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Hermione: "..."
She had imagined many possibilities.
For instance, that this girl with Veela blood, proud and haughty, had heard the name "Witch" and come specifically to challenge her, determined to prove who was truly the most outstanding young witch of their generation.
Or perhaps she had come to gather intelligence on the second task.
Hermione had been fully prepared for a sudden duel.
Instead...
Fleur Delacour, in the coolest tone imaginable, said the most fangirl thing possible.
"...an autographed photo!"
The air froze.
Even Krum and the others eavesdropping nearby looked momentarily glitched.
Hermione blinked. Confirmed she hadn't misheard.
She looked at Fleur's bright, sparkling eyes, brimming with pure, unguarded anticipation, and the corner of her mouth twitched.
Still, the girl's attitude was sincere, her gaze genuine. Hermione wasn't an unreasonable person.
"Sure." She nodded.
A radiant smile burst across Fleur's face. She fumbled hurriedly for a magical camera and thrust it at the person nearest her, then sidled up next to Hermione and pressed their cheeks together.
Click. The camera spat out a photograph.
Fleur received it like it was made of glass, tucked it carefully away, her cheeks still carrying a satisfied flush.
Noticing Hermione's slightly baffled look, she explained with a touch of embarrassment:
"Actually... the moment I knew I was coming to Hogwarts, I started carrying the camera everywhere. I've heard so many stories about you, Miss Granger. You're the witch I admire most!"
So the "chance encounter" had been planned all along.
Harry, Ginny, and Draco understood simultaneously.
All three of them stared at this aloof, regal beauty who had seemed utterly unapproachable mere minutes ago, now cradling a photo and smiling like any ordinary fangirl, and felt something peculiar stir in their chests.
Though on reflection, it made perfect sense. Hermione's admirers stretched across Hogwarts and well beyond. One more girl from Beauxbatons was hardly surprising.
"Thank you, Miss Granger!" Fleur thanked her once more with genuine solemnity, then reluctantly turned to leave, glancing back several times before she finally disappeared.
Hermione hadn't even exhaled properly before she felt it — another gaze, this one scorching.
Viktor Krum.
The Bulgarian had been staring at her unblinking since the beginning, and his gaze was nothing like Fleur's admiration. More direct. More aggressive.
Another one wanting a photo together?
Sorry. She really couldn't do the cheek-to-cheek thing with this one.
Before Hermione could open her mouth, Krum was already moving. Long strides, straight toward her.
He didn't say a word. He just stopped in front of her, raised an eyebrow, and then ripped open his vest, flexed, and put his muscles on full display.
Hermione: "..."
What the hell, man.
She stared at him, exasperated to her core, her mind flooding with images of Billy Herrington and the new KFC Colonel.
What kind of move was this? A provocation?
Was he looking for a fight?
Fine. Come on. Who was scared?
"He seems..." Harry watched from the side, jaw slightly loose, and said with genuine uncertainty, "to be flirting with you?"
The number of exasperation lines on Hermione's forehead doubled.
Getting challenged she could handle. This bizarre approach to flirting left her feeling something closer to helplessness.
Krum seemed entirely unaware of her expression. He bent slightly at the waist, extended his hand, and his voice came out low and magnetic:
"Beautiful lady, might I have the honor of inviting you to be my partner at the upcoming Yule Ball?"
"The Yule Ball?" Hermione frowned.
Ginny jumped in: "It's a Triwizard Tournament tradition. To promote exchange between the three schools, a grand ball is held over the Christmas season. Champions are required to bring partners."
Hermione turned to stone.
Yule Ball. Dance partner. Krum.
It slammed into her all at once, the original story had this! This part actually existed!
And this guy, who looked like he thought exclusively with his biceps, had apparently had designs on her in the original story too.
She looked at Krum's expectant eyes. The corner of her mouth pulled sideways.
She cleared her throat. "Fine. But there's one condition."
Krum's eyes lit up.
"Beat me in a duel," Hermione said pleasantly. "I don't like weaklings."
The smile dropped off Krum's face instantly.
Beat Hermione Granger?
That was a hell-difficulty quest.
Even with his Durmstrang training and years of real dark magic experience, beating the person standing before him was flatly impossible. This was Hermione Granger — Dark Magic Genius, Library Witch, School History Enthusiast, Mad Alchemist, Terrifying Beastmaster, Potion Wholesale Depot, Evil Horticulturist, Apple Terminator — the extraordinary woman who had single-handedly dismantled the Ministry of Magic in a fit of rage.
With his bare hands against her? Not a chance.
Krum was no fool. He understood immediately. This wasn't a condition. It was a polite rejection, one that left his dignity mostly intact.
He gave a rueful smile, withdrew his hand, and shrugged with visible dejection. "Alright. I understand. Sorry to bother you."
He turned and walked away, shoulders slightly dropped, retreating figure carrying a lonesome air.
Just then, Cedric arrived at the lakeside and happened to catch sight of Krum's thoroughly deflated state. He looked completely puzzled.
"Hey, Harry! Hermione!" He walked over with an easy smile.
Hermione returned the greeting briefly. Harry didn't hear a word of it.
His gaze had locked onto the pretty, laughing East Asian girl beside Cedric. His expression cycled through several shades of pale.
Only a few days ago, he had noticed this girl seemed genuinely interested in him. Every time their eyes met, she would drop her gaze with a shy little duck of her head. They had spent quite a bit of time alone together. He had actually started to think that maybe, possibly,
And now... Harry finally understood.
Hermione gave him a few quiet elbows to the ribs and murmured, helpfully: "Stop staring. She's your sister-in-law now."
Harry: "..."
Snowflakes drifted down. The north wind cut cold.
Ginny caught Harry's dejection immediately. Her grip on his arm tightened. Her eyes cut to Cho Chang with the sharpness of someone marking territory, her expression making her feelings very clear.
Draco looked at Harry's quietly devastated face and sighed.
She shot her arm out, hooked it around Harry's neck, and said in her best bro voice: "Come on, mate. Don't mope around out here. Let's go to Hogsmeade and get some butterbeers."
The move shocked everyone present into silence.
Harry went completely rigid.
He could feel the soft weight of her arm across his shoulders. A faint, distinctly feminine scent drifted past. And right there, a few inches from his face,
His face went scarlet in an instant. He had absolutely no idea what to do with his hands.
Draco froze too.
She'd been so busy enjoying Harry's misfortune that she'd thrown her arm around him on pure reflex, without thinking for even a second about who she was right now, about what body she was currently in,
She'd been too busy watching the drama unfold.
Great.
Now she was the drama.
➤ Next: Target: Ego!
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