HP FIC: A New School Year (PG) (Cedric/Hermione) (AU) (Part 1 of 3)
Title: A New School Year
Rating: PG
Pairing: Cedric / Hermione
Word Count: 17,886 words approximately
Disclaimer: None because they're useless
Notes: Set after Goblet of Fire and contains elements of Order of the Phoenix. An AU 'continuation' of The Boy Who Died. There's absolutely no point reading this story if you haven't read The Boy Who Died first. :) Sorry it ended up being so long.
I just found out that some people are confused. Cedric died at the end of Goblet of Fire and also The Boy Who Died. The thing was, I liked the relationship that had developed between them so much that this fic is based on a "what if Cedric hadn't died" premise. So just assume that he hadn't died at the end of The Boy Who Died. I hope this makes sense :)
Also, despite what Kreacher says, there is no evidence to suggest that Cedric is a pureblood. He's from an old wizarding family but as far as I know, the only pure wizarding families which still exist are the Gaunt family, the Lestrange family, the Longbottom family, the Malfoy family and the Weasley family. The Black and the Crouch family have now died out with the deaths of Sirius Black and Barty Crouch Senior and Junior.
The fic is unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine and I'll fix things as I find out about them so please feel free to critique and add suggestions. :) As I did with The Boy Who Died, I've blended Rowling text with my own.
Again, for those who are wondering about the question of whether Cedric was in his sixth/seventh year and whether he would have been returning to Hogwarts (had he lived), please see this discussion here. True it's not definitive but I'm assuming he was a sixth year so still had one year to go.
Number twelve, Grimmauld Place looked like many things, but it certainly did not look like the sort of place that one would expect to find the headquarters of the mysterious Order of the Phoenix.
Feeling inexplicably drained, Hermione sat on the bottom step of the staircase, leaning against the banisters. On one side was a pair of old, dusty and moth-eaten curtains. Beyond that was a large umbrella stand that Mrs Weasley said looked as though it had been made from a severed troll's leg. Hermione didn't care to find out if it really was.
She glanced up the stairs. In walking up the dark staircase, one passed a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. She had been extremely revolted to discover that the heads all belonged to former house-elves of the house of Black. She shivered slightly. It was indeed a house that looked as though it belonged to the darkest of wizards.
She supposed that in a way it was the perfect hiding place for the secret society of which Dumbledore was in charge. The Order was a small but very hopeful attempt to battle against the rising darkness of Voldemort. Who would expect to find them in a Dark place such as this? Hermione rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes. Voldemort was now much more than a shadowy and menacing presence - he had re-entered the world in corporeal form.
Kreacher, Sirius' extremely elderly house-elf sidled past her, hissing at her disparagingly beneath his breath. He was naked except for an extremely filthy rag that was tied around his waist. His large, sagging skin hung on him droopily. His head was bald and tufts of white hair grew out of his large ears. He glared at the world through bloodshot and pale watery grey eyes which were as droopy as his skin. His large nose was snout like. House elves were never known for being attractive in appearance and Kreacher, to put it charitably, was absolutely hideous.
The house-elf took no notice of Hermione as she sat on the landing, feigning that he could not see her although his insults were obviously intended for her ears. Hunched over, he shuffled slowly and clumsily towards the far end of the room, all the while muttering under his breath in a hoarse voice.
"Stains, of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth, besmirching my poor mistress' purebred air," he muttered. "My poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do?" he wailed to himself.
"Hullo Kreacher," Hermione said pleasantly. He shuddered as he looked at her and pretended not to hear.
Ron had called him a nutter. "His life's ambition is to have his head cut off and stuck up on a plaque just like his mother," Ron had snapped at her irritably. "Is that normal, Hermione?"
"Well - well, if he is a bit strange, it's not his fault".
Ron had rolled his eyes at Harry. "Hermione still hasn't given up on SPEW".
"It's not SPEW!" Hermione had exclaimed heatedly. "It's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. And it's not just me, Dumbledore says we should be kind to Kreacher too".
Hermione looked down and touched her S.P.E.W. badge gently with her fingertips. There had only ever been one person who hadn't mocked her about her cause. Yes he had laughed, but he was a boy of laughter - there had never been any trace of mockery in his laughter......
She suppressed the thought ruthlessly. It had been more than a month. One month of quietness and solitude. She had rather liked being back in a world without magic, a world that didn't have the darkness hanging over it like an ever present shadow. Back home, she'd had the chance to tend to unseen wounds and hurts. To try to forget. She had done normal things, gone on walks with her parents, done her chores, gone shopping with her mother, watched television with her father ...... Prosaic everyday, ordinary Muggle things that should have had nothing to do with the boy with laughing grey eyes. Unfortunately all things called that boy to mind. Even the non-magical made her recall their long discussions in the library about how Muggles lived.
I just want to be able to hold your hand when other people can see. I want you to take me around and show me that strange and mystical Muggle World in which you live ...... watch a movie .....
If now and then she had felt a wistful ache that these were things that she had longed to show him, to see his fascinated interest in what was mundane for Muggles - it didn't matter anymore. That was then and this was now.
Her parents had sensed a change in her but no one else would have, that much was certain. When the Weasleys had seen her again, their thoughts were too full of their own anxieties and fears to notice that there was anything different about her. To be honest, Hermione had discovered that she was a far better actress than she herself had known.
Hermione had forgotten. She had told herself this so many times and with such firmness and resolution that she truly believed the truth of her own words. The idyllic time was simply a sweet and fleeting madness that had no place in reality. She didn't notice that her fingertip touched the badge again, touching it gently almost as a caress.
There was a horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech which made her start in shock. Kreacher had 'accidentally' knocked the curtains apart and suddenly a hideous drooling, old woman with yellowing skin wearing a black cap was screaming and howling hysterically as though she were being tortured. Hermione flinched. She had seen the life-sized portrait of Sirius' mother before - too many times. It was realistic and disturbingly unpleasant.
Hermione knew from experience that the curtains wouldn't close and sighed in resignation as all along the hall, the other portraits awoke and began to yell, too.
She rose to her feet and tried to close the curtains anyway. Mrs Black brandished her clawed hands, scraping and grasping at the air as though she would delight in tearing Hermione limb from limb.
"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! It makes me sick that the likes of you are befouling the house of my fathers! Away with you!" Mrs Black woman howled at her furiously.
