Harry Potter and the Leap of Faith

By: PottertheOtter

Harry Potter was terrified. Not for exams, classes, overdue homework, or detentions, like most teenagers are. No, he was terrified because he was about to face a dragon. In a ring. With no help. And everybody watching. Not exactly a normal fear for most teenagers. But this was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. He never had normal teenage problems.

As the tent filled up with Ministry officials and the stands filled up with spectators, Harry was sitting stock still, remembering everything that Hermione had taught him. Then his mind started wandering off.

Hermione.

She believed him when no one else did. She was always there for him. She protected him, even from himself. She did so much for him. Harry stopped his musings for a moment. What did he ever do for her?

Suddenly, harry wasn't thinking about himself anymore. He was wondering what he had ever done to deserve someone so amazing in his life such as Hermione. Through his musings, one thought stopped him short.

I love her.

But how would I know what love is? Harry thought, unable to believe that he was capable of something such as love. His home life was... not very loving, and, as far as he could tell, his aunt and uncle were not very loving. Of course, he knew that he had had a bit of a crush on her since the end of second year, but he couldn't even fathom love. He only stopped thinking about these things when the subject of his thoughts' voice came from the other side of the tent.

"Harry?" She called tentatively.

"Hermione? What are you doing here?" Harry asked, nervous about letting his feelings slip out in front of her. He leaned closer to the tent wall to hear her better.

"I just... I just wanted to wish you luck. I know you can do it,

Harry." Hermione said, blushing lightly.

"Well...uh... Thanks, Hermione. For everything." He added, thinking of his previous musings. He started blushing as well. All of a sudden, the tent wall was pushed aside, and Hermione hugged him tightly in one of her patented bone-crushing hugs. He tentatively returned it, having a strong urge to kiss her. He tried to push it aside, but it only became more persistent. After a few seconds, he decided to follow the instinct and take a leap of faith.

Harry turned his head, looking into her eyes. They contained so much emotion. Her worry and fear for him, her care for him, and... something else that he couldn't quite place.

Slowly, he leaned forward and his lips made contact with hers in a chaste kiss. She stood stock still for a moment, before returning the kiss with interest, moving her arms to his neck and hair, which was cut short except for his bangs in the front,(A/N: I want Harry to have short hair. Deal with it. I'm not into long hair, so sorry.) which was just long enough to cover his scar. They pulled away after a flash blinded them.

"AH, young love!" came one of the voices that Harry was quickly learning to despise. Rita Skeeter was looking like the cat that ate the canary, while her photographer scurried elsewhere, escaping the glares he was receiving. Too bad his companion didn't. "How romantic! Seeing your man off to battle, when you may not see him again." She said in a sickening voice, her acidic green quill writing everything down.

"Leave them alone." a gruff and heavily accented voice growled from the side. Viktor Krum looked at Skeeter with a look of contempt and disgust. "It is none o' yer buizness vat zey have." Krum said, looking toward them with understanding. They nodded their gratitude for his help. Just before Skeeter could comment, she was ushered to the side of the tent as Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch entered, a velvet bag in Crouch's hand and a smile on Bagman's face.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the first task! You will each reach into the bag and take out a.. Ah.. Object pertaining to the task." He looked around and noticed Hermione, tucked into Harry's side. "Uh, young lady? Are you supposed to be here?" Hermione blushed and said "No, sir. I was just wishing Harry good luck." She turned and hugged him, then near-ran out of the tent. Harry stared at where she'd left, the realization of what task laid before him hitting him, making his stomach drop, a drastic change from the fluttery feeling he had when he kissed Hermione.

"Alright, gather 'round, we'll go around the circle, clockwise, I think, and everyone can pick out the... ah, objects." Bagman said, and Crouch held the bag out. Cedric got the Swedish Short-Snout, Fleur got the Common Welsh Green, and Viktor got the Chinese Fireball. Harry was last to choose, and he already knew exactly which dragon he got. The Hungarian Horntail. Just my luck. Harry thought, reaching into the bag and drawing out the miniature dragon. It was feisty, trying to nip his fingers. He looked up, seeing the other champions just staring at their dragons with apprehension. "Alright, I believe Mr. Diggory shall go first, then Mr. Krum, Ms. Delacour third, and Mr. Potter will go last. At the cannon blast, you will go to the exit over there, and step out into the arena. Good luck all!" Ludo Bagman said, completely unfazed by the fact that he was sending people out to face a dragon.

