A/N: I wrote this about a year ago, but for some reason it didn't get filed with the rest of the fanfiction on my computer. I stumbled across it yesterday and thought it was interesting.

Hermione's Muggle Friend

Hermione closed her eyes and pushed her rolling chair away from the desk. Sighing, she spun as though she were a little kid again. A smile slowly spread across her face as she remembered the days when the rush of spinning was all she needed to make all her worries go away.

Not anymore.

The return of Voldemort and the Death Eaters. The death of Cedric Diggory. The war would probably start up again soon and, as best friend and partner in danger to Harry Potter, she'd likely be a big part of it. He needed her and she fully intended to be there for him. Her parents had different ideas on the subject. She sighed again as the memories of her earlier argument with her father came back to her.

"You are not going back!"

"But I have to! I have my studies and Harry -"

"None of that matters, Hermione! What matters is that you are safe and -"

"I am safe!"

"That boy died, Hermione! I don't know what goes on at that school most of the time, and most of the time, I don't care. But he's dead! He died at Hogwarts and I can't...you can't go back. Not after that."

Hermione didn't have the heart to argue with that. A hundred reasons for her to go had come to her lips, but her dad had looked so desperate that she couldn't say them. Tears leaked from her eyes. They didn't understand – but of course they didn't. Not only were they Muggles, so they could never understand her world, they were also parents. And no parents, she knew, would willingly let their daughter into a dangerous situations. Not even to save the world.

And so, even if they could understand it, they wouldn't accept it. Never. Once again, Hermione sighed and then slumped farther into her chair. This was one problem that the world depended on her solving – and this was one problem that was proving impossible to solve to her liking. Oh, there were plenty of solutions, but none were ones she wanted use.

"Hermione!" A voice called in a singsong tone as someone opened the door.

Hermione spun in her chair to face the intruder, then leapt to her feet, grinning in spite of herself. "Trisha!" She cried, and Trisha's enthusiastic hug hit her as soon as the word was out of her mouth. The force knocked them both onto the bed, giggling like five-year-olds. "Trish. Trisha!" Hermione struggled out from underneath the other teenager. "What are you doing here?"

"Can't a girl come see an old friend without being interrogated about it?" Trish asked, laughing.

Hermione couldn't help but join her. It had been almost a year since she'd seen Trish; they were best friends in primary school – Trish was, in fact, one of the only friends Hermione had had in primary school – but ever since she'd gone to Hogwarts and Trisha had gone off to some other boarding school, they hadn't really been in touch. Just during the summer and not often then.

It had always struck her as odd that she and Trish had ever become friends. They were polar opposites in most ways. While Hermione was studious and had always thought herself plain, Trisha was more into gossiping and she was pretty. Or, she had been pretty at ten years old – now, at nearly 15, she was becoming beautiful. Trisha was also wild and crazy, while Hermione tried to stay level-headed. Tried and often failed while in Trish's company.

"So," Trish bounced onto her side and propped her head up on her hand. Hermione smiled and took the same position. "How are you? How's your school? Do all the teachers still love you – no, don't answer that, I already know they do. Oh-oh! Are there any hot guys there?"

"One at a time, Trish!" Hermione cried.

"Oh, all right. Most important question first then: hot guys. Tell me."

Hermione hesitated. "I...I suppose there are. Yeah."

Trish started bouncing again, eagerly. "Go on, go on! Give me names! What do they look like?"

"Don't they all look the same...?" Hermione muttered. Trish looked confused. "Isn't 'hot' a description? If I give you a name, calling that guy hot, isn't that what he looks like?" She was stalling and she knew it. She didn't want to say the name that had first come to her lips at the question. She didn't want to talk about him at all.

Laughing once more, Trish said, "You know that's not what I mean, silly. Of course 'hot' is a general descriptor, but there's so much more to it. Hair colour. Eye colour. Height. His best feature. That sort of thing. Names, Hermi, I want names!"

"Cedric Diggory." It slipped out before she could stop it.

"Cedric Diggory..." Trisha said the name experimentally. "Not exactly the most attractive of names though. He must have one hell of a body. Especially for you to mention him." Trisha was not under the illusion that Hermione was as interested in boys as she was.

"Yes, well..." Hermione sat up quickly. "I've been thinking about him a lot since...lately," She finished quietly. Since the Third Task. Since he was killed.

Trisha didn't seem to understand her tone. "You like him? D'you think he likes you?"

"I doubt he ever saw me," Hermione said absently.

"Oh. Well, what's he like then? You know, hair colour, eye colour..."

"He's dead." The words had left her lips without permission, and Hermione clapped her hands over her mouth as soon as they did. Trisha sat up too, staring at her, shocked. "He's dead," Hermione repeated in a whisper, eyes closed. She pictured that horrible scene, where Harry reappeared with Cedric's body. That scene was imprinted in her brain and she doubted she'd ever forget it. "That's why I've been thinking about him. He is – he was, I mean – he was hot, but I've been thinking about him because he died at the end of the school year. Only a few weeks ago."