Mrs Weasley hastily hurried into the room, struggling to draw the curtains over Mrs Black's face, wincing slightly as Mrs Black looked as if she was about to have an apoplectic fit. "Kreacher, I've asked you not to open these curtains, you know it causes such a stir!" she said with gentle reproof.
The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very exaggerated and unconvincing start of surprise.
"Kreacher did not see mistress," he said, turning around and bowing to Mrs Weasley. Still facing the carpet, he added in an audible voice.
"Filthy blood traitor it is" he said.
"Kreacher, put a sock in it already," Ron said angrily as he walked into the room. "That's my mum you're talking to".
"Kreacher said nothing," said the elf, with a second bow to Ron. Without hesitation he added in a clear undertone, "and there's its offspring, filthy little brat of a blood traitor. Unnatural little beasts they are".
"Ron, no!" Hermione called out when it looked as though Ron would have liked nothing better than to box Kreacher's ears.
The elf straightened up, eyeing them all malevolently and hissed.
"… and there's the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh, if my mistress knew, oh, how she'd cry, oh what can Kreacher do?"
"I'm going to ..." Ron exclaimed furiously.
"No Ron! Kreacher stop that, you're just making Ron angry," she told Kreacher.
Kreacher's pale eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever. "The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's mistress saw him in such company, oh, what would she say ..."
"Don't call her a Mudblood!' said Ron said furiously while his mother also looked very irritated although she already learned that it was useless to try to reprimand Kreacher. She had probably had to endure more of Kreacher than anyone else in the house.
"It doesn't matter," Hermione said gently, staring at the house-elf with obvious pity in her dark eyes, "he's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's ... "
"Don't kid yourself, Hermione, we both know that he knows exactly what he's saying," said Ron, eyeing Kreacher with intense dislike.
"Why are you here, Kreacher?" Mrs Weasley asked, having finally managed to silence Mrs Black's portrait even though she was still struggling to close the curtains.
Kreacher's massive eyes darted nervously towards Mrs Weasley. "Kreacher is cleaning".
Even Hermione had to sigh at that excuse. When Sirius was around, Kreacher would fling himself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened his nose on the floor and he would use sickeningly abasing speech like: "Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black", while in the same breath calling Sirius a "nasty ungrateful swine who was not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots".
The problem with Kreacher ... well one of the many problems with Kreacher was that each time he showed up show up pretending to be cleaning, he would sneak something off to his room so they couldn't throw it out. He seemed to take it as his personal mission in life to protect everything in the house from the blood traitors and the brats.
"I hate the thought of being related to that old harpy," Ron said shuddering, glancing at the twitching curtains over Sirius' mother's face. Mrs Weasley having finally succeeded in closing the curtains hurried off to deal with the sound of shattering glass in the other room.
"Sirius says that the pure-blood families are all interrelated," Hermione said soberly. ""If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods your choice is very limited and there are hardly pure-blooded families left". Ron nodded. "That's right. Sirius and mum and cousins by marriage and dad's something like his second cousin once removed .... but you know, if ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors it's us Weasleys," Ron said rolling his eyes and going with Hermione to sit on the stairs.
"This place is absolutely barmy," he said.
"Well at least Harry's here now - it's nice to have him with us again," Hermione said encouragingly. She and Ron had been absolutely delighted when Harry had finally joined them.
"Yes it's grand but crikey that was some show by Harry before," Ron said shaking his head. "He yelled louder than Sirius' mum - I don't know what's got into him!" he said. "It's hardly our fault he's being kept in the bleeding dark. It's not like we're being fully informed either," he muttered.
Hermione sighed. "He's been through a lot Ron .... it's only been a month you know"
"You're right," Ron said with a grimace. "I know he's still having nightmares about the Tournament - he had another one last night". Ron didn't go into detail but hearing Harry's sounds of terror as he slept were very upsetting. "I never know whether to wake him or let him be - he'd be embarrassed if he knew I'd heard him crying ....." Ron said gloomily. "I have my own nightmares of that night - seeing him back and Diggory on the ground covered in the blood like that ..." he shivered.
Hermione was proud of herself for not flinching. With almost no effort at all, she pushed aside memories of the shared smiles, the glances .... clasped hands, stolen kisses in the library.
"Anyway, I'd best be off. Mum wants me to help her take out the rubbish," Ron said with a yawn getting to his feet.
"Be careful - it's the first time I've seen rubbish that bites," Hermione said and Ron shrugged.
"Nothing about this house surprises me. I was attacked by the dustbin yesterday," he said, rubbing his ankle in remembered pain. "I'm not surprised Sirius ran away from home when he was young. I'm just surprised the house let him go".
****
The boy standing in the street discreetly pulled out a small piece of parchment. He was a tall youth, possibly seventeen or eighteen with tousled dark hair that fell carelessly onto his brow. His eyes were a brilliant grey, disconcertingly light when contrasted with his thick, dark lashes and his expression was very serious as he studied the writing.
The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
As he had been instructed, he memorised it and then carefully set fire to the parchment with his wand-tip. As the message curled into flames and floated to the ground, the youth looked around at the houses again. He was standing outside number eleven; he looked to the left and saw number ten; to the right, however, was number thirteen.
Again, as instructed, the youth thought about what he had just memorised and no sooner had he reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, then a somewhat old and shabby door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen. Dirty walls and grimy windows followed close behind. No hint of surprise or shock showed in his eyes as he studied the appearance of the house for a moment.
He walked up the worn stone steps and studied door which suddenly appeared. Like the walls, it was scratched and dirty. The silver doorknocker was a twisted serpent but there was no keyhole or letterbox.
"Whatever you do, do not knock using the serpent doorknocker," he had been told firmly.
Accordingly, he used his wand to tap the door once and heard many loud, metallic clicks. He paused for a moment, waiting. A sound like the clatter of a chain echoed in the silence and the door creaked open.
*****
As Ron left, Kreacher came shuffling back towards Hermione. She had heard the front door open. Thank goodness whoever it was hadn't used the knocker. Whenever the knocker was used, Mrs Black started screaming her insults again.
"Yes Kreacher?" Hermione asked inquiringly and the house-elf bowed. "There is someone here to see you". Then he looked at the ground. "Who knows why a pureblood would want to see a filthy little Mudblood."
"And you want me to help you liberate him?" a voice laced with irony asked from the doorway.
Hermione's eyes stared in disbelief.
There was a faintly grim smile on Cedric's face as he stood in the entrance hall of Sirius' house. He looked much taller than she recalled.
