Chapter 1: McGonagall's Edict
Hermione bit her lip and frowned at Ron and Harry when she saw them duelling with a pair of Fred and George's fake wands after they had finished transforming their guinea fowl into guinea pigs. Rolling her eyes and shaking her head, it seemed doubtful to her that Ron would ever grow up, and though she continued to hold out some hope for Harry, she rather thought he should take his schoolwork more seriously and be more attentive in class.
But as she put her guinea pig into the cage next to Harry's after giving her own one last look to make sure everything was all in order, Hermione had to give Harry his due. She was rather impressed; Harry's guinea pig was almost perfect, especially compared to Ron's, which still had a beak, and Neville's, which still had feathers—and the less was said about Seamus's, which looked as if it had been through a war zone, the better.
Glancing back at Harry, who appeared to be winning the duel with a fake wand which had turned into a haddock, it occurred to Hermione that he was simply happy to have Ron back as his friend after being on the outs with him for a month. She supposed he'd earned a moment to just cut loose, given all the stress he'd been under.
"Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?" McGonagall's whiplike voice snapped out severely.
Gulping, Harry and Ron quickly took their seats.
"Now that Potter and Weasley have kindly acted their age, I have an announcement to make," McGonagall began when she was sure the class was listening. "The Yule Ball is approaching—a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament..."
"So that's why we needed dress robes," Hermione heard Seamus whisper at Dean as McGonagall continued, explaining that the Ball would only be open to fourth years and above, excepting younger students who were invited by a fourth year.
Ron looked horrified at the idea, clearly thinking about the frilly vintage dress robes his mother had bought for him.
Harry shrank back in his seat, his face reddening, when Parvati and Lavender giggled and turned to look at him. Inexplicably, Hermione felt a wave of irritation. Surely they didn't think Harry was interested in inviting either of them. But then her blood ran cold, remembering how Parvati had stuck up for Neville during the Remembrall Incident in first year.
Being who he was, Harry put a lot of stock in things like that. Sure, Parvati may be a bit giggly, but she was brave and kind, and unquestionably pretty. Harry might like her. Then again, Harry had also been stealing a lot of glances at Cho Chang this year.
Feeling more irritable by the minute, and not entirely certain why, Hermione almost didn't notice when the bell rang. Uncharacteristically, she began roughly shoving her books in her bag, and stood up quickly. Ron gave her a funny look.
"What's wrong with you?"
"What?" Hermione was briefly taken aback. "Oh... er, nothing..." she lied, casting around her brain for an excuse. Then she thanked her lucky stars when Ron was distracted by McGonagall calling after Harry.
"Potter—a word, if you please?"
Puzzled, Hermione hovered by the door with Ron as they waited to see what McGonagall wanted with Harry. Obviously worried that he would be called to account for the "sword-fight" he'd had with Ron, Harry meekly and guiltily proceeded to McGonagall's desk.
McGonagall narrowed her eyes at Hermione and Ron, obviously expecting them to leave with the rest of the students. Ron gulped; he glanced nervously at Hermione, then quickly shot out the door before McGonagall could give him detention too. Hermione hesitated, staring down McGonagall.
When Hermione didn't budge, McGonagall sighed, apparently deciding to leave well enough alone and get on with things.
"Right then, Potter," McGonagall began crisply, "the Champions and their partners..."
"Partners? ... What partners?" asked Harry, bewildered.
McGonagall arched her eyebrows impressively, peering at Harry with great suspicion, as if he was trying to pull one over on her. Hermione suddenly realised that poor Harry had no idea what he was getting into.
"Your partners for the Yule Ball," McGonagall said acidly. "Your dance partners."
"Dance partners?" Harry gasped, his face turning scarlet. "You mean like a date? But I don't dance!"
"You do now!" McGonagall snapped. "Traditionally, the Champions and their dates open the Ball."
Hermione valiantly stifled an inappropriate giggle when Harry mutinously declared, "I'm not dancing!"
