Nearly

In the remaining two days leading up to the First Task, the anti-Harry campaign seems to double its effort and even though Diggory and his closest friends in Hufflepuff (who were the ones who used to quote the Prophet article at Harry every chance they got, before Harry told Diggory about the dragons) stop harassing him in the corridors, others jump at the chance to replace them so wherever Harry goes inside the castle he’s still constantly followed by nasty comments, taunts and even threats… 

It’s even worse than the whispers and looks he received in Second Year when everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin, because at least then they were all scared of him and didn’t dare get in his face for fear of having a monster set on them. Now, he can barely get from class to class without someone physically blocking his way or tripping him. 

”Diffindo!”

Harry trips over slightly as his heavy book bag rips, splling his books all over the floor and shifting his whole centre of gravity. He whips his head around in time to see a small group of Hufflepuff Sixth Years grin maliciously at him, the girl in the centre quickly stuffing her wand out of sight.

”Watch it”, her friend snickers. ”Or he’ll sic his daddy on you…”

”I don’t care — it’s the new moon, I can take him!” the girl replies loudly, her eyes never wavering from Harry’s.

Forcing himself to push his anger down with a deep breath, when all he really wants to do is hex the grins off of the Hufflepuff girls faces, Harry counts backwards from ten like his dad has taught and then kneels down and starts collecting his books.

By Monday afternoon he’s so fed up with it that he skives off the last lesson of the day, skips dinner and heads straight to the Common Room. He focuses on practising his Summoning Charm until the doorway to the Common Room opens and his friends walk in. 

The worry in Draco’s face immediately melts away when his gaze settles on Harry and he walks over and dumps two rolls and an apple in his lap, before squeezing down next to him in the armchair. 

”I thought skipping meals was my thing”, he mutters.

”I’ve been practising the Summoning Charm”, Harry says and bites into one of the rolls. ”I was going to sneak into the kitchen later…”

He smiles at Blaise, Seamus and Theodore as the three boys join them in front of the fire, Blaise and Theodore settling into the love seat next to them and Seamus spreading out on the rug. 

”How’s it coming along? The Summoning Charm?” Blaise asks. 

”Accio cushion”, Harry says, pointing his wand at the cushion wedged between Blaise’s hip and the armrest and it flies forward, whacking Theodore in the back of the head before soaring into Harry’s outstretched hand. 

”Ow”, Theodore mutters, but the others ignore him.

”Not bad…” Blaise says with a smirk. ”See, Draco… I told you there was nothing to worry about!”

”And I told you I’ll believe you if Harry is still in one piece on Wednesday! He doesn’t need to summon a cushion from two metres away, he needs to summon a broomstick from inside a castle about a thousand and two metres away!”

Dread coils in Harry’s stomach again. The roll he’s just finished seems to try and climb back up again. Harry swallows thickly and puts the other roll and the apple down on the floor. Draco gives him a knowing look, his lips pressed thin. 

”Summon your broom from the dorm”, he says. 

Harry takes a deep breath, ”Accio Nimbus!”

A minute later, his Nimbus Two Thousand comes soaring into the Common Room and he jumps up and grabs it before it smacks Draco in the face. 

”That’s better…” Draco mumbles. ”Now go outside and stand by the edge of the forest and do the same thing.”

”I’m not leaving the Common Room”, Harry mutters and sits back down. 

”Fine. I’ll go outside with the broom and you summon it back here”, Draco says and grabs the broom from him as he stands up. 

Harry sighs, slumping down further in his seat. Draco gives him an impatient look and he sighs again, but nods. 

”Give me fifteen minutes”, Draco says and stalks over to the doorway, Harry’s Nimbus in a tight grip by his side. 

”You know, if the pink-eye curse fails and you can’t summon your broom, plan C could be to just chuck Draco at it…” Blaise says lightly. 

”He’s not that bad”, Harry mutters, but he can’t help but to return the other boy’s smirk. 

When Harry successfully summons his broomstick from outside the castle, he actually starts to feels good about himself and his prospects for surviving the First Task and when Draco returns to the Common Room looking slightly less tense than when he’d left, Harry feels even better. 

But when he wakes up the next morning, his panic sets in again… So I can summon my broom, he thinks hysterically. So what? I still have to face a fucking dragon!

He swings his legs over the side of his four-poster and just sits there for a moment, swaying slightly and shivering in the cool dungeon air. He pushes himself to his feet and starts to replace his pyjamas with his school uniform and robes, his movements jerky but determined. 

Draco is waiting for him by the door and doesn’t say anything, just gives him a gentle smile when he finally joins him. Harry tries to return it, but his face feels numb and he just ends up twitching nervously. 

