**First fanfic, so please leave a review. Thanks (:
*And I don't own Harry Potter in any way, shape, or form. So... yeah.
Harry completed a perfect Summoning Charm when he realized Hermione wasn't there to congratulate him. He looked back and noticed her leaning back on a desk and staring at the floor.
"Hermione," Harry said as he walked over to her. "what's wrong?" She looked up at him and replied, "I'm worried Harry... people die in this tournament..." Her speech faded and she zoned out, possibly imagining his death since her eyes filled with tears. She quickly pulled Harry in for a tight hug. He thought about what Hermione had just said. People did die... and he was only a fourth year. What chance did he have against a huge dragon?
He sighed and focused on the beetle on the wall to take his mind off the tournament. Strange, Harry thought to himself. The thought of the beetle quickly wore off as Hermione pulled away from the hug and stared into his eyes. She swallowed loudly. "Good luck, Harry," she said hastily as she grabbed her school bag and briskly exited the Transfiguration classroom.
Harry spent a couple minutes in the classroom by himself pondering different situations with the dragon. In one, he had succeeded with the Summoning Charm and remained untouched by dragon. However, in another, the charm had failed miserably and he was burnt to a crisp.
What would happen if I did die in the tournament? Harry pondered. He imagined the Slytherins cheering and Malfoy laughing about how he never stood a chance anyway. He saw the the rest of the school in shock and in mourning, especially the Gryffindors. He imagined Ron and Hermione. Hermione was weeping and Ron aghast and guilty that his last words to Harry weren't his kindest.
Harry shook the daydream out of his head and trudged out of the room, heading straight for the Gryffindor common room. Harry practiced the Summoning Charm on everything until he finally went to sleep. In his sleep, his mind wandered back to a certain scene in his daydream, Hermione. At the sight of her bawling, he felt a sharp pain in his heart. He couldn't stand to see her that way. As his mind focused on Hermione, he felt another sharp pain, but this time on his cheek.
"Wake up, Harry! Wake up! You're going to be late for the tournament!" Hermione's voice rang in his ears. He shot up and shoved his glasses onto his face. He looked at Hermione, glad to see her not covered in tears. "Come on, Harry! Get dressed! I'll see you there, alright?"
"Yeah," he replied as she left and he quickly pulled on his robes and headed out to the champion's tent.
In tent, they picked their dragons, and with Harry's luck, he was stuck with the most vicious of them all, the Hungarian Horntail. The champions were called out one by one, until Harry was waiting for his turn by himself. He noticed another beetle crawling around on the roof of the tent.
"Harry, are you in there?" called a familiar voice. "Hermione?" She ran in and hugging him and pressing her lips against his. Harry was alarmed at first, but then closed his eyes and kissed her back.
It was a strange sensation, kissing Hermione. It was great, as if he a secret yearning to do this had finally been met, but at the same time, it felt wrong in a way he couldn't explain. He knew he should have stopped the kiss, but the part of him that was yearning for it overpowered him and the kiss grew more passionate. Harry loved the way their lips seemed as if they were made to connect. Harry's hold on Hermione fastened as they kissed a little longer and then finally broke apart.
They stared at each other for what felt like forever. Hermione looked down and whispered, "I'm sorry, Harry." She turned and fled the tent as the whistle blew, meaning it was Harry's turn to face the dragon.