"Oh yes you are, Potter!" said McGonagall, in a tone which suggested that Harry was courting danger. "It is tradition! There are certain expectations of the Champions and I will not have you besmirching this school's reputation. Now get cracking and go find yourself a partner."
Harry looked horrified. "But—I don't..."
The terror in Harry's eyes must have made an impression on McGonagall, because a lightbulb seemed to go off in her head.
"Very well, Potter," the hard-nosed professor interjected, "you leave me little choice. If you won't find yourself a partner, I'll find one for you—"
"Wait... what?" Harry gasped. "No, I mean—"
McGonagall suddenly caught the bushy haired girl by the door off-guard with a stern look.
"Granger, seeing as you're still here, you're drafted."
"What?" Hermione squeaked, eyes widening with panic, not quite sure she'd heard correctly.
"Potter needs a dance partner, and quite frankly I can think of none better, considering that you two are practically attached at the hip anyway."
"But, I..." Hermione trailed off, speechless as her mind began to race while her stomach started doing little flips... or was that her heart? She wasn't quite sure. Numerous thoughts came up in her mind, not to mention a surge of annoyance that her freedom of choice was being taken away.
Taking advantage of Hermione's apparent inability to speak, McGonagall pressed on.
"But what, Granger? Do you already have a date? Weasley perhaps?"
"Well, no, but..." Hermione was at a loss for words. Why was this so confusing all of a sudden? She glanced at Harry for help, but he was frozen, his green eyes as wide as saucers, his mouth gaping.
"Then I don't see a problem," McGonagall snapped. "I presumed that your little display of defiance—remaining when I had only invited Potter to stay, and sent clear signals that you and Weasley should depart—was an act of loyalty. Not unlike the loyalty you displayed when all others had forsaken Potter after his name came out of the Goblet of Fire. Or am I mistaken?
"Well, no, but..." Hermione said again, like a needle stuck on the same groove of a record. For some reason, Hermione couldn't articulate a thought beyond that point—something was holding her back, preventing her from voicing a thousand rational objections.
"But nothing, Granger! I don't see Weasley stepping up..." McGonagall briefly hesitated and glanced at Harry, "though if Weasley is your preference for a dance partner, Potter, I can certainly send a House-Elf to call him back."
Harry shook his head vigorously, still speechless.
"Thought not," said McGonagall, "There you go then, Granger—Potter clearly still needs you. You aren't planning on abandoning him now, are you?"
"Of course not!" Hermione asserted without hesitation. Of that, there was no question in her mind, no confusion at all; though her face grew hotter when she added fiercely, "I'd never abandon Harry! He's my best friend!"
The hint of a smile hovered at the corner of McGonagall's thinly pursed lips. Harry's open mouth suddenly clamped shut as he peered at Hermione, and he had a sort of puzzled look in his eyes, as if he'd had a sudden half-formed revelation; he swallowed nervously.
McGonagall's eyes crinkled with satisfaction.
"Then it is decided. Judging by Potter's silence, I must presume this arrangement is acceptable to him. If there are to be no further objections, Miss Granger...?"
McGonagall raised her eyebrows again, this time the look was questioning, as if daring Hermione to recant her last statement.
"N-no!" Hermione stammered, shaking her bushy head as she shot Harry a nervous smile, "No objections."
"Then I believe we are finished here," said McGonagall brusquely. "Potter, you are free to go."
Harry quickly jumped up and made a beeline for the exit without looking back once at McGonagall. Hermione's knees were a bit wobbly when Harry reached the doorway, and she thought he seemed a bit shaken as well; neither could look the other in the eye, and Harry's cheeks were bright red by the time they both reached the corridor.
In silence, they traipsed side by side through the drafty stone passages of the castle, the echoes of their footsteps the only thing either could hear. Hermione was bursting with anxiety, wondering if Harry had simply complied for the sake of convenience, and not entirely sure what this meant for their relationship.