"Cedric?"
"I'm flattered you still remember who I am," he said coolly. "You're looking well, Granger," he said.
Hermione was unable to speak and merely continued to stare, her dark eyes astonished. In this house she had grown to expect the unexpected but never in a million years would she have expected to see Cedric.
"Yeah I'm fine, thanks," he said coolly. "I know you've been mad with worry over me. Even though you never visited once when I was in the hospital wing, I could just tell you were worried," he said. She had never heard that sarcastic edge in his voice before and it made her flinch.
"Cedric, I ...." she began to speak and wasn't quite sure how to continue.
Then as if he couldn't contain himself any longer. "Not an Owl, not a bloody word - you just disappeared. It's as if we never existed ..... was everything a lie?" he demanded as if he couldn't help it.
He deserved a response. Hermione knew that. "There was so much to deal with after your return ..... the news that You-Know-Who had returned and ... You were always surrounded by people..... all the time. I went to the hospital wing a few times to see you but you always had ... people there ..."
"It wouldn't have had anything to do with the fact Cho was hugging me upon my return would it?" he asked her bluntly. "It's not like I had anything to do with that - being half-conscious at the time".
Hermione looked down at her hands.
"I don't have the right to say anything, it's nothing to do with me who you choose to cuddle," she said coolly.
"She's a friend, Granger. I've told you that before. My friendship with her goes back a long way but I wasn't lying when I told you that it doesn't go beyond friendship anymore. My recollection of our conversation in the library the day of the last challenge was pretty clear .... as was everything else that happened between us ... but somehow your memory doesn't seem quite so good..." he said.
"So you went to all this trouble to find me just so you could lose your temper at me?" Hermione countered defiantly, her dark eyes studying him and Cedric shook his head. "I suppose I just thought you might need time ..... time to sort through what happened ... perhaps things you thought you wanted before that night weren't things you wanted after that night," Hermione told him bluntly.
"You don't think it would have been easier to talk to me about it instead of just going into disappearance mode? It's like you went invisible," he told her. "Friends aren't supposed to do that," he said bluntly.
"It's good to see you, too Cedric," she said grinning up at him, ridiculously happy that he had come looking for her despite being annoyed with her.
"Oh I didn't come to see you," he said off-handly. "I was just interested in learning more about the Order of the Phoenix," Cedric told her and Hermione grinned, not believing him for an instant.
Cedric reached out his hand and took hers, smiling at her. "Yeah although you so don't deserve it, I came to find you ..... and find you in this dangerous place ...being harboured by an escaped criminal ..." His eyes showed that he was joking. He knew about Sirius and he knew that Sirius wasn't dangerous.
"Sirius says it's ideal for Headquarters. His father put every security measure known to wizardkind on it when he lived here. Dumbledore's also added his protection. Given that he's Secret Keeper for the Order - nobody can find Headquarters unless he tells them personally where it is. He would have had to have told you..."
Cedric nodded. "Dumbledore wrote me a note".
"How did you know I was here in the first place?" she asked curiously.
"Your parents told me that you were with the Weasleys so after that I ..."
"My mum and dad?" Hermione demanded in disbelief.
"Yes," Cedric said, looking slightly mischievous.
"You went to visit my mum and dad?"
"Well like I said, not an Owl, no word at all. I was worried ..... your parents are lovely people by the way," he said. "You'd just left but they asked me to stay a few days".
"Couldn't you have just telephoned them?" she demanded. "You've always wanted to use a telephone".
"Well I tried," he said. "I used one of those public telephones by the side of the road and managed to call them but they had an answering machine and I didn't have a return number for them to call so it seemed easiest just to visit them".
"How did you get there?"
"I caught a Muggle Bus," he said, looking very pleased with himself. "The chapter on Muggle Transportation in my book was very useful but ..."
"Book?"
He pulled a heavy book out of his pocket and handed it to Hermione who stared at it. "The Lonely Muggle: Your guide to the Muggle World. Transportation, eating, sleeping and entertainment".
"It's a terrific book," he said enthusiastically. "A bit out of date though, so the price of the bus was a bit off but there was a nice girl on the bus who gave me some money to top up my fare when the bus driver wanted to kick me off because he wouldn't accept the Muggle notes I had".
"Yes you're supposed to have exact change," Hermione said absently as she flicked through the pages of the guidebook, grinning slightly at the skewed picture the book presented of Muggle customs. "What on earth did you tell my parents?" she asked.
"That I was a friend of yours, come to see how you were ....."
"And?"
"Well naturally they asked a lot of questions". Cedric told her. "A lot," he said, nodding at her. "But they were really nice and welcomed me. Showed me around. I was a bit frightened of the drill that your father had at first but I'd never had my jaw x-rayed before so that was exciting ..."
"Drill? X-ray? My parents gave you a dental examination?" she demanded, looking horrified.
Cedric was about to answer but glanced down and realised that Kreacher was standing beside him, looking up at him.
"Gift for master," Kreacher said, slanting a look at Cedric, holding up a silver snuff box.
"Don't take it - Sirius got bitten by that the other day. It's got Wartcap powder in there! Kreacher what are you doing?" Hermione warned him. Kreacher hissed at her angrily and Cedric cleared his throat.
"Thanks awfully nice of you Kreacher but I believe I already have one of those at home. Perhaps put it over there with the other relics," he suggested, indicating the rubbish bags. Kreacher looked doleful and shuffled away.
"They said it was the least they could do, seeing I was a friend of yours and all". Cedric grinned. "They said they'd never seen such perfect teeth before and complimented me on my oral hygiene. They even gave me all these". He pulled a whole bunch of booklets and pamphlets from his pocket and Hermione recognised them as the dental care brochures her parents pushed on all who visited their dental clinic.
"Then?"
"Then your mother cooked dinner for us and your father invited me to watch a game of ... footy with him on the .... telly," Cedric told her, emphasising the words with relish. "Oh she asked me to give you something," he said pulling a large tin out of his pocket. Her mother's note to her was short.
Hermione
Cedric's a lovely boy and your father says he's never seen such a wonderful set of teeth in his life. Shame on you for keeping a secret from your old parents! Make sure you share these with him, he loves them so.
Mum
PS: Don't forget to floss regularly, I worry about you eating all those magical sweets.
Cedric glanced at her hopefully when she opened them.
"Muffins," Hermione said, looking bemused.
"Blueberry," Cedric told her and Hermione couldn't help laughing at the hopeful expression on his face.
