"This is hopeless." Harry slumped back onto the bed, the old leather-bound book he'd been reading flopping out of his hand to land atop the dark red bedding.

"No it's not. Nothing is hopeless, Harry. You can't say that."

Harry propped himself up on his elbows and peered at her peevishly.

"Come off it, Hermione. You told me just last week that the House Elf Liberation Front was hopeless."

"That is not the same and you know it." Hermione huffed, sinking further into the armchair she'd claimed as her own that morning.

Harry let his elbows collapse beneath him and flopped back onto the bed with a sigh.

"I don't know why we're even bothering. All these books are for nutters like Hagrid who want to raise their own dragons. Not for people who suddenly need to kill one."

He wasn't wrong. Hermione had checked out every book on dragons that looked remotely helpful and hauled them all up to Harry's room in the Champion's Dorm. So far, not a single text had proved useful. They'd learned the proper way to trim dragon nails, how to harvest dragon hide, and even how to select good heartstrings for sale if your dragon suddenly shuffled off its mortal coil. But absolutely nothing about how to speed that process up. Or even how to protect yourself if your pet dragon suddenly decided you looked like a tasty snack.

The library rarely failed her, but it was certainly hiding its secrets jealously this time. At the rate they were going, they were never going to find what they needed in time.

"I don't think you'll need to kill it, Harry. Dragons are endangered. They're not going to sacrifice four of them for entertainment."

She suddenly had the mental image of Harry battling a dragon as if he were an ancient gladiator in the colosseum, complete with leather skirt and sandals. It was the first thing that had made her even think of smiling all day.

"At least I don't have to worry about family watching me fail. Cedric already got his dad tickets to the first task and I think he's really sweating it."

"You're not inviting anyone, then?"

"Nah. Can you imagine? The Dursley's? Here at Hogwarts? They'd be rooting for the dragon." Harry's face turned dark. "Just like everyone else," he muttered morosely.

"Oh Harry. No one's going to be rooting for the dragon." She paused, privately hoping that the incredibly dangerous first task would finally convince Ron that Harry hadn't put his name in the goblet. Although that did beg the question of who did. A problem she'd tackle after this latest crisis was over.

"Which task are you inviting your parents to, then?" Harry asked.

Harry was back to sitting up on the bed and looked desperate for a change in the conversation. If only he'd picked a more pleasant topic.

"None of them," she replied primly, her lips pursed in a way her peers told her was uncannily like Professor McGonagall.

"What? Why not? It's not like they'll get many other chances to see dragons and magic and stuff."

"They're Muggles, Harry. You know that."

"Yeah. I do. And I also know that all students get to invite their parents to one of the tasks, even the Muggle ones. Don't they want to see where you go to school?"

"That's beside the point."

"No, it isn't." Harry stared at her long enough that she couldn't hold his gaze any longer.

Glancing around the room, Hermione tried to look very interested in the furnishings. It was the first time she'd ever been invited to Harry's new dorm, and it wasn't anything like she'd expected. The four-poster bed was hung with dark navy curtains, surrounding a bed made up in varying shades of burgundy and cream. A dark wooden dresser with gold gilt mirror took up one of the walls, while another was occupied entirely by a bookshelf and desk. Hermione herself was curled up in a sage green velvet armchair next to the small stone fireplace. The lone window across from her looked out onto the Black Lake.

It was a far more adult looking room than she ever would have associated with Harry, although the longer she looked the more she could see that Harry was starting to put his own stamp on the place. A Gryffindor tie hung haphazardly from a corner of the mirror. A practice snitch and an open photo album lay forgotten on the desk. The bookshelf held not only textbooks but also a well-worn copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and an astounding number of Zonko's products.

"Hermione? Don't you want your parents to see where you go to school?" Harry interrupted her perusal.

Hermione pretended she was wrapping her arms more tightly about herself to ward off the chill. It had nothing to do with how much she didn't want to have this conversation.

"They're never going to understand this place. They'd just get laughed at."

"So what? Anyone who laughs isn't worth your time. And there're going to be other Muggle parents around. Dean's mum is coming this week. And the Creeveys already have tickets for the final task."

Hermione hugged herself tighter and tried to think of something to say that didn't sound—well—awful. Because the truth of the matter was that she'd worked so hard to be the best at everything at Hogwarts. To prove to everyone that she was worth something despite her blood status. And the thought of parading her parents around the castle as they ooh'd and aah'd was frightfully embarrassing. She could even now imagine her father excitedly talking to the portraits while her mother lifted the visor of every coat of arms to see if there was someone inside. All while her peers pointed fingers and sniggered behind their hands. And those would be the polite ones. The Slytherins would make sure the Drs. Granger would know just how unwelcome they were and Hermione's carefully-constructed divide between who she was before she turned eleven and who she was now would come crashing down about her ears.

