Always a Bridesmaid

Derbanshire was a nice village with a mixture of historical buildings and new developments. The population was estimated to be less than 10,000 people currently, but it was certainly larger than many of the villages she’d visited. The local industry included farming and a plant not too far away that made furniture for some of the shops in London. It was a quaint little place with several pubs, a pretty park, and a market. Due to its location on a well-traveled road to several popular tourist areas, it also had two cafés and a few smaller stores to tempt travelers to stop.

Hermione tried to recall every detail of the pamphlet she’d read at the inn as they left the grounds. Before she could start on the short history section, Cedric squeezed her hand a bit more firmly than necessary. She glanced at him and scowled when she saw his innocent ‘I’d never do that’ smile. “What?”

“What what?” he asked as they made their way down the rocky path to the road that would lead them to Derbanshire.

“You’re really quite infuriating,” she muttered crossly as she looked back at the path and wondered why she’d never before noticed his need for attention and dislike of being ignored.

“Does Hermione Granger find everything she can’t predict, control, or ignore infuriating?”

“No. I reserve that label solely for former Hufflepuffs who invite themselves on my walk to town and insist on being rather maddening a majority of the time.”

“I’ll be sure to alert the rest of my House when Susan puts out the next issue of the Puff Today newsletter. Infuriating According to Hermione Granger with a brief description should be easy enough to accomplish.”

She glanced at him curiously, unable to tell by his straight-faced expression if he was actually serious. He smiled at her as he helped her down the few stairs to the road, still completely frustratingly unreadable. Finally, she asked, “There’s a Puff newsletter?”

“Sorry, Granger. I’m not at liberty to discuss such information with a former Gryffindor,” he informed her matter-of-factly. She was certain he was laughing at her silently because his lips were curved into a smile that was becoming rather familiar and always aimed in her direction, it seemed, and his eyes were practically twinkling with suppressed laughter. He lazily rubbed the back of her hand with his finger and lowered his voice. “House loyalty. You know how that is, I’m sure.”

“We’ve not been at Hogwarts in years,” she reminded him as she moved her finger lightly over his knuckles.

“While I know this, it seems some people continue to classify people based on their former House,” he explained. “When someone says ‘a former Hufflepuff’ instead of ‘a handsome charming man’, for instance, it is obvious that their perception on people is still somewhat decided based on labels from years ago.”

“Or they possibly prefer using a description that is entirely accurate versus one that is based on fiction or opinion.”

“Ah, but would you prefer to be called ‘the former Gryffindor’ or even ‘the Muggleborn witch’ to ‘the beautiful young woman’? All three are technically accurate. ”

“It would depend upon the person speaking, the situation, and the way the description was used. The latter, for example, is an opinion and could easily be said with a slight sneer to indicate rudeness instead of sincerity or it could be a phrase that so casually spills from the tongue of the speaker that it’s as impersonal as ‘the former Gryffindor’,” she decided as she reluctantly smiled. “There’s also a chance that the speaker means the words, in which case they are, of course, more flattering and appealing to the ear than a more frequently used generalization.”

“You do realize that ‘pain in the arse’ is a highly appropriate and sincere description for you as well?” he pointed out with amusement at her thorough answer to his teasing question.

“So I’ve been told.”

“I imagine quite often.”

“Only on occasion, Diggory. Not everyone considers thoroughness a fault.”

“I would like to conduct an experiment about that, I think. Perhaps keep a tally and write up a report after my observations. I’d need unlimited access to you, of course; for observation purposes only. I think I’ll entitle the report ‘Brilliant Beautiful Smart Arse Brunettes and the Way the World Sees Them’. You’d be my only test subject, true, but there are some sacrifices that must be made for the sake of knowledge,” he declared with a dramatic sigh.

“Unlimited access? I see. So I’m to agree simply for the sake of science?”

“You do love to learn, Granger. I’d think of it as your opportunity to put a little back into the academic world at large. My experiment could very well be groundbreaking in terms of communication and the public’s perception of confident, beautiful, intelligent women who happen to be former Gryffindors.”

She tried to keep a straight face but met his gaze and that was that. She started to laugh, shaking her head as she attempted to glare at him. “And you call me the smart arse?”

“You should do that more often,” he decided as they continued their walk to the village.

“What? Call you a smart arse? I think that can be arranged,” she said with just a hint of cheek.

“Brat,” he accused playfully. “No, you should laugh, as you well know. I like hearing you laugh.”

“Is it the slight snort that appeals to you or the my inability to laugh quietly when I’m really amused?”