Slowly, Trisha lay down again, her mouth still open in shock. "How?"

"It was – it was an accident." Hermione said, closing her eyes. She should never have brought this up.

Trisha frowned. "Don't lie to me Hermione Granger. I can tell when you're lying, so don't you dare lie."

"Oh, all right!" Hermione hoisted herself to her feet. "You want to know the truth? I will tell you the truth – and once I do, I bet you'll wish I had stuck to 'accident'. You won't believe me, either, even if you can tell when I'm lying and I won't be. I'll tell you the truth."

Hermione knew that she was about to break Wizarding law. The Statute of Secrecy. She didn't care. If the government didn't care enough to try and keep her safe – if it would deny anything was going wrong and risk her life and lives of her friends by doing it – then she wasn't about to abide by it's rules. Not with her best Muggle friend. "It wasn't an accident. He was killed. Cedric Diggory was murdered by a – an evil man. A Dark Wizard."

"What!" Trish exclaimed, jumping to her own feet. "What're you - ?"

"Let me talk, Trish," Hermione interrupted. "The school I go to isn't a regular school, see, it's a school of magic. A school of witchcraft and wizardry – and I'm a witch. For the past four years, I've been going to school to learn how to work magic. Do you believe me, Trisha?"

Trisha nodded. It looked like the movement was a struggle, but she nodded. "You're not lying, at least." She whispered. "Can you – can you show me?"

"No." Hermione shook her head sadly. "I'm 'too young' to perform magic outside of school. There's a law against it. Mind, there's a law against telling you all this as well, and yes, I'm breaking it. I'd break the underage magic law too, but they could actually track me down if I used magic and expel me from school – Hogwarts, it's called. Which I really can't afford to have happen."

Trisha gulped. "Why not?"

Taking a deep breath, Hermione began. "It's because of the man I mentioned – the Dark Wizard. He's Lord Voldemort. Back before we were born, Voldemort started a war in the Wizarding world. During his reign, it was terrible. People were dying or living in hiding and fearing for their lives. Muggles – people who can't use magic – were killed for sport."

"How come we don't know about it then?" Trisha asked, voice wavering. Hermione had to hand it to her friend – not everyone would take this new information so calmly. "I'm sure a war in the Wizarding world wasn't covered in history."

"Well, the secret of magic's existence has been kept since time immemorial. The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy – the law that I am currently smashing to pieces – was passed back in the 17th century," Hermione said thoughtfully. She'd never really thought about that. How do you hide an entire war? "Even the Death Eater's – Voldemort's supporters – didn't come out openly as wizards. The death and destruction was put down to accident or bad weather. There were all sorts of excuses, nothing even close to the truth. If someone looked up periods of major crime or causalities, the '70s would be the worst."

"But that was over 15 years ago!" Trish cried. "It's not happening anymore, right?"

"Well..." Hermione sighed. "That's the thing. The war ended with the fall of Voldemort on Halloween, 1981."

"But you said he killed - "

"The fall of Voldemort, Trish. The fall, not the death," Hermione said gently. "He's brought himself back to full power now. There'll be another war starting soon. And I have to be there, I have to. I need to be as trained in magic as possible, so I can fight back and defeat Voldemort for good."

Trisha bit her lip. She was silent for a few seconds, trying to frame her next question. "How? How was he defeated the first time?"

"Well, no one really knows. Voldemort was defeated at the Potter residence. He killed James and Lily Potter and then, when he tried to kill their son, Harry, his powers broke and he disappeared. After that, most his Death Eaters sort of gave up."

"Well, what did their son do?"

"Nothing. He didn't do anything." Hermione nearly laughed. "I guess I forgot to mention – Harry was only a baby at the time. No one really knows how he defeated a Dark Lord."

"Mysterious. You know this is sounding more and more like a story book?" Trish asked.

Hermione nodded. "It's true though, every word. And you're taking it really well, by the way. Mum fainted."

"I can imagine," Trish muttered. "So what does this have to do with you? You said you have to be in the next war, but why?"

"Harry Potter – the baby who stopped the last war? Well, he's our age. And now that Voldemort is back at full power, he's going to try and kill him. Harry needs all the help he can get."

"Yes, but why you?"

"I'm his best friend! What are friends for?" Hermione cried. She hoped Trish wouldn't take her parents' view of this. It was too dangerous, so she had to let someone else do it. "Harry and I have already been though a lot together and I'm not abandoning him now, when he needs me most."

"But...won't he – this Dark Lord – won't he try to kill you, too?" Trish asked hesitantly.

"Of course he will. Let him try."

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