"Who are you inviting then, if not the Dursleys?"

Harry's face clearly told her that he knew exactly what she was doing and was only dropping the subject because he chose to.

"I dunno. Hadn't given it much thought."

"What about the Weasleys?"

Harry shrugged. "Not while Ron's being a prat. Besides, they'll already have tickets from him or Ginny. Or the twins."

"What about Professor Lupin, then? I'm sure he'd love to come cheer you on."

Harry brightened a bit at the thought.

"That's actually a good idea."

"I do have them occasionally."

Harry smiled for a moment before his face fell again.

"I'll send him an owl. Just. Not for this one. I don't want him to worry about a dragon."

"Oh Harry. He's going to worry no matter what."

The only response she got was a shrug.

"You never did say. How did your meeting with him go? Did he have any idea how your name came out of the goblet?" With the suddenness of the dragon problem, they'd never actually talked about Harry's meeting with Professor Lupin in Hogsmeade.

Harry seemed grateful to move the conversation away from the dragons again. Not that she could blame him. The pit of worry in her belly had only grown as the task approached. Now, with just three days left, she felt practically nauseous all the time. She could only imagine how Harry was feeling.

"He's done some research, apparently. He said the goblet is an ancient artifact and really powerful. He reckons a student couldn't have done it without a lot of help. Or an Imperius."

"So we're looking for an adult, probably."

"Yeah. Lupin mentioned that Karkaroff used to be a Death Eater and told me to be careful. But Karkaroff seemed really upset about me being in the Tournament, so I'm not so sure it was him."

"Hmm. Best to keep an eye on him though."

"Lupin told me to keep watch using the map. Said he figures the person responsible is using all the comings and goings from the Tournament to move about the castle without suspicion."

"That's a really good idea. We'll have to keep an eye out for anything strange, anyone going somewhere they shouldn't."

The two teens sat for a moment in quiet contemplation. Hermione didn't like the idea that an adult somewhere was sneaking about the castle and trying to get Harry killed, but it also felt achingly familiar. It felt like someone was always trying to get Harry in trouble or get him killed. And so few of the adults in the castle seemed to actively help. Professor McGonagall wasn't inclined to believe in conspiracy theories without proof, and now that Professor Lupin had resigned, Harry's only adult confidant in the castle was gone too. Putting together a list of allies to keep Harry safe this year was going to be difficult indeed.

Harry interrupted her musings.

"He agrees with us. You know, that there's something fishy about Bertha Jorkins."

"Did he have any idea what could suddenly make her so forgetful?"

Harry nodded slowly, his face serious. "He said he figured we had the right of it. That she'd stuck her nose into something and someone panicked. He said that if you're not careful, memory charms can do a lot of damage."

So they'd guessed right then. She was pleased they'd solved that bit themselves, but it didn't make the reality of the situation any less frightening.

"Did he have any idea who might've done it?"

Harry just shook his head.

"No. Lupin said he'd not seen Bertha in years. And he didn't know anyone with a big grudge or anything from school."

"So it must've happened more recently, then." She paused, turning the problem over and over in her mind. "She must have been researching something or stumbled on something she shouldn't have seen."

"But how are we supposed to find out what?"

"I don't know."

Biting her lip, she considered their options. They'd tried researching the problem from the beginning, but they'd hit a dead end. Without access to Bertha's office or her home, it was unlikely they'd be able to track down whoever she'd crossed.

Perhaps it was time to pull on the other end of the thread.

"Do you remember anything from your dream about where in Albania she was going? Did she get there?"

Puzzled at the change in direction, Harry looked at her contemplatively for a long moment. "I think she got to Albania. But she never got back out. Voldemort made sure of that."

"So her body's probably still there."

Harry huffed out an almost laugh. "We can't exactly take a holiday trip to Albania, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes. "We can't. But that doesn't mean no one else can. If we can figure out where she disappeared, maybe that'll be enough for someone in the Ministry to finally take this seriously and look for her."

"But how're we going to do that?"

"I've no idea."

Something about Albania had been tickling Hermione's brain for ages. There was something there, something she knew but wasn't remembering. But for the life of her, she couldn't think of what.

Harry stood up suddenly. "Come on. I'm knackered. And hungry. You want some biscuits?" he asked, not even bothering to wait for her reply. He gathered up a pile of the books under one arm before turning back to look at her.

