Disclaimer: You guessed it, I don't own it! The wonderfully inspired J.K. Rowling owns it. So please, don't sue!

A/N: This is my first fic, And All I can say is this: Do not be gentle, be honest. (But of course, not brutally so!) In essence, I'm asking that this time around you avoid the heavy stuff. Just tell me if I got a characters eye-color wrong, or they seemed off. Thanks!

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Victor Krum had been rushed off of the field moments before, after being stunned. The nurse was huddled over him, reversing the spell and getting him back on his feet. Suspicion of foul play ran rampant amongst the stadium, but none of the judges could prove anything. So the crowds continued to watch the actions of the two remaining players, Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory, cheering loudly as they made their way to the cup side by side, Harry slung against the taller boys frame. But at the last moment, to the surprise of everybody in the stadium-- including themselves-- they disappeared. Some of the students leaned forward to get a closer look, blinking. There were murmurs of confusion amongst the crowd. Not wanting to have a riot on his hands, Ludo Bagman tried desperately to talk above them, somehow managing to remain convincing despite his own baffled mind.

"Ladies and gentleman, please, remain seated. I'm assured that this is all part of the tournament...So please, remain calm!" He glanced at the judges, who were going red in the face for this lie. "Apparently, it has been taken elsewhere to sort out the last two..er..players...."

Krum, who was getting dazedly to his feet, looked about, trying to get the stiffness out of his neck.

Damn that Potter, he though vehemently, he'll pay for that....

He was cut off by the sound of feet behind him. Madam Pomfrey had just left to retrieve some more supplies, so he doubted it was her. Wondering who it was, and unable to look over his shoulder, he turned.

To his shock, there stood Hermione. She was looking at him with a mixture of concern and distrust. Her eyes were frozen on his. Without even thinking twice he locked his hand around her wrist, began to lead her out of the stadium into the cool night air outside. She was still looking at him in that horrible way. As if he had done something terrible. Then again, he had. He had used an unforgivable curse.

"Are you okay?" She asked softly. She did not try to leave, but stood, pinning him with her gaze. He looked about quickly.

"Hermeoninee, look, I do not think you vill understand, but I must go." He stared at her franticly, begging for something. She looked away.

"I know." Her voice was soft. That was when he realized it. She knew what he had done.

He thought desperately. There had to be something he could do. There just had to be! He came forward slowly, tilting her chin upwards to meet the soft brush of his lips. She shivered, and drew her cloak more tightly around her. The girl continued to look at him though, her brown eyes gentle, and yet filled with knowledge.

"But... But I vont you to com vith me..." He took her hands in his, still looking down into her eyes. For a moment, she still gazed back, then suddenly tried to pull away, turning her head to one side. She tugged hard as she could, and he finally let go.

"I can't. Not after what you did--what you were going to do to Harry!" Her voice had gone cold. And that name, again! Always that name! He suddenly found himself pulling out his wand.

"You should have com, Hermeoninee." His voice had become dangerous. She took a step back. Suddenly, his voice rose to a yell.

"It vas that Potter all along, vasin't it? You loved him, not me. You lied, Hermeoninee. VHY DID YOU LIE!?" But instead of attacking, or hitting her, his voice lowered to a whisper. She looked up again, about to protest. She had slid her hand into her cloak, and she suddenly went cold, her mouth dry. There were no words left.

She had left her wand inside...

Krum was fast approaching, his eyes aglow with a sort of half-mad light. He seemed as if a preditor on the hunt, his wand poised for attack, directed at the center of her being. Circling, her quick mind flitting from one failed chance of escape to another, the chilling realization suddenly came to her that she might die.

"I loved you like I loved nobody else, ever. I can't understand vhy you did not love me. But for you betrayal, zer is only von thing..." He raised his wand, and hissed, "Crucio. Crucio.....crucio..."

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At that moment, a scream filled the stadium. It rose and fell, a wail of indescribable pain. The crowd was quickly drawn away from their prior stupor. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. People immediately ran from the stadium in a flurry of terror, trying to get outside, either away from it, towards it, or pulled along by the swarm. Amongst the choas there seemed no end. The exit gleamed ahead of them. Their way was blocked, however. They froze at the scene.

Victor Krum stood with his wand raised, breathing heavily. His eyes were wide, his skin pale and drawn. He was still whispering a word beneath his breath, his face contorting each time he spoke it. A small film of sweat covered his forehead and nose.

Hermione Granger lay on the ground, barely moving. Her body convulsed every time Krums lips moved. From what the crowd could see she was still making the feeblest of struggles to rise, but soon even these were quelled as they looked on, shocked into silence.

