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Hermione firmly shut the door to the Beauxbaton carriage behind her, ensuring the chilly air of the day didn't leak in after her. After doing so and righting her robes, wind-blown as they'd been, she sought out the now familiar passage that would lead her to the relatively private, adjoining rooms of the Delacour sisters. They were expecting her again, albeit not for a very long conversation — no, Fleur had simply wished to receive some help regarding Hogwarts' library, since the students of all three schools were allowed usage of the space.
It'd not be very fair to the two foreign schools otherwise, considering how limited their spaces were aboard their respective temporary homes. Hermione looked down at her satchel then, her hands fidgeting with the top of it. All too often it'd be forgotten about, the thing flapping open in the wind or whensoever she moved too quickly. She supposed it was her fault for being too much of a busy body, but there was so much information to be absorbed and so many books that needed reading and cross-examination with others that paired well together.
After confirming it was shut, she knocked on the door to Fleur's room and waited. Her wait was a scant few seconds before the door went ajar, and not more than one more second later before it was open all together. Neither Fleur nor Gabrielle was present precisely at the door, Hermione noticed, but the former had her wand aimed thereat as she stayed seated at her richly-coloured wooden desk. Mahogany maybe; her parents colleagues ofttimes had desks that looked just as ornate and wealthy.
"Hi," Hermione gave a little half-wave to the two other witches, both of whom were looking her way with smiles on their faces. Smiles that accented the few freckles that littered their faces, Gabrielle's dimples, their eyes… she shook her head and stepped in, looking away from the annoying perfect pair.
She'd never quite gotten used to the allure or how it made her feel. The pleasurable sense was altogether annoying even if it was exactly that; pleasurable.
"Come, seet weez us," Fleur patted her bed, which atop sat Gabrielle nearer the head. "You are able to speak for a few moments, no? I 'ad 'oped to ask you about ze section we are not allowed to enter."
"The restricted section," Hermione said, nodding before stopping to blink at the other girl. "What about it?"
"Ees zere a Professor at 'Ogwarts zat would be more likely to 'and me a pass zan any ozzer?" Fleur turned in her chair as Hermione's feet carried the girl closer to the French pair seemingly of their own volition. When the latter sat down, the former's smile grew wider. "You look exhausted. Tea?"
Hermione perked up at that. Fleur had read her correctly, she was rather tired after all the reading she'd been doing as of late. There was her studies to keep up with, aid for Harry regarding generally useful spells he could take advantage of, and finally, she'd been scouring for all things Veela; the information regarding the lattermost topic of her searches was few and far between. Almost like it was suppressed or the Veela weren't researched all that much despite being relatively common.
"Please."
Fleur said what sounded like a name in French, and in a second's time, a house elf appeared. One that, unlike most Hermione had seen, was dressed nearly the same as a person, albeit small-sized. It even wore the same blue colour that Beauxbatons students did, complete with a hat with holes for its ears. Upon appearing, Fleur said a string of words, still in French, and Gabrielle added a few of her own.
The house elf looked Hermione's way for a moment, but Fleur waved away the creature before it could speak to her, again, speaking in French and gesturing her way. From what little Hermione understood — she'd tried to learn French to fluency before — Fleur had said she'd not understand and to bring what was normal.
When the little elf popped away, Hermione figured it was a perfect time to answer Fleur's question and bring up a topic she considered very important whilst she had the floor… so to say. "Professor Flitwick or Professor Dumbledore, maybe. I'd think Madame Maxime might be able to get you permission as well," and now that was settled, Hermione delved into another topic. One Fleur had inadvertently freshly reminded her of. "Have you heard of the SPEW?"
Fleur's smile didn't fade as she shook her head to indicate she'd not, and Gabrielle, well, she was errantly kicking her legs beside Hermione with a book in her grasp. Hermione had taken a glance at the thing, but being in French as it was, there wasn't much hope of understanding what the younger girl was reading.
"What ees eet?" Fleur asked, prompting Hermione to look back from Gabrielle and the aforementioned book and over her way once more. "Ze SPEW?"