Yes, she'd been annoyed that Parvati and Lavender were already eyeing Harry hungrily, and that Harry seemed smitten with Cho this year, but that didn't really mean anything, did it? But that little voice at the back of her mind grew louder, drowning out the sound of their footsteps, asking herself who she was really fooling.
Hadn't she been hoping that Harry would eventually see her as a girl, ever since he and Ron had saved her from the troll? She had almost told him then at the end of First Year that she had a crush on him, just before he went through those flames and faced the possibility of death once again to save the Philosopher's Stone and prevent Voldemort from returning to power. And she had kicked herself for over a year for not telling him, before finally getting on with things and trying to put it behind her.
Hermione could remember the words she had spoken as she had hugged Harry for possibly the last time ever as if it were yesterday.
"Books! And cleverness! There are more important things—friendship and bravery and—"
She had been about to say, "and love," but then she had hesitated in a decidedly un-brave moment and concluded with, "oh Harry, be careful!" instead.
Then there had been the terrifying flight on the Hippogriff last year with Harry. Despite herself, knowing that believing in myths was silly, she had secretly hoped that meant something—Hippogriffs were a mythic symbol of romantic love after all.
But Harry had yet to display any signs of interest in girls last year, and Hermione had hoped that maybe fourth year would be the year. She had had an inkling that Harry and Ron had finallydiscovered the wonders of puberty when they'd been ogling the Veela at the World Cup. But now that Harry was finally paying attention to girls, it seemed that it was Cho who had caught Harry's fancy.
Hermione knew it was very unlikely that Harry would have asked her to the Ball of his own accord, and she hated to admit how much that hurt. Ron probably wouldn't have asked her either (though she wasn't entirely certain that she wanted him to).
It was obvious that Harry and Ron simply didn't find her attractive in that way. Clearly they preferred pretty girls with straight hair, and Hermione knew she'd never be that. The more she thought about it, the more she reckoned that Harry had simply let McGonagall push him into this because it was easier than trying to pluck up the nerve to ask someone for a date.
But would Harry really do that? Somehow, Hermione couldn't imagine that the boy who had faced down Voldemort three times, once as a baby, and twice at Hogwarts, and gone up against a basilisk and a dragon, wouldn't eventually find the courage to ask a girl he was interested in to the Yule Ball. If Harry had proved anything, it was that he was braver than anyone she knew.
Harry had accepted McGonagall's edict without a word, and Hermione was forced to concede that she really had no idea why.
As they drew closer to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione couldn't bear it any longer—she had to know before she showed her face in the common room. She suddenly came to a dead halt, swallowing nervously, heart thumping like an irrepressible jackrabbit, her eyes brimming with tears.
Harry stopped and turned to look at her. He looked about as anxious as she felt.
"Er... Hermione? Are you... erm, okay?"
"H-Harry, you... you are alright with this aren't you?" Hermione peered into his green orbs, wishing she knew Legilimency. "If... if you're not, th-that's okay. Just tell me! If you're worried about McGonagall, don't. I'll even talk to Cho for you, if you'd like—right now even—let her know you're interested before someone else asks her out—then it'll be done, and McGonagall won't have a reason to be cross with you..."
Hermione's rushing words slowed to a trickle, seeing confusion in Harry's eyes.
"You... you are interested in Cho, aren't you?" she asked.
"Er... I suppose," said Harry awkwardly. "But what about you?"
"What?"
"What do you want, Hermione?"
Hermione was flummoxed—and annoyed that Harry was answering her question with a question.
"I... I just want you to be happy, Harry," she finally responded after a pause.
"So, you're, erm... not really interested in me then?" he asked, looking extremely perplexed.
Hermione's jaw dropped.