“While the snort is rather attractive, it’s actually the way you just let go and enjoy the moment. Not many women do that, you know? Perhaps I should have another experiment once I conclude my observations of you for communication and perception. I could call that one ‘Hermione Granger: Perfect Woman’, though the title is a bit biased.”

“Perhaps ‘Far From Perfect Woman’ is more suitable,” she suggested as she looked down at the road and tried to figure out how to handle such teasing. Men didn’t flirt with her and they certainly didn’t casually make comments about her being beautiful or having a nice laugh. Cedric said everything with a quiet certainty as if it was truth instead of merely him most likely amusing himself by flirting with someone he could fluster with such attention.

“Perhaps an addition of ‘My’ in there somewhere, though then it would be more along the lines of wishful thinking,” he said thoughtfully as his thumb rubbed her knuckles before he chewed on his lip and shook his head slightly. Before she had a chance to question that rather cryptic statement, he bumped his hip against hers. “No, we do not have a monthly newsletter for Hufflepuff, though I’m really surprised that Susan hasn’t arranged something like that. She’s always organizing reunion dinners. That’s how I know most of the younger years so well, you know?”

“Gryffindor seems to have an impromptu reunion every little bit with a wedding, birthday, baby birth, anniversary, or simply Seamus deciding to throw a party to see who can drink the most firewhisky and that he can convince to do some sort of wild action for us to all laugh over for years to come,” she told him, deciding that it would be best to follow his lead and change the subject to something familiar. While she was rather accustomed to his flirting with her and could actually flirt back reasonably well, it felt different today for some unknown reason.

Cedric grinned. “You Gryffindors are such party animals.”

“You have the Weasley twins, Seamus Finnegan, and Alicia Spinnet in your House and Hufflepuff would be, too.” She laughed and nudged him back with her hip. “I must admit, though, that I rarely have more than one glass of wine because I’m not fond of the taste of most alcohol so I’m fortunate that they’ve not revoked my former Gryffindor status.”

By the time they reached town, the awkward and flustering moment was nearly forgotten. She couldn’t forget completely as it had been somewhat intriguing and she wanted to analyze it at some future date but, for now, she chalked it up to Cedric being a charming flirt and nothing more.

“Where do we start, Granger?” he asked as they reached Derbanshire.

“I believe Pansy said they received confirmation from 68 of the 75 people so I’d suggest considering 100 as there will probably be more guests than expected. With Harry as the groom, I’m afraid that people will be more eager to attend just for the bragging rights if nothing else. Fortunately, we were able to put up some very strong wards so only those guests with an invitation will be allowed admittance so that should keep out the reporters.”

“Yeah, Potter also said that Crabbe volunteered to take the invitations so there’s less chance of anyone trying to get past him. That man is bloody huge,” Cedric said with just a hint of awe at Crabbe’s very muscular albeit not very tall stature. “I’d certainly not risk his displeasure at trying to sneak past him, that’s for sure.”

“It’s a good thing that they don’t realize he’s actually a bit of a teddy bear,” she admitted with a grin. “I might see if Dean will help him out with that, actually. Crabbe might be more inclined to not want to risk a confrontation but Dean has no problem getting forceful if necessary.”

“The wards should keep most unwelcome visitors away, but it’s always good to have a back-up plan,” he agreed as he smiled at her planning in a way that seemed more approving than most of her friends were about her bossiness and need to think of many angles and possibilities instead of just the most likely. “So we have to get enough food to satisfy 100 guests?”

Hermione nodded as she headed to the nearest café. She didn’t even realize she was still holding his hand until his grip tightened on her hand to get her to slow down. “Pansy had wanted some sort of poultry or fish for the reception and Harry doesn’t care as long as it’s edible. I know it’s going to be difficult to find enough food at this short notice, but we might be able to split up the locations and choices so we accomplish the task We still have a few hours before the wedding is scheduled to start, thankfully.”

“We can do it, Granger,” Cedric told her as he followed her into the first café. She did her best to ignore how nice it was to hear ‘we’ instead of ‘you’. They left nearly a half hour later with a new contract signed and a promise that servings of chicken, two vegetables, and bread for roughly thirty people would be delivered to the inn within an hour.

“I didn’t think she was ever going to just let me sign the contract so we could leave,” Hermione murmured as they stepped back outside. She tugged up her dress and smiled. “I’m glad Pansy agreed to have the ceremony at a Muggle inn or we’d really have been out of luck.”

“You could have always Apparated to Hogwarts and borrowed a few House Elves,” he mused. He laughed at her expression and ran his hands through his hair before he took her hand and tugged her towards the other café.

“Infuriating,” she told him firmly as she took his hand and followed him. “Don’t even get me started on House Elves, Diggory. I may have reluctantly accepted that they don’t want to be free, but that doesn’t mean I support or encourage the practice. You don’t have House Elves, do you?”

