I hope our story has a happier ending

through my bloodshot eyes

She's antsy, the way she always is, lately.

It's both better and worse, away from home; on the one hand, being away from the house is soothing, a change; on the other, she works so hard to keep it together around her brother and Sofia that she can't help but fall apart the second she's away from them and can actually let herself feel.

Cedric meets her at Grimmauld Place, because these days neither she nor Harry is allowed to go anywhere alone.

The beauty of the Fidelius and Grimmauld being in a muggle neighborhood is that they don't have to disguise themselves, though as soldiers they can't help but be on guard.

They chat aimlessly as they walk up the street; they could apparate, but—it's nice, being able to stroll instead of hurry, for once.

(To not have to be constantly on edge, watching everyone around them look over their shoulder.)

"How's sixth year treating you? Prefect duties going okay?" Cedric smiles knowingly. "You gunning for Head Girl?"

"Oh god, no," she bursts out laughing, chest feeling light for the first moment all of break. "I have far too much on my plate already, and besides that, I've broken far too many rules. No one in their right mind would put me in charge."

Scoffing, Cedric makes a face. "Not that Dumbledore's exactly in his right mind."

"Truer words have never been spoken." Her throat feels tight, anger flooding her at the thought of the man who's enabled so much suffering. She clears her throat in an attempt to distract herself. "How's Theo doing?"

Cedric's own expression grows troubled, hand instinctively going to the woven bracelet at his wrist his soul mate had given him as a graduation gift nearly two years prior. "He's been better. His family's mostly safe, and he is too, as long as my...allegiances, aren't discovered. But he's said—" he swallows heavily. "Even if the worst happens, me doing this work is more important. Which I hate, but—makes me love him even more. And he's right. I love him more than the whole world, but—I couldn't let the world burn even if it meant his life."

"I—I'm so sorry." Hermione grips his shoulder gently, sorrow visible on her face. "I hate that you're having to deal with this. But you're incredibly brave to do it anyway, I—I think we'd all like to think we could make the same sacrifice, but the truth is I'd never be strong enough. Even if it meant the world."

He frowns with grim understanding. "I don't think that's true. That's—part of why I wanted to get coffee, actually."

"Sorry?"

He looks around them, casting a muffliato just in case. "I...Theo's a Death Eater, Hermione."

Hermione opens and closes her mouth, unsure of whether he wants a response, or to vent, or what.

Cedric gives her a meaningful look. "He's been marked since the start of school."

"Oh—okay?"

They enter the café, and he puts on a smile as they order from the barista, but when they sit down he looks entirely exasperated with her. "Hermione, we've sparred together hundreds of times. I watched you duel nearly every day of seventh year, and spent plenty of time at Order meetings since then."

She rubs at her temples, unseeing. "Yes, Ced, we've been good friends for ages, but I'm afraid I'm missing your point."

"You've been wearing long sleeves since July." He grimaces when her eyes go wide, glancing at her left forearm. "Which, a penchant for baggy sweatshirts and sweaters is nothing new for you, but—you've always rolled up the sleeves. Always. You're far too practical to keep them rolled down for fighting, or any time you're reading or writing and they might get in the way; I'd almost never seen them not rolled up. On top of the secret boyfriend we all knew about, how stressed you've been all year. I've seen the kind of pain I'm in, in your eyes—I've only seen it in George's and Neville's. Those of us who love Slytherins at the center of it all."