Hermione had tried — and evidently failed quite horribly — to have the SPEW grow into some well-known organisation. Disappointed as she was that nobody ever seemed to know what it was, the question would always give her an in to further the conversation thereof… and so Hermione spoke again. "The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare — basically, it's about freeing all the house elves from the slavery the wizarding world subjects them to."
Fleur blinked at her, and then she tutted. The sound wasn't entirely condescending, but it was clear Fleur disagreed, especially as she swung her legs around so as to view Hermione more closely. "Our family 'as several of zem too, just as most ozzers do. Zey are as family to us — who else but Veela could be able to treat zose zat are looked down upon weez ze care zey deserve, no?"
"Couldn't you free them then? Pay them for their services?" Hermione knew the answer had to be something along the lines of 'yes', especially if Fleur's family treated them as good as she claimed they did. It wasn't like there was an inherent neg—
"Free?" Gabrielle's eyes went wide, and unlike Fleur, rather than tut, she seemed almost worried at the prospect of the house elves gaining their independence.
It wasn't until Fleur spoke again that Hermione understood just why that was. "Eef zey 'ad no Wizard or Witch to bond to, zen zey would waste away. Eet ees our magic zat feeds zeir own. Zere could be no zem eef zere was no us. Eet ees strange, ze adaptation, but eet ees true and ze reason zey are never alone."
That couldn't be right… could it? No, it couldn't; Dobby! He was a free elf. One that hadn't a master in any capacity. "I know a free house elf," Hermione said then, stressing the matter. "Dobby. Harry freed him from the Malfoys and he's been on his own since. How's he still here if they waste away?"
"I would zeenk zat zees 'Dobby' made a bond to 'Arry," Fleur countered. "Eef 'e 'ad not, 'e would not be 'ere very long. Ze bond as I called eet, zeenk of eet as a way for zem to charge like a Muggle…"
"Batteree," Gabrielle said, her fingers coming up to form a little measurement; she seemed thrilled at the mention of the little chargers. That had to tie back to her love of Muggle items.
"Yes, as a battery," Fleur stole one of Gabrielle's hands and peppered it with kisses, much to the giggling, amused Gabby, before continuing. "Now, eef eet runs out completely, zat is all, yes? Zere ees no way for ze zeeng to work again. Eet ees like zat. Only, zere ees no changing zem eef zey run out completely."
Hermione wasn't sure if that analogy was completely true anymore than she was certain that the house elves had to feed on Magicals magic. But the fact that the two thought as much, enough so for Gabrielle to get scared and Fleur to go into so long an explanation gave her reason to pause. If it were true, if house elves needed a family or even just one person so as to live their lives 'normally', then what she'd been protesting for had suddenly turned very insidious. The entire idea of freeing house elves would have to be changed in its entirety. General welfare, perhaps; clothing like that of a uniform, actual food rather than gruel and banning the beating of the friendly folk all sounded like good places to start.
She was resolved to find the truth of the matter one way or another either way.
But before she could leave to do just that, of course, Fleur and Gabrielle chose then to tease her; there was seldom a day where neither did so should they see her.
Harry felt wicked after achieving a long, peaceful night of rest. He'd been studying so much, working alongside Fleur and practising their magic together, and that wasn't to mention the time he'd spent down at the pitch with his mates. Even if Quidditch wasn't having a season this year, they'd still go for a fly or play a pick-up match, unofficial and lax as it'd be .
But Merlin, had that taken a toll on him. Maybe he was old now, but as he walked alongside the silent Ron and Hermione on the way to the Great Hall for lunch, he reckoned this was the best he'd felt despite the exhaustion. He'd made friends with Fleur and her sister, he'd scared off two wizards that most considered untouchable alongside the aforementioned pair of witches, he'd learned massive swaths of new information and his Quidditch teammates, after seeing the trio together, had also stood by his side, albeit at their normal distance.
Simply put, Harry reckoned this had been the best of his four years thus far.