”Like the button?” the blonde asks. 

Twisting his body sligthtly, he shows off a large emerald green button next to his Slytherin crest that Harry hadn’t noticed. It says ”Harry Potter RULES” in bright yellow letters. Despite the coiling panic in the pit of his stomach, Harry lets out an amused huff.

”Check it out…” Draco murmurs and pokes the button with his index finger. 

Harry watches as the yellow letters begin to swirl madly and when it stops again, the words have been replaced with an image of a pair of round glasses under a mop of messy black hair and in-between the two sits a lightening bolt in the same bright yellow as the letters had been. 

This time around, when he tries, Harry gets his lips to cooperate enought that it comes off less like a grimace and more like an actual smile. When they join the other Slytherins in the Great Hall for breakfast, Harry is pleasantly surprised and quite touched to see similar green buttons on all of their robes as well. Draco watches him closely and when Harry meets his eyes, smirks proudly. 

As they finish breakfast and make their way to the first lesson of the day, Harry’s good mood quickly deflates again and his nerves kick back in. 

Draco and the other Slytherins seem to sense his inner turmoil, because they give him a wide berth throughout the day (except for Draco who keeps so close to his side Harry accidentally walks into him twice when turning too quickly) and except for sporting the green buttons, they don't mention the First Task or the Tournament at all, not even to wish him good luck, and for that Harry is extremely grateful. The buttons are enough to counter act the hissed taunts he gets from the students in the other houses, and Draco’s constant presence next to him really helps ground him as well.

Time seems to pass even quicker than it has in the past few weeks, now going so fast that it appears to be skipping large chunks every time Harry blinks. One minute he’s sitting in Transfiguration staring at his half-transfigured pin cushion without really seeing it and the next minute he finds himself in Potions, staring at the rising fumes of his Girding Potion as the bell for lunch rings, wondering where the morning went… 

Professor Snape strides over to him and takes one look at the contents of his cauldron and emits a short sigh of frustration. Harry blinks up at him. The scowl on the man’s face smoothes out slightly. His gaze flickers over to Draco’s cauldron briefly, before settling on Harry again.

”Draco, let Harry test your potion…”

”But I already tested it, Sir —”

”Just do it!” Snape snaps. 

Harry turns to see Draco’s frown fade from his face and realisation seep into his eyes. He meets Harry’s eyes and quickly ladles up some of his potion and hands it to him. Harry takes the ladle from him and carefully sips the rather foul-smelling liquid. 

”Drink the whole thing”, Snape murmurs. ”Then clear your bench and go to lunch.”

He sweeps away from them again, his robes billowing behind him as swoops down on Longbottom and starts  insulting the Gryffindor boy’s poor brewing skills like it’s a normal day like any other. Harry stares at the scene, feeling oddly removed from himself like he’s outside his own body watching the classroom from a distance. 

”You heard the man, drink up”, Draco says and gives his arm a gentle prod. 

Harry blinks and looks down at the oozing potion. 

”Why wouldn’t he let me test my own?” he mumbles. 

”Because you burned yours”, Draco says with a fond eye-roll. ”Mine’s perfect…”

”Okay, so why am I drinking it then, if you already know that?”

”Same reason Professor Snape had us brew it in the first place, instead of the antidotes we’re working on…”

”Oh yeah…” Harry says faintly. ”We should have been brewing our anti-dotes today, so why —?”

Draco rolls his eyes again, shifting his weight from one leg to the other and folding his arms across his chest. 

”What does this potion do again?” Harry asks, taking another sip and almost gagging. 

”It gives the consumer extra endurance…” Draco says slowly. ”Now drink up already, so we can go to lunch. I’m starving.”

For once, Harry is the one shifting his food around on the plate while Draco is shuffling vegetables into his mouth at record speed and chewing almost mechanically. 

”You’re going to need your strength, Harry”, Seamus says seriously. ”You need to eat!”

”I know”, he mutters and forces another morsel down, swallowing several times to keep it down.

Professor Snape comes striding down the aisle between the Ravenclaw and Slytherin table and stops behind Harry and Draco, who both twists around in their seats to look up at him. 

”Harry”, the Potions Master says curtly. ”It’s time.”

Harry swallows thickly and nods, clambering off the bench and following his Head of House out of the Great Hall, keenly aware of every eye on him. 

Professor Snape seems even stonier now than he’d been during their Potions lesson before lunch. His impossibly white face looks drawn and he keeps pressing his lips together grimly. 

”How do you feel?” he asks quietly. 

