The next morning, dawn didn't seem to come. The students awoke to a storm roaring overhead, the skies gray and ominous. At breakfast, Marcus Flint was grinning widely, showing off his crooked teeth. Even Keeper Miles Bletchley, still recovering from his Firecrab burns with his arm in a sling, looked relieved, and Draco was grinning outright.
"Glad we don't have to play Quidditch in this weather," Marcus commented, snickering. "Pity for poor Gryffindor and Hufflepuff."
Hermione rolled her eyes, but she didn't protest. It wasn't as if she hadn't been the one who had given the Quidditch Captain the idea to ensure Slytherin could swap matches.
Before they all filed down to the stadium, Hermione paused in the Entrance Hall, casting the Impervious Charm on everything she was wearing – wide-brimmed hat, boots, and robes. Harry stopped next to her as she did, eyes wide.
"Can you do that for me, too?" he asked. He winced. "I'm not exactly waterproof."
Hermione did so, casting on his boots, robes, and eyeglasses, but she looked at him for a moment, frowning.
"That'll help you get down there relatively dry," she remarked, "but you'll have to change into your Quidditch robes to play, yeah?"
Harry's eyes dimmed.
"Might want to have one of the older students see if spells can be cast on Quidditch robes without breaking the rules," Hermione advised. "Good luck!"
She rejoined the crowd heading down to the stadium, only to be pulled aside right before she reached the doors. She stumbled, but before she realized what was going on, she was hidden in a nearby alcove behind a tapestry, with Cedric Diggory looking down at her.
"I might drown out there," he told her seriously, though his eyes were sparkling. "I wanted to tell you goodbye."
Hermione laughed despite herself.
"You won't drown," she admonished. "Die of hypothermia, maybe, but not drown."
Cedric grinned at her.
"Kiss me for good luck?" he suggested. Though he was smiling, Hermione could sense a nervousness to him. "It'll help keep me warm while I play."
Was this something people did, Hermione wondered. Did they kiss the people they were dating before Quidditch matches? Or was that the type of thing proper boyfriends and girlfriends did? Were proper boyfriends and girlfriends even a thing here?
She tilted her head at Cedric, smiling as she mused. "Are you sure?"
"That I want you to kiss me?" Cedric said incredulously. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
"Then just remember," she murmured, winding her arms around his neck, "you asked for it."
Hermione suspected Cedric had been expecting a quick kiss on the lips for good luck, not a heated snogging session a few scant feet from the rest of the school as they passed through the doors, but he didn't seem upset at the surprise. When she was done kissing him, Cedric's face was flushed and he was breathing hard, and Hermione gave him her best seductive look.
"Hope that keeps you warm," she teased. "Good luck, Cedric."
She left him in the alcove slightly dazed, and she hurried down with the last of the crowd to the stadium, sliding into her customary spot between Blaise and Tracey. Blaise was busy working with Theo on enchanting a giant umbrella to float over their part of the Slytherin section, while Tracey took one look at Hermione and started smirking.
"Kiss Cedric good luck?" she asked quietly.
"Maybe," Hermione said defensively. "What of it?"
Tracey laughed. "I'm not accusing you, Hermione. Just commenting – I thought you'd be cheering for Potter, to be honest."
"Who says I'm not?" Hermione said, doing her best to flatten her hair.
Tracey raised an eyebrow. "You just wished Cedric good luck…"
"I did," Hermione informed Tracey. "For several minutes. I daresay he might find sitting on a broom a bit uncomfortable for a while, or that he won't be able to focus strictly on the match or the Snitch like Harry will."
Tracey started to laugh.
"Did you do that on purpose?" she asked, grinning. "Sabotage by kissing?"
"No," Hermione said, indignant. "But – after Cedric asked for a kiss, it... came to mind. I couldn't help but think of it and consider the possible outcomes."
"Eternally the Slytherin," Tracey said, nodding approvingly. "Good for you."
Hermione didn't feel quite good about it, but she'd at least confirmed with Cedric that it had been at his request, and what he really wanted her to do.
The Quidditch match was a mess. The winds were whipping around ferociously, with torrents of rain bucketing down on them, thunder rolling in the clouds. It was incredibly hard to see anything going on through the sheets of rain, and despite the bluebell fires the Slytherins had conjured under their enlarged umbrellas, the cold winds were chilling them to the bone.