"I'm sorry, Hermione," said Harry quickly, looking sadder than she had expected he would. "I'm being an idiot! Of course you just agreed because McGonagall pressured you. You don't have to go to the Ball with me if you don't want to—"
"Wait, stop!" said Hermione, finding her voice. "Yes, I want to go to the Ball with you Harry, but not if you'd rather go with Cho."
"Oh!" Harry still looked bewildered, but Hermione could almost see the gears working in his cerebral cortex as he tried to make sense of things.
"Well," he began again slowly after mulling things over for a moment, "I... er... Cho—yeah, I mean she's pretty—and yeah, I was sort of thinking about asking her at first, but she's not you, Hermione. McGonagall—what she said—it made me realise I've just been sort of, er... taking you for granted—"
"But you'd rather go with someone prettier," Hermione mumbled, casting her eyes down.
"No..." said Harry, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. "That's not what I mean. ... I'm saying it all wrong. Of course you're pretty! You're really pretty! I was just too stupid to notice before because I was used to you always being around... if that makes any sense. ... What I'm saying is that I didn't even really get that I liked you in that sort of way until McGonagall said that stuff about you being loyal.
"But it was when you said you'd never abandon me—the way you said it—when you said I was your 'best friend,' it felt like you were, erm... I dunno... It was like you were saying something more. That's when it really hit me... how much you really mean to me.
"I can't imagine not being around you, and... and I don't ever want to lose you as a friend, Hermione! I have to be sure, are you really saying that you like like me?"
Hermione bit her lip, her heart feeling like it might explode at hearing Harry's earnest declaration. She nodded vigorously, her face lighting up like a Christmas tree.
"Yes, Harry!" she squeaked, "I've fancied you for ages, but I'd more or less given up on the idea of you liking me like that."
Harry let out a huge sigh of relief and grinned; then he turned a bit pink, looking embarrassed and confused, as if he had no idea what was supposed to happen next.
"Erm... Does... does that mean you're my girlfriend now, then?"
"It does if you want it to, Harry," said Hermione hopefully, taking his hands in hers. "I've known you long enough to know I'd like to be."
"Yeah! ... Yeah I'd like that too, Hermione! I'd really like that!"
Harry's soppy grin was infectious; a wave of elation crashed over Hermione and before she could stop herself she leaned forward and kissed him. It wasn't a long kiss, but her lips pressed against his long enough to send tingles shooting through her from head to toe. Harry seemed a bit dazed when it was over.
Hermione felt more than a bit giddy herself. It was almost surreal; she hadn't imagined when she'd waited for Harry after Transfiguration that she'd end up as his girlfriend. The pair of them trotted the rest of the way to Gryffindor Tower in a fog, and found themselves in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady without quite realising how they'd got there.
The Fat Lady eyed them cannily when they arrived as they both fumbled for the password.
"Balderdash," Hermione finally blurted out when her brain started working again.
"Finally! Took you two long enough," said the Fat Lady, giving Hermione and Harry a knowing little smirk as she opened to let them in. "I can't wait to tell Violet about this!"
Hermione and Harry both blushed furiously when they suddenly realised that the Fat Lady was referring to how long it had taken them to get together, rather than how long it had taken them to remember the password, and their faces were both scarlet when they emerged on the other side of the portrait hole in the Gryffindor Common Room.
"There you are," said a familiar grumbling voice. "What took you both so long? ... and what's wrong with your faces?"
Ron looked up from the couch, gawking at his two best friends. Harry and Hermione shared a brief, awkward look, for a split second thinking that he'd figured them out as well. But the second passed, and it was abundantly obvious from Ron's befuddled, clueless expression that he wasn't echoing the Fat Lady's sentiments.
Chapter 2: It Could Have Been You
"Er..." Harry peered at his best mate awkwardly, not sure what to say.
He glanced at Hermione again, wishing now that they'd talked about how to break the news to their friends without creating a lot of unnecessary excitement. There were loads of people in the common room, and the last thing Harry wanted was to be the centre of attention. Hermione looked as befuddled as he did though; apparently, for once, she didn't have all the answers.
