Hermione pushed her food around her plate. She knew that she should eat something. And shepherd's pie wasn't exactly something she found distasteful. But she couldn't find it in her heart to eat.
She kept glancing at Viktor, and then at the cup. She couldn't decide if she wanted him to be champion or not. Either way he would still have a gaggle of girls following him at all times.
Across the hall, Viktor was trying to eat, in spite of the knot in his stomach. He had plenty of experience with that, being a professional quiditch player and all. But he couldn't quell the nerves he felt.
Part of his mind reasoned that they weren't his own. He was confident in his chances at being chosen, and he'd accepted the risks when he placed his name in the goblet. But the nerves were eating him up, and he couldn't figure out why.
He looked at his hand. The back of it said Potions Essay due Thursday. He knew that it was Hermione's way of reminding her to turn in the essay that she had almost certainly already finished. He also knew that it was a subtle way of her telling him that she would be in the library every afternoon until that point.
He looked at her as she pushed food around her plate, her fork never leaving the surface of the dish. She didn't even try to get involved in the conversation with her friends. Something was wrong.
As he swallowed the last of his food, he realized that she was nervous. And it was her worry that he was feeling. He wasn't sure how, or why, but that had to be it.
Stay calm, he wrote in English. His letters were small, and just under her writing. He hoped they would be unnoticeable to the others at her table.
Hermione looked at the small letters on her hand and smiled softly. Viktor must have sensed that she was nervous, and decided to do something. That was very much like him.
She shot a small glance at him, hoping the thankful expression on her face was seen in the two seconds she dared look at him. From the short nod he gave, she guessed it was.
Dinner ended far too soon for her tastes. Not that she had managed to eat much of anything anyways. Her stomach was still in knots, even though she had managed to calm down a bit from the near hysteria that she had been experiencing.
The rest of the students seemed to be watching in awe as the tables were once again pushed to the edges of the room and the goblet of fire wheeled into the center of the floor. She tried to be happy for whoever wound up competing. After all, they had chosen to do so.
She managed to keep calm as Miss Fleur Delacour was named the champion of Beauxbatons. Her heart fluttered a little as Viktor was named Durmstrang's champion. And she felt slightly relieved when Cassius Warrington's name was called for Hogwarts.
She thought that maybe, just maybe, things would be alright that year. Sure, she would spend most of it crazy worried for Viktor. And she would still have to keep Harry and Ron out of trouble. But she might be able to relax just a tad.
And then the goblet flared and flamed, just as it had thrice before. Hermione's frail spirits dropped like a rock.
"Harry Potter," Dumbledore called.
Harry walked out, and Hermione tried to stay as composed as possible. There went all hope for a semi-normal year. And while she hadn't exactly been at ease with Viktor competing, he could handle himself. Harry, not so much.
"It'll be okay," Neville whispered to her. "Harry's gotten out of worse scrapes than this."
"By the skin of his teeth and some weird luck," she hissed back.
"Yeah, Harry has the best luck," Neville agreed.
"I'd say," Ron fumed. "How'd he even get his name into the goblet?"
"Ron." Hermione rolled her eyes openly at his antics. "Why on earth would Harry want to enter a tournament like this? People have died."
"Why wouldn't he?" Ron countered. "Eternal glory and all that."
Hermione slammed books onto the table as she gathered her stuff up. She really didn't need that kind of talk from Ron. He was supposed to be Harry's best friend. He was supposed to be her best friend.
"I'm going to the library. I want to see if I can find some way to get Harry out of this mess. Come find me when you're done thinking the worst of your friends." She stormed away.
When she got to the library, she allowed herself to calm down a bit. It helped to be angry. If she was angry at Ron, she couldn't worry that Harry was going to die. But there, standing in the empty space, she felt like she was going to cry.
She retreated to one of the lesser visited corner tables, and dug through her bag until she found a pen.
Please tell me you're okay, she wrote.
I'm fine. What's wrong?
Harry, my friend with the dark hair and glasses, was chosen as a champion. I'm not even sure how that works, but it's got me worried. Of course, I was worried about you, but you're older and better able to handle things like this.
Hermione, breathe.
She looked at her arm and realized that she had been ranting. Taking several deep breaths, she focused on happier things. The feeling of parchment under her fingers. The smell of freshly mown grass. The tingling sensation she loved after brushing her teeth.
Sorry. I guess I got a bit carried away.
She could feel his smile. Darling, that's one of the reasons you have me.
Shameless flirt.
Only with you.
She smiled at him. If you keep talking like that I might believe you.
I hope you believe me. Because I am being very honest.
I think you might have to tell me that in person, she teased. She knew she was being silly, but it was better than the alternative.
I would meet you in the library, since I assume you are there, but I would be followed by Hogwarts girls.
She knew he was right. He had been followed by girls since he had gotten there. And it was only getting worse.
She had hoped that in a few weeks, the novelty of having Viktor Krum at Hogwarts would wear off. After all Harry Potter, the boy who lived, went to school there. And no one followed him around giggling like maniacs.
I know. I wish I could see you though.
She desperately wanted to see him. To be able to say to his face that she hoped he would be alright. To be able to hug him.
Me too. So come out to the courtyard.
She looked up at the clock, and decided there was enough time before curfew that she could do such a thing. She packed her stuff up, pulling out her scarf and gloves.
I'll be there as soon as I can.
Hurry Darling, was written on her wrist as she hurried down the stairs. She caught a glimpse of it as she pulled her gloves on, smiling all the way down to the courtyard.
She looked around the dark landscape, watching for any sort of movement. She spotted a figure from the direction of the lake, and almost ran to him.
"Hello," she said breathlessly.
"Miss Granger," he kissed her hand.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, reassuring herself that he was real, and safe. She needed both of those things more than she wanted to admit. But being there, feeling his all too real presence, was more than enough for her.
"I'm so proud of you," she said when she finally let go of his neck. She still held onto one of his hands, unwilling to break contact.
"Vhat for? I haven't done anything yet." He was obviously confused.
"You got chosen as champion," she said. "Isn't that enough of a reason for me to be proud of you?"
He smiled, and she felt it more than saw it. "I vas vorried about that. I thought you vere vorried about me being chosen. And that you vouldn't be happy."
"I am worried. But that's just because I don't want anything to happen to you. But I can worry about you while being proud of you," she said.
"Good." Viktor squeezed her hand. "I vill do best to not get hurt."
"Thank you." She pressed a kiss to his cheek, feeling strangely brave in his presence.
They had to part far sooner than either of them would have liked. But they headed back to where they would be sleeping, each of them looking over their shoulders ever so often.
Eventually Hermione reached Gryffindor tower. She climbed through the portrait hole, and found herself in front of her friends.
"Where were you?" Ron asked.
"I went on a walk outside to clear my head," she said. It wasn't a lie. She had gone on a walk. And it had helped her clear out the thoughts invading her mind.
"Alright." Ron headed off to bed. He wasn't in a particularly good mood, and he really didn't want to be around Harry, who was talking to Neville.
"Hey Hermione," Harry said. "You find anything?"
"Not yet," she confessed. "But panicking doesn't really help."
"Thanks for trying," he said. "And I know that you'll help me prepare for the tasks."
"Of course," she said. "Won't we Neville."
"That's what I told him."
They burst out laughing at the absurdity of the situation. It felt good to laugh as a group. The whole school might be against them, but they were together. And together it didn't feel as hopeless.