Unlikely Romance
Harry knew the announcement was coming, but his stomach still twisted as Dumbledore read his name aloud, his voice echoing in the stunned silence of the Great Hall. He felt hundreds of pairs of eyes burning into him as he stood, affecting a look of bewilderment he hoped was convincing. This time, Harry was determined to handle things differently. The last time, he’d been blindsided by events he didn’t understand. Now, though, he had a chance to change things.
As he walked past his peers to join the other champions, he felt a ripple of confusion, suspicion, and, from some, even admiration. Ron was staring at him in bewilderment, disbelief written all over his face. Hermione’s gaze held more worry than surprise; he suspected she was already putting pieces together, trying to make sense of his unexpected involvement.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco at the Slytherin table, his expression one of shock that quickly turned to suspicion. Draco’s face was a mask of intensity, but Harry saw something more in his gaze—a depth of concern that sent a flutter through his chest. He didn’t break eye contact with Draco until he reached Dumbledore and the other champions at the front.
Cedric looked at him in surprise, though Harry gave him a quick, apologetic shrug. The look Cedric returned was wary but understanding, as if sensing Harry’s reluctance. The champions were all told to gather in a side chamber, leaving the Great Hall as students murmured in shocked whispers.
Once inside, Fleur, Viktor, and Cedric turned to him, demanding answers he couldn’t fully give. Fleur’s icy gaze narrowed as she glanced him up and down, her tone indignant.
“You are too young. How could zhis ‘ave ‘appened?”
“I don’t know,” Harry replied, echoing the words he’d once spoken in truth. This time, though, he already knew exactly who was behind it—Barty Crouch Jr., hiding in plain sight under the guise of Mad-Eye Moody.
But despite the clarity of his knowledge, he had to feign ignorance. If he was going to root out Crouch, he’d have to play this carefully, avoiding Dumbledore’s suspicion, all while keeping Draco and himself out of danger.
The following day, Draco approached him in a deserted corridor, his eyes flashing. Harry had barely turned a corner when Draco’s hand shot out, pulling him into a quiet alcove.
“Explain,” Draco demanded, his voice tight with a mixture of anger and worry. “You had no intention of entering the Tournament again, yet here you are, a champion. I know you’re not that reckless.”
Harry glanced down the empty corridor before answering. “I didn’t put my name in, Draco. But I know who did.”
Draco looked at him in shock, his expression shifting from anger to confusion. “You… know? Who?”
“Barty Crouch Jr.,” Harry whispered, glancing around to make sure they were alone. “He’s posing as Mad-Eye Moody. He was in Azkaban, but somehow he escaped and took Moody’s place. He’s the one who put my name in the Goblet.”
Draco stared at him, mouth slightly open as he processed this information. “How do you even know that?”
“It’s a long story,” Harry replied carefully. “But trust me on this—he’s dangerous, and he’s working on Voldemort’s orders.”
Draco’s face paled at the mention of Voldemort’s name, but he took a deep breath, steadying himself. “Why would he want you in the Tournament in the first place?”
“Because he wants me dead,” Harry said, his voice low and steady. “He wants to give me to Voldemort by the last task.”
They fell into a tense silence, Draco processing this revelation with a mixture of disbelief and grim determination. After a moment, he spoke again.
“So… what’s your plan, then?”
Harry hesitated. “I’ll have to play along. Dropping out now would only raise suspicion, and Crouch would just find another way to get to me. The only way to beat him is to stay in the Tournament and try to outmaneuver him.”
A frown creased Draco’s brow. “You can’t go into this alone, Potter. He’s working with the Dark Lord, this is bigger than you or me. We’ll have to be careful, keep up appearances. The last thing we need is Dumbledore breathing down our necks.”
Harry nodded. “That’s exactly why I told you. You’re the only one I trust with this.”
For a moment, Draco’s expression softened, something unspoken passing between them. Then he cleared his throat, slipping back into his usual mask of composure. “Fine. We’ll play along. But don’t think I’ll let you risk your neck without backup.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Harry’s lips. He hadn’t planned on Draco’s involvement, but the sincerity in Draco’s eyes reminded him that he didn’t have to face this alone. This partnership, unthinkable in the past, had grown into something he valued deeply, something he’d do almost anything to protect.
As the days passed, Harry continued to keep up the appearance of a nervous yet determined champion. The other Hogwarts students, particularly Ron, viewed his involvement with suspicion and even resentment.The other Griffindor was hardly speaking to him, consumed with jealousy and unable to understand Harry’s predicament.
The tasks loomed ahead, and Harry’s knowledge of the first challenge—the dragons—gave him a slight advantage. He planned to use his Firebolt, as he had before, to outmaneuver the dragon guarding the golden egg. But this time, Draco was privy to his strategy, a cautious partner-in-arms who had sworn to support Harry without exposing their alliance.
One evening, as they studied together in the library under the guise of tutoring, Draco leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “So, the dragons. Are you sure you can handle this?”
Harry met his gaze, nodding. “I’ve done it before… sort of,” he replied, catching himself. “Let’s just say I know my way around a dragon. I’ll use my Firebolt to keep my distance and maneuver around it. It’s risky, but I don’t have many other options.”
Draco’s eyes darkened. “And after? What then? If this Crouch character is as dangerous as you say, he won’t stop after one failed attempt.”
Harry sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “That’s what worries me. But one step at a time, right? Survive the first task, then we’ll figure out how to handle the rest.”
Draco nodded, the tension in his face softening just slightly. “Just… don’t do anything stupid, Potter. And remember, you’re not alone in this. We’re in it together.”
Harry felt a warmth in his chest at Draco’s words. He gave him a small, genuine smile. “I know. Thanks, Draco.”