"Could you give me a hand? I think we've hoarded every book on dragons in here. Least we can do is put the useless ones in the common room."

"Good idea."

Hermione grabbed a large stack of books, all of them leather-bound and beautiful and useless. It was good of Harry to be thinking about the other champions at a time like this. He really was one of the best people she knew.

Entering the Champion's Common Room, she was surprised to see they weren't alone. Near the cheerfully-roaring fire was a small pantry and tea kettle, currently occupied by none other than Cedric Diggory. Glancing over his shoulder, he gave the both of them a wan smile as he measured out a heaping spoonful of tea and added it to the pot.

"Tea?"

Looking between themselves, she saw Harry shrug. He didn't seem excited or opposed to the invitation, so she went ahead and answered for the both of them.

"Yes thanks. Is there any milk?"

She really could use a cuppa.

It took another trip to bring out the last of the books on dragons. Hermione occupied herself by neatly stacking them on the low table in the center of the living space, trying to feel like she wasn't an interloper in this dorm. The only other sounds were the cheerful crackling of the fire and the gentle clink of Cedric making tea.

She was so engrossed in pretending that everything was normal and she wasn't in her boyfriend's dorm without his knowledge, that she nearly jumped out of her skin when Harry went to hand her a cup of tea.

Oh, this was so awkward.

Flushing red, she followed Harry and Cedric's cue and perched herself on the edge of one of the deep blue sofas. Harry settled in next to her while Cedric nearly collapsed into a nearby armchair.

The three teens sipped their tea in uncomfortable silence.

It was Cedric who finally spoke.

"Did you hear about the thefts in Hogsmeade?"

"No. Not at all. What happened? Is everyone alright?" Hermione asked before she'd even processed that she was talking at all. At this rate, there was no way her nerves were going to last through the First Task, let alone the rest of the year.

"Everyone's fine. But apparently a bunch of stuff was stolen from some of the stores. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it."

Harry shrugged. "Haven't had a lot of time for gossip, I guess."

Cedric stared down at his hands, gripping his teacup with white knuckles. His face pulled tight with anxiety.

"Yeah."

"So what was stolen?" Hermione prompted. Anything to get the topic away from dragons and the First Task.

"I heard it was some books, some Zonko's products, and a bunch of stuff from the apothecary. My cousin works at J. Pippin's Potions and she told me they're missing some really pricy ingredients."

Hermione's thoughts immediately went to the twins, who'd been experimenting with new and increasingly dangerous toffees all term. She'd never forget the fiasco that had been five first-years growing feathers and beaks after eating too many Canary Creams. It had taken nearly an hour before they finished molting and speaking only in chirps. While she had no idea what they'd used to make the toffees, she was certain that the twins couldn't afford all of those ingredients on their own.

"When did it happen?" Harry asked, although he didn't seem to be paying particularly close attention to the conversation. His gaze seemed fixed on the stack of books they'd brought out. The top one was stamped with a gilt dragon that was charmed to breath embossed fire and stomp back and forth across the cover.

"Over the weekend. Apparently the merchants are blaming the foreign students."

"Well that's just ridiculous. I'm sure none of them would be stealing from Hogsmeade." Hermione jumped to their defense. It was exasperating how much the local witches and wizards (and even some of the professors if she was being honest) distrusted and outright disliked the Durmstrang students.

Cedric just shrugged.

The next three topics—the new foods the elves were serving, the way Moody seemed to be literally stalking Snape, the dreary weather they'd been having—all stuttered to a halt after no more than a few words were spoken. Taking this as her cue, Hermione gently set down her tea cup and stood up.

"I should probably get going. It'll be curfew soon. I'll see you tomorrow Harry, yeah?"

Harry nodded before walking her to the door.

Overcome with a fit of nerves, Hermione reached out to grasp at Harry's hand, squeezing tightly. "We'll figure this out. I promise."

Harry said nothing. But he squeezed her hand and nodded, his face a little ashen and just slightly tinged green.

At the end of the day, what else could she ask for?

A lot, probably.

"Hermione! Hermione! I've got it!"

Madame Pince's whole face shriveled up in disapproval as she harshly shushed Harry, threatening to haul him out of the library by his ear.

Paying her absolutely no mind, Harry continued to dart between stacks of books and students studying at tables until he finally reached Hermione's table next to the window.

Looking up from The Standard Book of Spells: Year 4, the reprimand to mind his volume died on her lips. Harry looked animated. More animated than she'd seen him in ages. In fact, he looked borderline manic as he vibrated with energy.