His dark eyes flits over to Harry’s and Harry immediately ducks his head and stares at the grass beneath his feet instead. He opens his mouth to answer, but for some reason he can’t get his voice to leave his throat. Probably because there’s a large lump lodged there and no sound can get past it. 

”Just don’t do anything reckless”, Snape continues. ”There are several wizards standing by, myself included, should the… situation… get out of hand, but it doesn’t have to for us to step in. Do you understand? You need only signal that you wish to stop and I — we — will come to your aid. No-one will think any less of you, okay?… Harry?… Harry!”

”Yes”, Harry hears himself say. ”I understand…”

Snape leads him towards the Dark Forest and as they walk along edge of it, a large tent comes into view. 

”You’re to go inside and wait with the other champions”, Snape says as they stop just outside the entrance. ”Mr Bagman is in there as well and he’ll give you further instructions… Now, don’t forget what I’ve told you; keep a cool head and don’t get reckless—”

Harry nods. 

”— that includes attempting to complete the task, if completeing it puts you in a situation where great harm might befall you.”

Harry nods again, feeling slightly sick to the stomach. 

”And signal for help”, Snape adds. ”Okay, then… Good luck, Harry.”

Harry opens his mouth to say thanks, but again no sound comes out. Feeling his stomach churn, he snaps his mouth shut again just in case… Snape presses his lips together and gives him a curt nod, before swirling around and stalking back along the edge of the forest without another word. Harry watches him go, feeling a strong urge to call out and beg him to stay… Luckily, his voice isn’t working, so he doesn’t embarrass himself by doing so. 

He walks inside the tent. The other three champions are all there already. 

Diggory is pacing along the far side of the tent, looking tense and troubled but he gives Harry a small, pinched smile when he sees him, before he starts pacing again. 

Fleur is sitting in a corner, composed as ever but without her usual haughty air. Instead her pale face looks drawn and clammy, and she keeps blinking unseeingly at her lap where her tight fists are clutching the material of her robes. 

Krum is standing hunched over in another corner, looking surlier than ever. Harry gives him a nod and he nods back, his furrowed brows relaxing slightly but the corners of his mouth continuing to droop grimly. 

”Harry! Good-oh!” Bagman exclaims happily, walking up to him and clapping him hard on the back. ”Come in, come in, and make yourself at home!”

He is wearing his old Quidditch uniform again, his bulging belly accentuated by the horizontal stripes and making him look like an obese bumblebee. 

”Right then, now that we’re all here, time to fill you in!” he says excitedly and waves the others over. ”Gather round, gather round — in a minute I am going to offer this bag to you each in turn”, he holds up a small silk bag and shakes it in front of each of their faces almost teasingly. ”Inside are four small models of the thing you are about to face — they come in different varieties, you see — and you will each be assigned the one represented by the model you pick from the bag! Neat, isn’t it? — Now! — There was something else I was supposed to tell you… Ah, yes… Your task is to collect the golden egg!”

He beams at them all in turn and although none of them smile back, he keeps grinning and bounces excitedly on his feet. 

”We just have to wait for the audience to arrive, and then we’re good to go!”

Soon they can hear the muffled sound of hundreds and hundreds of footsteps and excited voices as the rest of the school hurries past the tent. 

”Ladies first”, Bagman says and holds out the bag for Fleur. 

She gingerly reaches inside and pulls out a small but perfectly detailed model of a Welsh Green dragon and around its tiny neck hangs a small amulet with the number two engraved on its face. Harry looks from Fleur’s resigned face to Bagman’s and catches a flare of surprise in the man’s eyes, probably because he’d expected a bigger reaction from a young girl who just found out she’s about to come face to face with a dragon, not realising that she’d had that reaction weeks ago when she first heard about the dragons.

Same goes for Krum and Diggory, who each respectively pull out a model of Chinese Fireball with the number three around its neck and a Swedish Short-Snout assigned with the number one, and while Krum immediately walks back to his corner to wait, Diggory pulls himself up to his full height and takes a deep breath, visibly steeling himself to go first. 

Resigning himself to go last, Harry also takes a deep breath, and reaches inside the bag. His fingers close around a small, spiky object and his stomach flips… He pulls out the small dragon and holds it in the palm of his hand. It flaps its tiny wings and bares its fangs menacingly at him, but all Harry can focus on are the massive spikes around its head and all down its spine which turns into a long tail that looks like some kind of medieval weapon with its many sharp spikes at the end. 

”Ah, the Hungarian Horntail”, Bagman says and gives an exaggerated shudder, then winks at Harry. 

Harry feels a strong impulse to hex the man, but he closes his hand around the model and focuses on the dull pain of the many spikes cutting into his palm and counts backwards from ten.