"I don't care who wins at this point," Tracey moaned. "I just want it to be over."
Draco shuddered. "Glad I'm not playing in this mess."
Oliver Wood called a time out after about an hour; Hermione could dimly see the Gryffindors huddle up on one end of the field, the Hufflepuffs on the other.
"Gryffindor's fifty points up, but they called the time out," Theo observed. "Think Wood has a new strategy?"
"Yeah, maybe 'don't get blown off your broom'," Draco said, his tone sarcastic. "Hufflepuff has the advantage there – Diggory's broader and he's got more body mass, whereas Potter's getting blown about like a helpless bird."
Hermione hated to admit that Draco kind of had a point.
The match resumed, with Harry apparently trying his frantic best to find the Snitch. Cedric was looking for it too, but with less of an urgency than Harry seemed to be feeling. When both Seekers both suddenly took off in one direction, there was almost a visible sigh of relief from the stands – finally, this awful match might be over soon.
As both Seekers raced on, however, the stadium suddenly grew much colder, and at the same time, Hermione felt a sharp pain bite into her finger from her coven ring. Immediately, her eyes darted down to it, and her heart stopped.
It was flashing red.
A panicked look at Blaise confirmed his ring was doing the same thing, and as Hermione went to look for Harry to determine why his life was suddenly in danger, the chill grew even more, and Hermione became aware that at least a hundred dementors had swarmed onto the Quidditch field, their hidden faces in hoods looking up at the players and the stands.
At the same time, she saw Harry's hands slip from his broom, and he began to fall.
Stark, cold despair began to consume Hermione – she couldn't get there in time, she couldn't, she could do nothing – and it was on impulse she seized Blaise's hand in her own, throwing her magic and her power into and through her coven ring as best she could, hoping and praying using their coven bond directly like this would work.
Harry was unconscious, he couldn't do anything, his magic couldn't respond – but hers could.
Hermione's awareness exploded into being around Harry as it burst from his coven ring, and with it, the feeling of her magic connecting her to him snapped int being. She pushed all her air magic through the ring and the coven bond to Harry with all her might, desperately, desperately hoping this would work. She could feel something going on – her magic was catching Harry, diffusing his acceleration – and she finally managed to open her eyes once more.
Harry was no longer falling in a dead drop, she saw to her relief – he was falling more slowly, gliding, now, in large slants across the field and back. He was still clearly unconscious, his body limp, but he was tracing the path of a large feather as he floated gradually downward toward the ground.
Meanwhile, there was pandemonium on the field.
Dumbledore was clearly furious. He was on the Quidditch Pitch, waving his wand at the Dementors, shooting silvery magic at them that made them turn and flee. Other teachers had followed him onto the field their wands out as well, but Dumbledore was shaking, he was so angry. After all the dementors were gone, he seemed to take a moment to collect himself before looking up, doing a double-take at seeing Harry Potter floating back and forth on the breeze.
Hermione figured now was probably a safe time to stop helping Harry.
Gently, she eased up on her magic around Harry, and he began to slowly fall once more.
Dumbledore had his wand up in a flash, and Hermione could feel new magic take ahold of Harry, guiding his descent – a variant of Feather Fall, she'd guess. Reassured, Hermione pulled her magic back through the ring and the coven bond into herself. When she did, becoming more aware of her own surroundings again, Blaise was looking at her with reverent eyes.
"Did you mean to take me along with you?" he murmured.
Hermione blinked, then swallowed hard. "I—I don't know."
"It's okay – I went willingly," Blaise assured her. "Not that my magic could do too much. But we did it – he's safe now. He's okay."
With the dementors gone and the fatal falling stopped, the coven rings had indeed stopped flashing red, and Hermione felt like she could finally breathe again.
"They almost killed him," she said, staring after where the dementors had disappeared to. "They almost killed him," she repeated, anger growing in her voice.
"They did," Blaise quietly agreed. "What are you going to do about it?"
Hermione felt her fury catch fire, determination burning inside.
"I'm going to kill them," she vowed. "Then all their friends can watch on in horror, too."