"Want one?" she asked him.
"Oh I couldn't ..." he demurred politely. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Well if you insist," he told her and took one.
He munched on it with great enjoyment. "Your mother is fabulous. She let me watch her cook them - I must say I've never seen anyone cook without the use of magic before. It is a slow but fascinating process".
"Did you do anything else?"
"I helped your father mow the lawn - again without magic," Cedric told her.
"Slave labour and with a smile," Hermione said beneath her breath and Cedric looked at her.
"It wasn't like that - I was happy to help. I couldn't expect them to stop everything they were doing just because a guest had arrived and besides, it was fun to help them," he told her.
"Your father used his camera and took some photographs," he said. Cedric looked excited and drew out some photographs from his pocket. "I've never owned a non-moving photograph before," he said, studying the photographs with pleasure before handing them to Hermione. Hermione looked at the photographs. There were six in total, a couple of Cedric and her mum, a couple with Cedric and her dad, one with them all in the garden beaming at the camera and one of them was kind of distorted with what looked like a thumb.
"Oh your father suggested I should take that photograph of us all since had the longest arm, but I botched it so we had one of your neighbours take that last one," he said indicating the garden shot. Her parents were smiling which was a good sign, Hermione thought with amusement. She couldn't help noticing that Cedric was grinning madly like a bloody idiot in all of them.
She frowned as she studied Cedric's clothes in the photographs. Unlike most Wizards who tried to wear Muggle clothing and botched it badly, Cedric's clothes were positively stylish and he looked more like he should be modelling for Savile Row than a wizard dressed up as a Muggle.
"Never tell me you learnt Muggle fashion in Muggle Studies?" she demanded accusingly.
"Oh no," he said. "I went to Gringotts to exchange money for Muggle money, then I went into a Muggle clothing shop - you never told me that Muggle girls were so helpful. All of the shop assistants came to help me!" Cedric told her.
"I'm sure they did," Hermione said grimly.
"I must say, I wasn't very impressed that they kept trying to follow me into the changing rooms," he told her.
"Don't tell me you let them in?" Hermione demanded.
"Of course not," Cedric told her,"But Muggle ways are certainly strange," he told her, shaking his head. Kreacher's assumption that he was a pureblood was in fact misplaced. There was Muggle blood in Diggory family somewhere but nothing recent and his family had lived with magic and apart from Muggles for a very long time.
Kreacher walked by, treading very deliberately on Cedric's foot. Hermione choked. Despite the venom and ferocity of the foot tread, Kreacher really was such a pitifully emaciated and scrawny creature that Cedric barely felt a thing.
To make Kreacher feel better he did say very exaggeratedly: "Ouch, that bloody hurt!" and Kreacher slouched away, muttering in dark satisfaction that he had inflicted injury on the Muggle-sympathiser who had invaded his mistress' home.
"What a very odd creature," Cedric commented as Kreacher disappeared again.
"I think he's not right in the head," Hermione said, pity in her eyes. "I can't believe he tried to give you that thing before as a gift," Hermione remarked.
"Oh that reminds me ...I brought you a gift" Cedric said awkwardly. "When I was in Diagon Alley getting my textbooks ...."
He pulled a small box out of his pocket which seemed to be the hugest pocket in the world. She wondered what charm he had used to make it so capacious.
Hermione's fingers turned the box over in her hands, staring up at him.
"You went to see my parents, you bought a gift for me .... even though you were annoyed at me for not having said a word?"
"What can I say? It's the Hufflepuff in me. We just can't help being lovable. You didn't know - as well as being loyal and true, we're the Lovable House".
Hermione choked. "You're so full of nonsense. There is absolutely nothing in the Hufflepuff motto, credo or history books that even suggests that Hufflepuffs have the trait of being lovable!"
Cedric rolled his eyes. "Think you've read every Hufflepuff history book in the library do you, Granger? Well? Are you going to open it, or not?"
Hermione opened the box and stared as a tiny, perfectly shaped rainbow soared out of the box and hovered in the air. Although the room they were in was bleak and dank, the rainbow managed to cast a gleam of light and sunshine in the room, almost like the Muggle prisms that Hermione had hung in her window as a child, casting jewel-like colours on the wall and ceiling.
"It's beautiful," she said, staring at it as it hovered in the air, moving and almost purring with pleasure at her praise.
"It's a Brazilian Miniature Rainbow," Cedric told her. "Guaranteed to bring light even into the darkest of rooms they tell me," he said with pleasure.
"Brazilian?" Hermione stared at him in shock.
"Yes, don't you know all the nicest things come from Brazil?"
"Another fact from that mythical Hufflepuff History Book I suppose?" she said with a laugh, allowing the rainbow to hover in the air.
Hermione rose to her feet, clearly about to give Cedric a hug in thanks. Cedric's eyes were warm and expectant .....
Kreacher walked past, saw the rainbow and pretended to stumble, smothering it with a dirty rug much to Hermione's dismay. She cried out, staring in reproach at Kreacher as the rainbow made a muffled sound of distress from the floor where it was squashed by the rug.
"Ugly, filthy little colourful floating thing," Kreacher muttered. "Unnatural, mistress would have been horrified she would".
Cedric grinned, "You've dropped something Kreacher," he said, bending down to pick up the rug to give to Kreacher and the rainbow bounced back up in the air cheerfully, making a small hum of triumph.
"Granger - there wouldn't happen to be a more private place where we could talk, would there?" Cedric asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
Hermione sighed. "The house is just crawling with dark magic and creatures, Cedric. We've only just started decontaminating it. This is probably the safest place .. which is why I'm sitting here," she told him with a wry smile.
He reached down and drew her to her feet. "Well we'll just have to make do then," he said, his stroking her cheek with his knuckles, smoothing her hair back from her face.
"I did miss you awfully," she told him bluntly. "Things were complicated and ...."
There was a loud noise.
Hermione and Cedric turned to stare at a group of people who had just arrived. Hermione had seen them Apparate into the house before so didn't look as shocked as Cedric who looked more a little taken aback and held up his wand warningly.
Continue to part 2 of 'A New School Year'.
Rating: PG
Pairing: Cedric / Hermione
Word Count: 17,886 words approximately
Disclaimer: None because they're useless
Notes: Set after Goblet of Fire and contains elements of Order of the Phoenix. An AU 'continuation' of The Boy Who Died. There's absolutely no point reading this story if you haven't read The Boy Who Died first. :) Sorry it ended up being so long.
