nice," Hermione protested as he shortened the rose's stem. "I've put preservation enchantments over them and kept every one, and they're still as brilliant and beautiful as ever."
Cedric looked up at her slowly.
"You've kept every one?"
His eyes had darkened, and Hermione felt her breath catch.
"What of it?" she said breathlessly. Cedric's eyes were on hers, and she felt a bit of a thrill as he leaned in closer, tucking the lavender rose into her hair next to her butterfly pin.
"Merlin, Hermione," he murmured. "You can't just spring that on a guy." His hand traced her cheek softly before he slowly pulled his hand away, reluctant, his eyes locked with hers. "He might start to think you care."
Hermione's face was flushed as he took a step back, Cedric holding her gaze for a long moment before breaking it, looking around, and his expression lightened.
"Butterbeer?" he suggested. "The Hopping Pot's just around the corner."
In line for butterbeer, they chatted about Hogsmeade and the shops that were there. Cedric explained that The Three Broomsticks was the most popular destination, for good reason.
"It's a great place to relax and chat with your friends," he explained. "Just chat over butterbeer and whatnot. The professors go there too fairly often, to my understanding."
"Are there other restaurants?" she asked.
He considered, thinking hard.
"Well, there's the Hog's Head, but it's a rather dodgy joint," Cedric said. "There's Madame Puddifoot's Tea Shop, but that's… it's not a good place for friends to relax."
"It's not?"
"It's more a place to take someone for tea that you're seeing," he said, pausing. "As in dating or courting, really. It has a certain sort of vibe, and they can provide chaperones as necessary."
"Chaperones?" Hermione repeated. "For tea?"
Cedric grinned. "You'd be surprised at how uptight some of the pureblood families can be."
They were next in line. Cedric got a cold butterbeer while Hermione asked for both a hot and a cold, to the surprise of the proprietor. When Hermione went to pay, Cedric waved her off, covering both her drinks without a thought.
"I asked you out, remember?" he said, a teasing smile on his face. "It's only proper I cover the date."
Hermione could feel her cheeks heat up. Even though she'd known it, it was the first time either of them had referred to it as a date.
They took their butterbeers over to a table to sip. A three-person band was on the small stage in the Carkitt Market square, playing some sort of old troubadour ballad on wooden instruments.
"The youth rep nominations will happen there tomorrow," Hermione mused, taking comfort from the hot drink in her hands. "I wonder what it will look like."
Cedric looked surprised.
"I didn't think you'd know about that," he said. "Gabriel's in my House, so I knew his birthday is coming up, but I didn't think it was quite that widespread."
"It's probably not, but my classmates want me to run," Hermione admitted. "They've got a big plan and everything on my nomination."
Cedric started to grin. "Do they, now?"
Hermione flushed.
"Look," she said hotly. "Slytherins are ambitious, and when we all get together, some sort of scheme generally comes out of it. My classmates intend for me to be the first Slytherin youth representative in decades."
"Do they now...?" Cedric mused, a smile playing around his lips. "And do you want to be the British Youth Representative, Hermione?"
Hermione paused to consider.
"You know, no one's asked me that until now?" she said. "Everyone's just presumed that of course I'd want it. Even I sort of did, I think. The position was there, so why wouldn't I try to take it?"
Cedric's eyes sparkled. "Do you want it?"
Hermione bit her lip.
"I think I do," she confessed. "I'm so curious about the wizarding government, and I'd love to be able to effect change from inside of it from such a young age. If I got it, I'd be able to do it for three years before I'd age out, which is a good length, I think. It's long enough to really get a feel for politics and decide if I like it or not, but not so long that I'd get frustrated and bored of the whole thing."
Cedric laughed.
"It's admirable that you'd want it to effect change," he told her, smiling. "You realize that's not why most people will run?"
Hermione blinked.
"Really?" she asked. "Why run, then?"
"The position comes with a certain prestige," Cedric explained. "You put on your CV that you were British Youth Representative, and it looks good to employers. It's impressive; not many people can make that claim."
"So people do it for the clout?" Hermione was indignant. "That's ridiculous!"
"Not everyone is as selfless as you, Hermione." His smile was soft, warm. "You're constantly thinking of other people and how to help improve the world. Most people are only looking out for themselves."