"What's with you, Harry?" asked Ron, looking extremely puzzled, and slightly scared too. "Did McGonagall give you some sort of horrible detention or something? Did she give me detention too and you just don't want to tell me?"
Harry's eyes flickered nervously around the common room again; then he heaved a sigh, knowing he couldn't really keep it a secret.
"Well, no actually," said Harry slowly, "She wanted to tell me something about the Champions. There's going to be a dance at the Yule Ball..."
"No duh, Harry, that's why it's called a Ball," Ron sniggered. "Even I know that. So what?"
Harry flushed, feeling a bit needled. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron, but remained silent.
"Yeah, but apparently the Champions are supposed to lead the dance," he tried to explain. "We're supposed to bring a date and start dancing in front of everyone..."
"Oh!" Ron looked appalled for Harry, and Harry started to feel a bit better. "...That's bollocks, mate! I wouldn't want to be in your shoes. I figured we'd just sit it out when everyone started dancing. And we've got plenty of time to find girls to hook up with, right? ... It shouldn't be too hard for you to find a date - I reckon they'll be queuing up for you... you've just beaten a Hungarian Horntail."
Harry tried his best to ignore the bitterness in Ron's tone at that last bit, seeing that Ron was valiantly trying to restrain himself now that they were friends again. Harry swallowed nervously, hoping that Ron wouldn't get too cross when he found out that he was on his own when it came to finding a date.
"Er... That's the other thing, Ron," he said, "I... er... I already have a date..."
"What?" Ron gaped at Harry, flabbergasted. "Already? How? Who?"
"Er... Well, you see, I sort of panicked when McGonagall sprang it on me," Harry muttered, his eyes flicking around again to make sure no-one else was listening, reluctant as he was to admit he'd been afraid of trying to ask girls for a date. "I tried to tell McGonagall no way, but she wouldn't take no for an answer - said it was tradition and that I had to pick a date or else she'd pick one for me! Anyway, the long and short of it is that... erm... Hermione was there, so she agreed to go with me. Hermione's going to be my date to the Yule Ball!"
"Oh!" Ron goggled at his friends for a moment, a number of emotions flickering across his features, then he seemed to shrug it off. "Well, that's not so bad, is it? I mean, you and Hermione are friends at least... It's not like McGonagall forced you to go with Millicent Bulstrode. I guess I'll just have to suck it up and look for someone on my own."
Harry grinned, feeling relieved that Ron was actually alright with it. "Yeah, not bad at all really. It's brilliant in fact! Hermione said she wanted to go with me anyway, we're..."
"Yeah, of course she did." Ron sounded a bit distant as he scoured the common room looking for potential dates. "It's not like she had anyone else to go with really," he added, peering at Lavender Brown thoughtfully.
Before Harry had a chance to say anything else, Ron drifted off towards the table where Neville, Seamus, and Dean were all playing a game of Exploding Snap.
"Well, that went loads better than I thought it would," said Harry.
"Hmm..."
"What?" Puzzled by Hermione's noncommittal tone, Harry turned and looked at her, surprised to see her scowling. "What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure that did go so well, Harry. For one thing, I don't think Ron registered that we're going as more than friends. He didn't really give you a chance to finish..."
"Oh! Well, that's all right. I'll just tell him a bit later - shouldn't be a problem. But that doesn't explain why you're so cross."
Hermione hesitated, strangely managing to look embarrassed, hurt, and furious all at the same time.
"It's the way he implied that nobody else would want to go to the Ball with me," she said, her voice quavering slightly with anger. "And he didn't even look at me, or say anything to me after you told him we were going to the Ball together! If I didn't know better, I'd almost think he was jealous, but I don't know why he would be. He's certainly never treated me like he fancies me."
Feeling a bit disconcerted now, Harry glanced back at Ron, who had joined in the game of Exploding Snap. He had to admit that Ron looked a bit out of sorts, but the idea that Ron was jealous of him being with Hermione didn't really make sense to him.
