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Cedric had been unable to sleep with so much on his mind, so he crept from the Hufflepuff dormitory and climbed the stairs to the library. Madam Pince was sitting at the desk by the door, glaring like a hawk at everyone who came and went. Her piercing eyes followed him as he strode purposefully through the room to the shelves that held the books on magical maladies.

The book he wanted was easy enough to find. Maladies of Questionable Nature: Bites, Stings, Curses, and Cures. Professor Lupin had required them to read it for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Cedric had never gotten around to buying his own copy. From the looks of the checkout slip, he was the last person to have taken it out of the library. He carried the heavy tome to a table and flipped it open to the index, following the column with his finger until he found the V's. The page he wanted was near the front of the book, and it took him a moment to find it. When he did, his blood began to run cold as he read.

Vampyr mosp...a magical creature considered to be highly poisonous to any creature afflicted by its sting. The vampyr mosp is approximately the size of a small pumpkin, is capable of flight, and has a retractable stinger on its thorax. Poison is transmitted through the hollow stinger to the victim, usually in a single attack... Victims suffer from paralysis within moments of sustaining a sting, allowing the mosp to drain the victim of blood at his leisure. Indicators of vampyr mosp stings include violent fever, raised red welts, a green tint to the skin around the sting, and boughts of delirium. If caught soon after sustaining a sting, a victim can be treated using essence of dittany and mandrake extract. Treatment is useless more than twelve hours after sustaining a sting... The vampyr mosp prefers habitats of extreme humidity and temperature. They are generally found in the South American jungles, although members of this species have been found in India, Hawaii, and Polynesia.

Cedric could not make his brain wrap around what he was reading. The symptoms described were like nothing he had seen on Hermione. Her skin was hard, ice cold, and pale white. She seemed entirely lucid, although devastatingly different than her usual self. There was no way that a creature that was no bigger than a pumpkin...and could fly...could drag a fully-grown woman into a hole. And why would a flying creature live in a hole to begin with? None of it made sense.

Cedric left the book on the table and looked through the shelves for more books on vampyr mosps. He was quickly frustrated, as none of the books were specifically about the elusive creature, and he was unsure what classification it would be in. Madam Pince was stalking past a table of first years as he emerged from the shelves on his way to her desk.

"Excuse me, Madam Pince," he whispered, doing all he could to endear himself to the harpy librarian. "Could you help me with something?"

She glared at him, although grateful that he was respecting the silence of her library. "What do you want?"

"I need whatever books you may have on vampyr mosps. I am doing a paper on them for Professor Kiergan." Cedric stared at her with his wide blue eyes, hoping she would be willing to help him. Madam Pince glared at him a moment longer before pushing swiftly passed him toward the shelves.

Cedric followed with desperation as the librarian swept through the aisles, pulling books from the shelves as she went. She stacked the leather bound volumes in Cedric's arms before disappearing back to watch over the first years with her precious books. He looked down at the pile of books in his arms, glancing over their titles as he carried them back to his table; Poisonous Creatures of the Amazon, Magical Mischief in the Jungles of South America, Magical Creatures to Avoid, Creation of Creatures: Myth and Magical Creatures of the New World, and Mistaken Muggles: How Magical Creatures Influenced Myth and Legend in the Muggle World.

He opened each of the books to the index and began searching for anything to do with vampyr mosps.

Hermione stared out the window that looked out from the highest level of the dungeons. Her line of sight followed the sloping lawns that stretched out from the bottom of the window down toward the lake. Her eyes were perfectly adjusted to the twilight that hung over the castle, their rainbowed hues taking in every minute distinction in color and shade. The burning behind her eyes was a welcome pain as her new form cried in the only way it knew how. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, letting her cheek rest against her knees as she stared across the grounds.

Cedric's face swam into her vision, his blue eyes staring longingly at her. His face was flushed with blood, his lips parted in a tantalizing smile. "Oh, Cedric," she moaned forlornly. Her eyes faded to a sickly green as despair poured over her. She didn't know what to do. She wanted her old life back, but at the same time she didn't. She loved Severus, had promised to stay with him forever, but it was in a way that she felt as if she didn't have a choice. He was her maker; forever a part of her, and his claim on her was strong.