I just found out that some people are confused. Cedric died at the end of Goblet of Fire and also The Boy Who Died. The thing was, I liked the relationship that had developed between them so much that this fic is based on a "what if Cedric hadn't died" premise. So just assume that he hadn't died at the end of The Boy Who Died. I hope this makes sense :)
Also, despite what Kreacher says, there is no evidence to suggest that Cedric is a pureblood. He's from an old wizarding family but as far as I know, the only pure wizarding families which still exist are the Gaunt family, the Lestrange family, the Longbottom family, the Malfoy family and the Weasley family. The Black and the Crouch family have now died out with the deaths of Sirius Black and Barty Crouch Senior and Junior.
The fic is unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine and I'll fix things as I find out about them so please feel free to critique and add suggestions. :) As I did with The Boy Who Died, I've blended Rowling text with my own.
Again, for those who are wondering about the question of whether Cedric was in his sixth/seventh year and whether he would have been returning to Hogwarts (had he lived), please see this discussion here. True it's not definitive but I'm assuming he was a sixth year so still had one year to go.
Number twelve, Grimmauld Place looked like many things, but it certainly did not look like the sort of place that one would expect to find the headquarters of the mysterious Order of the Phoenix.
Feeling inexplicably drained, Hermione sat on the bottom step of the staircase, leaning against the banisters. On one side was a pair of old, dusty and moth-eaten curtains. Beyond that was a large umbrella stand that Mrs Weasley said looked as though it had been made from a severed troll's leg. Hermione didn't care to find out if it really was.
She glanced up the stairs. In walking up the dark staircase, one passed a row of shrunken heads mounted on plaques on the wall. She had been extremely revolted to discover that the heads all belonged to former house-elves of the house of Black. She shivered slightly. It was indeed a house that looked as though it belonged to the darkest of wizards.
She supposed that in a way it was the perfect hiding place for the secret society of which Dumbledore was in charge. The Order was a small but very hopeful attempt to battle against the rising darkness of Voldemort. Who would expect to find them in a Dark place such as this? Hermione rested her head against the wall, closing her eyes. Voldemort was now much more than a shadowy and menacing presence - he had re-entered the world in corporeal form.
Kreacher, Sirius' extremely elderly house-elf sidled past her, hissing at her disparagingly beneath his breath. He was naked except for an extremely filthy rag that was tied around his waist. His large, sagging skin hung on him droopily. His head was bald and tufts of white hair grew out of his large ears. He glared at the world through bloodshot and pale watery grey eyes which were as droopy as his skin. His large nose was snout like. House elves were never known for being attractive in appearance and Kreacher, to put it charitably, was absolutely hideous.
The house-elf took no notice of Hermione as she sat on the landing, feigning that he could not see her although his insults were obviously intended for her ears. Hunched over, he shuffled slowly and clumsily towards the far end of the room, all the while muttering under his breath in a hoarse voice.
"Stains, of dishonour, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth, besmirching my poor mistress' purebred air," he muttered. "My poor mistress, if she knew, if she knew the scum they've let into her house, what would she say to old Kreacher, oh, the shame of it, Mudbloods and werewolves and traitors and thieves, poor old Kreacher, what can he do?" he wailed to himself.
"Hullo Kreacher," Hermione said pleasantly. He shuddered as he looked at her and pretended not to hear.
Ron had called him a nutter. "His life's ambition is to have his head cut off and stuck up on a plaque just like his mother," Ron had snapped at her irritably. "Is that normal, Hermione?"
"Well - well, if he is a bit strange, it's not his fault".
Ron had rolled his eyes at Harry. "Hermione still hasn't given up on SPEW".
"It's not SPEW!" Hermione had exclaimed heatedly. "It's the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. And it's not just me, Dumbledore says we should be kind to Kreacher too".
Hermione looked down and touched her S.P.E.W. badge gently with her fingertips. There had only ever been one person who hadn't mocked her about her cause. Yes he had laughed, but he was a boy of laughter - there had never been any trace of mockery in his laughter......
She suppressed the thought ruthlessly. It had been more than a month. One month of quietness and solitude. She had rather liked being back in a world without magic, a world that didn't have the darkness hanging over it like an ever present shadow. Back home, she'd had the chance to tend to unseen wounds and hurts. To try to forget. She had done normal things, gone on walks with her parents, done her chores, gone shopping with her mother, watched television with her father ...... Prosaic everyday, ordinary Muggle things that should have had nothing to do with the boy with laughing grey eyes. Unfortunately all things called that boy to mind. Even the non-magical made her recall their long discussions in the library about how Muggles lived.
I just want to be able to hold your hand when other people can see. I want you to take me around and show me that strange and mystical Muggle World in which you live ...... watch a movie .....
If now and then she had felt a wistful ache that these were things that she had longed to show him, to see his fascinated interest in what was mundane for Muggles - it didn't matter anymore. That was then and this was now.
Her parents had sensed a change in her but no one else would have, that much was certain. When the Weasleys had seen her again, their thoughts were too full of their own anxieties and fears to notice that there was anything different about her. To be honest, Hermione had discovered that she was a far better actress than she herself had known.
Hermione had forgotten. She had told herself this so many times and with such firmness and resolution that she truly believed the truth of her own words. The idyllic time was simply a sweet and fleeting madness that had no place in reality. She didn't notice that her fingertip touched the badge again, touching it gently almost as a caress.
There was a horrible, ear-splitting, blood-curdling screech which made her start in shock. Kreacher had 'accidentally' knocked the curtains apart and suddenly a hideous drooling, old woman with yellowing skin wearing a black cap was screaming and howling hysterically as though she were being tortured. Hermione flinched. She had seen the life-sized portrait of Sirius' mother before - too many times. It was realistic and disturbingly unpleasant.
Hermione knew from experience that the curtains wouldn't close and sighed in resignation as all along the hall, the other portraits awoke and began to yell, too.
She rose to her feet and tried to close the curtains anyway. Mrs Black brandished her clawed hands, scraping and grasping at the air as though she would delight in tearing Hermione limb from limb.
"Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! It makes me sick that the likes of you are befouling the house of my fathers! Away with you!" Mrs Black woman howled at her furiously.
Mrs Weasley hastily hurried into the room, struggling to draw the curtains over Mrs Black's face, wincing slightly as Mrs Black looked as if she was about to have an apoplectic fit. "Kreacher, I've asked you not to open these curtains, you know it causes such a stir!" she said with gentle reproof.
