The day of the first task rolled around and found Hermione awake, nursing a mug of tea several hours before anyone should reasonably be awake. She couldn't sleep at all the night before, knowing that in a relatively short time, the champions would be facing dragons.
Five cups of tea later, Neville and Harry sat down with her.
"Nervous?" Neville asked.
"More worried," she mumbled into her mug. "I'm not the one who has to fight a dragon."
"Don't remind me," Harry groaned. He leaned against the table, still exhausted, even though he had managed to sleep more than Hermione.
Within the next half an hour, the rest of the champions stumbled in to have breakfast. They all looked a tad nervous, but appeared more rested than Harry.
Fleur ate a light breakfast, mostly nibbling delicately at her toast. Cassius ate the same thing he ate every morning, his face impassive. It was impossible to tell what was going on in his mind. Probably some strategizing.
As for Viktor, he looked as if there was nothing wrong with him. He did have the advantage of having gone into stressful situations before. This was probably about as exciting as the world cup had been, though it was probably a tad more deadly.
Neville managed to lighten the mood tremendously. He chatted while he ate eggs toast and bacon. He even chewed with his mouth closed, in spite of how much he talked. With a bit of time, he had managed to siphon some of the tension around Harry and Hermione away.
By the time that the rest of the students started to trickle in, he'd managed to engage Hermione in a semi serious debate about the possibility of dragons who breathed fire. Harry laughed at the absurdity of everything. It felt good to be able to laugh rather than fear what was going to happen far too soon.
Before long, the champions went out to the arena. Or rather, they went out to the tent just outside the arena that had been set up for them. The rest of the student population ate breakfast, and wandered down there at a much more leisurely pace.
"So, what do you think?" Hermione asked Neville as they walked down the hill to the stadium.
"I'm not sure," he said. "I know Harry has something planned. It should be good."
"I'm not really worried about Harry. I don't know exactly what he has planned, but I've helped him with his spell casting. I'm confident that he won't die," she said. "I'm nervous about Viktor."
Neville nodded his head. They were fairly alone, still being one of the earlier people to walk away from breakfast. But he didn't want to say anything incriminating.
"I'm not being crazy, am I?" she asked.
Neville thought for a minute. "I doubt it. I think it would be hard to not worry about someone you love."
Hermione looked around furtively, before smacking him lightly. "You did not just say that out loud."
Neville rubbed his arm, acting more hurt than he was. "You didn't have to hit me."
She rolled her eyes. "I didn't hit you that hard. But you need to be careful."
"You are going to have to loosen up a bit. Most people don't listen to us. And people are eventually going to find out. You can't keep something so big a secret forever. Not that I think you want to."
She mulled over his words as they wandered closer to the champions' tent. She looked at Neville sheepishly, before he nodded at her.
She stood next to the wall of the tent, and then heard Harry muttering to himself.
"Harry," she said.
"Hermione?"
"Yes. Now just remember, the key is to keep calm," she said more to herself than to him, "then all you have to do…"
"Is battle a dragon," he finished for her.
She practically jumped through the opening of the tent wall, hugging Harry. She desperately needed comforting, and she wasn't sure she could get it from Viktor. She heard a click and felt the flash of a camera.
"Well. Well. Well. Young love," Rita Skeeter said.
"You are not velcome here," Viktor said. He stood as tall and menacingly as he could manage. "This tent is for champions. And friends." He looked over at Hermione, a wave of relief flooding over him.
"Well, we got what we came for," Rita said as she skedaddled out of the tent.
Hermione shot him a grateful look before turning back to Harry for a moment. "Promise me you'll be safe," she said.
"Hermione, I've got a plan. I'll be fine. Promise."
She walked over next to Viktor. "Are you going to be fine?" she asked in a hushed voice.
She was standing as if watching everyone else. She tried to act casual, even though every instinct in her was crying out for her to embrace him.
"I also haff plan. I vill be fine. If you are vatching, I vill be more than fine." He gave her a small smile.
"I'm counting on it," she said. "I've got a bit of a bet on you Mr. Krum."
"Champions gather round," Dumbledore said as he breezed through the door of the tent.
Hermione was swept up in the gathering and drawn into the circle.
"Miss Granger, what are you doing?"
She blushed and looked slightly flustered. "Nothing. I'll just go."
She walked out of the tent, and into the stands. Neville was waiting for her, saving her a seat with Ron. Ron was still grumpy, but it was better to have friends for spectator sports. And it helped that Harry wouldn't be sitting with them.
"Hey Hermione," George said.
"Want to place a bet?" Fred finished.
"Sure. Five galleons on Viktor Krum." She handed them the money.
"Ohh," they said together.
"Not many people are betting on him," Fred said.
"Most of those are from Durmstrang," George added.
"But even half of those are betting on Harry," they finished together.
"Do you know something we don't?" Fred asked.
"I guess I was thinking that I'd go with the champion who's had the most experience competing in the public eye," she said as nonchalantly as she could manage.
The tournament started with a cannon blast. Cassius Warrington was the first champion, and he did fairly well. He managed to get his egg away from the dragon with only slight singing of his robe and hair.
Fleur did fairly well. She had a sear on her arm that looked like it might take weeks to heal, but she had done fairly spectacularly otherwise.
Viktor's actions gave her the most anxiety. He had practically barged in there, and taken the egg, without putting up much of a fight. Sure, he had stunned the dragon in the eyes. But other than that, it was his physical prowess that was utilized the most.
But, for all the worry that he gave Hermione, he emerged without the flames ever touching him. No singed hair. No smoking robes. No wounds for her to fret over. Just frazzled nerves.
Harry's flight gave her a bit of a start as well. But he evaded the dragon so well, and gave such a performance, that she couldn't be mad at him for long. And it was less stressful to watch than Viktor's had been. But she guessed that part of it had to do with how she felt about each of the boys.
She was glad when it was all over and she could rush to the med tent with the excuse of looking in on Harry.
Fleur was in a private section, moaning over the pain of her burn. Cassius was sitting on a table, right inside the tent.
"So you and Krum?" he asked Hermione.
She blanched. She hadn't thought that she was so obvious.
"Don't worry," he said. "I won't tell anyone. I understand how hard it is to keep people out of your love life."
She gave him a small smile. "Thanks. I'll try to keep everyone out of yours," she said.
He gave a short nod and she hurried over to Viktor.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, trying to be gentle.
"Not bad. Better than the others. I told you I vas prepared." He smiled up at her, a little afraid of what she might say or do.
She hugged him tightly, almost squeezing the air out of him. "You had me so worried. What were you thinking?"
"I vas thinking of how to not be seen, or heard by dragon. Also, not be smelled. But I guess I did not think to explain to pretty vitch how I vas planning on doing things."
"You most certainly did not." She stroked his hair softly. "Please don't scare me like that again."
"I von't. Promise."
She believed him.
Harry came in a few minutes later, and Hermione fussed over him, all the while sending short glances at Viktor. If anyone had been watching, it would have been obvious where her mind was. Luckily, on a certain Slytherin caught on, one who had already promised to keep things quiet.