A Fluke of Sorts

Between A Reality & A Memory

If Cedric Diggory ever had a thought about how he'd like his death to come about, he knew for sure he wouldn't want a sudden death with a heart attack caused by an unlikely scare at 2 a.m. in the morning. 'Merlin forbid if my tombstone was to say – here lies the boy frightened to his death in the kitchens of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry.' He turned with a sharp scowl at the culprit who gave him those very morbid thoughts.

"Sorry." Hermione Granger sheepishly offered.

"Don't ever do that again."

"I wasn't expecting anyone at such hours." Hermione said defensively.

"That doesn't mean you could come wordlessly traipsing in the kitchens and give a lad a good firm tap on the shoulder when he was least expecting it." Cedric pointed out.

"No wonder you aren't in Gryffindor." Hermione mumbled. Cedric's scowl deepen. "Alright, I'm sorry. I hadn't meant to give you a scare." She brushed past him and sat herself on a bench by the tables. "What are you doing here anyway?"

"I was hungry and thought I could get something to eat." Cedric answered as he settled himself down next to her. His annoyance at the fifth-year witch easily faded seeing as he couldn't possible hold a grunge against anyone for long. "Care to join me? Assuming that would be your intentions as well for being down here at 2 a.m." Hermione nodded. A house-elf suddenly appeared before them with a large grin as she offered the pair a cup of hot chocolate each before another house-elf, with a large plate holding two slices each of chocolate gateau and treacle tart with a dollop of cream, came up to them. Cedric gratefully took the mugs of hot chocolate and plate of treats as Hermione beamed at the house-elves with a word of thanks. The house-elves bowed in delight before moving away to continue with their preparations for the morning's breakfast. Cedric handed Hermione her mug of hot chocolate and took a sip out of his own with a pleasant sigh. "Nothing beats hot chocolate on a cold night." As November drew closer to the end, the winter's cold was starting to be felt by those in the upper north of the Great Britain isle. Hermione said nothing in response. Seeing Hermione seemingly deep in thoughts, he decided to break her silence, "How's Harry?"

"Miserable. He can't believe he's been banned from Quidditch. I can't believe it either, it's ridiculous really."

"Umbridge's really ruining it for everyone isn't she?"

"There's got to be something we can do." Hermione said indignantly.

"Easy there Granger. You don't want to scald your skin with hot chocolate." Cedric held her wrist with a gentle grip. "Maybe we can try to find a solution for this madness."

"Like what?" Hermione curiously eyed him.

"Get Fred and George Weasley to drop a U-No-Poo in Umbride's pumpkin juice?" A small smile cracked at Hermione's tensed features. "Or maybe lock her up in the broom closet?"

"Half-witted suggestions, but I would give you a point for trying."

"Recruit a whole bunch of students to rally against her? We could throw in a few jinxes and hexes while we are it." Cedric offered.

"Really, Cedric." Hermione said with a snort of incredulity. Cedric laughed. With a smile, Hermione gingerly took a bit of her treacle tart to take a bite. "This is really good."

"I can bake a pretty mean treacle tart myself."

"Really? Without blowing up the kitchen?"

"I'm rolling with laughter at your humor Granger." Cedric deadpanned.

"So what else can you do? You are good at drawing, quite excellent with Quidditch, brilliant with your studies, a prefect with a rather clean record – except for the time you gave me a broken wrist for your heroic stairs-sliding, and apparently you can cook, though I'm holding you to that until I actually taste something of your cooking and not breathe my last."