The house-elf froze in his tracks, stopped muttering, and gave a very exaggerated and unconvincing start of surprise.
"Kreacher did not see mistress," he said, turning around and bowing to Mrs Weasley. Still facing the carpet, he added in an audible voice.
"Filthy blood traitor it is" he said.
"Kreacher, put a sock in it already," Ron said angrily as he walked into the room. "That's my mum you're talking to".
"Kreacher said nothing," said the elf, with a second bow to Ron. Without hesitation he added in a clear undertone, "and there's its offspring, filthy little brat of a blood traitor. Unnatural little beasts they are".
"Ron, no!" Hermione called out when it looked as though Ron would have liked nothing better than to box Kreacher's ears.
The elf straightened up, eyeing them all malevolently and hissed.
"… and there's the Mudblood, standing there bold as brass, oh, if my mistress knew, oh, how she'd cry, oh what can Kreacher do?"
"I'm going to ..." Ron exclaimed furiously.
"No Ron! Kreacher stop that, you're just making Ron angry," she told Kreacher.
Kreacher's pale eyes widened and he muttered faster and more furiously than ever. "The Mudblood is talking to Kreacher as though she is my friend, if Kreacher's mistress saw him in such company, oh, what would she say ..."
"Don't call her a Mudblood!' said Ron said furiously while his mother also looked very irritated although she already learned that it was useless to try to reprimand Kreacher. She had probably had to endure more of Kreacher than anyone else in the house.
"It doesn't matter," Hermione said gently, staring at the house-elf with obvious pity in her dark eyes, "he's not in his right mind, he doesn't know what he's ... "
"Don't kid yourself, Hermione, we both know that he knows exactly what he's saying," said Ron, eyeing Kreacher with intense dislike.
"Why are you here, Kreacher?" Mrs Weasley asked, having finally managed to silence Mrs Black's portrait even though she was still struggling to close the curtains.
Kreacher's massive eyes darted nervously towards Mrs Weasley. "Kreacher is cleaning".
Even Hermione had to sigh at that excuse. When Sirius was around, Kreacher would fling himself into a ridiculously low bow that flattened his nose on the floor and he would use sickeningly abasing speech like: "Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black", while in the same breath calling Sirius a "nasty ungrateful swine who was not fit to wipe slime from his mother's boots".
The problem with Kreacher ... well one of the many problems with Kreacher was that each time he showed up show up pretending to be cleaning, he would sneak something off to his room so they couldn't throw it out. He seemed to take it as his personal mission in life to protect everything in the house from the blood traitors and the brats.
"I hate the thought of being related to that old harpy," Ron said shuddering, glancing at the twitching curtains over Sirius' mother's face. Mrs Weasley having finally succeeded in closing the curtains hurried off to deal with the sound of shattering glass in the other room.
"Sirius says that the pure-blood families are all interrelated," Hermione said soberly. ""If you're only going to let your sons and daughters marry pure-bloods your choice is very limited and there are hardly pure-blooded families left". Ron nodded. "That's right. Sirius and mum and cousins by marriage and dad's something like his second cousin once removed .... but you know, if ever a family was a bunch of blood traitors it's us Weasleys," Ron said rolling his eyes and going with Hermione to sit on the stairs.
"This place is absolutely barmy," he said.
"Well at least Harry's here now - it's nice to have him with us again," Hermione said encouragingly. She and Ron had been absolutely delighted when Harry had finally joined them.
"Yes it's grand but crikey that was some show by Harry before," Ron said shaking his head. "He yelled louder than Sirius' mum - I don't know what's got into him!" he said. "It's hardly our fault he's being kept in the bleeding dark. It's not like we're being fully informed either," he muttered.
Hermione sighed. "He's been through a lot Ron .... it's only been a month you know"
"You're right," Ron said with a grimace. "I know he's still having nightmares about the Tournament - he had another one last night". Ron didn't go into detail but hearing Harry's sounds of terror as he slept were very upsetting. "I never know whether to wake him or let him be - he'd be embarrassed if he knew I'd heard him crying ....." Ron said gloomily. "I have my own nightmares of that night - seeing him back and Diggory on the ground covered in the blood like that ..." he shivered.
Hermione was proud of herself for not flinching. With almost no effort at all, she pushed aside memories of the shared smiles, the glances .... clasped hands, stolen kisses in the library.
"Anyway, I'd best be off. Mum wants me to help her take out the rubbish," Ron said with a yawn getting to his feet.
"Be careful - it's the first time I've seen rubbish that bites," Hermione said and Ron shrugged.
"Nothing about this house surprises me. I was attacked by the dustbin yesterday," he said, rubbing his ankle in remembered pain. "I'm not surprised Sirius ran away from home when he was young. I'm just surprised the house let him go".
****
The boy standing in the street discreetly pulled out a small piece of parchment. He was a tall youth, possibly seventeen or eighteen with tousled dark hair that fell carelessly onto his brow. His eyes were a brilliant grey, disconcertingly light when contrasted with his thick, dark lashes and his expression was very serious as he studied the writing.
The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix may be found at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London.
As he had been instructed, he memorised it and then carefully set fire to the parchment with his wand-tip. As the message curled into flames and floated to the ground, the youth looked around at the houses again. He was standing outside number eleven; he looked to the left and saw number ten; to the right, however, was number thirteen.
Again, as instructed, the youth thought about what he had just memorised and no sooner had he reached the part about number twelve, Grimmauld Place, then a somewhat old and shabby door emerged out of nowhere between numbers eleven and thirteen. Dirty walls and grimy windows followed close behind. No hint of surprise or shock showed in his eyes as he studied the appearance of the house for a moment.
He walked up the worn stone steps and studied door which suddenly appeared. Like the walls, it was scratched and dirty. The silver doorknocker was a twisted serpent but there was no keyhole or letterbox.
"Whatever you do, do not knock using the serpent doorknocker," he had been told firmly.
Accordingly, he used his wand to tap the door once and heard many loud, metallic clicks. He paused for a moment, waiting. A sound like the clatter of a chain echoed in the silence and the door creaked open.
*****
As Ron left, Kreacher came shuffling back towards Hermione. She had heard the front door open. Thank goodness whoever it was hadn't used the knocker. Whenever the knocker was used, Mrs Black started screaming her insults again.
"Yes Kreacher?" Hermione asked inquiringly and the house-elf bowed. "There is someone here to see you". Then he looked at the ground. "Who knows why a pureblood would want to see a filthy little Mudblood."