Everyone but the champions and a few officials left, letting the champions compose themselves. Harry just stared at his miniature dragon, wondering just how bad this would be. He hoped that his plan worked (Hermione and Moody's plan, really). Idly thinking, Harry wondered if he could keep the miniature dragon. It was pretty cool looking, and it seemed to be unable to physically harm him.

The cannon blast shook him out of his thoughts as the tent shook, jostling those inside it slightly. Cedric took a deep breath, and then stepped out of the exit. That was pretty much how it went for everyone, up to Harry getting ready to head out. At the cannon blast, he closed his eyes and steadied himself, taking two deep steadying breaths. And then he stepped into the arena.

There were rocks everywhere, and it was dead silent. Harry looked around, crouching slightly, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. On the far side of the arena, the dragon stood, large, intimidating, and dangerous. And it was staring right at him. Harry quickly dodged to the side, behind the cover of a rock, as a jet of fire flew right next to him, singeing his sleeve slightly. He held up his wand and cast a silent 'accio firebolt' before ducking again as fire hit stone, melting it into hot magma. Knowing that the stone would be gone within seconds, Harry dashed to the next stone, keeping his eyes out for his broom and watching the dragon. Come on, come on! He thought, looking to the skies for his broom, knowing the stone was getting dangerously close to melting away. Seeing a speck in the sky flying toward him from the castle, Harry heaved a small sigh of relief, but knew he had to run before the stone was gone.

He ran out from behind the stone, feeling a searing pain in his back as he did so. A jet of fire had just missed its mark, but was close enough to completely burn his back. He let out a grunt of pain before reaching out, and his broomstick flew into his hand. He immediately hopped on, flying away from the fire that lit up the spot he had occupied only seconds before.

He turned his broom around and dove near the dragon, trying to draw her away from the nest. She strained against her chain to get at him, but they were constricting. Suddenly, she turned her head and bit through the chain. Harry noticed this, and immediately knew that his luck was even more rotten than normal. He flew away, trying to get away from the now-free dragon, but the dragon pursued him, taking to the sky. Harry knew that dragons were excellent flyers, and most people could never even hope to outfly one. Most people. He, of course, had come to realize that he was definitely not like most people. Crazy stuff always happened to him, and he knew it wasn't always bad luck. So, he flew.

The dragon roared from behind him, and Harry could hear the spectators screaming in panic. He pushed the broom harder, going as fast possible, before making a sharp dive, the dragon following him. He dove straight for the eggs, which were all empty casts of the originals, except for the gold one, so that none would actually be harmed. The dragon roared from behind, seeing that he was diving for the eggs, and slowed down, not wanting to crush what she though was her nest.

Harry grabbed the golden egg and tried to fly away, but he was hit by the tail of the enraged dragon-mother. A spike broke off into his shoulder, deeply embedded. Harry let out a shout of pain, his broom flying into the side of the stadium, and he slumped into unconsciousness.

The crowd screamed again, this time in fear for the competitor. The dragon handlers rushed out into the arena, subduing the Hungarian Horntail while healers took Harry onto a stretcher, one carrying the egg for him, heading toward the tent which was being used for a temporary medical tent to treat any emergency injuries for the champions. One Gryffindor was running to the medical tent, tears streaming down her face which was filled with worry.

In the medical tent, Madam Pomfrey was bustling about, running diagnostic charms and gathering the necessary potions.

She worked on her most frequent patient with diligent care and sharp eyes, but with a tenderness that gave away that she had grown to care for Harry Potter. She worked hard, trying to save the boy, who carried too many impossible tasks on his young shoulders.

First, she got rid of his concussion, this way there was no chance of real brain damage. Then, she gave Harry an anesthetic potion and pain relief, knowing that the next part would hurt a lot. She didn't care for working on a thrashing and screaming patient. She took her wand and tried to remove the spike from his shoulder, but it was too deeply embedded to safely summon it. So, Pomfrey had to set to take it out manually, which took a lot of effort, seeing as it was right in the bone.

An hour later, Harry Potter was free of the dragon spike and on his way to recovery, with a slightly exhausted Madam Pomfrey double checking her work. Since the dragon spike was from such a magically powerful and resistant beast, there was going to be a big scar on his shoulder, but he was safe from any lasting damage. Satisfied, Pomfrey transferred her patient to the hospital wing, where a Gryffindor with bushy brown hair had been directed an hour ago after being denied access to the medical tent.