"I've got it," he exclaimed as he collapsed into the chair across from her. Bracing his hands on the table, he leant forward. "But I need your help. Can you meet me after classes today?"

"What are you talking about?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "The—" here he lowered his voice to a whisper, glancing around at the other students to make sure no one was listening in—"dragon. What else?"

"What?! Tell me everything!"

"Not here. Not now. Meet me in the empty third floor classroom after Transfiguration, alright? Please?"

Hermione could do little more than nod her head and watch as Harry breezed back through the library like a whirlwind. Or a tornado.

That night, Hermione tossed and turned, trying desperately to fall asleep. She could only imagine how Harry was doing. The specter of the First Task tomorrow afternoon loomed over her every moment. Her nerves were fried, her brain wouldn't stop running through every fact she'd learned about dragons, and her jaw hurt from clenching her teeth in anxiety.

She and Harry had spent the whole afternoon and late into the night practicing the summoning charm. It had been tough going and Harry had struggled considerably, but after nearly five hours he'd finally gotten it down. Now she could only hope that he could repeat the performance tomorrow when he needed it most. She would never admit it to his face, but she was worried. Very worried.

The whole day passed in a blur as Hermione went about her classes in a fog. If it hadn't been for the conspicuous disappearance of her completed essays, she wouldn't have been sure she'd even handed in her homework.

Before she knew it, she was trudging down to the First Task with the rest of the Gryffindors. While the general sentiment towards Harry remained shockingly chilly, Gryffindor House had embraced him as their champion. Ahead of her, she could see the twins carrying a large banner no doubt emblazoned with Harry's name. Lee Jordan happily passed out red and gold buttons that loudly proclaimed "Potter: The REAL Hogwarts Champion." Even her dormmates, Lavender and Parvati, had helped many of the students paint their faces. Everywhere she looked, she saw students painted like lions or with red and gold war paint. One even had a giant black lightening bolt scar painted across their entire face. Hermione herself had begrudgingly let the two girls paint her cheeks with stripes of red and gold.

"Hermione, over here!"

Hermione looked up from the stairs she'd been climbing to see Lavender, Parvati, and Neville, clumped together in the stands and waving her over towards an empty seat. Feeling uncomfortable at their invitation, but equally unwilling to sit next to Ron while he was being a great bloody prat, she gave the group a wave and slowly worked her way through the crowd towards them.

"Heya Hermione!" Neville shouted over the buzz of the crowd. "Isn't this exciting?"

She supposed it would be, if you didn't know what was about to happen. The best she could do was wrap her scarf more tightly and try to smile. It probably looked like a grimace.

"What's up with the Bulgaria scarf?" Parvati asked, swinging her feet down from where she'd propped them up to save Hermione's seat.

"Oh. I. Wasn't really thinking I guess. It's my warmest scarf."

'Smooth one, Hermione' she thought. She never was meant to be an actress.

Parvati definitely didn't believe her either, but seemed uninterested in pressing the issue. After all, what did it matter to her if her roommate was rooting for the dreamiest boy in school?

When Ludo Bagman happily announced the details of the First Task and the crowd caught sight of the first dragon (a leathery creature with a snub nose and only two legs), Hermione felt like all the blood in her body had turned to ice. Around her, everyone was gasping in excitement and fear, but all Hermione could do was gasp for breath.

A gentle hand on her knee broke her from her panic.

"Hermione? Are you alright?" Parvati leaned towards her, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

Hermione nodded, too quickly to be believable.

After a long moment, Parvati stood up and gestured for Hermione to stand, too. Linking their arms together, she started leading Hermione down the aisle and towards one of the staircases.

"Come on. I'll buy us all some hot tea while you go wish Harry luck. There's still a little time before everything starts. No one will notice if you're quick about it."

Barely pausing to thank her, Hermione darted down the last of the stairs so quickly she nearly stumbled and had to grip the railing with white knuckles to stop from falling into the pit with the dragon. It gave her entirely too much of an up close and personal view, even if she was what was obviously considered a safe distance away.

And to think she'd once considered Norbert the baby Norwegian Ridgeback adorable.

A quick Notice-Me-Not charm got her to the back of the Champions' tent. Crouching down next to the canvas, she watched the shadows of four people pace back and forth.

Oh this was awful!

When the smallest shadow wandered over near her, she tried her best to get ahold of their attention. It had to be Harry, she thought. Even Fleur was taller than her short friend.

"Hermione? Is that you?"

She placed her hand against the fabric. "Are you ok?"