"And you want me to help you liberate him?" a voice laced with irony asked from the doorway.
Hermione's eyes stared in disbelief.
There was a faintly grim smile on Cedric's face as he stood in the entrance hall of Sirius' house. He looked much taller than she recalled.
"Cedric?"
"I'm flattered you still remember who I am," he said coolly. "You're looking well, Granger," he said.
Hermione was unable to speak and merely continued to stare, her dark eyes astonished. In this house she had grown to expect the unexpected but never in a million years would she have expected to see Cedric.
"Yeah I'm fine, thanks," he said coolly. "I know you've been mad with worry over me. Even though you never visited once when I was in the hospital wing, I could just tell you were worried," he said. She had never heard that sarcastic edge in his voice before and it made her flinch.
"Cedric, I ...." she began to speak and wasn't quite sure how to continue.
Then as if he couldn't contain himself any longer. "Not an Owl, not a bloody word - you just disappeared. It's as if we never existed ..... was everything a lie?" he demanded as if he couldn't help it.
He deserved a response. Hermione knew that. "There was so much to deal with after your return ..... the news that You-Know-Who had returned and ... You were always surrounded by people..... all the time. I went to the hospital wing a few times to see you but you always had ... people there ..."
"It wouldn't have had anything to do with the fact Cho was hugging me upon my return would it?" he asked her bluntly. "It's not like I had anything to do with that - being half-conscious at the time".
Hermione looked down at her hands.
"I don't have the right to say anything, it's nothing to do with me who you choose to cuddle," she said coolly.
"She's a friend, Granger. I've told you that before. My friendship with her goes back a long way but I wasn't lying when I told you that it doesn't go beyond friendship anymore. My recollection of our conversation in the library the day of the last challenge was pretty clear .... as was everything else that happened between us ... but somehow your memory doesn't seem quite so good..." he said.
"So you went to all this trouble to find me just so you could lose your temper at me?" Hermione countered defiantly, her dark eyes studying him and Cedric shook his head. "I suppose I just thought you might need time ..... time to sort through what happened ... perhaps things you thought you wanted before that night weren't things you wanted after that night," Hermione told him bluntly.
"You don't think it would have been easier to talk to me about it instead of just going into disappearance mode? It's like you went invisible," he told her. "Friends aren't supposed to do that," he said bluntly.
"It's good to see you, too Cedric," she said grinning up at him, ridiculously happy that he had come looking for her despite being annoyed with her.
"Oh I didn't come to see you," he said off-handly. "I was just interested in learning more about the Order of the Phoenix," Cedric told her and Hermione grinned, not believing him for an instant.
Cedric reached out his hand and took hers, smiling at her. "Yeah although you so don't deserve it, I came to find you ..... and find you in this dangerous place ...being harboured by an escaped criminal ..." His eyes showed that he was joking. He knew about Sirius and he knew that Sirius wasn't dangerous.
"Sirius says it's ideal for Headquarters. His father put every security measure known to wizardkind on it when he lived here. Dumbledore's also added his protection. Given that he's Secret Keeper for the Order - nobody can find Headquarters unless he tells them personally where it is. He would have had to have told you..."
Cedric nodded. "Dumbledore wrote me a note".
"How did you know I was here in the first place?" she asked curiously.
"Your parents told me that you were with the Weasleys so after that I ..."
"My mum and dad?" Hermione demanded in disbelief.
"Yes," Cedric said, looking slightly mischievous.
"You went to visit my mum and dad?"
"Well like I said, not an Owl, no word at all. I was worried ..... your parents are lovely people by the way," he said. "You'd just left but they asked me to stay a few days".
"Couldn't you have just telephoned them?" she demanded. "You've always wanted to use a telephone".
"Well I tried," he said. "I used one of those public telephones by the side of the road and managed to call them but they had an answering machine and I didn't have a return number for them to call so it seemed easiest just to visit them".
"How did you get there?"
"I caught a Muggle Bus," he said, looking very pleased with himself. "The chapter on Muggle Transportation in my book was very useful but ..."
"Book?"
He pulled a heavy book out of his pocket and handed it to Hermione who stared at it. "The Lonely Muggle: Your guide to the Muggle World. Transportation, eating, sleeping and entertainment".
"It's a terrific book," he said enthusiastically. "A bit out of date though, so the price of the bus was a bit off but there was a nice girl on the bus who gave me some money to top up my fare when the bus driver wanted to kick me off because he wouldn't accept the Muggle notes I had".
"Yes you're supposed to have exact change," Hermione said absently as she flicked through the pages of the guidebook, grinning slightly at the skewed picture the book presented of Muggle customs. "What on earth did you tell my parents?" she asked.
"That I was a friend of yours, come to see how you were ....."
"And?"
"Well naturally they asked a lot of questions". Cedric told her. "A lot," he said, nodding at her. "But they were really nice and welcomed me. Showed me around. I was a bit frightened of the drill that your father had at first but I'd never had my jaw x-rayed before so that was exciting ..."
"Drill? X-ray? My parents gave you a dental examination?" she demanded, looking horrified.
Cedric was about to answer but glanced down and realised that Kreacher was standing beside him, looking up at him.
"Gift for master," Kreacher said, slanting a look at Cedric, holding up a silver snuff box.
"Don't take it - Sirius got bitten by that the other day. It's got Wartcap powder in there! Kreacher what are you doing?" Hermione warned him. Kreacher hissed at her angrily and Cedric cleared his throat.
"Thanks awfully nice of you Kreacher but I believe I already have one of those at home. Perhaps put it over there with the other relics," he suggested, indicating the rubbish bags. Kreacher looked doleful and shuffled away.
"They said it was the least they could do, seeing I was a friend of yours and all". Cedric grinned. "They said they'd never seen such perfect teeth before and complimented me on my oral hygiene. They even gave me all these". He pulled a whole bunch of booklets and pamphlets from his pocket and Hermione recognised them as the dental care brochures her parents pushed on all who visited their dental clinic.
"Then?"
"Then your mother cooked dinner for us and your father invited me to watch a game of ... footy with him on the .... telly," Cedric told her, emphasising the words with relish. "Oh she asked me to give you something," he said pulling a large tin out of his pocket. Her mother's note to her was short.
Hermione
Cedric's a lovely boy and your father says he's never seen such a wonderful set of teeth in his life. Shame on you for keeping a secret from your old parents! Make sure you share these with him, he loves them so.