"Hey mate," Ron said, elbowing him so as to get Harry's attention; there was still a touch of tension between the two, but it'd died down noticeably from when first Ron had needed air. "Reckon those birds you ha— blimey 'Mione, you trying to kill me?" he was interrupted, and when Harry turned to see what's happened, he saw Ron rubbing at his arse.
Apparently it was painful too, whatever Hermione had got him with based on the grimace he was pulling.
Hermione, for her part, rolled her eyes. "It was a stinging hex, Ronald, and you should know better than to call them 'birds'. It's racist towards them."
Harry very nearly asked why that was before he understood their other form. One that was avian-like with large wings and cruel-looking beaks.
Ron didn't seem to have that same knowledge though, based on what he next said. "How?"
And from there, Hermione launched into a rather long-winded speech about Veela, the history of their rights, the slurs that were used against them and more. Harry had heard much of it before, and so he tuned his friends out as they discussed information he'd already digested. Instead, using their voices as ambience, he thought of Fleur, and what next they'd study alongside one another.
He hoped it was her ice… it was fascinating, and the possibilities in using it seemed endless. Merlin, 'freaks' as they'd both be called, she was far more wicked.
Dragons.
The first task was dragons; he didn't understand how they were the starter. He'd have thought something as dangerous as them would be last, or maybe even the second task… But the first? It didn't make any sort of sense. He supposed he should have understood just how dangerous the tournament had been in the past considering many people — adults — hadn't wanted it to return in the first place. As it was, with some minor 'adjustments' as had been claimed by the game organisers, it still seemed far from something he'd ever willingly consider entering.
All that aside for the moment, he had to tell Fleur what Hagrid had told him. If they were to be facing off against dragons, their general studying had to change, and fast. Dragons he knew already to be resistant to magic, but there had to be something the pair could do, surely.
He only hoped Fleur had an inkling as to what that something would be. And so he continued his run to the Beauxbatons carriage, not taking the time as he oft did to enjoy the beauty of nature, no, he was a bloke on a mission. So he raced past the errant group of her peers, through the carriage door — nearly tripping on the multiple steps up — and down the hall that'd lead to her room. Once he reached it, he knocked a dozen times over.
When Fleur opened it, the smile that was typical upon her viewing him changed within a second's time to something worried; she pulled him in and latched the door behind him before he could so much as manage a word.
"What ees eet, 'Arry?" Fleur's hands found his shoulders, and with them thereon, she directed him to the edge of her bed, where she pulled him down alongside her to sit on the edge thereof. She seemed concerned, and as one of her arms wrapped around her shoulders, she asked him again. "Arry?"
"Dragons," he managed. His voice was a bit hoarse from all the running he'd done to get to her, but still, she seemed to recognise what it was that he'd said as her hand stilled upon his shoulder.
"Madame Maxime 'ad told me much ze same only earlier. I was going to tell you when next you came 'ere," Fleur's voice was soft, comforting, and her hands again resumed the errant rubbing upon his shoulders; one switched to his hair, massaging his scalp. It had the added effect of making him recline more firmly against her, much to her pleasure. "Take a moment, rest 'ere weez me. I 'ave already sent for tomes."
Harry did just that, catching his breath and enjoying the feeling of her hands upon his person. It was far more enjoyable than simple contact had any right to be.
Fleur, meanwhile, was internally seething with rage just as much as she was shaking with fear. She'd known the tournament was going to be dangerous. Her parents had stressed to her as much before the tournament was officially revealed, as both her mom and dad had known she was the type to put her name in for a chance at being seen as more than just a pretty witch with an icy condition. It was hard to imagine a Veela that would forego the opportunity to be seen as an equal rather than a trophy, and beyond that, Fleur was no normal Veela. She strived not for the simple state of equality with Magicals, she wanted to show them that Veela could excel.
Such was the reason she desired so very badly to win the tournament. It'd do much for her and all Veela around the world.
Yet, she'd not thought it'd be this dangerous; dragons as the first task was as terrifying as it was foreboding. If each were to be more dangerous and difficult than the last, how next might they surpass dragons? One of the creatures was even a Horntail, a dragon infamous for its ability and willingness to commit acts of violence. Truly, there were few that could ever match how aggressive it could be.