”You have each pulled out the dragon you will face”, Bagman tells the group at large, but none of them pay him much attention anymore. ”And the number, as I’m sure you’ll have worked out, refers to the order in which you’ll take on your dragon… Now, I’m going to have to leave you in a moment, because I’m commentatiing, you see… Mr Diggory, you’re first, so when you hear the first whistle you just go out into the enclosure, all right?”

Diggory gives him a small nod, already turning away. He begins to pace up and down again, his Swedish Short-Snout clasped in a tight fist along his side. 

”Excellent”, Bagman exclaims. ”Well, good luck to you all… Now, Harry, could I have a quick word? Outside?”

Harry blinks in surprise, ”Er… Yeah, I suppose…”

He follows Bagman out of the tent again, and the man leads him down the edge of the forest and looks around furtively before giving Harry an almost fatherly look of compassion and grabbing his shoulder. 

”Feeling all right, Harry? Anything I can get you?”

”What?” Harry says. ”No — I — I’m fine…”

”Got a plan?” Bagman asks, lowering his voice further. ”Because I don’t mind sharing a few pointers you know, if you’d like them, I mean… you’re the underdog here, Harry so… anything I can do to help…”

Harry frowns, feeling slightly perturbed. It’s one thing for his friends and family, and even Snape, to be concerned about him. But Bagman is an Ministry Official. 

”No-one would know, Harry…” Bagman adds, giving him a sly wink. 

”I’m fine”, Harry says firmly. 

Suddenly a whistle can be heard in the near distance and Bagman jumps, staring over at the dragon enclosure in alarm. 

”Good Lord, I’ve got to run!” he says and hurries off. 

Harry walks back to the tent, but before he can slip inside, a hand closes tightly around his wrist. Harry’s heart jumps into his throat and he wheels around in a panic. He just has time to register the white-blonde hair and steel grey eyes, before eager lips are on his and his eyelids flutter closed instinctively. 

The fingers around his wrist come up to nestle in his hair instead, strong hands bookending his face as a persistant tongue begins to lap at his lips. 

Grabbing at the material of the other boy’s robes, Harry presses their bodies flush together, desperate for closeness and — as warmth pools in his belly and then trickles lower and lower — for friction. His hips buck as if they have a mind of their own. His growing hardness grinding against Draco who gasps and mirrors the movement twice before wrenching himself away. They stand a mere inch apart, staring at each other in stunned silence, with chests heaving and pupils blown. 

”I just came to wish you good luck”, Draco says in a strangled, almost wrecked voice. 

Harry nods quickly. Dread and fear is once again coiling in his chest as he’s reminded of what he’s about to do, but his stomach flutters as he stares into the other boy’s eyes and he can’t help but to marvel at how dark they are now, darker than he’s ever seen before… He can feel his erection wilt more and more with every gasp and scream from the nearby audience, reminding him of what awaits him on the other side but the warmth is still pooling in his sternum.

”You know, you don’t even have to go out there”, Draco says. ”You can just forfeit, you don’t have to do anything!”

”I…” Harry croaks, shaking his head. 

”You don’t have to prove anything! You shouldn’t even be in this Tournament!” Draco says, his pleading eyes filling with tears. ”Please, Harry! Just forfeit!”

”I can’t…” Harry hears himself say. 

Maybe it’s the accumulated weight of all the looks and comments he’s received since his name came out of the Goblet of Fire that has been piling on to him, or maybe it’s the fact that even Ludo Bagman seems so sure that he’ll fail that he was willing to compromise his reputation, and maybe even his job, by offering Harry help, but whatever the reason, Harry is starting to feel a rather mutinous sense of defiance like a small but steady flame in the pit of his stomach. 

This is what they’ve all been worried about, he realises and his mind flashing back to his dads in the kitchen — I hope you don’t have any ideas about winning, Harry, because if you get reckless so help me, Merlin—! Just make sure you stay safe and leave the competition to the other three! — and Professor Snape earlier when he walked him to the tent —Don’t get reckless… No-one will think any less of you…

But they will, Harry thinks. Unless I don’t at least try to get past the dragon, everyone will think I’m a complete coward!

Draco bats the tears from his face and scowls at him. There’s another collective gasp from the audience behind them.

”Harry James Potter”, Draco grinds out. ”You will not go anywhere near that dragon, do you hear me!”

”I need to go back inside”, Harry says. 

”Did you hear what I just said?” Draco demands. 

”You should go back to your seat —”

”Harry!”

”— I’ll see you after.”

Harry turns away and enters the tent again. Diggory is gone and Fleur and Krum look even paler than before. Harry sinks down on the nearest chair and stares out into the space in front of him, the small flame in his gut growing hotter and hotter as his resolve builds. 

