As the first task drew ever closer, Hermione stuck by Harry's side like moss to a fallen tree. He was getting increasingly more nervous, and Hermione could understand why. The stress was hitting him hard, between classes and what he saw as his impending doom. More and more Hogwarts students were giving him pitying looks, or coming up and patting him on the back with words of consolation.
They told him that he'd be fine, that surely the judges wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, and that they'd cheer for him even though they didn't expect anything out of him.
This made Harry feel arguably worse, so Hermione started dragging Harry to empty classrooms and practicing more and more spells. "I think you can use an aguamenti as a shield, Harry, if you shape it right. You know, that will protect you for at least a moment from dragon fire. See, look at this-"
Hermione raised her wand and twirled it. "Aguamenti!" She said loudly, and directed the water to pour outward, making a thin layer in front of her. It looked like the surface of a pristine lake, for only the slow ripples of the shield expanding blocked her view of the rest of the room. She saw, slightly warped, Harry's gobsmacked face.
"Bloody hell, Hermione! I didn't know magic could do that!"
Hermione smiled, "Oh yes, I read about it in a sixth-year charms textbook. It's quite intriguing, isn't it? Here's how you cast it…"
She was always very careful to justify exactly how she had all this extra knowledge. Harry would never question Hermione reading ahead, but if she gave no explanation at all, he might have started to wonder where she was coming up with all these ideas. And to be fair, she did read about water manipulation in sixth-year. It certainly wasn't the assigned textbook, but she figured it was close enough.
Hermione really wanted Harry to be confident in himself, to start valuing his own skills and gain faith in himself. He had such horrible self-confidence until about sixth year last time around, and even then it was mood-dependent and spotty. The good thing about the tournament, if anything was truly good about it, was the fact that Harry had motivation to learn advanced spells and become more confident in his abilities. The tasks would force him to become more confident, and he was already so much more stable because of his improved relationship with Sirius.
Sirius had received the two-way mirror from Hogsmeade, to Harry's delight, and they spoke quite frequently now. This had the unfortunate side effect of Sirius realizing just how little Hermione told Harry. He had almost immediately contacted Hermione via her mirror after his first discussion with Harry.
"Hermione." He said, a bit less cheerful than he usually greeted her. "Long time no see. I've got a question for you."
In some ways, Hermione wished everyone was as upfront about their problems as Sirius was. If he didn't like you, or didn't like something you were doing, it was almost always met with swift retribution or discussion. At the moment, however, she wasn't looking forward to his questioning.
"Hello Sirius, how is Berlin treating you?"
Sirius scowled. "Berlin is fine. I've half a mind to come back to Britain, though. I just saw the news about this tournament. What the bloody hell was Dumbledore thinking? And what were you thinking, not telling me about it the moment it happened?"
Hermione looked away from the mirror guiltily. She hadn't kept Sirius in the loop, not even close. It honestly hadn't crossed her mind, between Snape, Rita, and training Harry. Not to mention her own day-to-day schedule was as crazy as it was varied. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I should have, it's just been a bit crazy around here."
Sirius's brows were furrowed darkly, lips tightening in annoyance. "That's not good enough, Hermione. It seems you've been too busy to tell Harry anything about your helping me, too. He didn't even know how much you've helped me this past summer!"
Hermione winced. That was very true, she hadn't even told Harry she helped Sirius at all. Only Dobby had mentioned to Harry how Hermione sent him to Sirius's in Berlin, and she was fairly certain Sirius hadn't said anything about her during the summer. She sighed, and got ready for a long conversation. "Harry's my best friend," she started, "and I know him almost better than anyone. He'd try to pay me back for helping you out, or feel guilty all year because I thought to send you a mirror and a wand, while he didn't. He's a wonderful person, but he has, well, a saving people thing, I think. It's really hard for him to accept help. As for not keeping you updated, Sirius, I'm really sorry. I forget that you're probably as invested in him as I am."
Sirius nodded, his face softening as she spoke. "It's ok, Hermione. I'm sorry to be so short with you, I know you're doing your best." Hermione felt a twinge of guilt as he accepted her reasoning. She was still keeping secrets, it seemed. She didn't know if they would ever end.