She'd have to protect Harry, teach him everything she could so as to ascertain his safety. The fear she was feeling spiked when her doubt continued to climb in her ability to do just that.
Her hold of him tightened, and so too did her resolve strengthen. She would keep Harry safe as best she could.
As she looked at the boy nestled into her side, one final thought raced through her mind before the pair would begin their studies in earnest; she had to ensure his well-being. Failure wasn't an option.
After a good lunch spent with Ron and Hermione, Harry had bid the two farewell and sought out Fleur. If he remembered right, she'd be back in her room around this time of the day — that was nearly always the case, of course, but sometimes she'd take Gabrielle on a little walk around Hogwarts' grounds. It was far better than being confined to their rooms the whole day, day after day.
He navigated the last turn of the path that'd lead him to the Beauxbaton wagon with ease, enjoying just how woodsy they'd made the path thereto. There were a few dozen Beauxbaton students walking about the place, some seeking the water, others, Hogwarts, and all seemed content to leave him well enough alone… even if a few groups of girls looked at him longer than most would normally do. He supposed that was because he'd grown taller now that he'd passed fourteen, and he was finally more filled out than he'd ever been before. Ron and he agreed too; he could still stand to gain a few more pounds, especially since it'd help him push around the other seeker.
Ah well, Harry didn't care any. He was here for Fleur, after all. Her and Gabrielle. And so he continued without so much as a glance at any of the others, moving betwixt the various groups, through the carriage's door and down the hall that'd see him to the Delacour girls. Once he reached it, he raised a fist and knocked, the sound echoing dimly down the passage.
He didn't hear anything — and he wouldn't on account of the privacy charms her room had — the silence lingering for nearly five seconds before, finally, the door before him was opened. Only, this time, Fleur's door wasn't opened by magic or the girl herself. Instead, it was Gabrielle that greeted him, the girl's expression immediately shifting to a toothy smile.
"Eet ees always good to see you, 'Arry," she said by way of greeting, one of her hands grabbing hold of his. In an instant, she was pulling him in and closing tight the door behind him. "Come, come. Fleur was 'aving a nap. We will wake 'er for your studies, yes?"
Harry raised his free hand, waving it to catch her attention before they made it all the way over to Fleur. "Wait — we can let her rest. I'll come back later, it's fi—"
Gabrielle tutted in much the same way he'd heard Fleur do before. It'd already been obvious to him how alike the two were, but if he'd had any lingering doubts, that little mannerism did away with them. "She would 'ave wanted me to wake her eef you were 'ere," and with that being that, the younger girl moved to sit at the edge of Fleur's bed. Once she did so, she raised a hand to the older girl's shoulder and shook it gently, soft-spoken French flowing from her mouth.
It didn't seem to work. Fleur simply rolled over under the warmth of her entirely too comfortable silken sheets, ignoring the noise the younger girl made.
Offended, Gabrielle huffed, and then she jumped, abrupt and without so much as an extra word said, be it in English or French. Harry had to give her credit too, she certainly stuck her landing atop Fleur, the smaller girl landing flat atop her big sister.
That caused Fleur to wake with a start, her eyes narrowed… until she saw who it was that'd woken her in such a way.
Harry went over to the table then, watching as Fleur pulled her little sister under the covers whilst mock-roaring. Whilst watching, he managed, distracted as he was, to pour a glass of hot water and steep a tea bag in it. Unlike most others who preferred something cold to drink, Fleur had a kettle of water constantly heated for something hot and refreshing; she'd had more than enough cold in her life.
As he walked over to hand the freshly poured mug to her, he was greeted with his second winning smile of the day. Neither Fleur nor Gabrielle ever looked at him with anything but… and still, the beautiful smiles wooed him. How couldn't they? Fleur and Gabrielle were perfection given embodiment, especially at the age Harry was.
"Eet ees a good morning eendeed," Fleur said slyly, switching from the French she'd initially used to greet Gabrielle with. "Good morning, 'Arry. You are 'ere to work togezzer again, yes?"
