Author's Note: This one-shot is based in fourth year. It's intended to be a detailed snapshot of what the preparation for the second task could have looked like. Nothing too exciting-just my two favorite characters coming to terms with the monumental problem in front of them, finding a possible ray of hope while doing so. This is my first attempt at a truly descriptive story, so please bear with the flaws and errors you are sure to find within. If I get a positive reader response, I might make this into a series of one-shots. Enjoy!
The library was mostly empty. Beams of sunlight illuminated the tables in their soft orange and red glow. The musty smell of books was in the air, a scent that was both intoxicating and rejuvenating. And, at this very moment, a faint sound of rustling parchment could be heard.
His fingers danced across the thick tome like a harpist strumming a melody for a captivated audience. His green eyes were narrowed in concentration, darting across the pages while deep canyons formed on his brow. Stacks of books deemed less useful lay scattered on the table, their titles neatly spelled out in faint gold lettering. As he read, his foot tapped impatiently on the stone floor.
It was a rather infuriating thing, really. Surely someone, somewhere, had faced a predicament similar to his own. Was it possible that he was the only wizard in recent memory that found himself needing to breathe underwater? Was it within the realm of possibility that a spell for something so simple, so mundane, didn't exist in the first place?
No, it couldn't be. There had to be something. Somewhere. He just needed to keep looking. And so he persisted, turning the thick pages until his fingers screamed in protest and the sunlight streaming through the windows lost its beautiful spectrum of color. Ignoring the grumbling from his abdominal region, he checked his watch. There was still time, but would it be enough?
He returned to his reading, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Before long, his stomach ceased its complaints, retreating to a state of sullen silence. He checked his watch once more, his mind whispering dulcet temptations in his ear. Temptations that involved throwing the ancient tomes across the room and forgetting about his troubles until the next morning. Temptations that reminded him that there was still time to figure everything out.
Temptations that would lead to his downfall at the bottom of the Great Lake. Rita Skeeter would do a jig for the occasion. "The Boy Who Lived, or The Boy Who Drowned?" the headline would say. Actually, that wasn't half bad.
No, he wouldn't succumb to them that easily, despite past experience.
Forcing his mind to be silent, he focused on the words before him. He had never noticed how many interesting charms existed in the world, although it was rather ironic that someone had found it necessary to create a spell for the sole purpose of washing dishes. Was it really so difficult to do it the normal way?
He was in trouble now. Just a few hours in the library, and he was already beginning to sound like his Aunt Petunia. Shame that horses couldn't breathe underwater, or else he would have just asked her to participate on his behalf.
That thought didn't help him focus either, so he forced it away, along with the book on charms. Having now silenced all muttering from his body and mind, his attention fixed onto the book on human transfiguration that now lay in his hands.
So engrossed was he in his reading that he failed to notice the faint sound of approaching footsteps as they came to a stop in front of his table.
"Harry?" Her voice was soft. They were in a library, after all, and no one spent more time in this very spot than she did.
He glanced upward for the briefest of moments, smiling slightly before returning to his reading. Her gaze drifted from him for a moment, flicking around the otherwise empty library before returning to his face.
"How long?"
"Just over three hours." His own voice was a low murmur, his attention remaining on the book.
She moved around the table and gently pushed the scattered books into a more organized pile before seating herself next to him, continuing to watch his face. They remained that way for several minutes, him focusing on reading about transforming his own head into that of a shark's while she focused on his haggard appearance. The silence was only interrupted by the flipping of pages and the occasional sigh.
Finally, she reached out and touched his shoulder, her fingers resting on the smooth fabric of his robes.
"We're not going to get anywhere like this, Harry."
He snapped the book shut and placed it somewhat forcefully on the table. "I never expected to hear that from you, of all people."
Despite the bitterness in his tone, she smiled. "No, I suspect you didn't."
He looked at her for a moment, frustration mounting in his features. "This isn't fair."
She rubbed his shoulder gently. "No, it isn't."
He sighed, leaning forwards to rest his head on his arms. "What am I supposed to do, Hermione? We somehow squeaked out a solution to the dragon problem, and now I need to find a way to reach the bottom of the entire bloody lake! I don't even know how to swim properly!"
It sounded petulant, even to his own ears. Where was the so-called savior of the Wizarding World? The one who singlehandedly defeated the darkest wizard of all time before he even bought a wand or attended a first year Defense Against the Dark Arts class?
Pathetic, that's what it was.
Well, he already sounded like a child, so it wouldn't hurt to say something even more childish. No one else would understand, but maybe, just maybe…she would. Hopefully. Sometimes, he felt that she was the only one who truly understood him.
"I never signed up for this."
Her eyes softened, and her hand moved to his forearm. "I know."
The sincerity in her voice caused his attention to turn back to her face, the expected admonition never materializing. As grateful as he was for it, even her sincerity couldn't save him.
"You didn't answer my question, though." She tilted her head at him. "You know, about what you think I should do. If not the library, where?"
Hermione didn't respond, except by standing and moving to the seat across from him. She bit her lip and looked around at the stacks of books and parchment. Finally, she spoke.
"You're looking for a spell." It wasn't a question.
"Yeah, I figured it would be my best bet."
She blew the hair out of her face. "I told you before, Harry. These tasks aren't just meant to be tests of your magical skill. They're supposed to test some part of your character as well. Now, I don't know exactly what the task is…" She trailed off and looked at him.
