24 JUNE, 1995. It was the day of the third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament. Come the night's end, only one champion would reign victorious: only one would receive the prize money of one thousand Galleons and 'eternal glory,' as Dumbledore had called it. Classes were to be dismissed early that day, and by the time he students were allowed to make their way to the Quidditch Pitch, an excitable buzz filled the air like electricity.
As per usual, Fred and George Weasley were going around placing their bets, avoiding Ludo Bagman as they found themselves irritated with the man who'd cheated them of all their savings by rewarding them with leprechaun gold. Judges stood around talking quietly amongst themselves, and the heads of houses at Hogwarts led their students to their selective stands: just as if this were any regular match.
Bagman announced the rules of the final task: the champions were meant to capture the Triwizard cup, which would teleport them immediately back outside of the maze and they would be named victor of the tournament. Should they encounter trouble or forfeit the task, they were meant to send up Red Sparks, or 'Vermillious' into the skyline so a ministry official or teacher could lead the champions out of the maze. They were told that beasts roamed the interior of the maze, as well as many other challenges, and Hagrid was given props for his wondrous job at growing the thing. It was announced that earlier in the day, Professor Moody had placed the cup inside the maze. At the sound of canon fire, Cedric Diggory and Harry Potter were meant to step inside the labyrinthian creation first.
BANG!
The canon fired, and the champions adorned in Hufflepuff yellow and Gryffindor scarlet raced into the maze.
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The stands were filled with anticipation as they awaited the return of a champion, whether they be from Hogwarts, Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons. Hermione Granger, finally well enough to leave the Hospital Wing after a week of missing classes, sat beside Ron, squeezing his hand with worry. He didn't mind much: they were friends again, after all, and though their sudden physical interactions differed from their previous interactions, he didn't mind that either.
Hermione was quite soft. And incredibly warm.
Across the stands, Pansy Parkinson sat between Blaise and Draco. While the boys seemed immersed in the game, she was using her omnioculars to gaze upon the her girl crush. Hermione's face betrayed just how scared she was for her best friend's sake. She wanted desperately to race across and comfort her, but the sight of her hand in Weasley's freckled one made her heart clench.
Things hadn't gone the way she wished they would have in the Hospital Wing that day. She'd finally admitted her feelings for the Gryffindor, and in response, the brown-haired girl had responded with, "I'm so confused."
Heartbroken, Pansy had said, "take your time." They hadn't spoken since that day; she finished their potion in Snape's class and was free to sit with Blaise once more, though her eyes always fell on the empty desk that had become like a second home to her... and Hermione someone to go home to. She felt pathetic, and couldn't stop staring at her hand being held between Weasley's.