"Good morning, and yeah. I figured I'd stop by and see if you wanted to study, but then I saw you were sleeping — I told Gabrielle I didn't mind coming back later, but s—" Harry was interrupted by Fleur then, with a melodious laugh as the older girl wrapped her arms around the younger.
"My Gabby would not 'ave you leaving, no no no, she ees adamant zat you stay 'ere once you 'ave arrived. I cannot blame 'er. Eet would be criminal to 'ave so cute a boy 'ere and not take advantage of ze time togezzer," Fleur patted the space between her and Gabrielle. "Join us. We can read against ze backboard of ze bed. Eet ees comfy."
Harry was tempted to say he was fine standing as he felt the heat rush to his face upon Fleur's words, and then he remembered the deal she'd made with him. In return for her help, she just wanted the chance to touch him, be it holding his hand, having him cuddled into her side when they were reading and a dozen other ways; he still couldn't believe she thought that was her payment. Merlin, it was like a second benefit for him.
Gabrielle always being near and shooting him those shy gazes made a bloke feel almost untouchable, if Fleur's attention alone hadn't already done as much.
His choice was made for him when, after his few seconds of hesitation, he was pulled by Fleur into the space betwixt her and Gabrielle. From there, she summoned forth a tome from her bedside table and settled it firmly in his hands to a page that'd been noted with a quill sticking out from the top.
"Zat ees what we work on today — eef we are to face dragons, we must know 'ow best to survive, no?"
Harry couldn't agree more. He'd been… more than a little worried since he'd learned about their first task. At least now, with Fleur continuing her assistance via tomes and her own wealth of knowledge, he had a better idea of what to do, and what not to do. Maybe his plan of outflying the creature wasn't all that hard, especially if he took advantage of his greater flexibility in comparison to the bulky heft of a dragon.
Ah well, he'd find out soon enough, and in the meantime, he'd be more than content to continue his studies with the two pretty bir— witches that were sat on either side of him.
It was yet another day, and in that typical day, Harry had more time spent alongside Fleur. This time, without Gabrielle, for the younger girl was taking a nap; there was a chance she joined the pair later, in half an hour or thereabouts, but he wasn't certain.
As for the matter at hand, well, today's lesson was a different one from that which was normal. Rather than spend it studying or working on spells they'd seen together, Fleur had thought a rest day was in order. They'd gone through many a tome already, such was her way of rationalising why they needed time away from studying.
And so, in a roundabout way, that led him to where he currently was. That being with Fleur sat before him, her back facing him as she arched forward with the occasional pleased moan as he brushed her hair. He wasn't sure how having your hair could be so pleasurable, but the fact of the matter seemed to be, quite simply, that it was; why else make the soft coo-like noise on occasion, or those little bursts of shivers that'd show?
She turned her head so as to look at him over her shoulder then, her eyes as captivating as ever as they met his own. "You are a natural. Zere ees not a zeeng better zan a gentle brushing," she shimmied closer to him, the winning smile on her face matching how alluring those eyes of hers could be. "Would you do me anozzer favour, 'Arry?"
The purr-like tone she used caused an involuntary shiver to race down his spice. He hoped she didn't notice it, but that wouldn't be very Fleur-like; she'd always seemed able to read him as if he were a tome, somehow.
"What's that?" he asked, blinking himself back into a state of consciousness. Her gaze was simply so… intense. It was almost hard to maintain eye contact with her.
"Eet ees usually Gabby zat does my braid for me, but I 'ad zought eet would be good eef you knew 'ow to as well, no?" Fleur summoned forth the smaller standing mirror that she kept towards the back-right corner of her room; the larger one atop her dresser was immovable. "I shall direct you — eet ees not very 'ard once you 'ave your hands zere, at least not when I am 'ere to guide you."
"Wait," Harry said immediately, raising the hand that had not been brushing her hair for the past twenty or so minutes. "Why do you want me to learn how to braid your hair? Aren't you worried I'll mess it up? Reckon I don't have to say it, but I've nev—"
Fleur tutted and swivelled partially before him, the brush joining his hand as he retracted it from her. "Eet ees good to know for ze future, no? 'Ow else might you 'elp ze wife you weel one day 'ave?"