Then there was Cedric, with his sweet smelling, warm blood that called to her with every beat of his heart. She felt as if every fiber of her new being was in tune with him. She could sense where he was in the castle at all times, could hear his heart beating in her mind, smell the scent of him stronger than any other person in the castle. Something within her desired him more than anything in existence. She would leave her maker for him. She would become a maker for him.

What has happened to you, Hermione? She jumped, startled by the sound of his voice so clear in her head. Severus had projected his thoughts into her mind before, but only because the venom that filled her body joined him with her. No, hearing Cedric's voice was quite different. It was tinged with warmth and sweetness. It was the desire for his blood that filled her mind with his words. She closed her eyes and focused on the thudding of his heart, which brought his thoughts into her consciousness more clearly.

I know something has happened to you, and it wasn't what Dumbledore told us. Everything in the library about vampyr mosps says the exact opposite of what happened to you. Not that you don't look absolutely gorgeous... An image of her face filtered through his eyes filled her vision. It was a strange blur of the way she was and the way she used to be. Cedric had not missed the changes in her face, but the soft glow that radiated from his mind seemed to indicate that he didn't care. But then again, I always thought you were. I just wish I knew what was the matter with you. Then I could help you, and you wouldn't need him anymore!

Hermione expected a rumble to erupt as he began to insult her maker with vehemence. But it did not come. Instead, she was filled with the joy of new discovery. Cedric was worried about her, and he was jealous of her need for Severus, even though he didn't fully understand what was going on. She wanted to go to him, to comfort him, and tell him what had happened to her. Perhaps then the maddening draw of his blood would not consume her as much as it did.

She focused on his voice harder, trying to break through his mind and see through his eyes. It was dim, and his footsteps echoed off the stones beneath his feet. Torches burned in brackets on the wall every few feet. A portrait of Helga Hufflepuff hung on the wall directly in front of him. He was at the Hufflepuff common room, not far from where she was now. She listened carefully as he muttered the password, too caught up in his thoughts of her to pay close attention. She stayed with him as he wandered through the teeming common room and made his way down a long hallway with doors on either side.

He entered the last door on the left, which had a plate stating Seventh Year Boys on it. There were four beds pushed into the four corners of the room, each surrounded by walls of thick blue curtains. It was as if each boy had his own private room, as Hermione could not hear anything from the other two boys in the room when Cedric pulled the curtains around his corner shut. His bed occupied the corner furthest from the door. A mirror was propped against the wall at the foot of the bed, a set of Quidditch robes hung haphazardly over the glass. A dresser with a pitcher of water stood beside the head of the bed. His trunk peeked out from underneath the bed frame. The curtains around the bed were drawn back, revealing charcoal drawings that had been affixed to the wall.

Cedric dumped a pile of books onto the mattress and looked out the window at the head of his bed. The twilight had deepened, turning the lake an inky black that reflected the pale silver moonlight. He rested his forearm against the frame of the window and pressed his forehead against it. Hermione, she heard again. I want you here with me, not with him. I want you here with me.

Hermione sighed and let Cedric's mind drift away from her. She felt the pull from his blood, compounded by the desperate plea. At that instant, she wanted nothing more than to go to him and tell him everything. Her maker be damned.

The pale, silvery moonlight shimmered off the sleeping face of Cedric Diggory. Hermione crouched in the shadows at the foot of his bed, watching him dreaming peacefully. His cheeks were flushed with blood, and the blankets had been kicked to the side. The lean, sinewy muscle of his bare torso rippled as he rolled onto his side. His muscled legs pushed the blankets completely away, leaving him lying in naught but his boxer shorts. His flawless golden skin seemed to glow in the moonlight as his brown locks lay tousled against the pillow.

Warmth seemed to stir in her silent heart as she watched him. She longed to reach out and touch the skin stretched across those beautiful muscles of his chest. His head turned, exposing the beautiful expanse of his throat, and venom pooled in her mouth. Wake up, Cedric, she thought, her mind's voice taking on a tantalizing, singsong quality. You've gotten what you wished for Cedric. I'm here. Wake up, my darling, wake up. And I will give you anything you desire.