Harry didn't bother to respond. It was a stupid question, after all, and she knew it.

"You'll be ok. It's all about focusing your mind and thinking very hard about exactly what you're trying to summon."

She was babbling, but she couldn't seem to stop.

Without thinking, she hurtled herself through a gap in the tent and gripped Harry in the tightest hug she could. There was nothing she could do to help him now and no amount of worrying this week had prepared her for how powerless and frightened she felt at the thought of her best friend fighting a literal dragon.

Just as Harry wrapped his arms around her and leaned back to barely lift her off her feet, a blinding light flashed. Blinking against the sudden light, Hermione smelled smoke. Then there was a second flash, complete with a strange snicking bang. Whipping around, the two friends caught sight of a woman in a tight green dress striding in next to a photographer.

"Young love. How…delightful." The woman's smile was predatory.

"Rita Skeeter," Harry murmured harshly in her ear. He'd told her all about the woman and how awful she'd been at his wand weighing. This was not going to be good.

Glancing around the tent, she saw the spectacle had drawn Viktor's attention. He looked stressed and annoyed, his eyebrows pulled down into a harsh scowl.

Oh, what had she done now?

Catching his gaze, she mouthed the word "sorry." He gave her a sharp nod.

Marching over, Viktor stepped in between Rita Skeeter and the younger teens, spreading his feet wide and crossing his arms over his chest. All she could see was the broad flat of his back, emblazoned in bold red letters with "KRUM."

"You are not welcome here. I ask you to leave." His voice was low and gravelly, tight with emotion.

Rita stepped closer to him, eyes hooded as she looked him up and down. "I think you'll find I have every right to be here as a member of the press. But no matter. I think I've got everything I'll need from Harry today. I'll talk to you later."

Swishing the length of her quill beneath his chin, she turned with a smirk. A final picture of the three of them and Rita and her photographer were off towards the other side of the tent.

Reaching forward, Hermione grasped Viktor's hand and squeezed.

"Good luck" she whispered. Taking the opportunity to make a quick exit, she gave Harry a tight smile and darted back out the back of the tent.

Viktor's eyes followed her, his jaw clenched tight with worry.

Another flash lit up the tent.

If you asked Hermione what happened in the First Task, she'd never be able to tell you. The whole task passed in a haze of harsh, panicked breathing punctuated by gulps of hot tea. Parvati, Lavender, and Neville were surprisingly good distractions and seemed intent on helping her through it all.

When Cedric caught fire, Parvati distracted her with a story about catching Cedric and Cho snogging in the fourth floor corridor. When Fleur's skirts went up in flames, Lavender dragged Neville and Hermione into a discussion about the finer points of aguamenti. When Viktor's dragon roared so loud Hermione could feel her chest rattle, Neville refilled her tea while Lavender loudly told them all about the strange wizard she'd sat next to at the World Cup. And when Harry fled the field clutching a golden egg stained red with his own blood, Parvati was right there clutching her hand so Hermione's fingernails would stop cutting half-moons into her own palms.

When it was all over and the crowd began to dissipate, Hermione found herself racing back towards the Champions' Tent, with Ron hot on her heels.

Bursting into the tent, she saw Harry sitting up on his cot, bandaged heavily around his shoulder, but otherwise alert. Beaming at him, she couldn't help but start to cry. He was alright. Her best friend in the entire world was alright.

Harry smiled back at her before pointedly looking across the tent, waggling his eyebrows and smiling even wider.

When Ron stepped towards Harry, white-faced and shaking, she took the opportunity to walk to the other side of the tent where a pair of dark eyes were watching her.

She didn't know what her plan was, or if she even had a plan. Did Viktor even want her to approach? Did he want the other champions to guess that maybe, just maybe, he liked her?

Some hesitation must have shown in her face, for as she approached, Viktor stood from his cot and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him until her face was buried in his chest. He smelled like sweat and dust and leather and smoke.

He felt like home.

Something deep inside her chest finally relaxed and Hermione began to cry in earnest. A steadily-murmured stream of Bulgarian accompanied her shudders as Viktor gently combed his fingers through her hair. His leather gloves caught painfully in snags and tangles, but she didn't care.

She didn't care when Madam Pomfrey loudly huffed and told her it was time to leave the champions to heal in peace. She didn't even care when she looked up to meet the dark, quizzical, slightly disgusted gaze of Professor Snape, who'd stopped mid-step to stare at them as he carried a large tray of potion bottles towards the healer's station.

She didn't care one whit. Because they were alive. Both of them.

And that was all that mattered.