His question made her stubborn expression fade, eyebrows lifting, jaw relaxing, mouth opening. The Hufflepuff stood there, absolutely helpless. Not because she didn't have an answer, but because she had too many answers, some concrete, others abstract in ways she couldn't even bring into words. They were bursting, filling up her stomach and throat and mouth and head, and she did not know how to let them out. If he could, could just see inside, just for one minute, he would understand. But that was impossible.

And so, pathetically silent, she sat down, face hanging, broken. Cedric Diggory grinned at her across the room. He looked like Jake, and Wesley looked away.

Inexplicably, then, as several moments had passed, the girl reached over. She picked up one of the older boy's hands, giant in her two small ones, and lifted it towards the left of his chest. "This," she said simply, referring to the spot where she was sure he could feel the inside drum, rhythm pounding out softly.

"You have a good heart."