Harmione | Never Be Alone ✔ [COMPLETED]

Chapter 2

Veela. Harry immediately recognized them as a wave of sudden unexplained affection ran through his body. He watched as they stopped in front of him, sighed daintily, and hurried on. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off them, and neither could anyone else.

Hermione's POV

All the boys looked dumbstruck as soon as the Beauxbaton girls emerged. Hermione personally thought that it was very uncivilized, how they were just moaning all over the place as a greeting, and she looked away in slight disgust.

The girls did a final sigh, and blue petals seemed to float out from their group, scenting the air with heavy violet perfume.

They all took seats along the Ravenclaw table, perhaps because Ravenclaw's house colours matched their uniforms, Hermione thought. The students at the table went wild, trying to get to know the girls.

"And now..." Dumbledore directed the attention back to him, "our friends from the North, please greet the proud sons of Durmstrang and their high master, Igor Karkaroff!"

A group of older boys walked in, some in thick fur coats, grunting and breaking into sudden handstands. Then...

"Blimey, it's him! Viktor Krum!" Ron whispered, eyes wide in awe.

And so, it was. Viktor was striding along, bringing in the rear of Durmstrang's small group, looking dead serious. He turned his head slightly to glance over at the Gryffindor table, and caught Hermione's eye.

The corners of his mouth turned up, and did he just... wink at her? Sure enough, he did, Hermione noticed as she felt a faint blush creeping up her cheeks.

Harry's POV

Harry felt a sudden surge of protectiveness when he saw Krum send a wink Hermione's way, and without realizing what he was doing, he put an arm around Hermione; bringing her close, and glared at Krum.

Hermione grew even redder, so flushed that she even missed a Durmstrang sending a flaming firework into the ceiling in the shape of Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes.

"You can let go of me now," Hermione muttered, letting her hair fall over her burning face. Oh, how she wished that she could just bury her nose in a book at this instant!

"Oh! Sorry," Harry said, and cleared his throat, dropping his arm.

Ron across the table looked like he was trying so hard to stifle a laugh that he was going to burst.

"Your attention, please!" Dumbledore called again, and the Great Hall fell silent. "I'd like to say a few words. Eternal fame and glory, that is what awaits the winner of the Triwizard Tournament."

"Blimey! That'd be bloody brilliant, won't it?" Ron breathed, awestruck, as mumbling and excited whispers started all over the Great Hall again.

"Better you than me," Harry replied, grinning.

Hermione noted in disgust how many people seemed interested by the Triwizard Tournament. It was an absolute death wish! She glanced over at Harry and was not at all pleased to see that he seemed extremely intrigued by this tournament also. How could he-

Hermione yelped as she felt sudden drops of water pelt her head, and squinted up to see that rain was falling hard inside the Great Hall. Students screamed and took cover under the tables as a flash of lightning sounded, scrambling and knocking over goblets and silver platters.

As quickly as the rain started, it had stopped. Several students peeked out from under the four tables to see a very strange man, with only one brilliant blue eye, grumbling and exchanging greetings with Dumbledore.

"Mad-Eye Moody!" Dean Thomas acknowledged, stunned as everyone else. "What's he doing here?"

Moody pulled a flask out of his pocket and started glugging down its contents, oblivious to everyone's stares and whispers.

The attention shifted back to Dumbledore, who pretended as if nothing had happened as he continued.

"Well, that's sure a way to make your entrance, Professor Moody! I'm proud to say he will be your new Defence Against The Dark Arts teacher. Have a good year, Professor. To explain further about the Triwizard Tournament, we shall have the international magical cooperation minister, Mr. Bartimus Crouch."

Dumbledore walked off to the side and was replaced by a small man, greeted by a polite round of applause from both the students and the professors. Percy Weasley clapped extra loudly, trying (and failing) to get the minister's attention.

"For your own safety, it has been decided that those only over the age of seventeen may enter the torna-" Bartimus's words were cut off by loud protests. Hermione sighed in relief, thinking that there might be a possibility that they won't lose one of their school's numbers this year.

"Quiet, it has been decided!" Mr. Bartimus Crouch yelled when the protests and outraged comments didn't die down.

He scurried off to the side when students started aiming plates and spoons at him, and didn't dare to return. Loud crashes and broken glass littered the stage as Dumbledore tried to regain order.

Seamus was still enthusiastically flicking forks in Mr. Crouch's direction long after everyone had stopped, and Harry, as a piece of silver cutlery flew over his head, ducked and smashed into Hermione, his lips against her collarbone.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped and sprang back, nearly falling out of her seat.

Ron looked at Harry and Hermione and grinned. This was going to be an exceptionally interesting year.

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A/N: Whoop, hope you enjoyed this chapter! We're just getting the dull stuff out of the way; then some serious Harmione action will be coming soon. Friendly reminder that in this fanfiction, Ron does NOT have feelings for Hermione!

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