Sirius seemed to think about something, and a wide smirk covered his face. "Do I detect a little crush on your best friend, Miss Granger?" He teased. "You have done an awful lot to help him, and Harry says you're constantly at his side…"
"Of course not!" Hermione denied quickly. "He's just a friend. My best friend, true, but nothing more." She blushed slightly, wondering if other people thought she was acting out of a one-sided crush.
"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," Sirius waggled his eyebrows. "I don't know if you realize, Hermione, I'm smarter than most with the ladies. I know that face, and that's the face of someone who's just been called out."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh come off it, Sirius. Aren't you a little old for that?"
Sirius held a hand over his heart in mock-affront. "I'm insulted! Old? You call this face old? And these luscious locks? Why, I never!"
They broke into laughter.
Hermione had never been so at peace –the light laughter between their mended relationship really was the icing on the cake for her. Hermione promised to keep Sirius updated about the tournament, and Sirius apologized yet again about doubting her. She dutifully kept in touch with him for the days following their conversation, telling him about the dragons and Harry's training.
Harry was studying like hell to beat the dragon, getting tips from Sirius, Hermione, and the occasional Gryffindor. The house had become fiercely protective of Harry and any insults he received, but Harry was being quite gracious in shutting down any arguments between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. The Slytherins definitely sided with Cedric, sporting the familiar Support Cedric Diggory: The Real Hogwarts Champion! On badges across their chests. The Ravenclaws seemed split – some of them considered Harry an invalid champion because he was technically fourth, while others bet for him in the competition (those were generally not students in Harry's year, who had seen his unfortunately lackluster work ethic).
Sirius was a useful source of information about Harry as well, because Harry told Sirius much more about his feelings than he did Hermione. Apparently Harry didn't want her to worry about him (typical!) and so hadn't told her that he was afraid of messing up all the spells. Instead, he said, Harry was learning the Accio charm from an upperclassman and planned to summon his broomstick if he wasn't doing well.
Hermione felt deeply troubled by this. Why wouldn't Harry tell her? She knew she was a good source of advice for him; hell, she had been his advisor, mentor, and steadfast friend ever since the whole tournament debacle began.
"You seem upset, Hermione. Is everything good at Hogwarts?" Sirius said one night, about five days before the task.
"Oh yes, Sirius, I'm quite fine. Just worried for Harry, is all."
"It seems like you're a little more than just worried for him. You're not actually crushing on him, are you? I know for a fact he's got his sights set on a Ravenclaw." Sirius said in a quasi-joking manner.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not meriting that with a response, Sirius. I'm a little upset that he's not telling me about all of these challenges, is all. I could help him."
Sirius shook his head at her sadly. "You said it yourself, Hermione. Harry's got a saving people thing. He sees you working hard to help him, and doesn't want to burden you anymore than he already has. He's told me you seem stressed, and frankly I agree." Sirius gave her an oddly paternal glare through the mirror, which Hermione found odd considering he was mentally only twelve years older than her.
"Hermione, Harry will be fine. How could he not be, with me looking out for him?" He tossed his hair dramatically behind him, and Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "If you're still using that time turner from last year, I recommend you slow down a little bit. You look like you're aging before my eyes, and the stress isn't helping."
Hermione must have been giving him the most astounded look, for he looked a bit defensive. "What, there's a reason my name is Sirius!"
Hermione hung up on him.
There might have been a hint of truth to Sirius's words. She had been pushing herself quite hard recently. It was hard to let herself sit back and wait, despite the importance of keeping the timeline the same. She used to calculate the potential outcomes of her actions fairly rigorously, just to make sure she wouldn't be disrupting the timeline too much, but it was becoming tedious to watch her every move. She had been through a lot, but this was a whole different kind of struggle.
No, this was more like being a spy than being a soldier, and Hermione decided right then and there she was no spy. She would do what she had to do, but only until Voldemort was well and truly gone.