Hermione felt embarrassed. She distracted herself looking down at the table, sipping from her warm butterbeer as she tried to sort out her thoughts.
"I don't think I'm selfless," she admitted, quiet. "I mean, I care about some things and people, but mostly I just watch out for me and my friends, I think."
Cedric gave her a strange look. "Are you serious?"
Hermione glanced up at him. "What?"
"You are serious, aren't you?" Cedric was incredulous. "Hermione. Look at me."
Uncomfortable, Hermione shifted on the bench to look straight at him, and Cedric took one of her hands.
"Why did you kill the basilisk, Hermione?" he asked her. "Why did you go after it?"
"It had Draco," Hermione said immediately. "I had to—"
"No," Cedric said. "You had a sword on, and you knew there was a basilisk around. You would have gone after it even if it hadn't grabbed Malfoy." His voice booked no objection, and his eyes held hers. "Why?"
Hermione shifted uneasily.
"Because I knew of the fame that would come with it," she told him. "I knew it would help establish my name as a powerful New Blood House."
Cedric raised an eyebrow, doubt sketched across his face.
"And if it hadn't?" he asked. "If you knew that Hogwarts would hush the entire thing up, deny there was ever a basilisk, and that no one would ever know. Would you still have done it?"
His question caught her off guard, and Hermione had to pause a moment to consider it. Would she have risked her life to go after the basilisk, if that had been the case? She'd had the diary, so she wouldn't have needed to, but Ginny had showed that that wasn't a failsafe, that someone could always steal it…
The idea of not taking care of the basilisk brought a sick feeling of dread to Hermione's stomach, and she swallowed hard, realizing that even if no one would have ever known, she would have done what had to be done.
"Yes," Hermione admitted. "I think I would have."
Cedric ran his thumb over the back of her hand, rubbing it lightly. It felt sort of off to Hermione, her nerves in her hands deadened as they were, but it was soothing, kind of nice.
"And the previous year?" he said. "When Potter went after the Philosopher's Stone to stop You-Know-Who?"
"Harry's my friend!" Hermione objected. "Anyone would want to help their friend stay alive!"
"I daresay they would," Cedric agreed amicably. "But I daresay most people would tell their friend what dangers they would face ahead, not go along and face those dangers themselves."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I think you're overestimating my selflessness."
"And I think you're underestimating yourself," Cedric said mildly. He squeezed her hand. "Hermione, as sharp as your tongue might be, I've watched you research an obscure medical topic for hours to help someone you barely knew so she could read again, I've watched you risk your life to save the school, and I've watched you rescue Harry from his relatives twice, now."
Hermione jerked in her seat. "How do you know about that?"
"I live close to the Weasleys," Cedric said easily. "I stopped by to see Fred and George one day, and Harry was there, degnoming their garden, watching the house while they're in all in Egypt. We had a chat."
Hermione flushed. It was odd to think of Harry telling other people she had helped him 'escape' when really she had just helped send some letters this year.
"Hermione," Cedric said. "Hermione, look at me."
Hermione looked back up at him, pushing her thoughts to the side. Cedric's eyes were kind and understanding, a soft smile on his face.
"You define yourself by your house so much, you realize," he told her, a sparkle in his eye. "You lean hard into being this ambitious, driven person, and it's inspiring to see, to be honest. But Hermione… it's okay to be in Slytherin and still be kind, too."
Hermione bit her lip hard. Her eyes suddenly felt like they were tearing up, which was ridiculous, and she blinked rapidly.
"I know that," she protested weakly.
"Do you, though?" Cedric's tone was mild. "It's not like there are many examples of it for you to look to."
Hermione felt flustered. This entire discussion was ridiculous, and it was making her feel all tangled up inside. She knew she wasn't entirely selfish, but she knew just as well that she wasn't selfless, and Cedric telling her that it was okay to be kind like this was making her self-conscious and she didn't know how to react.
"I don't want to talk about this anymore," she told him. She tried for an authoritative tone, but somehow it came out more anguished, pleading. "Can we go to the bookstore now?"
Cedric's eyes softened as he looked at her, wordlessly understanding her struggle.