Hermione was right; Ron was always taking the mickey out of her for one reason or another. He'd been heckling her mercilessly for wanting to get rights for House Elves this year, and he still often called her a Know-It-All (at least twice a week), except when he needed help with his homework.
And Ron had taken pains to avoid Hermione a bit too when she had stuck by Harry after his name had come out of the Goblet. Harry had assumed that that as much as anything was why Hermione had tried to get him to see things from Ron's point of view and understand why he was jealous at the time - so they could all be friends again. And Harry had got it eventually... Surely that was all it was now.
"He's probably just jealous of the fact that I already have someone to go to the Ball with and he doesn't," Harry sighed. "I'll try and talk to him about it later."
Hermione looked pensive for a moment, then her features softened.
"You're probably right, Harry. It felt a bit personal, but maybe I'm just being overly sensitive." A slightly worried, almost guilty look crept into her eyes. "Just be careful when you talk to him. There's no need to upset Ron and spoil things now that you've patched things up with him."
"It'll be fine. You'll see," Harry said confidently. "I'm going to go and drop my books off and change. You okay now?"
Hermione gave him a little smile and nodded. "I'm fine. I'll see you in a bit then..."
~o0o~
Hermione felt a bit fresher after a change of clothes, and she had managed to put Ron out of her mind for the most part. What Harry had said made sense; she had probably just been reading too much into things. But she felt a fresh wave of trepidation when she heard the door to her dorm open as she finished pulling on her jeans. Peeking through her curtain, Hermione spied Lavender and Parvati.
"There you are," said Parvati, grinning. "Why are you hiding?"
She pounced on Hermione and dragged her by the arm out from her four poster bed. Lavender clutched Hermione's other arm and jumped up and down, squealing and giggling. Hermione winced, Lavender's gleeful shrieks piercing her eardrum.
"How did it happen?" Lavender squealed. "You have to tell us everything."
"Er... How did what happen?" asked Hermione anxiously, having a horrible feeling that she knew exactly what Lavender was asking about.
"You and Harry of course," said Parvati, rolling her eyes.
"Wait... how did you...?"
"That's all everyone in the common room is talking about," Parvati giggled. "Sally-Anne heard it from Fay who heard it from Romilda Vane who overheard Ron telling Seamus and Dean and Neville..."
"...Did Harry get down on one knee? Did he kiss you?" Lavender bounced excitedly on her toes.
"It's just a date, not a marriage proposal, Lavender." Parvati rolled her eyes again. "Besides," she added with a perceptive look at Hermione, "it's Harry we're talking about. If anyone did any kissing, it's Hermione."
Blazing hotly as they were, like a furnace turned on full, Hermione presumed her cheeks must be the colour of a ripe tomato by now.
"If you must know, it might not have happened if it weren't for McGonagall," she squeaked, utterly bewildered by Parvati and Lavender's reaction to the news. "She sort of forced the issue - and Harry did ask me if I'd be his girlfriend after. But anyway, you mean you guys don't mind...?"
"Mind? Why would we mind?" asked Lavender, looking perplexed. "We've been wondering for ages when you and Harry would finally hook up."
"I thought... the way you two were looking at Harry today..."
"Oh! That!" Parvati giggled. "Well, I have to admit, I do fancy Harry a bit - but don't worry, Hermione. I never thought he'd be that interested in me when he's always had you. I reckoned Harry would probably ask you to the Ball. That's what I whispered to Lavender in class, and that's when we turned around and looked at Harry."
"Oh!" said Hermione, suddenly grinning, feeling much warmer towards Parvati and Lavender than she had a short while ago. "And yes, I did kiss Harry," she added for good measure.
"How was it?" asked Lavender eagerly. "Did sparks fly?"
