Disclaimer: No, I don't own Harry Potter. 57 chapters in and you're still asking? Sheesh.
Chapter 57
Harry was awkwardly pacing around the tent that had been erected for the champions ahead of the First Task. His stomach wouldn't stop turning inside-out and his vision felt like it was growing hazy. He hoped that was a normal side effect of extreme terror. The last thing he needed was to come down with some sort of illness before he went out and faced a dragon in front of everyone he knew.
He knew Cedric and Fleur had both been successful in obtaining their eggs. That much had been made clear by Ludo Bagman's overly enthusiastic commentary. Now Krum was in the enclosure, and based on the gasps of the crowd and the stubborn roars of the Chinese Fireball he was having a bit of trouble. The idea that the best student that Durmstrang had to offer was struggling against a lesser dragon than the one he had to face was not comforting.
Harry was suddenly very grateful that he had told Cedric about the dragons. The idea of the Hufflepuff meeting a horrifying end just because Harry didn't do something to help him was so unpleasant that he thought he was going to vomit. He resumed his pacing, tuning out Bagman's commentary from outside the tent and forcing himself to concentrate. He triple-checked that his wand was securely in his holster and repeatedly whispered "Accio Firebolt!" as he walked back and forth across the otherwise-empty tent.
He could practically feel his nervousness exuding off of him like an aura of anxiety, and it multiplied with every reaction from the crowd outside. Regardless, he forced his breathing to remain even, concentrating on the strategy he had hashed out with Hermione over the past few days. Summon the egg first, and if that doesn't work summon the Firebolt, then find a way to lure the dragon away from her nest, and capitalize on the broom's breakneck speed to swoop down and snag the golden egg the first chance he got. The less time he was in the enclosure, the less likely it was that the dragon would kill him. Or that he would die from fear.
He was ripped away from his morbid thoughts when footsteps approached the tent, followed by the sound of the side entrance flap being thrown open. He spun around, expecting Bagman or Barty Crouch to have popped in, but he let out a relieved sigh when he saw Hermione making her way towards him.
"Hey," He offered a small smile despite his wavering voice. "Are you – MMPH!"
Hermione had forgone walking the last few steps and leapt at him, sending him staggering backward until his back crashed into one of the wooden pillars that supported the tent. She wrapped her arms around his neck and captured his lips into a searing kiss, one of such unfettered passion that Harry wondered if she thought it was going to be their last one ever.
He managed to get over his initial shock and kiss her back, although trying to keep up with the intensity of her lips and tongue was like trying to run alongside a car on the highway without being left in the dust. He brought his hands up to her face, his thumbs tracing circles on her soft cheeks that were pink from the brisk November chill. She moaned at the touch and squeezed her arms around him even more, as if she was hoping that he wouldn't leave to face the Hungarian Horntail if she held him tightly enough.
"Hermione…" He whispered once their lips parted, but she whimpered and kissed him again, causing him to forget whatever he had planned on saying. He let his eyes drift shut, but he still saw lights exploding from behind his eyelids, like Hermione was triggering a fireworks display within his body.
Eventually, Hermione was the one to pull away. She removed her arms from around his neck and placed them on his chest, balling her hands into fists around his scarlet jersey and pulling him forward until their faces were inches apart. "How do you feel right now?" She panted, running her tongue over her lips.
Harry took a moment to process her words. His stomach wasn't churning anymore, nor were his fingers trembling. The slowly-expanding balloon of nervousness that had been growing inside of him ever since he had stepped inside the tent had deflated entirely. He met her eyes, her deep brown eyes that had stolen his heart long ago, and smiled. A real, genuine smile, his first of the day. "Like I can battle a dragon."
"Mission accomplished," Hermione giggled, ducking her head. "Although, I'd be lying if I said that wasn't to assuage my own nerves…"
"You're scared?" Harry arched an eyebrow. "You are aware that I'm the one who has to go face a dragon, right?"
"That's exactly why I'm worried, you prat!" She swatted him across the chest and feigned a glare at him. "Honestly, we've been best friends for three years and dating for fifteen months and you still don't expect me to worry about you?"
Harry let out a quiet laugh, placing his hands on top of hers, which were still clutching his shirt. She gazed up at him, her eyes communicating so many powerful emotions that he had to wonder how she held them all without bursting. There was so much concern emanating from those eyes, and he found himself wondering if anyone in the world would ever care about him as much as Hermione did.