Suddenly there’s a roar from the audience followed by applause. Harry, Krum and Fleur all exchange grim looks and Fleur stands up, her back straight as a pole as she approaches the opening. As the whistle rings out in the expectant hush, she sucks in a deep breath and leaves the tent. Harry and Krum lock eyes across the small space. Then Harry looks down again. 

He tries to drown out the noise of the audience and Bagman’s nerve-wrackingly vivid commentary. The canvas walls of the tent have gone from the light yellow of mid-day to a deep orange as the afternoon wears on and evening begins to fall. 

”Are you all right?” a gruff voice says above Harry suddenly and he startles, not having noticed the other occupant of the tent moving closer. 

”I’m fine”, he says, just as the whistle is blown for a third time. ”Good luck…”

Sitting alone inside the tent, listening to the chorus of screams and gasps and cheers from the audience, as well as Bagman’s commentary that seems to get more and more frantic, Harry starts to feel numb again, like he did earlier in Potions when he felt like he was watching the classroom from afar, like he wasn’t in his own body anymore. 

Draco’s words keep echoing in his head: You don’t have to prove anything! You shouldn’t even be in this Tournament! 

But I am, Harry thinks firmly. So I have to do this.

A deafening roar erupts from the audience and Harry blinks. 

Already? he thinks faintly, as Bagman confirms that Krum has indeed got the egg from the Chinese Fireball, his excited shouts barely audible over the dragon’s horrible shriek.

Standing up on wobbly legs, Harry tries to focus on his breathing… His heart is pounding in his chest and his  hands are tingling unpleasantly. He tries to shake them, but it does nothing to the prickling sensation in his fingertips. 

The applause from the audience dies down, leaving nothing but a dense silence. Finally the whistle cuts through it and Harry’s heart skips a beat before returning to its frantic pitter-patter. 

Shaking his hands once more, Harry sucks in a deep breath and walks out of the tent…  

Blinking in the sudden light from the evening sun in his direct eyeline, he releases the breath again slowly, as he looks around. Hundreds of faces are staring down at him from all sides. And at the other end of the small enclosure, the Hungarian Horntail lies crouched protectively over her clutch of eggs, her yellow eyes shining back at him… She draws her furled wings closer to her body and thrashes her spiky tail restlessly over the ground… Harry gulps as he stares at the deep gouge marks left behind as the tail curls back again, before bearing down on the ground once more… 

He clutches his wand tightly and tries to remember the movement for the Conjunctivits Curse. But it doesn’t matter, he realises. He’s not going to get near enough to aim it at the dragon’s eyes anyway, not with that tail… Instead, he focuses all of his concentration and will on his Nimbus Two Thousand, waiting to be Summoned on top of his four-poster bed in the dungeons. 

”Accio Nimbus!” he shouts. 

There is a ripple of noise from the audience, but Harry drowns it out. It might be in support of him, or it might not, but he can’t afford to get distracted, not now… He looks around desperately, scanning the sky for his broom… What if it didn’t work?… This was plan B, what do I do if —?

But then he hears the familiar soaring noise behind him and spins around, his heart leaping at the sight of the broomstick speeding towards him. He grabs it with one hand and swings his leg over it, kicking off the ground before the broom has even stopped completely. 

He feels the familiar lurch in his belly as he soars into the air. There is a collective intake of breath from the audience and Bagman is shouting ecstatically, but as Harry speeds up all he can think about is the wind rushing in his ears and whipping his hair all over the place… And for a moment, he feels like he’s back on the Quidditch pitch. 

The noises from the stands, the frantic drone of the commentating voice, the solid wood between his legs, the rough surface of the broom handle pressed between his hands and the swooping sensation in his belly as he flies in a loop and swerves — it’s all just another Quidditch match — and there, amongst the regular white eggs between the Hungarian Horntail’s clawed feet, glints the golden egg — the Snitch, Harry tells himself — and now he just has to deploy a diversionary tactics, like Flint taught him in Second Year…

So he dives. Keeping eye contact with the dragon the whole time, Harry plummets towards the ground and just as the beast opens its mouth and lets out a jet of fire, Harry pulls out of the dive and narrowly avoids getting toasted. 

”Great Scott, he can fly!” Bagman hollers over the shrieks and gasps from the audience. 

Harry dives again, swerving to avoid another jet of fire but nearly getting swatted by the massive tail instead… one of the spikes grazes his shoulder and he can feel his flesh pound in pain… There are groans and hisses from the audience, but again Harry drowns them out. Glancing at his arm quickly, he sees a bleeding gash peek out of the rip in his robes, but it doesn’t look too deep… I’m fine, he tells himself firmly and focuses again on the dragon’s gleaming yellow eyes, as he zooms round its back.

