The Black Sky: OC x Hermione

Chapter 26

His father had written to both Harry and Edmund, something Edmund had appreciated given that he had been sticking his head in every offensive spell book he owned, defensive as well. Edmund was not going to be taken by surprise, neither would Harry. The little notes and just bookmarks were basic spells that Harry could use for whatever the first task would be.

The letter from his father had grounded him. Literally and figuratively, he was going to be grounded when he would be back home from a vacation, to not leave the house for a few days and spend some quality time with his father. It was weird to think that being nearly killed has always been in the family, even if some didn't hear correctly and heard 'be killed'. Harry and Edmund have always been threatened at every turn, by death or just by some antagonising source.

Knowing that Edmund had to participate in a deadly competition didn't make him comfortable at all, sometimes, he wished that Cedric had been chosen by the cup instead of him. At least it would be somewhat fair, given that he is only fifteen.

His father had also written to him concerning the article that Rita Skeeter had published, glorifying Harry and throwing in the names of the other champions excluding those of Hogwarts, with Edmund she just wrote down that he was unwilling, eager to leave and wasn't happy. Honestly, when his uncle Snape had opened the paper and read that, it was obvious that he wasn't happy either, by the way he snapped at students the whole day everyone knew. It was also noticeable by the way his eyebrows furrowed and his snarl. It was subtle, to the common student they wouldn't see a difference in his face.

"Stunningly pretty? Her?" Pansy Parkinson, one of the most annoying Slytherins Edmund knew, and he knew a lot of annoying students. Edmund was angry at how she had shrieked it into Hermione's face, not even feeling shame by the way she was sniggering after how Hermione was walking away from her porky laugh.

"Right so." Edmund nodded, "Quite stunning, isn't she?" Edmund wanted to bite down the petty comment but couldn't help himself. "Maybe have a judgement about whoever is pretty when Draco has decided that you are pretty." Edmund checked his fake watch, "Maybe when you grow out of that haircut you would have potential, even though the chances are slim."

Edmund then walked away and had to sit with an unsettling feeling - the unsettling feeling of being so mean to someone - which meant that he was changing, for the worse or the better, Edmund wouldn't know. Annoyance was a prominent feeling that rushed through him when he saw that Ron was refusing to talk to Harry or even look his way. Does the bloody ginger even realise that neither Edmund or Harry had entered willingly. Besides, the only reason Ron would participate in the tournament would be for the money and glory, typical Gryffindor.

Whenever Edmund would be in the library to study for spells to use or potions to summon, Hermione would accompany Edmund and Harry, sometimes on rare occasions Susan would come. For the rest, they'd just drop in if they needed something from the library, say 'hi' and continue with whatever they were doing within the comfort of their common rooms.

"Thank you, Hermione." Edmund's hand lingered over Hermione's as he grabbed the book she had handed over to him. His feelings were a slight mess as he tried to get over her, but somewhere in him he knew that there was no getting over your first love. Many wouldn't consider it love but he does, his heart would race at the mere sight of her, little shine of sweat would appear on his forehead and all the sudden he cares how his hair looks. He cares if he is doing the best he can because all he wants for Hermione to see in him is someone who tries. He hopes that she'd see the potential in him, the potential to have a future.

He knows they're young but Hermione had been known to plan ahead. He knows that Hermione has that habit because he knows everything about her, he couldn't help his eyes straying over whenever they study in the library, how she constantly tucks back that stubborn piece of hair, how her eyebrows furrow when she has to read things twice, on the rare sight, thrice.