Not for the first time, she found herself doodling Arithmancy equations in the corners of her notes instead of paying attention in class – checking for her odds of killing Voldemort herself, Harry's odds of surviving the graveyard, Harry's odds of killing Voldemort – it was starting to become overwhelming, how much she was juggling.
Four nights before the first task, Hermione found herself wandering down to Snape's office. If anyone would understand why she was feeling stressed, it was him. Snape had walked a tightrope after turning to Dumbledore in the first war, and he was the only one who knew the whole story. In short, he was the only ally she could go to. She knocked on his door at almost eight that evening.
He opened it sharply, only taking a few scant seconds to get the door. "Miss Granger," he said, eyebrows raised in surprise. "What brings you here?"
Hermione sighed and twisted her fingers nervously – a habit she had never broken – and said, "I need advice. May I come in?"
"Certainly," Snape said, and moved over to allow her entry. "Does this have anything to do with the upcoming task, by any chance? If so, you know I cannot aide you or Mr. Potter."
Hermione shook her head. "No, I think that's well in hand. This is more of a… time related issue."
"Ah." Snape flicked his wand, and suddenly two teacups were soaring towards them, and steaming water flowed into a teapot nearby. "What has occurred?"
Hermione wrung her hands anxiously, doubting the wisdom of coming this evening. "I am… concerned." She started. "I truly have no tasks besides making sure all three horcruxes are destroyed, and I find myself having trouble, well, not affecting the timeline. I know the main events well enough to remain the same, but the thing is, I haven't the foggiest idea how much I'm changing, and how exactly to-"
Snape cut her off. "Miss Granger. You're rambling."
She put a hand over her mouth in surprise. "Sorry, Snape." She said. "It's just that I feel quite useless until the final task, and it's become tiresome to juggle all these secrets. How in the bloody hell did you do it?"
Snape tilted his head in a silent question. "You refer to my time as a spy?" He poured the tea and levied Hermione's customary honey into her cup. He handed it to her, continuing, "I haven't performed the deeds you claim will come to pass. I haven't killed my mentor, or become headmaster and kept the school under control for a year. I have, however, spent a number of years as a double agent, which you are only too aware of. The answer, Granger, is patience. It's a learned virtue, and one that I am all too familiar with." He took a moment to sip his tea. "I am not a patient man, as you may realize."
Hermione had to keep herself from snorting. No one would ever accuse Snape of being patient. "The simple answer is that we do these things because we must. That is the truest answer I can give you, although I know it's not what you wish to hear." She nodded her agreement. "You are in a unique situation, for I don't know if anyone has gone through the trials of maintaining a year's worth of activities despite having the foresight to know them.
"I do not know how to help you, Granger." He finished. "I can, however, offer advice, and an escape from the dunderheads." He paused, sipping his tea and looking pained. Hermione wondered if he instantly regretted the invitation he just gave her. "So long as you stay quiet and do not return to your know-it-all ways."
Hermione gave him a smile. He seemed to look less harsh, in return, but she knew better than to expect a smile from him. "Thanks, Snape."
Snape nodded in return. "Have you considered returning to your experiments? You told me of your age-altering potion. It seems like a very interesting concoction." Hermione smiled even broader. No one asked her about her potions. Period. The most they'd say was, 'You're positive this works?'
She took the advantage like a dog to a bone, and sipped her tea, discussing the difference between aconite picked during the full moon or the new moon, and the use of different barks and their effects on taste. It was quite nice to have someone to talk about potions with. She had always been able to discuss Transfiguration theory with Minerva in the future, or Arithmancy with Septima. But Potions were a sore subject for most, even after Snape was granted clemency on Harry's word. The subject left a sour taste in everyone's mouth.
The three remaining days before the first task, Hermione kept herself busy, sometimes reading obscure books on charms theory, sometimes tinkering on a potion in her classroom. She still helped Harry with his spells, but she kept herself from worrying too too much about the outcome of the event. Harry had been fine the last time around, after all.
AN: I had a lot of trouble with this chapter. I meant to write the first task, but it went really long. It'll be next chapter, I promise!
Thanks again for your support!