"Oh, yeah. I didn't tell you. The task is about retrieving something from the bottom of the lake. A thing that's important to each champion. I have one hour to do it, or whatever it is will be lost forever." He frowned. "Something like that."
"Well, at least we have that information. The point is, there's more to this tournament than finding the right spell or transfiguration. If that's all it was, anyone with access to a library would be allowed to participate, and all the past victors would have been the most well-read of the competition." She pulled one of the books towards her and began turning the pages, much more gently than he had been. Then, she looked up. "Do you have any ideas?"
He shook his head and slumped in his chair. It wasn't difficult to admit to himself that his chance of survival was rather small. After all the situations he had found himself in over the years, he was quite accustomed to it. However, the look of disappointment that he was expecting to see on her face was much harder to bear. The one person who believed he didn't put his own name in the ruddy Goblet was now frowning at him. Or so he thought.
Which is why he was more than a little surprised when she chuckled. Her laughter rang through the silence like the tinkling of a wind chime in the morning breeze, and he looked at her in astonishment.
"Is something funny, Hermione?"
"What? Oh, I'm so sorry Harry. I really shouldn't be laughing at a time like this, but doesn't this remind you of all the times I sat with you and Ron in the common room, telling you to finish your homework before you went to bed? By the time we were finished, both of you would be wearing the same exact expression you're wearing right now."
He smiled despite himself. "And you would always cross your arms and say: 'Honestly!'" The last word was made a shrill reprimand in honor of the Hermione two years younger than the one in front of him.
A beam of sunlight fell across her face as she laughed, the light glinting off her hair like the surface of a valuable metal. He found himself laughing quietly with her, her mirth too contagious. Finally, she looked at him once more, and her expression became serious.
"You look awful, Harry."
"Thanks a lot."
"Honestly!" Realizing her mistake, she shook her head and smiled. "You know what I mean. What's bothering you?"
He leaned back in his chair and glanced out the window, wanting to escape her intense gaze. Talking with her about anything significant always made him feel like an interesting bacterium under a microscope, being studied by a team of infectious disease specialists in sterile white coats. It wasn't that he disliked speaking with her, but sometimes, she knew him a bit too well.
"It's nothing, really. Just worried about the task, that's all."
"You'll do brilliantly, Harry. I know you will."
He looked back at her, allowing some of his frustration to seep through. "How can you say that, Hermione? I told you, I haven't managed to find anything useful, even after spending days locked up in here. Every spell that looks promising is too difficult or too risky for me to use. Every book is filled with charms that are completely irrelevant. None of the professors are ready to help because they want to 'preserve the integrity of the tournament'. And Dumbledore is as useless as the rest of them!"
He glanced back to the window and lowered his voice. "I'm a goner."
Small hands wrapped around his own, squeezing tightly. Their owner's eyes were two blazing wildfires, captivating in their intensity. "You are not a goner. Do you hear me? We got through the first task together, and no matter what you tell yourself, you were fantastic. I don't have an answer for where we'll find the solution to this one right now, but I know it's here somewhere. I'll help you find it, even if it's the last thing I do."
When he didn't answer, she relaxed her grip, stroking the top of his hand gently with two fingers. "Do you trust me, Harry?"
"Of course, Hermione."
"I'm glad to hear that. I know this might seem hopeless to you, but we've overcome worse odds before, and we'll do it again. You're not alone in this. Even if the whole school's still against you-they're not, by the way-you…you still have me."
A grin appeared on his face for the first time in a long time. "I know. Thanks."
Her eyes softened. "You're welcome. And remember, if you ever need to talk, you know where to find me." She laughed lightly. "Right here, that's where I'll be."
He stood, stretching his back and feeling his limbs relax. His stomach, sensing his lack of resistance, grumbled loudly. He smiled sheepishly and returned his wand to its proper place. "I'd better go down to eat. I'll see you later, Hermione."
She smiled softly. "Bye, Harry."
Harry had taken several steps into the empty corridor when his mind whispered a different kind of temptation. One that would definitely not end with his body being fished out of the lake.
This time, he didn't argue. Not much. 'Reckless' might as well be his middle name, anyway. Time to live up to that reputation.
He turned and entered the library once more, the doorknob cool beneath his fingers. Immediately, her eyes moved up to meet his own, and lines of worry made their familiar appearance across her forehead.
"Harry, what's the matter? Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, Hermione. I just thought I'd ask you something."
Some of the concern melted from her face, and she looked at him expectantly.
Maybe he hadn't exactly thought this through. There was still time for him to come up with a random question, a safe question. Perhaps he could ask her when their next class was, or whether they had a test in Potions today. He could even ask her about the weather.
On second thought, maybe not that. Anything but that.
Then again, walking away could be something that he would end up regretting. What if she said no?
Alright, out with it. That Gryffindor courage needed to make its appearance in some way or other. At the very least, he would have a wonderful time with a close friend. What was the worst that could happen? He needed someone to go with him, and he couldn't think of anyone better.
"I know it might be a bit late for this, but…er, would you like to go to the ball with me?"
Her eyes widened.
"I'm sorry! You can still say no if you want, I won't hold it against you or anything. I just thought…"
His protests were silenced when she leaned over the table to press a light kiss on his cheek. She drew back, her brown eyes sparkling with joy. "I'd love to."
He sighed, this time in relief. "Thank goodness. There isn't a not awkward way to do that, is there?"
Her smile rivaled the radiance of the sun that had crept to its throne at the highest place in the sky. "You did brilliantly, Harry."
That was when he realized that some temptations are best succumbed to.