She cranes her neck and twists her body, so that she can keep him in her crossfire, but she doesn’t move away from her eggs. Harry realises that if he’s going to have a chance, he needs to get her to at least stand up, even if it’s just for a second, just long enough for him to grab the golden egg… But she is too protective of her eggs, so the only way he’s going to be able to lure her away is if he manages to trick her… 

Soaring higher again, Harry begins to flit from one side to the other, circling the beast’s head, not near enough to make her breathe fire, but still enough of a threat that she keeps her eyes pinned to him. Rising higher and higher, Harry circles the dragon again, silently willing her to come get him… She stretches her neck to its fullest, letting out a frustrated roar as he flits back and forth above her, like an annoying fly you just want to swat, he keeps zooming back and forth, teasing her… Come on… Come and get me… 

The dragon starts to unfurls her wings and flaps them menacingly, preparing to take flight, but still she hesitates… 

”Come on…” Harry mumbles, swerving above her. ”Come on…”

Finally, she rears. There is a collective intake of breath from the stands around them as the black wings spread to their full span, but before the dragon has realised what’s happened, Harry has dived once more. 

He flattens himself along the length of his broom, the wind roaring in his ears as he speeds towards the eggs, now unprotected by the dragon’s front legs, letting go of the handle at the last second and grabbing the golden one —

Tucking the egg under his uninjured arm and grabbing the broom with his other hand, Harry ignores the pain shooting through his arm and pulls up in the air again. Avoiding yet another jet of fire, he zooms up over the stands and out of harm’s way. 

”Look at that!” Bagman is yelling hoarsely. ”Will you look at that! Our youngest champion is quickest to get his egg! Well, this is going to shorten the odds on Mr Potter, make no mistake—!”

As Harry watches from above, the dragon-keepers rush into the enclosure to subdue the dragon and several other wizards move to stand at the entrance, Harry can only really recognise Hagrid from this distance, but the figure next to him is dressed in all black and has black hair that nearly reaches his shoulders, and Harry thinks it must be Professor Snape. As he touches down in front of them, his suspiscion is confirmed. The Potions Master is the only one not smiling at Harry, but his dark eyes are shining in a way that Harry is almost certain would be a face-splitting grin on anyone else.

”You’ll need to see Madam Pomfrey before the judges give out your score”, he says in a flat voice and nodding towards Harry’s bleeding shoulder. 

”Yes, Sir…” Harry wheezes, still catching his breath. 

”Nice and easy does the trick, Potter”, a gruff voice says from the other side of Hagrid and Harry turns to see Moody’s magical eye flit over his face. 

”Harry”, Snape says, a little more insistent. ”First-aid tent, please. Over there.”

Harry nods quickly and hurries over to a smaller tent. Madam Pomfrey is waiting for him outside, looking anxious. 

”Dragons!” she says furiously, ushering him inside. ”What are they going to bring into the school next, dementors?”

She pushes Harry down on top of a small bunk and begins to inspect the wound in his arm. 

”You’re very lucky, Potter, this is quite shallow… It’ll need cleaning before I heal it up, though…”

Harry winces as she dabs a purple liquid into the wound that immediately starts hissing and smoking. But then she flicks her wand over it and Harry feels it heal instantly, both the trobbing and the stinging fading away completely. 

”Harry!” 

He looks up to see both his dads file into the tent, their wild expressions barely softening as they lay eyes on him. Remus is on him in the blink of an eye, his hands grabbing at him roughly as if feeling for hidden injuries. 

”Daddy, I’m fine—!” Harry gasps and with a yelp, he is lifted off the bunk as the man pulls him roughly into his arms. 

”Merlin’s beard, Harry…” Sirius says faintly. ”That was some flying…”

Remus arms tighten further around him and he whimpers, imagining he felt at least one of his ribs cracking… 

”All right, ease up a little, Moony…” Sirius says, patting his husband’s shoulder. 

With a muffled growl, Remus shoves his face into the crock of Harry’s neck and inhales deeply. Harry can feel the wetness of his tears smear over his skin and feels a stab of guilt. Finally, Remus lowers him back to the ground, but keeps an hand clamped on his shoulder, even as Sirius steps forward to steal a quick hug as well.

Professor Snape sticks his head inside the tent and tells them the judges are ready with the scores and Harry walks back out flanked by his dads. The audience erupts in cheers when they see him and Harry feels his face grow hot, but grins happily. As much as he would like to believe that all of their taunts and insults hadn’t got under his skin, there’s no denying the lightness he feels now that most of them seem to be happy for him. 