"Of course," he said. He stood, offering her his hand to help her stand. "I didn't mean to cause you pain, Hermione. I just wanted you to know I think the world of you."
"I think the incessant gifts of roses quite got that impression across," Hermione muttered, taking his hand and standing, and Cedric laughed.
"Oh, good," he said lightly. "I was worried I might have to start resorting to full bouquets in your bedroom."
Hermione shot him a scandalized look, and Cedric laughed.
"Come on," he said. "To the book debut!"
Still holding her hand, Cedric lifted it to his lips and kissed the back of her hand before tucked it into his arm. His hand lingered over it for a long moment as his eyes met hers, and wordlessly Hermione nodded, giving him permission.
Cedric's smile widened as his hand fell to his side, and together they set off for Flourish and Blotts, him escorting her down the alley. With her hand on his arm like this in public so formally, Hermione felt extremely self-conscious and self-aware of the looks people gave them as they passed by. A couple looks were fairly judging, and they made Hermione flush; she knew what they must look like, to have her on the arm of such a handsome boy.
As they continued walking, though, Hermione began to relax and enjoy it more. It was kind of fun, being escorted like this. If she walked very deliberately, one foot crossing in front of the other with each step, she found she could make her robes shift and sway more, and it felt very dramatic, as if she were a society woman of the 18th century entering a ball or descending a staircase. She experimented with picking up one part of her robes and holding it to the side, as if it were a gown, to see if that made it easier or harder to walk in a stately matter.
Cedric glanced over at her with a small smile. "Having fun?"
Immediately Hermione dropped her robes, her face flaming red. "Um…"
Cedric laughed.
"I didn't mean to make you self-conscious," he told her, his smile gentle. "Your eyes were just so alight, and you looked lost in your own little world."
Cedric's gaze was non-judgmental, his eyes kind, and somehow, again, Hermione found herself telling him the truth.
"Being escorted like this in full robes feels like something out a novel," she admitted. "I feel like I'm Lady Catherine de Bourgh, walking around escorted like this."
Cedric laughed.
"I daresay your robes aren't as dramatic as all that," he said. His eyes lightened. "Besides. If you were anyone, Hermione, I daresay you'd be Elizabeth Bennet; beauty and brilliance wrapped up in one clever-tongued package."
Hermione found herself speechless at the depth of the compliment. Though Cedric took her silence in stride, offering her his small, soft smile, she found herself flustered the rest of the way to the bookstore, glancing up at him through her lashes and wondering just how many of the pretty words he said he really meant.
The date with Cedric was cut short by an anxious Amos Diggory, who found them in the Alleyway shortly after the book release party (The Secret History of Hogsmeade; Hermione couldn't wait to read it). Something urgent demanded Cedric's attention at home, and Cedric looked annoyed at his father's demands – an unusual expression on his face, to be sure. Only when it was apparent that his father absolutely would not budge on this did Cedric reluctantly turn to Hermione, bowing over her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it as he bid her adieu, apologizing for cutting their date short.
Hermione had breathlessly forgiven him and thanked him for the lovely day, and she watched as Cedric rolled his eyes and followed after his father, who was speaking rapidly to him as they vanished from sight.
Perversely, Hermione almost felt glad that the date had been cut short. She'd been so flustered with him just doing nothing, walking up and down the alley; how would she have managed to get through an entire dinner without embarrassing herself?
Though Hermione wanted to Floo Tracey and spill all the details of her date to her immediately, she paused. The next day was Nomination Day, and Hermione suspected Tracey would not want to be disturbed on the eve of something so momentous. Tracey was practically more excited than Hermione was about the whole thing, really, and Hermione didn't want to break her focus.
Instead, she sent an owl to her covenmates, and a few hours later, they were meeting after dinner, an hour or so before dusk.
"I thought we could repeat the Parseltongue ritual, for Harry and Susan," Hermione explained. She held up a couple dead mice. "I got these at Diagon Alley today."
Susan sat up, intrigue flashing in her eyes behind turquoise glass. "Do you think it will work?"
"It worked last time," Hermione said, shrugging. "It's worth a try, isn't it?"
Harry's excitement at the idea had him practically vibrating in his seat.