"What did I ever do to deserve you?" He whispered, gently brushing a few of her curls behind her ear. She blushed, ducking her head once again.
"Harry…" She shook her head in disbelief as she met his eye. "How can you be so sweet right before you go fight a dragon?"
"How can you be so beautiful right before I go fight a dragon?" He fired back, grinning as her blush deepened. "Honestly, I'm supposed to be scared out of my wits about facing the Horntail and now I'm just nervous because I'm talking to a pretty girl."
"Oh, Harry," She croaked out, her voice laden with worry. Suddenly she was crashing into him, her arms wrapping around his torso so tightly he wondered if he was going to have to fight his dragon with broken ribs. She buried her face into the crook of his neck, murmuring all sorts of things that were muffled by his jersey as she nestled into him as much as she could. He returned the hug, gently encircling her waist with his arms and resting his cheek against her hair. He felt tears wet his shirt and squeezed her tighter.
"I'll be alright, you know," He whispered, tentatively rubbing her back.
"Don't you dare die on me, Harry Potter," She mumbled, burrowing further into him. Despite the grave situation, Harry couldn't help but notice how comfortably she fit into the crook of his neck, into his arms. It was like she was exactly where she was meant to be. He knew that would only make it harder for him to pull away.
"I won't," He reassured her. "I won't."
The crowd roared with approval outside the tent, and Harry felt Hermione tense up in his arms. They both knew Krum would probably secure his egg within the minute, and then it would be time for Harry to face the Hungarian Horntail. Soon enough he would have to go beyond the safety of the canvas walls of the tent. Soon enough he would have to battle a dragon.
Images of a wall of black flames suddenly flashed through his mind, along with a girl with bushy brown hair flinging her arms around him as she sobbed, knowing that her best friend was about to go off and face something no child his age should have to face. He smiled fondly at the memory of the two of them in the potions chamber, all the way back in their first year, a lifetime ago. His reminiscence was cut short as Ludo Bagman's deafening commentary revealed that Viktor Krum had indeed obtained his egg.
Hermione pulled away, looking very reluctant to do so. She looked at him with red and puffy eyes and nodded resolutely. Harry gave her a calming smile, and she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the junior Hogwarts champion…Harry Potter!" Bagman's voice echoed across the enclosure.
Harry steeled himself as he heard some sporadic cheers from the audience and quite a bit of booing. He gave Hermione one last smile before marching to the entrance of the tent, taking a moment to compose himself before he threw the flaps open.
'That is not going to be the last time I see Hermione Granger,' He thought to himself as he entered the arena.
"The nerve of them to bring in dragons!" Madam Pomfrey hissed as she marched around the medical tent, gathering a handful of potions and pastes to tend to the champions' various injuries. "First they bring in dementors and now dragons! And of course, I should have expected to have to deal with you, Potter," She rounded on him, eyeing the gash on his shoulder warily.
"I missed you too, Madam Pomfrey," He shrugged before wincing as it aggravated his wound. The Matron clucked her tongue disapprovingly as she unscrewed the cap of a bottle of purple liquid. "Honestly, it's just a scratch. Can't I just go back out there?"
"Absolutely not!" She said tersely. "I need you to take your jersey off," She motioned to his shoulder. The laceration left by the spikes of the Hungarian Horntail was still mostly covered by his scarlet shirt, although the severity of the wound was still easy to spot.
"Madam Pomfrey, I would have expected you would take him out to dinner first," A familiar voice chuckled as footsteps reached the entrance of the medical tent. Harry whipped his head around and broke into a grin as Sirius Black slipped through the flaps and his eyes landed on Harry. "What, did you think I would miss the chance to see my godson vanquish a dragon?"
"Sirius!" Harry cried out, leaping off the bed and sprinting over to embrace his godfather, much to Madam Pomfrey's indignation. "I didn't know you were coming!"
"Thought I'd surprise you," He returned the hug, ruffling Harry's hair. "You were brilliant out there. Your father was one of the best fliers I ever saw, and even he couldn't fly like that. You should have seen how Krum was watching you. He seemed a tad jealous, if I may say so."
"Come on, Sirius," Harry groaned good-naturedly, pulling back. "Are you sticking around?"
"I'm afraid I must tend to some affairs at the Ministry later today, but I wanted to stop by and say – "
"Yes, that's all very good," Madam Pomfrey huffed as she marched over. "Potter, shirt off. Now."
