"Thanks, Harry... but I was so worried when you were in the ravine! You almost fell off your broom... I'm so sorry, Harry! I should have taught you the self-muffling charm, it would have made things so much better. And I wasted so much time on creatures you didn't even face, and you were having so much trouble with the ones I forgot about..." Hermione was clutching him, getting more and more agitated.
"Hermione, you can't possibly blame yourself. The Zuu was some kind of Persian bird, wasn't it? There's no way you could have guessed it would be the big bad bird at the end. It might as well have been some North American Thunderbird or something..." Harry reassured her.
"But... I did read about it, but I dismissed the idea... and you nearly got yourself killed when you went for the egg before it was completely restrained! Harry, I shouldn't have...mmffh-"
Harry decided to stop her from talking any more, and reassure her at the same time with a kiss. "Hermione, I'll say this again. Don't blame yourself." He gave her another peck. "You probably read everything there is to know about magical birds for this task." Another quick kiss. "I can't possibly handle that much. You made good choices to leave out stuff or else I would have been overwhelmed." Their lips touched again. "I never could have done as well as I did without you, Hermione, so I'll tell you again- don't doubt yourself. You're my saviour, Hermione." He ended his little speech by locking lips once more, and neither one wanted this one to end.
"Couldn't you have at least let me get one word in?" asked Hermione when they finally broke apart.
"No, not until I was done," smiled Harry. "What did you want to say?"
"Well, I knew what you were going to say after the first line, but I decided to let you keep going," she answered. "And I wanted to let you know that you're my saviour as well."
"I'd jump in front of any spell for you."
"Well, I was hoping you'd be a better dueller than that, Harry. Let's go back to the castle and figure out a training regimen, Harry," Hermione said, grinning.
"What? Right away?" Harry gave her a pleading look, but all she did was slap him on the back as they both mounted the Firebolt, enjoying the late, sunny afternoon.
XXXX
The Sunday paper arrived and all the students and staff who didn't make it to the Trial of Air eagerly awaited it. The results were splayed across the front page. Since Cedric came in last, the British had quickly latched on to Harry as the pride of Britain- making the entire Hufflepuff table extremely angry. Cedric was gracious enough, since he was expecting to lose going in. Although he was seeker for the Hufflepuffs, he only played Quidditch recreationally and was hoping to drop the position to study for his NEWTs that year. Against the best seeker in Hogwarts, and the best seeker in the professional Quidditch league, he wasn't expecting to come out of the Trial of Air any better than third. The fact that Fleur happened to be an amateur broom racer practically solidified his defeat. That didn't stop the Hufflepuffs from heckling him, though. It was easier to bear than when his name popped out of the Goblet, because now the Gryffindors (minus Ron) were all on his side, as if he once again represented Hogwarts. Harry could only shake his head at how fickle the masses were.
Harry picked up a copy of the paper out of interest. There he was, in his second-place glory, plastered all over the front page. Fleur, once again, was relegated to page three, but at least there was more text accompanying her pictures this time. Cedric and Krum received little more than stubs. Harry was proclaimed "Champion of Britain" with pictures of him dodging the Zuu's claws. However, there was another article that caught his eye.
Harry Potter: Doing Whatever It Takes to Win?
By Rita Skeeter
The last time we checked in with our dear Harry Potter was when he somehow got his name to come out of the Goblet of Fire. This intrepid reporter has attempted to secure the truth of the matter herself, but so far, any investigation into Mr. Potter's wrongdoing have been stopped at the gates of Hogwarts by Tournament security officials and DMLE Aurors. Their only response? "This is an issue we are dealing with internally."
Now, you might ask, what chance does a fourth-year have against the top seventh-years from three different schools, one of which is already a professional Quidditch star? If you're thinking the way I do, then the answer is obvious: none at all. He still manages to snag second place, using the third-fastest broom in the competition. Praise him all you like, but bravery doesn't make you fly faster. The crowd favourite going in, Viktor Krum, had this to say: "I was caught off guard by how he used his spells against me."
That's right, folks. In this event, spells cast at another champion are disallowed. That's no concern for the young, non-affiliated champion, however. Many people in high places seem to have taken a liking to the young boy. When Harry Potter was being checked for illicit potion use, the mediwitch was shocked to find Potter was carrying something that he shouldn't have. Did she present this evidence to the officials? No, she let him go, saying he was completely clear of any prohibited potions and asked no more questions. Even more curious was this statement from Fleur Delacour, the first-place winner from the Trial of Air. "He practically looked bored while the officials were scrambling over themselves. I have never met anyone so... untouchable."
Clearly, with the judges in his pocket, the Boy-Who-Lived is turning this entire tournament...
Harry threw down the paper in disgust without finishing the article. Hermione raised her eyebrow as she quickly read through it. "Well, that woman certainly has some talent."
"And what talent would that be? I'd like to drown her in a barrel of ink..." growled Harry.
"Now, you'll just get in trouble for that, Harry! Unless you ask me for help of course," Hermione said sweetly. "Anyways, I'm just talking about her talent for completely mis-quoting everyone and twisting facts just enough to not really be lies, but say everything wrong."
Harry picked up the paper and slowly read through it again. "Huh, I guess you're right. She didn't say anything that wasn't an outright lie... just bad opinion."
"So... Harry... what was Fleur talking about in that quote, then?" Hermione asked with some annoyance.
"What? Oh, I'm guessing she was talking about how she tried her Veela allure on me. It didn't work." Harry grinned and put his arm around Hermione, as if to reassure her.
Hermione gasped. "Harry! Don't tell me she wanted you to be her boyfriend? Or maybe just a boy-toy...?"
"Oh, it wasn't anything like that. We were talking about how people just have these expectations of us, given how I'm the Boy-Who-Lived and she's a Veela. Somehow it ended with me daring her to use the allure on me. She turned it up full blast, but I handled it pretty easily."
"Harry, why on earth did you want her to use her allure on you? Were you... flirting with her?" Hermione's voice was quivering, somewhere between nervousness and anger.
Oh crap, that was a bad move, wasn't it? thought Harry. Was I getting too familiar with her? Why DID I do it? It was just to prove something, wasn't it? He looked into Hermione's eyes and saw a dam about to burst if he said the wrong thing. He felt a pit drop out of his stomach. "I just... wanted to prove to myself... that nothing could take me away from you, Hermione. Not even a Veela who was trying her hardest." He gave her a soft kiss. Pulling back, he saw her expression soften into relief.
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