The Goblet Of Fire - Hermione Granger x OC

The Champion's Tent

The day Oliver had been dreading had finally arrived - the first task of the Triwizard tournament. Oliver paced anxiously inside the champions' tent, a bundle of nerves. Henry occupied the seat in front, appearing equally on edge. Though their eyes met several times, neither spoke, both lost in their own thoughts.

Just as the tension seemed unbearable, their mother burst into the tent, her excitement palpable. "Oh, my dear boys! I am so proud of both of you!" she exclaimed, pulling them both in a tight embrace.

She then turned to Oliver and asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were going to be in the tournament too?"

"I didn't plan on it."

"Well, regardless, we are here now, and I'm sure you'll both do great!" their mom said with a reassuring smile as she kissed both of them on the cheek.

She turned around and left the tent, leaving Oliver and Henry exchanging an awkward glance. Henry seemed like he was going to say something but instead retreated to his seat on the other side of the tent, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

As the roar of the dragon echoed from outside, Oliver's heart raced, and he found himself catching his breath. The impending danger and the weight of the task ahead were starting to bear down upon him.

"Psst!"

Oliver jumped, feeling startled, as he heard a voice coming from behind him. His mind quickly raced, unsure if it was just his imagination playing tricks on him.

"Psst! Is that you, Ollie?" the voice whispered from the other side of the tent.

Oliver's relief washed over him like a cooling breeze on a hot summer day when he recognized the voice to be Hermione's. "Hermione?" he asked.

"Yeah, how are you feeling?" she asked.

"I'm about to fight a dragon, how do you think I'm feeling?" Oliver responded, his tone tinged with a mix of anxiety and sarcasm.

Hermione went silent for a second, her brow furrowed as she tried to find the right words of reassurance. "The key is to... uh, concentrate," she hesitated, trying to gather her thoughts. "After that, uh...."

Hermione sounded very unsure of herself, and her words didn't provide Oliver with the reassurance he needed. Yet, she felt a surge of determination and love within her. Unable to contain her worry any longer, she rushed into the tent, surprising Oliver with an unexpected tight embrace.

"Please be careful," Hermione whispered into Oliver's ear. She then leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on his lips.

"I'll do my best," Oliver said, mustering up a small smile.

Hermione's eyes sparkled with confidence as she looked at Oliver, her voice filled with unwavering support. "I believe in you! If there's anyone who'd be able to conquer a dragon, it'd be you, Oliver."

Just as their conversation ended, the tent flaps parted, and Dumbledore entered, followed by the other esteemed headmasters. The presence of these revered figures brought a sense of solemnity to the room.

"Good day, champions! Gather around, please," Dumbledore addressed the assembled contestants, his voice carrying authority.

Everyone, including Hermione, gravitated towards Dumbledore's commanding presence, forming a tight circle around him.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, his eyes twinkling with wisdom, "you've waited and wondered, and the day has finally arrived. A moment only the four of you can truly appreciate."

Caught off guard by Hermione's presence among the champions, Dumbledore's surprise was evident. He turned his gaze to her, his voice carrying a curious tone. "What are you doing here, Miss Granger?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in genuine astonishment.

"Oh, um, sorry, I'll just go," Hermione said as she turned to leave the tent.

Dumbledore quickly shot Oliver a sly smile, sensing his embarrassment. Oliver felt his cheeks grow warm, but a sense of gratitude swelled within him for Hermione's unwavering support, even if their exchange was cut short.

"Barty! The bag!" Dumbledore called out urgently, shifting the attention back to the task at hand.

Barty Crouch swiftly responded to Dumbledore's command, retrieving a peculiar bag from the corner of the tent.

"Champions, please form a circle around me," Barty Crouch instructed, his voice carrying an authoritative tone.

He opened the bag, gesturing for Fleur to reach her hand inside. "Miss Delacour, if you will," he said politely.

Fleur carefully extended her hand and gingerly pulled out a tiny dragon, its scales shimmering with a vibrant green hue.

"The Welsh green," Barty announced, acknowledging the dragon's species as he turned his attention to Krum. "Mr. Krum."

Krum, his expression focused and determined, reached into the bag and withdrew his hand swiftly while concealing his anticipation.

"The Chinese fireball," Barty declared, his eyes fixed on Krum for a brief moment before turning to address Henry. "Mr. Montclair"

Henry reached into the bag.

"The Swedish Short-Snout!" Barty exclaimed, a note of excitement in his voice.

Barty paused for a moment, a realization dawning on him. "Oh, yes, the other Montclair," he said, pulling his attention to Oliver.

Oliver sighed, feeling a mix of annoyance and apprehension, and hesitantly reached into the bag.

"The Hungarian Horntail," Barty announced, his tone taking on a serious note.

As the words sank in, Oliver's heart dropped. The Hungarian Horntail was notorious for its aggressiveness and strength, making it the most dangerous dragon among them. He could feel his palms growing clammy as he contemplated the daunting task that lay ahead.