Harry and Sirius exchanged smirks as the former discarded his jersey. Sirius cringed as he saw the extent of his godson's injury before his mischievous smile returned. "Chicks dig scars, you know," He teased, punching Harry's good shoulder. "Hey, speaking of chicks – "
"I haven't broken up with Hermione, and I don't plan on doing so," Harry answered the Marauder's question before he could ask it, laughing at Sirius's visibly relief. Madam Pomfrey proceeded to dab Harry's wound with a paste that made his skin burn, but he ignored the pain. "She actually came to wish me luck in the tent just before I went out there. She'll probably come running in here any second, I suppose."
"Ah," Sirius's eyes twinkled impishly. "Yes. In our seventh year, Lily used to 'wish James luck' before big Quidditch matches."
"Sirius…" Harry warned.
"That clever witch used to sneak into the locker rooms when nobody was looking and – "
"Sirius!" Harry repeated much more forcefully. Sirius just shrugged innocently, still sporting his wry smile.
"Made good use of that Invisibility Cloak, those two did – alright, alright, I'll stop," He relented, throwing his hands up in surrender as his godson sent him a venomous glare. Harry was saved from anymore mortifying reminiscence from his godfather when the tent flaps were thrown open, and a familiar face came rushing in.
"Harry!" Hermione cried out before she began sprinting towards him so fast even Madam Pomfrey opted to forgo putting the finishing touches of magical medicine on his shoulder in favor of getting out of the way. Harry barely opened his arms in time for Hermione to leap into them, her entire body trembling with terror.
"You're alive!" She whispered. Harry just hummed in agreement, glaring over her shoulder as Sirius flashed him a wink and a thumbs-up. "You were brilliant, Harry!" She squeaked. "You were amazing, you really were!"
She pulled back and flashed him one of those dazzling smiles that melted his heart. Harry noticed there were fingernail marks on her face from where she had been clutching it in fear. She glanced at his shoulder and gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth. Even with Pomfrey's best supplies, the gash was still a nasty sight.
"It's not that bad," Harry said quickly, but Hermione didn't look convinced. "And, to be fair, I wasn't expecting you to come storming in here while I was shirtless."
He grinned as Hermione blushed furiously and averted her eyes. He didn't miss that even as she tried to stare at her shoes, she kept stealing glances at his torso, her blush deepening every time.
"Honestly, Hermione, you've seen me at the beach," He rolled his eyes at his girlfriend's palpable embarrassment.
"Yeah, but was that before or after Tonks started making you work out?" Sirius gestured to his godson's lean, slightly muscular frame. "Oh, Hermione, I'm here, by the way," He grinned. Hermione whirled around and happily greeted the Marauder with a hug, and Harry was grateful her back was to him so that she couldn't see that it was his turn to blush.
"This is why I don't allow visitors until after I've completed my treatments," Madam Pomfrey fumed, resuming her healing. Hermione finished saying hello to Sirius and grabbed a nearby chair, sitting next to Harry's bed while he was remedied.
"Everyone agrees you were the best one out there, even though you got hurt," She gushed, locking eyes with him. "Ron kept saying that Viktor was looking jealous as you flew – "
"Told you," Sirius yawned.
"And it looks like you're going to receive the best scores. All of the judges looked impressed. Well, except Karkaroff. He gave Fleur and Cedric really poor scores and he gave Viktor a ten. I suppose he'll give you a six or so, but everyone with a half a brain is probably going to give you at least an eight."
"Just glad I'm alive," Harry said with a small smile. Pomfrey put the finishing touches on his wound and allowed him to throw on his jersey once again, his injury almost completely healed. Hermione slipped her hand into his and led him back out to the arena, the golden egg tucked securely under his other arm. The judges were preparing to reveal their scores, and most threw Harry appraising glances. Before he and Hermione could enjoy the show, however, an all-too-familiar voice rang out.
"Harry! Rita Skeeter leapt out from seemingly nowhere, her Quick-Quotes Quill hovering in front of her acid-green robes. At first glance, Harry didn't even notice the quill since it matched her wardrobe, then he realized it was probably intentional. Was there anything that this woman did that wasn't vile? "Absolutely marvelous flying. May I have a quick word?"
"Yeah, you can have a word," Harry said savagely. "Good-bye."