Ron Weasley ran forward suddenly. With one quick action, he turned to Krum and expelled the wand from his hand, but did not look at him. Instead, he ran to the girls side, checking for a breath, any sign of life. Franticly, he lifted her into his arms clumsily, shaking her slightly. Tears were beginning to squeeze out of his eyes.

"Hermione!" He yelled desperately. Nobody moved. He stared at the faces."Come on, we have to help her!" There was still no response. The crowd seemed to be parting though. And out of the gap came little Neville Longbottom.

He stared for a moment.

"The....the....Cru..." He stuttered for a moment, trying to find words. Unexpectedly, his face contorted. He rushed forward, his fist flying through the air, and hit Krum with all of his strength. The Quiddich star did nothing to resist. He continued to kick him screaming all the while: "The Cruciatus curse, you BASTARD. The Cruciatus! How could you? HOW COULD YOU?!!?"

Finally, the chaos subsided. The staff and judges had managed to push through. Neville was pounding his fists weakly on Krum's back. He had fallen to his knees and was speaking brokenly, eyes staring ahead. Dumbledor came forward and set a hand on his shoulder.

"That's enough, Neville." He whispered.

The boy stood slowly, staring at Krum. He swayed gently to one side, then turned and looked at the professor. Then, just as fast as he had been consumed my anger, his eyes filled with tears. He fell forward and began sobbing into his shoulder. He didn't even try to explain. He didn't have to.

"The....Cruciatus...it...my...my Mum..and Dad...." He managed, before giving up speaking completely. With a nod from Dumbledor Madam Pomfrey came forward and led the boy away.

Nobody, not even Malfoy, dared to laugh.

Hagrid, just managing to push through, lifted Hermione into his arms to take her away. As she rose, her eyes cracked open slightly.

"Hagr..id?" She whispered dazedly before once again losing consciousness. Her head lolled gently against his shoulder, like a child in slumber. He nodded to Ron, and the three were off without another word.

Karkaroff walked forward and leaned Krum on his shoulder. The boy was barely conscious, blood streaming from a large cut on his temple. Fudge gave them a look that cut off any protests that might have come. The headmaster glared daggers at Dumbledor for a moment, though. They followed in the same direction as Hagrid without as much as a backward glance.

Dumbledor stood for a moment, before speaking in a tone nobody had ever heard from him. It was pure anger.

"Everybody back to the stadium." He said softly, and began tripping off to his seat. Moody somehow had caught up with him, and the two travelled in silence for a while. Moody's magical eye travelled up and down his friends form. Finally, he halted.

"I'm going to the Hospital wing." He muttered.

Dumbledor watched his retreating form with a sort of concerned concentration. For a short while he sat pondering his friend, despite his absence. Nearly fifteen minutes passed by him as he sat, immersed in thought. But his gaze was suddenly forced to the center of the stadium by a yell of surprise from the crowd.

Harry had returned.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Mad-eye came into the room slowly. Surprisingly, the nurse did not shoo him away. Instead she looked at him, a pleading light in her eyes. She also managed to look quite exasperated.

"I don't know what more I can do for her. She will live...But right now she is exhausted, from the pain I'd suspect. Honestly, she needs bedrest. But Weasley refuses to leave!" She gestured at the boy sitting in the chair in the corner, holding Hermione's hand, looking at them nervously. He looked wilted, but his eyes were wide. Moody guessed he was still in shock, and correctly so. He came over and pulled up a chair, sitting next to the boy. Ron looked up at him, his eyes wide, and clutched her hand slightly tighter, almost protectivly.

"Professor Moody? W-What is it?"

Moody smiled at him. It had a rather twisting affect on his scarred features. The boy was somehow still capable of conscious thought. Maybe he did have a level head on his shoulders, after all....

" Perhaps you, too, should think of a career as an Auror."

He was encouraged a bit farther by the small strained smile Ron gave him.

"Yeah...Maybe." Ron stopped his musings though, and his face fell again. "Why isn't she waking up? The nurse said she was okay, so why isn't she awake?"

Moody sighed inwardly. He reached into his satchel and pulled out a small vial containing a greenish liquid. He poured a cup of tea from a nearby tray and added the contents, causing a small puff of purplish smoke to roll into the air.

"Well, Ron, it turns out there is a use for those blasted-whatever screwts. Snape has been fiddling with this for a bit. It's supposed to help with shock, and as sort of a pain neutralizer, and all that rot."

Ron went on edge at the mention of Snape, blanching slightly. He eyed the teacup suspiciously. Moody couldn't suppress a chuckle. A boy after his own heart. Normally his caution would prove helpful to him. But what of it now?

"Don't worry about the old toad poisoning either of you now." He continued "I brewed this batch myself. Give it to her. And take a nip at it yourself, while your at it. You look a bit jittery, know what I mean?"