Hermione briefly hesitated, having never imagined that she would be having this sort of conversation with Parvati and Lavender. But in that moment, she was thrilled to have two giggly girl friends with whom to share her experience.
"It was magical," she deadpanned before losing the battle to maintain a straight face, and the girls all fell into a fit of giggles.
~o0o~
Harry had expected a thorough ribbing from Fred and George, but other than a few jokes about when they should expect to be invited to the bachelor party and the wedding, they were surprisingly gentle in their teasing. And he had also been a bit concerned when Ginny had briefly cornered him in the common room and asked him directly if it was true, but that had turned out better than he had thought it might as well - not perfect, but better.
"Er... Yeah," Harry replied, uncomfortably recalling that she'd had a crush on him at one time. "Hermione and I are going to the Yule Ball together."
Ginny studied him a moment before offering her thoughts on the matter, half-smiling.
"It's more than that though, isn't it?" she said quietly. "I sort of had a feeling about you two... I think you'll be good together."
Then Ginny abruptly turned around and begun walking off. Harry felt a bit guilty when it looked like she was wiping a tear away, but she caught him looking at her and grinned back at him.
"Shut up!"
"What?" For a moment, Harry was taken aback. "I didn't say anything."
"You didn't have to. Your face says it all. Now bugger off so I can figure out who's taking me to the Ball! I don't need another older brother putting boys off me."
Harry chuckled and shook his head, reckoning Ginny would be all right after all. Ron was his biggest concern now.
When Ron managed to avoid talking to him all through dinner, choosing instead to engage with Neville - who also looked a bit glum for that matter - Harry knew something was up. They were both sitting together moodily chasing peas around their dinner plates with their forks.
At least Hermione seemed to be doing all right, though acting a bit strangely for her. She had been getting on like a house on fire with Lavender and Parvati, chatting and giggling as they pointed at pictures in fashion magazines in between bites of food. It began to make a bit of sense though when Harry caught a few snatches of their whispered conversation.
"...not unless you want to look like a frumpy old-maid," Lavender giggled.
"How about that one, Hermione?" said Parvati. "I think it would look better on you."
"Are you sure?" Hermione looked skeptical, glancing at Lavender.
"Parvati's right," Lavender reassured her. "Trust us, Hermione. When we're done with you, nobody will recognise you."
"Oh!" Hermione frowned at that.
"But Harry will," Parvati quickly added. "I promise. We won't go overboard..."
Then Parvati caught Harry looking at them. There were blushes all the way around - Harry's face no less red than theirs - and the girls all giggled madly. Then a familiar voice further down the table was loud enough to catch Harry's ear.
"...Barking mad! See, Neville? You won't be missing much."
Dean, who was sitting a bit closer to Ron and Neville, shook his head and snorted mirthfully. Seamus sniggered. Harry was curious, but he wasn't sure he really wanted to ask Dean and Seamus how the rest of Ron and Neville's conversation was going.
Things were awkward in the fourth year dorm that night. Harry's stomach was knotted with tension as he readied himself for bed. Neville was avoiding looking at him almost as much as Ron, and for the life of him, Harry couldn't figure out why. One thing at a time, Harry thought to himself, steeling himself to ask Ron what was going on with him.
Ron crawled into bed and pulled his covers up without saying a word.
"Okay, spill," said Harry after sitting on his own bed. "What's up, Ron? You haven't said one word to me all evening. Look, I'm sorry I've already got a date, but maybe I can still help... or maybe Hermione can ask..."
"I don't need your charity, Harry," Ron said stiffly.
"Look, I just got you back as a friend..."
"Then drop it, all right? I'll be fine."
But Ron didn't sound fine, and Harry was beginning to think that Hermione had been right after all. And he was unwilling to let things fester and get bad between him and Ron again. Surely it was better to get it all out in the open and work things out.
"Ron, please..."
"I said drop it!"
"Ron, if this is about Hermione, I had no idea..."
