DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.
Ultimate Hermione Competition II: Hermione's name came out of the Goblet of Fire.
Quidditch Pitch: "No. Not you. Anyone but you." (dialogue)
Hermione exchanged a glance with Cedric as she held his hand.
Together, they stepped forward and grasped the golden handle of the Triwizard Cup.
And together they went to their death.
Hermione rolled onto her back, gasping for breath. Cedric lay beside her, panting. "A Portkey," she said almost instantly, pushing herself up on trembling hands.
"Do you think this is part of the challenge?" Cedric asked, wrapping an arm around her waist. He pressed a small, comforting kiss to her forehead.
"No," Hermione whispered. "Definitely not." Her gaze traveled over the dark sky, the fog that drifted over the moon, warding off any light, the many gravestones that littered the withering grass. "We're in a graveyard."
"Okay," Cedric said, pulling her closer. "Let's walk around a bit."
"I have a bad feeling about this," Hermione said softly, quivering.
"We'll be fine. We have each other, right?" Cedric held her hand tightly, squeezing it for a moment.
"Right." Hermione managed a small smile. "But I think we really should grab the cup and go back."
"Come on, Hermione. Nothing's going to happen to us."
Hermione sighed, her heart racing. "Fine…"
They walked around the graveyard, leaves crunching under their feet.
Hermione whirled around when she hear a small rustle. She peered at the graveyard anxiously. "Who is it?"
"Hermio—"
"Kill the other."
A green light shot towards Cedric, hitting him before they could do anything. Cedric fell to the ground, his eyes wide open, his lips still frozen in a small smile.
"No!" Hermione screamed, falling to her knees. A tear fell from her eyes and dropped down on Cedric's pale face. She lifted her head and stared at the graveyard.
"Who did this?" Hermione asked, getting up. "Who dared to kill my Cedric?"
"Mudblood," she heard a voice hiss. "What a pleasure to finally meet you…"
"No. Not you. Anyone but you," Hermione whispered. She backed away.
"Get the Mudblood, Pettigrew."
Before she could grab the cup, she felt rough hands pick her up. Peter.
Peter carried her into the circle of gravestones and tied her against one. He stepped back to survey his work with a smile.
"You bastards," she spat, writhing against one.
"Harry Potter will come."
"No!"
"And he will be just in time to see his best friend die."
Hermione closed her eyes, wishing she could just pretend this was all a nightmare. Her body was bruised and bloody from a round of the Cruciatus from Peter.
"Pettigrew, tell our dear friend Potter that we have his Mudblood."
"Of course, my lord." Peter bowed. He cast a weak Patronus, muttering something to it before it left.
Harry was coming.
Hermione saw a glimpse of a familiar mop of black hair enter the graveyard.
Harry.
"Harry Potter. What a pleasure."
"Pettigrew!" Harry hissed, wand out.
"Harry," Hermione whispered. She finally caught Harry's eyes.
"Hermione… oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry, 'Mione." Harry raced forward.
But he was too late.
Peter had his wand at Hermione's throat before Harry could do anything. Meeting Harry's gaze, he whispered the spell. "Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green shot from his wand, and Hermione fell limp.