“Nary a one,” he said as he looked at her. “You see, this exasperating young woman made me realize years ago that the practice might very well be outdated and unfair.”

“Well, you’re the only one who listened.” She couldn’t help but smile at his admission, far more pleased than she should be that he’d obviously listened to her when she’d started S.P.E.W. so many years ago. That was a source of ridicule from even Harry and Ron, who failed to understand why she’d had to try even if it had been hopeless. She could recognize now that the effort was meant well but that some creatures just didn’t view the world like she did so it wasn’t fair to force her ideals on them. However, she still hated that no one had seemed to take her seriously, except maybe Cedric.

“It was a good attempt, Granger, but there are some things that just take awhile to change or never actually change. You have to choose which battles are worth fighting for,” he said with a shrug. “I admired you for the effort, back then, and now it’s nice to watch your cheeks turn that lovely shade of pink when I compliment you on it.”

“Diggory,” she warned as her cheeks turned even pinker from his attention and the way his hand felt around hers. She was relieved when they arrived at the door of the café. He opened it for her and only released her hand when they walked inside. It only took ten minutes to arrange for food to be sent to the inn, enough for another fifty people if not slightly more. Pansy was just going to have to deal with beef as this café had promised to send chicken and roast along with a variety of vegetables and bread.

“That’s not enough, is it?” Cedric asked when they left the café and he noticed her thoughtful expression.

“Well, they’re large portions and between the two places, it should be enough to feed eighty to eighty-five people. That’s more than enough for the guests we expect but I wouldn’t mind having a bit extra,” she admitted as she rubbed the back of her neck.

“I’d bet that one or two of the pubs probably have some fish and chips on hand,” he suggested. “Not exactly fancy cuisine but the fish could be eaten with some of the vegetables and we could stop at the market to get some extra bread to heat up.”

“That’s actually a really good idea,” she told him. She leaned up and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “Thank you. I hadn’t thought about the pubs having food.”

“You know, it was actually a brilliant idea,” he drawled as he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I think it deserves at least one more kiss.”

“Incorrigible,” she muttered as she rolled her eyes and smiled.

“It was worth a try.” He winked and led her to one of the pubs. “I can cook but rarely do because it’s just for me and I hate cooking for one person so I’m pretty knowledgeable about take-away from pubs. The one closest to my flat won’t let you buy everything as take-away but they’ve got an okay selection. Fish and chips is somewhat a standard at most as are sandwiches and shepherd’s pie.”

“See, I make enough for two people and just freeze the leftovers to take for lunch the next day or to have another night,” she told him. “I couldn’t stand living on pub food all the time. It makes for a nice treat on Friday evenings to get take-away but I like to cook, even when it’s only for myself. Of course, if I have too many leftovers or make too much, I know I can always owl Ron and he’ll happily stop by to take them off my hands.”

“I suppose I should try that,” he decided. “Not having Weasley eat my leftovers but the other. Of course, it would make more sense to just find someone to cook for so there weren’t any leftovers.”

“Perhaps you could place an advert in the Prophet,” she suggested helpfully, a smile on her lips when he laughed. “I know a great many people who would answer that advert.”

“I don’t know,” he drawled as he maneuvered them around a wet puddle. “I can be quite picky about who I cook for so I’m afraid there wouldn’t be many people who applied and certainly not many I’d actually consider cooking for. I’ll have to cook something for you some time.”

“Maybe you should consider lowering your standards and you’d have more of a selection of possibly guests,” she offered, rather pleased he’d mentioned cooking for her even if it was probably just him being polite. She raised the skirt of her dress slightly to walk down the few stairs into the pub when they entered.

“I’ve no intention of doing that, Granger,” he informed her as his fingers lightly trailed up her arm to eventually push her hair away from her neck, “anymore than you’d lower your own.”

“Touche,” she retorted as she looked up at him and smiled. Their gazes met for a moment and she felt as if someone had punched her in the belly, which made no sense at all to her. Before she could analyze that odd sensation, a boisterous voice greeted them from behind the bar and they both looked towards the man who had spoken.

The negotiations with the pub didn’t take very long. Cedric paid for the order of fish and added a little extra so it would be delivered to the inn because the owner didn’t want to hassle with a contract and paperwork. She’d have to remember to reimburse him when they got back to the inn. After they left the pub, they began a conversation about the various weddings they’d attended during the past few years: reminiscing and laughing as the charged moment of awareness at the pub was ignored by both of them.