He moaned softly in his sleep and rolled onto his back. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and blind in the darkness. Fear rushed through her as she realized what she was doing. She retreated further into the shadows, taking care to avoid hitting the mirror. Please, forget you heard my voice. Forget you know me, she pleaded halfheartedly. She didn't want to hurt him, and yet she did. She wanted to touch him, to make him hers, and yet she wanted to flee from him as quickly as her new body allowed her.

Hermione? came his sleep-fogged voice in her mind. He was sitting up in the bed now, staring into the darkness. Her perfect eyes took in every inch of him and felt the venom drain down her throat. She couldn't take his life from him, not tonight. He looked too perfect in the moonlight, the warm night pulling his blood to the surface, for her to change him. She didn't even know how, not without taking so much it killed him.

"Hermione?" It was his true voice, directed into the shadows where she crouched. He slipped from the bed with grace that shouldn't belong to a human. He came toward her slowly, his arms held out to her, his handsome face completely devoid of fear. "Come here, Hemione."

She shook her head, sending her silken curls bouncing. He had no idea how much she wanted to give in to that request. "No, no, no," she chanted, trying to move deeper into the shadows. "I can't, I can't. I'll hurt you."

He smiled, a beautiful, lopsided grin that would have stopped her breath had she needed to breathe. His blue eyes were sparkling as he walked deeper into the shadows surrounding her. She sulked away from him, pressing against the wall and dropping into a crouch. She hid her face against her knees, horrified by the bloodlust that still pulsed around the edges of her thought.

"Do you trust me, Hermione?" he asked, kneeling next to her. He stroked her hair softly and waited. The air around her was as cold as ice, but it was comfortable in the unnatural heat of the night. "Well, even if you don't, I trust you. I don't believe you would hurt me, not if you didn't want to. And I don't think you want to. So, will you look at me?"

She turned her eyes to him slowly, surprised that his nearness did not send venom flooding into her mouth. That smile still graced his face, and his hand was still resting gently against her hair. "Promise me something," she whispered, her muscles loosening and the urge to spring drained out of her. "If my eyes turn red, tell me to run. Beg me to get as far away from you as possible."

"I promise," Cedric replied, holding out his hand to her. Her frozen skin was a welcome jolt against the hot night air. He pulled her up and drew her towards the bed. "Stay with me tonight, Hermione."

She stared into his blue eyes, desperate to trust him, before nodding. With a nimble step, she leapt onto the bed and settled with her back against the wall. The charcoal drawings were tacked to the wall by her head, and a familiar pair of eyes stared back at her. She saw her own face lovingly and meticulously drawn over and over again, as well as people she assumed were Cedric's family. The forlorn eyes of a young girl stared back at her, and she couldn't resist the urge to trace the shape of her fragile face.

"My younger sister," he said softly as the mattress dipped beneath his weight. He stretched out on his back next to her and watched her with wonder. "She should be entering Hogwarts in a few years. She's in school abroad now."

The softness in his voice made her smile, her teeth glistening white in the moonlight. Cedric's eyes widened as he caught sight of her shining teeth, but he reached out his hand toward her mouth anyway. Hermione drew back, pressing herself against the wall as hard as she dared. The stone began to give way beneath her shoulders, and she knew the imprint of her form would be left in the wall.

"Don't be afraid, Hermione," Cedric whispered softly. He traced his finger over her bottom lip, slightly surprised at the fact it was as cold and hard as the rest of her.

She stiffened, feeling the venom begin to surge into her mouth once more. Her lips parted and her canines grew to a point. A soft hiss grew in her chest, and her eyes tinged red.

"Go," he said urgently, drawing his hand away from her. "Run! I'll see you tomorrow."

Even though she didn't want to, she knew she had to. She leapt from the bed and landed lightly on the windowsill. With a farewell glance over her shoulder, she jumped lithely to the ground a few feet below.