When Harry failed to answer, especially on account of her having made mention of some future wife — something he doubted he'd ever experience — Fleur took that to mean she was cleared to launch into the discussion of all things hair… and so she did.
Thus, for the next twenty minutes, the pair discussed how best to braid — the decision ultimately being to learn the greatest and easiest braid there was, the French braid — her hair, in what fashions were easiest to learn and master aside from the aforementioned 'best' and even how he could stop himself from tying his hands into her hair when it came time to put their conversation into practice. Of course, upon his doing so, Fleur had looked over her shoulder at him.
"I would not mind tying your 'ands weez somezeeng zat ees not my 'air," Fleur cocked her head, a mock thoughtfulness coming to her face as she gazed over her shoulder at him. "But maybe eet ees you zat would want to tie mine, no?"
Of course, naturally, he sputtered out a flurry of words before her laughter drowned his doing so out. He resumed his practice then, until finally, it was time to do so without outside assistance or her speaking so as to guide him. Thus, it was then, with Fleur's back facing him once more and the mirror from before now in-front of them, that he made his first true attempt.
Harry started by grabbing her hair, long and flowing and soft as it was, and separated it into three distinct strands. It took him a good minute or so before he ensured that there was nary a strand left behind, and that the trio were of an equal thickness; she'd stressed that to him, lest the braid appear lopsided or prove unable to continue while he was well into his work.
From there, it was just layering the three downwards… which was much easier said than done. Still, he tried his best, slow-going as it was. And then he tried another half-dozen times or so, until Fleur saw a result she was genuinely pleased by. Harry wasn't sure if it looked that much different from his prior attempts, ok as they'd been, or if she simply liked the calming nature of having her hair played with.
He reckoned it was more the latter than the former. Braids were hard, but he'd learned. A bit.
"C— Eet ees very good, 'Arry, I would not lie," She brought her hands up then, pulling at her hair, free as it was again. The tips of her fingers lingered towards the ends of her strands of hair, the two only just coming into contact with one another as she spoke again, this time, with a question. "Do you prefer longer or shorter 'air?"
Harry blinked. He hadn't been expecting that as the question she'd ask. Not when he'd seen so pensive a look come to her face. After a few seconds of silence, he shrugged. "I don't care too much how long or short a witch's hair is, but if I had to pick — longer. It's nice."
Nailed it, Harry. Such was the first thought he had after he'd finished speaking. 'It's nice' he hoped would suffice considering he didn't much know how to put his reasoning into words without sounding barmy.
Fleur flashed him a wide smile as she dropped her hands from her hair. "Longer eet ees, zen. I need only treem to keep ze edges 'ealthy, but I shall stop cutting eet aside from zat."
He cocked his head at her. He was confused on how that was his call to make, but if Fleur wanted to make it so, he supposed he'd just go with it. Her and Gabrielle already sported relatively long hair as it was, and it was wicked; fun to play with too. If she wanted to grow it longer than it already was, that'd just give him more of the silken strands to play with.
It'd certainly help to improve his braid-game too.
Harry took in a deep breath, and held it, counting the seconds as they picked by before ultimately releasing the captive air. His nerves were on edge, needless to say. The dragons were only just outside the tent, waiting for their respective champions to come forth and best them, or fail.
Working as he had with Fleur, and studying with the tomes he'd managed to get his hands on himself, he still felt unprepared for taking on literal dragons — most adult wizards thought twice before doing so, let alone students such as him and the other champions. At least those others were prodigies with years more experience than he possessed. The Potter luck was still in his corner though, so he supposed there was always that.
He just had to hope he had it in abundance today. It'd most certainly be sorely needed.
Harry turned on his heels when he heard somebody approaching the little space he'd claimed in the tent. Like him, the other three champions were inside, and each, even Fleur, had been content to sit in silence, at least up until now.