Mum
PS: Don't forget to floss regularly, I worry about you eating all those magical sweets.
Cedric glanced at her hopefully when she opened them.
"Muffins," Hermione said, looking bemused.
"Blueberry," Cedric told her and Hermione couldn't help laughing at the hopeful expression on his face.
"Want one?" she asked him.
"Oh I couldn't ..." he demurred politely. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Well if you insist," he told her and took one.
He munched on it with great enjoyment. "Your mother is fabulous. She let me watch her cook them - I must say I've never seen anyone cook without the use of magic before. It is a slow but fascinating process".
"Did you do anything else?"
"I helped your father mow the lawn - again without magic," Cedric told her.
"Slave labour and with a smile," Hermione said beneath her breath and Cedric looked at her.
"It wasn't like that - I was happy to help. I couldn't expect them to stop everything they were doing just because a guest had arrived and besides, it was fun to help them," he told her.
"Your father used his camera and took some photographs," he said. Cedric looked excited and drew out some photographs from his pocket. "I've never owned a non-moving photograph before," he said, studying the photographs with pleasure before handing them to Hermione. Hermione looked at the photographs. There were six in total, a couple of Cedric and her mum, a couple with Cedric and her dad, one with them all in the garden beaming at the camera and one of them was kind of distorted with what looked like a thumb.
"Oh your father suggested I should take that photograph of us all since had the longest arm, but I botched it so we had one of your neighbours take that last one," he said indicating the garden shot. Her parents were smiling which was a good sign, Hermione thought with amusement. She couldn't help noticing that Cedric was grinning madly like a bloody idiot in all of them.
She frowned as she studied Cedric's clothes in the photographs. Unlike most Wizards who tried to wear Muggle clothing and botched it badly, Cedric's clothes were positively stylish and he looked more like he should be modelling for Savile Row than a wizard dressed up as a Muggle.
"Never tell me you learnt Muggle fashion in Muggle Studies?" she demanded accusingly.
"Oh no," he said. "I went to Gringotts to exchange money for Muggle money, then I went into a Muggle clothing shop - you never told me that Muggle girls were so helpful. All of the shop assistants came to help me!" Cedric told her.
"I'm sure they did," Hermione said grimly.
"I must say, I wasn't very impressed that they kept trying to follow me into the changing rooms," he told her.
"Don't tell me you let them in?" Hermione demanded.
"Of course not," Cedric told her,"But Muggle ways are certainly strange," he told her, shaking his head. Kreacher's assumption that he was a pureblood was in fact misplaced. There was Muggle blood in Diggory family somewhere but nothing recent and his family had lived with magic and apart from Muggles for a very long time.
Kreacher walked by, treading very deliberately on Cedric's foot. Hermione choked. Despite the venom and ferocity of the foot tread, Kreacher really was such a pitifully emaciated and scrawny creature that Cedric barely felt a thing.
To make Kreacher feel better he did say very exaggeratedly: "Ouch, that bloody hurt!" and Kreacher slouched away, muttering in dark satisfaction that he had inflicted injury on the Muggle-sympathiser who had invaded his mistress' home.
"What a very odd creature," Cedric commented as Kreacher disappeared again.
"I think he's not right in the head," Hermione said, pity in her eyes. "I can't believe he tried to give you that thing before as a gift," Hermione remarked.
"Oh that reminds me ...I brought you a gift" Cedric said awkwardly. "When I was in Diagon Alley getting my textbooks ...."
He pulled a small box out of his pocket which seemed to be the hugest pocket in the world. She wondered what charm he had used to make it so capacious.
Hermione's fingers turned the box over in her hands, staring up at him.
"You went to see my parents, you bought a gift for me .... even though you were annoyed at me for not having said a word?"
"What can I say? It's the Hufflepuff in me. We just can't help being lovable. You didn't know - as well as being loyal and true, we're the Lovable House".
Hermione choked. "You're so full of nonsense. There is absolutely nothing in the Hufflepuff motto, credo or history books that even suggests that Hufflepuffs have the trait of being lovable!"
Cedric rolled his eyes. "Think you've read every Hufflepuff history book in the library do you, Granger? Well? Are you going to open it, or not?"
Hermione opened the box and stared as a tiny, perfectly shaped rainbow soared out of the box and hovered in the air. Although the room they were in was bleak and dank, the rainbow managed to cast a gleam of light and sunshine in the room, almost like the Muggle prisms that Hermione had hung in her window as a child, casting jewel-like colours on the wall and ceiling.
"It's beautiful," she said, staring at it as it hovered in the air, moving and almost purring with pleasure at her praise.
"It's a Brazilian Miniature Rainbow," Cedric told her. "Guaranteed to bring light even into the darkest of rooms they tell me," he said with pleasure.
"Brazilian?" Hermione stared at him in shock.
"Yes, don't you know all the nicest things come from Brazil?"
"Another fact from that mythical Hufflepuff History Book I suppose?" she said with a laugh, allowing the rainbow to hover in the air.
Hermione rose to her feet, clearly about to give Cedric a hug in thanks. Cedric's eyes were warm and expectant .....
Kreacher walked past, saw the rainbow and pretended to stumble, smothering it with a dirty rug much to Hermione's dismay. She cried out, staring in reproach at Kreacher as the rainbow made a muffled sound of distress from the floor where it was squashed by the rug.
"Ugly, filthy little colourful floating thing," Kreacher muttered. "Unnatural, mistress would have been horrified she would".
Cedric grinned, "You've dropped something Kreacher," he said, bending down to pick up the rug to give to Kreacher and the rainbow bounced back up in the air cheerfully, making a small hum of triumph.
"Granger - there wouldn't happen to be a more private place where we could talk, would there?" Cedric asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
Hermione sighed. "The house is just crawling with dark magic and creatures, Cedric. We've only just started decontaminating it. This is probably the safest place .. which is why I'm sitting here," she told him with a wry smile.
He reached down and drew her to her feet. "Well we'll just have to make do then," he said, his stroking her cheek with his knuckles, smoothing her hair back from her face.
"I did miss you awfully," she told him bluntly. "Things were complicated and ...."
There was a loud noise.
Hermione and Cedric turned to stare at a group of people who had just arrived. Hermione had seen them Apparate into the house before so didn't look as shocked as Cedric who looked more a little taken aback and held up his wand warningly.
Continue to part 2 of 'A New School Year'.