Disclaimer: See Ficlet 1.
Author's Note: These are two companion ficlets, Hermione's PoV from the end of GoF.
Fear
They are talking to each other, Cedric and Harry are- she can just see their figures in the center of the maze and the Tri-Wizard Tournament Cup shining, a small dot, in the center. She forcibly unclenches her hands that are hurting from how hard she's been clutching them. She knows, though she doesn't look at them, that they're red and will be sore for the next day or so thanks to how hard she's been squeezing them and digging her nails into her palms.
Cedric goes over to Harry and helps him up and she strains her eyes to see how Harry looks. It's too far; his face is only a pale spot standing out against the black of his hair but she can see he's limping and has to restrain herself from the mad impulse to (yet again) leave the stands and go to help him. But she can't help him; she can only watch.
They both put their hands out to touch the Cup-she holds her breath. They grasp it-and then they're gone.
Gone.
She is only peripherally aware of the cries of dismay and surprise going up around her; she's too busy staring at the spot where Harry last was-the spot that's now empty.
She turns frantically to look at Professor Dumbledore and the other judges and sees that they all look as shocked-Professor Dumbledore looks grim-as everyone else.
And that's when she realizes she's stood up-she wasn't aware of doing it, doesn't remember exactly at what moment she did stand up. But she realizes she had-because that's the moment- on seeing that not even Dumbledore was expecting Harry to disappear like that- that her knees give way and she sits down heavily again.
Something's wrong. Something's very, very, very wrong-and Harry is gone. Where she doesn't know but she knows that it's not good. It's never good when unexpected things happen to Harry and she can't stand not knowing where he is or what's happening to him. He could be hurt, in danger-and again she can't do anything.
Oh God, oh God, oh God… Harry-where's Harry, what happened to him?
The Cup must have been a Portkey- but a Portkey to where? And who did that, if Dumbledore didn't even know about it?
Harry, Harry, Harry-what's happening to Harry?
The words run through her mind in a litany of dread and apprehension, vague fears taking possession of her.
She feels someone-Bill, she finds out later-pull her up, jerking her out of her daze and then she's running, running along with the Weasleys and the other people in the stands, to where the Professors are heading into the Maze.
She can hardly breathe, can hardly think-every bit of her consumed with the one stark question-where was Harry now? What was happening to him?
She hears the Professors telling everyone to stay out of the Maze, to wait for more information outside and she stops, more because she's still caught in the crowd of people than through any conscious choice.
She knows all she can do is wait-but waiting in the uncertainty of what had happened to Harry was torture.
She doesn't know where Harry is, what's happened to him, what he's going through right now.
She's aware for the first time that there are hot tears stinging her eyes, tears of belated reaction, of stress, of worry, but more than that, of fear. Fear, cold and all-consuming. Fear, reaching in and crushing her heart in a cold fist. Fear, twisting her insides, numbing her thoughts.
She isn't used to this kind of fear-usually in danger, she manages to keep her head. But right now, she can't. Because this is different-this is Harry. Fear for Harry-and it is stronger than anything else at this moment of not knowing.
Fear and dread. They were all the she knew at this moment.
Harry, where are you? What's happening to you? Are you okay? Harry…
Please, she thought desperately, be safe. Be safe. Come back to me, to us. Harry…
She tastes the bitter tang of fear-and she knows, with a certainty that enters her soul, that the most important thing in her life is Harry. Helping him, keeping him safe- matters more to her than anything else in the world.
She doesn't stop to analyze why; the reason isn't important. All she knows is that she needs to help him-and right now, she can't. She can only wait-wait and fear…
~*~*~
The Beginning
People were still milling around in confusion and fear when there was a sudden escalation of sound, the vague murmur of voices rising.
She tensed, forgetting to breathe, as she tried desperately to see what was going on amid all the people surrounding her.
And then she heard it, a cry and an exclamation that seemed to echo in her mind. "He's dead!"
"My God, he's dead!"
And she knew what it was to die herself.
She grabbed a hold of the person standing beside her (she later discovered it was Ron) as her knees began to give way.
He's dead…
A strangled shriek ripped from her throat. "Noooo!!! Harry…"
She was dead. She died a thousand times over in the space of a moment.
She couldn't see (her eyes were too filled with tears), she couldn't breathe (her throat was too tight from suppressed sobs).
There was a buzzing in her ears when she heard as if from very far away, "Cedric Diggory! He's dead!"
Cedric Diggory! Not Harry!
Oh thank God, thank God…
She came to an awareness of her surroundings to hear the heartbroken wail of a woman-Mrs. Diggory, she somehow knew, Cedric's mother-and felt a surge of guilt that her first and only thought on hearing of Cedric's death was relief that it wasn't Harry.
That Harry, at least, was alive.
She looked around frantically trying to see him, needing to see him.
My God, what must have happened to kill Cedric-what had Harry just been through!
Harry- how was he? He was alive-but he must be hurt. How badly was he hurt? Was someone taking him to the Hospital Wing?
The questions crowded into her mind with all the rising urgency and swiftness of growing panic.
Oh she needed to see him; she needed to see him…
And then for a fleeting second, the crowds around her parted and she did.
He was limping, looked about ready to collapse if it weren't for Professor Moody's supporting him, paler than she'd ever seen him-pale with an awful, frightening pallor-and there was something about his expression that spoke of unspeakable torment that tore at her heart.
But he was alive.
Professor Moody was helping him, half-carrying him really, seemed to be questioning him.
He was alive.
He was alive. He was safe now.
But what had happened?
What kind of horrible thing had Harry just endured, just witnessed?
There was another disturbance and she saw Headmaster Dumbledore with Professors McGonagall and Snape following him, walk quickly away.
She had only a glimpse of Dumbledore's face as he passed but it was enough to fill her heart with renewed dread.
He looked-he looked like the one wizard Voldemort feared, a terrible anger and suspicion in his eyes.
And she knew something was still wrong. Very wrong.
It wasn't over yet.
Harry was still not safe.
It wasn't over yet.
Oh God! Harry! How much more would he have to endure tonight!
It wasn't over yet-and somehow she knew the danger, the dark times, were only just beginning.
And her heart broke for the instinctive knowledge that Harry's life would become even harder in the days to come.
Harry would need all his strength, all his courage…
And whatever it took, she would help him.
Not just because he needed her but because she needed to help him. She needed to help-and no matter what it took, she would. There was no question, no doubt, about that. It was just something she knew…