Draco comes running up to him and crashes into him, hissing furiously in his ear, ”You’re completely mad!”

He quickly steps back again and even though he tries to remain stern, there is no mistaking the softness around his shining eyes. Harry grins back, but says nothing. He doesn’t have the words to express what he’s feeling right now… Adrenaline is still coursing through his system, his legs slightly shaky from it and his chest tight with emotion and still he feels incredibly light… so light in fact that, if his daddy’s hand on his shoulder wasn’t weighing him down, he might just soar away again, even without his broom… the noise from the audience reaches an almost deafening level and as he looks up at the hundreds upon hundreds of grinning faces, he feels so overwhelmed he doesn’t even know what to think… 

”Come on, Harry… Let’s see what the judges thought”, Sirius says. 

Now that the dragon has been removed from the enclosure, Harry can see the raised seats draped in gold where the five judges are sitting. 

Madam Maxime goes first, raising her wand into the air… a long, silver ribbon shoots out of it and twists around in the air, creating a large figure eight. The audience applauds and Sirius thumps Harry on the shoulder. 

Mr Crouch and Professor Dumbledore both award him nine points, and Harry can’t help but to beam as his dad who whoops excitedly and claps his hands. But when he turns to look up at his daddy and catches the annoyed look the man throws his husband, Harry’s good spirits single down again… he remembers promising his daddy that he wasn’t bothered about winning…

But it was just this one task, he tells himself. It’s just that… I did good. I’m allowed to celebrate that I did good, it doesn’t mean I’m going to get reckless in the other Tasks! I still don’t care about winning the Tournament!

Sensing Harry’s eyes on him, Remus quickly forces a smile onto his face but Harry can still see the sligtly haunted look in his eyes and steps a little closer to him so that he’s snuggled into his side. The hand on his right shoulder immediately slides over to the left and his daddy hugs him a little closer. 

It’s Bagman’s turn to give his score and with a dazzling grin, he shoots his ribbon into the air… it twists frantically, a lot faster than the others, and as soon as it settles, Harry sees why… Bagman has scored him ten points. 

”Ten?” Remus says incredulously and Harry can hear the suspiscion in his voice. 

”But I got injured”, Harry says. ”What’s he playing at—?”

”Oh, you two!” Sirius says in exasperation, even as the grin continues to stretch his face. ”Why can’t you just be happy for once — FOUR?” he adds furiously, the grin slipping off his face immediately as he glares at the ribbon that’s just shot out of Karkaroff’s wand. ”You miserable slimeball, you gave Krum ten and he broke half the eggs—!”

Most of the audience seems to agree with him, because they begin to boo. Even Draco looks indignant, Harry notices and that’s really all he cares about… His dads and his friends. He couldn’t care less what Karkaroff thinks, and anyway… He only scored him low, because he’s looking out for Krum, so it doesn’t mean anything… 

”Still… You’re tied for first place, Harry!” Sirius says. 

”And we don’t care about that”, Remus says in a clipped tone and gives the other man a meaningful look. 

”Relax, Moony…” Sirius says. ”It’s not as bad as we feared. They’ve got good security measu—”

”That’s enough”, Remus snaps. ”Harry… Please don’t forget what we—”

”I haven’t”, Harry says quickly. ”I don’t care about winning, honestly!”

Having been reassured that Harry won’t make a habit of diving head-first into the challenges, Remus relaxes a little more and the smile on his face softens.

”You were brilliant”, he admits quietly. ”I’m extremely proud of you… I’m just, also, extremely anxious…”

Harry smiles wryly, ”I know…”

He hugs both his dads again and then waves good bye to them as Snape escorts him back to the tent, where the other three champions are waiting. After a while, Bagman comes bouncing into the tent, looking as excited as he’d done the first time Harry met him at the Quidditch World Cup, if not more so. 

”Well done, all of you!” he exclaims, giving Harry a quick wink. ”Now, you’ll have a nice long break before your next task, which will take place at half past nine on the morning of February the twenty-fourth — but… we’ll give you something to think about in the meantime! If you look at the golden eggs you’re all holding you’ll see there’s a clutch at the top… that’s right… you need to open your egg and solve the clue that’s inside, that will tell you what the second task is — and you really need to know ahead of time this time, because otherwise you won’t stand a chance! — All clear? Okay, off you go then!”

Draco is waiting outside the tent and glances furtively at Diggory as he walks past, his pale cheeks turning slightly pink when the older boy gives him a smile. He quickly focuses on Harry instead, though and turns to leave but immediately stops again when Harry hangs back and waits for the others to go on ahead. Draco looks over his shoulder at the retreating backs of the other champions, then turns back to Harry and gives him a questioning look. 