A stop at the market resulted in a brief pause in comfortable conversation and two bags of bread products to heat for the reception. They picked up their conversation easily during the walk back to the inn. Her shoes, while pretty and perfectly matched to her dress, were not the best for walking so she was glad they were headed back so she could take them off and rest her feet for a bit.

This meant, however, that she was walking slower and they set a more languid pace as they fell into easy conversation that wasn’t void of the gentle teasing and flirting that had become common between them. Hermione didn’t even realize she had reached for his hand until their hands met in the middle of the space between them, their fingers entwining casually as they walked away from Derbanshire.

When he laughed at her recollection of Seamus being the worst of any ‘bride’ she’d dealt with, she admired the way the sun caught the highlights in his hair and the way he just relaxed and enjoyed the moment when he laughed. She noticed that his eyes seemed an even lighter shade of gray when he was amused and that they seemed to darken just slightly when he looked at her a certain way that left her heart racing and her cheeks flushed.

She knew she was treading dangerous waters that she had no idea how to properly navigate and that she should head to safety before she was in over her head. Flirting at a party was one thing. Hand holding, shared laughter, teasing and flirting in the way that left her flustered, flattered, confused, and intrigued was quite another. This was unfamiliar ground and she couldn’t help but get the impression that it was new to him, too, which made it a little better.

“If we go much slower, the wedding may be over by the time we get there,” he observed during a lull in conversation.

“You try wearing these shoes and see how many hikes you’re making,” she replied as she was pulled from her thoughts.

“I think they’re too small for me,” he confessed with a cheeky grin. “Besides, peach isn’t really my color.”

“Should I ask how you’d know what color of women’s shoes would best suit you?” she asked with an arched brow and smirk.

“We all have secrets, Granger,” he informed her loftily. He winked. “However, crossdressing isn’t one of mine so you’ll not have to worry about me trying to borrow your clothes.”

“Now you have me intrigued, Diggory. What possible secrets do you have?”

“If I told you, they’d not be secrets anymore.”

“Logic will not sway me from my curiosity. They’d simply be shared secrets then.”

“Whine all you want, Granger. I’m not going to tell you a single one right now,” he vowed dramatically as they reached the road that led to the inn.

“I don’t whine,” she denied emphatically. “I merely expressed interest in discovering what possible secrets Cedric Diggory might have.”

“Perhaps you should conduct an experiment,” he suggested with a smile. “I’d happily let you observe me anywhere and any way you wanted, Granger; all in the interest of science, of course.”

“Oh, of course. You’re dedication to the field of human behavior is commendable, Diggory,” she decided as she rolled her eyes.

“Not human behavior,” he corrected as he stopped walking and looked at her. “Dedication to the field of Hermione Granger is more appropriate and if you call me infuriating, I won’t be held responsible for my actions.”

Hermione smiled even as she was somewhat flustered by his obviously teasing words. “Infuriating.”

“I warned you, Granger,” he reminded her as he moved suddenly.

“Diggory! Damn it, put me down,” she exclaimed as she found herself cradled in his arms. Her dress fell up past her knees and she had to tug on the bodice to keep from falling out of it. He carried her as if she weighed no more than a feather, a smug smile on his full lips as he ignored her protests.

“Your shoes are a device of torture, I’ve decided, so what sort of man would I be if I just stood by while they did their work on your poor defenseless feet?” he asked. “Stop wiggling, Granger. I’m not putting you down until we get back to the inn and all you’ll accomplish is distracting me with your womanly wiles.”

“Womanly wiles?” she repeated with a snort as she looked at the scar on his chin and stopped wiggling, just in case. He was proving to be entirely too unpredictable, which was a surprise since she’d never really seen him act this spontaneous and impulsive before.

“It’s a perfectly good description and far classier than things most blokes might say,” he defended as he glanced down at her and smiled. “I’m a very classy guy, Granger.”

“Hmph,” she retorted, unable to actually argue with that statement. She’d never admit it, either, but she rather liked being carried like this by him and it was certainly helping her feet, which had decided that Cedric was, indeed, their hero.

“You know, Granger, you’ve got great legs,” he declared as he playfully leered at the legs in question.

“You know, Diggory, you’ve got great shoulders,” she replied with a little leer of her own, pleased when his cheeks flushed at her compliment and he suddenly looked less charming and smooth and far more shy and rather adorable. She gripped his shoulders as he carried her down the rock path towards the inn. She had to smile at having flustered him for once and felt rather smug.

When he looked down at her with a lock of hair across his forehead and a sheepish smile on his lips, cheeks flushed and his eyes a darker gray as he shifted her weight in his arms, she was surprised to realize that being in over her head might not be a bad thing at all, especially if Cedric was there with her.

End Chapter 4