But it wasn't Fleur that'd been approaching him he'd realise upon completing the turn. It was Cedric, and on the other boy's face was a tentative sort of smile, one that was meant to be appeasing and peaceful. "Harry?" the other boy nodded at the spot beside him. "Mind if I sit with you for a few seconds?" Cedric's voice was softer than it's ever been before, and the other boy looked away from Harry when eye contact was made. He looked at once regretful, and sickened.
"Feel free." Harry responded, but his mind wandered as the other boy made to do so; he wasn't sure what Cedric had to regret. It hadn't been his fault that his friends chose to wear those badges, and he hadn't a hand in helping make them either. As far as Harry was concerned, the other boy was innocent. He could've talked to his housemates, sure, but he'd not hold a grudge against him for not doing so.
The other boy swallowed and looked back at him, forcing a grin.
"Alright?" Harry asked then. He was sure the answer wasn't something positive, but he wanted to at least acknowledge the other boy. See if he wanted to say something since it clearly seemed like he did.
"Just thinking about where we'll both be going soon enough — I wanted to say too, I believe you," Cedric's answer quickly segued to a comment Harry hadn't been expecting. In fact, it completely caught him off-guard, enough so that he furrowed his brow, prompting Cedric to speak again. "About not entering your name. I wouldn't think you'd do something that stupid, not after what I read of the past tasks. Certainly not now."
Harry blinked. He… certainly hadn't thought Cedric would say that. Least of all while they were in the tent right before the task would start officially; the speech had to wrap up anytime now.
"Thanks," Harry said, coming to after a few seconds' time. "Really. I just wish everybody else would see that too, yeah?"
Cedric nudged him, his forced grin turning into a half-smile, though it remained just as forceful. "I'll tell the others then, yeah?" he stood up then, holding out a hand to Harry. "Good luck. Don't go and do anything stupid, yeah? Still fancy beating you in Quidditch years from now."
Harry stood up too, grinning and meeting Cedric's hand with one of his own. "Good luck, Cedric — and same to you. When I continue my win streak against you years from now, we'll think back to when I came in first here too, yeah?"
The two shared a laugh, their worries forgotten for all of a few seconds, and then Cedric went towards the entrance of the tent. His worry seemed to return then, but before Harry could so much as intercede even if he wanted to, a hefty, meaty hand slapped down on his shoulder.
When Harry turned to look at the person to which it belonged, he saw the sour-looking visage of Krum. "I do not know if you did or did not, but if others support you, you are not dishonest as is said."
That seemed all the other boy wished to say as well, for very shortly thereafter, he turned on the balls of his feet and walked back whence he'd come. That being sat in a chair with his hands against his head and his eyes closed; he seemed deep in thought, but unlike Cedric, fear didn't seem as prominent an emotion. No, he was stoic and looked to be readying himself for what lay ahead.
Harry reckoned it was he that seemed the calmest of them all… and speaking of all, Harry's eyes almost of their own volition sought out Fleur. She was pacing in a small circle, near what seemed to be a nest of pillows she'd formed from the furniture in that portion of the tent. As he neared her, wishing to seek her out before the task came about, he noticed just how on edge she seemed to be.
It was strange, that. Fleur had always seemed so confident, so sure of herself. The pacing and look of anxiety, as such, had no place on her otherworldly face.
"Ah, 'Arry," Fleur smiled at him, and beautiful as it was, the charm that oft joined it didn't seem present. "Seet?"
Harry dipped his head and sought out the space beside her. "Good?"
Fleur's arm was around his shoulders before the word had been completely out of his mouth. As soon as he'd finished, she'd nodded, that hand of hers reaching his hair wherein her fingers combed through in so pleasurable a fashion. "Eet ees not for me zat I am worried." her free hand took hold of one of his. "You are young, for so 'ard a task. I only 'ope zat our studies togezzer were enough."
Harry smiled in the hopes it'd push aside some of her anxiety. "I'm confident."
Her grip around him tightened, and she remained quiet, only managing a smile back at him. It seemed regardless of what he said, no words would pacify that concern that seemed so inherent when it came to him. Really, ever since his name had found its way out of the Goblet, she'd been by his side.
He still couldn't reckon why.