Harry peers up at Draco through his lashes, then smiles thinly when understanding flares in the blonde’s grey eyes… He feels his cheeks heat up, but continues to smile as he steps closer to the other boy. There's an almost apprehensive look in his eyes and he raises an eyebrow expectantly, but a cool smirk is ghosting over his face and Harry knows he's intrigued...

”You know…” he murmurs, bending to put the golden egg down before closing the space between himself and Draco. ”I just fought a dragon… Some would find that impressive… Sexy, even…”

”Really…” Draco says drily, then looks away with a sniff. ”Some are easily impressed, then…”

Harry narrows his eyes him. The blonde’s eyes flit back to meet his and his smirk twitches. 

”Bastard…” Harry mutters. 

Then with Seeker speed, he grabs the back of Draco’s head and slams their mouths together. He swallows the startled gasp from the other boy as it slips out, then licks his mouth open forcefully and start lapping up all the other little noises — needy, keening whimpers and hungry, desperate moans — as they escape the boy’s throat, laps them up and swallows them down like they’re the most delicious treats he’s ever had… Draco’s fingers are in his hair again, fisting it desperately and pulling on it as he returns the kiss with vigour. 

Harry trails his hands down the other boy’s sides, fisting the material of his robes and pulling him closer —

Pop! 

A sudden light flashes over them and Harry and Draco spring apart. 

Wheeling around they see Rita Skeeter in her acid-green robes, her blood red lips stretched wide and her beady blue eyes narrowed. Next to her, the bored-looking photographer lowers his camera, the blown lightbulb of the flash smoking slightly. Except, he doesn’t look so bored this time, Harry notices with a sinking feeling. 

”How quaint…” Ms Skeeter says in a sugary voice. ”The Boy Hero comes out of battle and is greeted by his secret lover… and quite enthusiastically too, I might add… thanks for that! Any comments to go with the pretty picture?”

”You’re not allowed to talk to me”, Harry bites out. ”Dumbledore—”

”No matter”, Ms Skeeter simpers, turning to smile at her photographer. ”I think we got the most important part, didn’t we?”

The man gives her sly smile and nods. 

”Then I believe we need to get back to the office… We have a deadline, after all”, she adds with a hard glint in her eyes, although her smile never wavers. 

”I hate that woman…” Harry hisses as the two reporters walk away. 

He turns to Draco, expecting to see his outrage mirrored in the other boy’s face, but Draco’s face is completely shuttered… The only sign that anything is wrong at all, is that all blood seems to have drained from his face, leaving it chalk white, almost ashen… Harry frowns in concern and puts a gentle hand on top of his shoulder. 

Draco slowly takes a step back from him, his shoulder slipping out from underneath Harry’s palm almost as an after-thought. 

”Draco?”

The blonde’s eyes flicker over to meet Harry’s, but he might as well have them screwed shut for all the connection Harry feels with him; there is not a trace of emotion inside the steel grey eyes, and Harry feels his chest tighten as he stares into them. 

”Draco… Talk to me…”

”We should go back to the castle”, the other boy says, his voice just as devoid of emotion as the rest of him.

He turns swiftly and begins to walk across the lawn. Harry grabs the golden egg from the ground and hurries after him. He tries to grab his hand, but Draco immediately snatches it back and stuffs it inside his pocket. He doesn’t say anything else, or look at Harry. He just keeps staring straight ahead and walks at a steady pace until they reach the Slytherin Common Room. 

As soon as they enter, they’re met with a roar of cheers and yells from the other Slytherins. Harry blinks in shock at the green and silver balloons covering the ceiling and the massive banners with his name on stretching from wall to wall. 

Seamus comes bounding over to him, grinning manically from ear to ear. He clutches his shoulder and thrusts a glass in his face that smells suspisciously like firewhiskey when Harry gets a whiff of it, before recoiling. 

Blaise and Theodore appear on either side of him, babbling excitedly and clapping him on the back. Harry tries to look for Draco, but he seems to have been swallowed up by the sea of bodies now thronging around Harry, because he can’t see any blonde anywhere. 

He swallows a sigh, thinking perhaps it’s for the best if he gives the other boy some space and lets him cool off… They can talk about it in the morning… 

”Drink up!” Seamus insists almost aggressively and thrusts the glass of firewhiskey into his hand, before slinging his arm around his neck and letting out a victorious crow. 

”The Slytherin Champion!” he cries at the top of his voice. 

”THE SLYTHERIN CHAMPION!” the rest of the students echo enthusiastically.