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"Now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have been waiting for—the selection of the TriWizard Champions!" Roger Davies, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, gleefully announced. "from Beauxbatons Emmeline Argent!"
The French politely clapped as their champion took the stage. She was tall and willowy with the grace of a ballerina, but her stern face let you know she would be a formidable opponent.
Davies plucked another scrap of parchment from the Goblet of Fire. "It appears for the first time in history, we have a legacy champion. From Durmstrang, Mina Krum!" Davies said with such gusto that the crowd went wild—none louder than the girl's father. Her mother also cheered, but perhaps without the same fervor.
Many of the Hogwarts alumni in attendance also clapped, more so for the support of the girl's mother than any show of actual international cooperation.
Mina was average height with a lean athletic body, she was a seeker like her father, but had the soft brown curls of her mother. She was a beauty, with high cheekbones, sharp nose, and gray eyes. On numerous occasions, her mother would go on about how much Mina looked like Hermione's French grandmother with those defined features. Something that would always please the girl when she felt disconnected from her Bulgarian family. The Krums were all broad with flattened noses and pronounced eyebrows. Mina looked nothing of the sort.
"Lastly, drumroll, please. The champion from Hogwarts—Scorpius Malfoy!" Hogwarts erupted with cheers. Scorpius was a relatively popular boy, well-liked with friends in all the Houses. He was one of the rare breeds that exemplified all their traits—loyal, hard-working, intelligent, creative, ambitious, resourceful, and at times reckless. His sorting had been challenging. An actual hat stall. Eventually, the wizened garment defaulted to his family's tradition of being placed in Slytherin House.
Draco stood and whistled as loud as he could. He took on the responsibility of being all the family the boy had. Grandparents gone, no siblings, and the most tragic of all, his mother died of a genetic curse shortly after he came to Hogwarts.
When Scorpius took his place next to the two other champions, Draco noticed something, and his heart almost stopped. The girl—Mina—the one who ran into him all those years ago. It was the last time he laid eyes on Hermione. But seeing Mina and Scorpius standing next to each other—their noses were so similar, same eye color, not too much of a height difference, and they even stood with their weight on one leg the same way. Those suspicions he had that Christmas began to bubble up. He looked over in Hermione's direction. Her eyes meet his for a brief moment, before quickly averting his knowing stare.
Parents, teachers, and students swarm to congratulate their champions, but not Hermione. She snuck out of the Great Hall, hoping to go unnoticed.
Draco was torn. He didn't want to leave Scorpius, especially when he needed the support of his family, but knew this could be his only chance to talk to her. He sighed, resolute, and took off as quickly as he could to catch up with her.
Hermione could feel his presence behind her, and began to speed up.
Draco's long strides are no match for her clicking around in heels, and began closing the gap. "Hermione. Wait. We need to talk," He called.
"Not now, Draco. I need to go to the bathroom." She took a sharp turn, and walked down the corridor, then practically flew down a flight of stairs.
"That's not the way to the girls' bathroom." He finally caught up to her, and grabbed her by the wrist. Afraid of any onlookers, he pulls her into a hidden corner beneath the stairwell. It took them a moment to realize where they were. This stairwell was their stairwell. The scene of their first kiss.
Hermione's chest heaved in unsteady breaths, fearful of what he wanted to say.
"It's okay," he whispered, trying to calm her. He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, reminded of how soft her skin was against his.
She leaned into his touch, also refamiliarizing herself with him. "Oh, Draco." Her voice laced with bittersweetness.
Draco wanted to say a million things, but all he could manage were four words—"Tell me the truth."