AS Madam Pomfrey levitated Harry onto a bed, she looked over towards Hermione and gave her a tired smile. "He's going to be fine after I take care of that burn on his back. You can stay right here. Just don't touch his back." With that, Pomfrey turned Harry onto his stomach, exposing his burnt back so that she could put some burn salve on it.

Hermione sat down and took the unconscious boy's hand, squeezing it with her own at the sight of his back. Besides the burn, there were many scars that were definitely not from the dragon. She covered her mouth with her free hand, trying to hold back her sobs of horror. She knew exactly where he got those scars. She had had a sneaking suspicion that Harry had a worse home life than he let on, but it didn't make it any easier to see the evidence. This was one of the few times Hermione wished that she had been wrong. She couldn't fathom how someone could do this to Harry. Her Harry. He was such a good person; brave, loyal, helpful, caring, sweet, and so much more. Yes, he could be a bit thick and hot-headed, but he more than made up for it with everything else. No one deserved this, especially not him. Hermione decided to be there for him and ask him to talk about it, knowing he would be uncomfortable about it, but needed to.

She would be there for him.

Harry opened his eyes to the blinding white of the infirmary. Something that he was becoming far too familiar with. His shoulder throbbed lightly, and he squinted at the blurred vision without the aid of his glasses. He felt a delicate hand holding his calloused one. Using his unoccupied hand, Harry reached for his glasses on the nightstand, feeling a slight burning sensation on his back as he did so. Once his vision was cleared, Harry saw Hermione, sleeping on a chair next to the hospital bed he was occupying. He shook his head at her antics.

Careful not to wake her, Harry shifted into a more comfortable position on his bed, trying to remember exactly how he ended up in the hospital wing and how long he'd been there. The memories of the first task slowly flooded his mind. Sighing, he wondered how long he'd been out of commission. It was obviously long enough to have Hermione sleeping in a chair. Then the events that took place before the first task flooded into his brain.

He'd kissed Hermione. And she kissed him back. Harry was on cloud nine for about an hour before the sleeping beauty stirred. He patiently watched as her eyes flickered open.

"Hello there. Have a nice nap?" He teased gently. Hermione's eyes flew wide open as she heard his voice, before she flung her arms around him, her relief palpable. He hugged her back, despite the ache of his shoulder and back at the action.

"Harry! Thank goodness you're alright. I've been worried sick about you." She scolded with care. "You've been unconscious for about three days." She answered his unspoken question. She closed her eyes and inhaled his scent. It was a rugged, almost woodsy scent, with a hint of something so completely Harry. Hermione felt comforted immensely just by this and his heart thrumming from within his chest to hers as he hugged her tightly to him.

"Hermione, about what happened in the tent… does this… does this mean that we're, you know, dating?" Harry asked, hoping he wasn't stretching things too far. Hermione looked into his eyes and instead of the rejection she thought she'd see there at the idea, she saw hope. He was hoping that she would say yes. Her heart ached with the pure joy of being wanted, of being cared about in the same way she cared about him. She nodded happily and hugged him even tighter, hesitantly kissing his cheek. She heard him give a contented sigh as he relaxed into her grip.

Hermione pulled back for a moment, taking in the features of her newly minted boyfriend. His green eyes shone brightly from behind his glasses, which showed too many quick repairs from being broken multiple times. His hair, even though it was shorn quite short, was as messy as ever. His defined jawline showed the first signs of stubble coming in, and his lips were pulled into a happy lop-sided grin. Hermione was happier than she could ever remember being in her entire life.

AN: Hello all! This is PottertheOtter here. Thank you for reading the first chapter of my story. It took a while to really get it going. My computer had broken down towards the end of the first draft, so I had to rewrite almost half the chapter. Hopefully, chapter two will be up sometime in March. Updates will be slow and most likely spontaneous, seeing as there is the muggle world interfering with my magic. Please leave a review if you feel like it, but please don't be mean. There's too much mean in the world as it is. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Have a lovely day, night, or whatever it is for you :)

Also, I made Harry's hair short because I find it more… well, sexy/handsome. It's my personal preference, so please don't mind it.

I'm going to write the disclaimer here for the entire story, so I'm NOT rewriting it over and over.

DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN A DAMN THING, EXCEPT THE CARDBOARD BOX I LIVE IN AND THE PLOT MY TWISTED MIND CREATED STEMMING OFF THE HARRY POTTER SERIES. ALL CHARACTERS, OBJECTS OF THE WIZARDING WORLD, AND THE WIZARDING WORLD ITSELF BELONG TO WB AND JK ROWLING. (Don't worry; the cardboard box thing was a joke… I hope.)