"Me? Jittery?" Ron paused, his voice cracking, "...You better believe it."

He grinned up at Moody. After a moment, Moody grinned back. And to think he had worried about Potter? But still, they were too wary. Soon he would be suspect. His eyebrows creased worriedly, and his magic eye rolled back in his head to look at the nurse who was staring at them. Ron had just drunk the last of the stuff, and was rapidly dozing off, leaning against the edge of the bed.

A toothy smile creased his face, growing to a crecendo of hainus delight as the nurse rushed from the room. He heard the wail from the crowd and approaching footsteps. Potter must be back. Now was the time to act. Silently he lifted Ron's unconscious form. He had not drunk enough of the poison to kill himself, but to be put him into a deep sleep. He did not stir as he was taken into Moody's arms. Gently, he straightened the sheets of Hermione's bed. She would soon be dead from the draught Ron had given to her. It was all going perfectly.

Moody rushed from the room, and into the night.

~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was lead into the hospital, blinking owlishly. There were gentle arms guiding him to a bed, to lay down. But he didn't want to lay. He was struggling to see through the group of people mobbing him. He was trying to find what had become of Ron and Hermione. Where were they?

A quarter-hour before, he and Cedric, the other remaining champion, had been swept off by the Triwizard cup, which had turned out to be a portkey. The events that had followed were by far the worst of his life. Harry shuddered, recalling vividly the body of Cedric Diggory laid out before him, the boys eyes wide in his final terror. He remembered the Death Eaters with a sort of fascinating horror. How all of those people could walk the line between good and evil? It was beyond him. And somewhere in the background, there was a man crying, and a woman shouting her son's name.

"Cedric.....Cedric...."

Cedric....

Harry closed his eyes, trying to drive out the rush of thoughts, the swirling turmoil of his mind. His mother and father. All those people, dead. Killing...killing endlessly and madly. Now he found himself with the oddest of clarity observing the people around him. Through the haze of worried thoughts in his own mind, and voices calling to him, things began to swirl. He heard yet another yell rising to a crescendo. He wanted to fall, to sleep endlessly and forget about this nightmare. But as he stumbled forward, half-blind, a strange thing happened.

The crowds ended, like a sea meeting shore.

Now he stood in an open area in the hospital wing. He looked dully at a bed directly in front of him. There were people all around it. Fleetingly, he thought how odd it was that people were so interested in such a thing. But as he came forward, he was unprepared for what waited there.

Hermiones pale countenance shone back at him. Deathly still, just as Cedric. Gone were the brown eyes, replaced by thin whitish hoods. Her cheeks held none of the color they had previously bore.

And then Harry found himself doing something he had previously been unable to do. Wracked sobs tore from his throat. There was a stinging in his eyes.

James Potter...

Lily Potter...

Cedric Diggory...

Now, Hermione Granger...

And Ron. Where was Ron? Surely he hadn't died because of him as well?

A sudden wave of loneliness swept over him as he sank to the floor. Through his blurred eyes he saw Dumbledor lifting the ragdoll body, rushing off. Taking her away from him, just like all of the others. And where was Ron?

And he realized he cared. And he realized that more than anything all he wanted right now was to have Ron looking at him in that joking way. He wanted him to tell him he was going to be okay, life was going to be okay.

He wanted to be able to laugh.

He wanted Hermione to be back, and to be worrying over him. He wanted to hear her voice again, asking if he was alright. He wanted the friendly silence they would give him. Or questions. Or anything.

But all he had was a girl that looked dead laying on the other side of the room, and an empty chair by his bed. He turned his hands over on the floor in front of him, staring at the backs where the thin veins rose and fell. His fingers scrabbled uselessly at the stone floor, now slick with his tears. A great wizard indeed! Not even able to save four people that meant the world to him...

And slowly, he stood and walked across the flagged floor. He laid down in the bed. The sheets smelled like her, he thought dozily. Like roses... He brought the sheets to his nose, breathing deeply, remembering her.

Was this all he would have left?

People were staring at him. At her. He wanted them to go away, wished they would with all his heart. This was his time, his pain, not to be shared with fools who gaped and muttered. He wanted to remember things like this, her last few moments with him. The smell of her. The memory of his friend Ron, and exactly what the redhead looked like. Maybe Ron was already dead as well? Maybe it didn't matter, because, he himself was dying? He felt so empty that he thought it had to be.

He tried desperately to recall what his life had been like just a few hours before. His friends had been all around him, closing him in safety. Now they were all gone from his life forever. Slowly, he fell asleep in the chill embrace of his memories, the sheets damp with tears, Ron's face hovering before him, and the scent of roses everywhere.