"Oh, you are definitely the son of James Potter," Sirius laughed as he threw the tent flaps open. "Rita Skeeter, I presume?" He turned to the reporter, who nodded uneasily. "Sirius Black. Harry here is unavailable for comment, but I would love to have a word with you. Especially regarding what you've been writing about my godson."
Rita paled, and her Quick-Quotes Quill zipped into her crocodile-skin handbag and out of sight.
"You know," Sirius continued, nonchalantly wrapping an arm around her shoulders, "I suppose it'd be best if you and I had this conversation in the medical tent. It might be best for Madam Pomfrey to be nearby."
With that, Sirius shepherded the panicked journalist into the tent, throwing Harry a wink before he followed her inside. Hermione looked at the tent uneasily, and Harry opted to squeeze her hand and drag her further away, hopefully out of earshot of whatever curses Sirius was about to unleash, both magical and non-magical.
He and Hermione stood just off to the side of the judges' table, and they proceeded to reveal their scores. Madame Maxine gave him an eight, to which he couldn't help but grin. Barty Crouch and Dumbledore both gave nines, the latter's score accompanied by a wink thrown in Harry's direction.
"Ten?" Harry said incredulously as Ludo Bagman put up his score. "I got hurt, I definitely shouldn't get – "
"Harry, for once in your life, stop being so modest!" Hermione cut him off, squeezing his hand so tightly he lost circulation. "You were spectacular, Harry. A ten is perfectly reasonable."
It was Karkaroff's turn. He glared daggers at Harry, which made his stomach plummet. Sirius's reminder that the Durmstrang Headmaster was one of Voldemort's Death Eaters echoed in his head, and he found himself wondering for the thousandth time if Karkaroff was the one who had put his name in the Goblet.
"Four?!" Hermione roared furiously as his score was revealed. "You foul, loathsome man!" Harry had to drop the golden egg in favor of wrapping his arms around his girlfriend, who looked like she was ready to wring Karkaroff's neck. She kicked her legs as Harry lifted her off the ground to keep her from sprinting out of his grip.
"Hermione, please don't murder anyone on my behalf."
"Oh, hush!" She huffed, wrenching herself out of his arms once he put her back on solid ground. She whirled on him and irritably straightened her jumper. "Well, at least you're tied for first place. I suppose Karkaroff did that on purpose, not giving you an advantage over his own champion. Although, we should keep an eye out in the future to see if he does anything else to put you at an unfair disadvantage. There has to be some sort of rule about unbiased judging. I bet I missed it in one of those books I read earlier in the year about the tournament. I'll probably go – "
"There she is," Harry grinned, retaking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "That's my girl."
"M-my girl?" Hermione blushed, her enraged demeanor melting and giving way to a bashful smile. Before Harry could sheepishly explain why those words had tumbled out of his unthinking mouth, Ludo Bagman came bounding over.
"Harry!" He beamed, looking as excited as ever. "Champions are needed back in the tent. Ah, Miss Granger, I presume?" He gave Hermione a quick smile before turning back to Harry. "Come with me, come with me, it's about the Second Task."
"Oh," Harry nodded, turning to Hermione. "I'll see you in the common room?"
She nodded, still looking a bit flustered. Bagman strolled away and Hermione quickly squeezed Harry's hand and kissed him on the cheek. He gave her a warm smile and squeezed her hand back before heading towards the tent, scooping up the golden egg along the way. As he passed the medical tent, he swore he heard somebody hollering all sorts of profanities at the top of their lungs.
A/N: Howdy, everybody. First things first, the chapter title is a (albeit lame) reference to The West Wing's episodes In the Shadow of Two Gunmen 1 & 2. They're some of my favorite episodes and I couldn't come up with a title and wanted to do something about almost the entire chapter taking place inside tents, so yeah. Anyway, been working quite a bit these past few days so I wrote a fair amount of this chapter out on the backs of receipts when I wasn't at home to use my computer. Not gonna lie, it was awesome. It made me feel like Aaron Sorkin, who wrote out bits and pieces of A Few Good Men on cocktail napkins. Well, that piece of literature certainly turned out well. Hopefully this one does too.
I hate to repeat myself, but even more than I hate repeating myself I love to give credit where credit is due. And those of you who read, who review, who follow, who favorite this story, you guys are all outstanding individuals. It is because of you that I get this ridiculously giddy smile on my face when I upload a new chapter, because it warms my heart to know that I'll be making someone's day because they'll get the alert that Strangers on a Train has updated. Seriously, I love you guys. Thank you all for everything, and stay safe!