"I kind of miss having it, to be honest," he said. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad we've gotten rid of the Voldy bit in my brain, but it really was cool to use as a secret language, you know."
"I'm up for it," Luna said, smiling. She looked to Susan. "There are snakes in the forest here. I bet at least some will come."
Blaise was looking at Hermione very carefully as she took her ritual things out of her bag, Harry and Susan and Luna all chatting about the ritual.
"Hermione?" he said finally. "Are you okay?"
There was a careful concern in his voice, and Hermione paused.
"I don't know," she said finally. "I feel very off-kilter, and being with you all helps center me."
Blaise looked at her sideways. "Is it anything I can help with?"
Hermione gnawed on her lip.
"I don't think so?" she said finally. "I just… I felt very out of my depth today, earlier, and it left me feeling a bit weird."
Blaise nodded slowly.
"Do you want help setting up the circle?" he offered. He flashed her a mischievous smile. "I daresay I won't mess it up too much. It's bound to be easier here than in the snow, right?"
His teasing words were just what Hermione needed to smirk and laugh.
"Is it, though?" she challenged. "We'll have to pull up the grass in a very precise circle and manner. No powdered moonstone this time."
Blaise gasped, overdramatic.
"Oh no, pull up grass?" he said, mocking. "However will I manage to do that?"
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was laughing.
"Come on," she told him, grinning at his playacting despite herself. "Let's get started."
With her geometry set, they were able to pull up grass in a solid circle in the field, each line of the circle about two inches wide, ensuring the circle and veins looked very deliberate. After they had, Harry found a large stick, and they traced the lines into the dirt as well, solidifying it.
"Careful with the amount of magic you use this time, Hermione," Luna advised. "We don't need all the snakes in the forest to come out."
"I know, I know," Hermione said, but she was smiling at the memory nonetheless.
The ritual worked a bit differently this time, Hermione on the outside of the circle, guiding Harry and Susan in the chant while she, Blaise, and Luna held the protective ring. The feeling of power within the ritual circle was the same, though, and as the final couplet unleashed the power to race into the forest, Hermione could see the breathless excitement on Susan's face and Harry's eager awe, and she felt her heart warm.
This was her coven, these her people, and this was where she felt most at home.
The ritual was a resounding success, a couple dozen snakes answering the call. When the incantation was repeated, two snakes leapt upon the mice, and though Hermione winced as Harry screamed and Susan clutched at her head, remembering the agony of the language transfer, she was proud and satisfied to see them both sit back up a few long moments later, wonder in their eyes.
"Did it work?" Harry hissed. His eyes lit up. "It worked! It worked! I can speak Parseltongue again!"
"This is so weird." Susan was testing out words experimentally, aware of how her tongue was hissing and flicking about. "It really does feel like how a snake would speak."
"We all have it, now," Hermione said, smiling. "Our secret coven language."
"It works well for that," Blaise said. His voice was very low. "Parseltongue can be so quiet, hissed and whispered in near silence around the corners and in the shadows."
"Can it be loud?" Luna wondered aloud. She cleared her throat. "My name is Luna Lovegood."
The resulting speech came out sounding like sputtering static from the telly, and Hermione and Harry dissolved into laughter.
"I guess it can't really be yelled," Hermione concluded, amused.
"Makes sense," Harry said. "I've never heard a snake make a sound louder than a hiss."
The coven spent the rest of the evening practicing flying while speaking Parseltongue. Almost everyone was still spectacularly bad at flying, with Hermione and Luna as the exceptions. They did their best to help their friends, guiding them in flight, but as Hermione knew all too well, the air elementals were overly delighted to fly, and she frequently found her friends' hands ripped from hers as they shot into the air, arcing over to land in a bush or fly up and get trapped in a tree.
When Hermione went home that night, she felt reassured and relaxed, much more so than she'd been after returning home from Diagon Alley. She'd had a wonderful evening flying around with her friends. The date had been lovely, but she had been feeling off-kilter and out of her depth, and being with her coven always helped stabilize her, making her feel comfortable and safe and at home.
Hermione fell asleep after levitating her bedroom's entire furniture set for a few minutes, dreaming of snakes and roses and speeches.