"Look," Ron snapped, "Just let it go! After hearing people nattering on about it all afternoon, I finally figured out that you and Hermione were an official item..."
"That's what I was trying to tell you, but I didn't know you fan..."
"Just listen!"
Harry shut up.
"I get it!" said Ron angrily, "You didn't know! How could you know? Bloody Hell! I didn't even know until today! ... I don't even know why - it's not like me and Hermione ever really got on very well! She's bloody annoying! ... But I do - I like her, all right?"
When Ron paused, Harry wondered if that was it, or if he had more to say.
"Er... So, what about you and me then?" Harry tentatively asked.
"I'm trying really hard not to be a prat, Harry!" said Ron hoarsely; he really did sound like he was struggling to control himself. "But this... it's just a bit more than I can handle right now. I dunno! ... Just bloody leave me alone for a bit, okay, and eventually I'll get over it!"
And with that, Ron yanked his crimson and gold curtains closed.
Harry lay down, feeling more miserable than he had expected to feel the first night of being Hermione's boyfriend. Ron seemed to be having difficulty accepting it - but he was trying, right? And even if Ron wasn't able to be his friend right at this very moment, that didn't mean Harry shouldn't keep trying too, did it?
"You know, it could have been you," Harry muttered wryly at the closed curtains. "McGonagall almost sent a House Elf to fetch you to be my date for the Yule Ball. It was either you or Hermione! ... I thought you'd prefer it this way."
Harry heard a little snigger from the other side of the curtain; he grinned, and the knot in his stomach started to unwind. Eventually it would work out, and he and Ron would be friends again. Then he glanced over at Neville's closed curtains and sighed...
~o0o~
"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked, giving the younger girl a hug.
"I promise," said Ginny, grinning. "It's not like Harry ever saw me as more than Ron's little sister. Besides you two just make sense together - everyone knows it. Luna's been telling me forever that you and Harry are written in the stars and that I should just get over it."
"Luna?"
"Luna Lovegood. She's a third year in Ravenclaw - she's a friend of mine."
Hermione heard clomping on the stairs coming from the boys' dorm. She turned to look and see who was coming down for breakfast already. It was Neville. He squeaked a bit when he saw Hermione, then darted for the portrait hole, not quite meeting her eyes. Ginny peered thoughtfully at Neville's backside as he disappeared through the entrance of the common room.
Frowning sadly, wondering if Neville was all right, Hermione brightened up again when she heard footsteps on the stairs and this time it was Harry.
"Morning, Hermione." Harry grinned when she gave him a peck on the cheek.
"Morning, Harry. Where's Ron?" she cautiously asked, taking his arm.
"Turns out you were right. He's jealous of me being with you. But we'll be fine - eventually. He said he just needs a bit of time to sort himself out. It's Neville I'm worried about. I think he must have fancied you too..."
Chapter 3: Lucky Man
Hermione tried her best to ignore all the girls giggling and ogling Harry as she made her way to the Great Hall for breakfast with him. They couldn't all possibly know yet, she told herself, and anyway, it would be unreasonable to expect that they wouldn't find Harry fanciable after he'd tied Krum for first place.
But despite her attempts to reason with herself, Hermione couldn't help finding all the attention lavished on her boyfriend annoying. She determinedly squashed her irritation, reminding herself that there were more important things to worry about - like keeping Harry alive.
The Great Hall was abuzz with conversation, giggles, and stares - which seemed to become more frequent and intense as breakfast wore on - and Harry looked as discomforted as Hermione herself felt. And poor Harry didn't even have Ron to help distract him at the moment, as Ron was gravitating towards Neville for the time-being. But perhaps a shift in focus would help keep Harry's mind occupied.
"So," said Hermione crisply as Harry munched on a buttery crumpet, "how are you getting on with that Golden Egg Harry?"
Harry swallowed his mouthful before replying.
"Oh... er, fine," he said, not quite meeting her gaze.
"You haven't even cracked it open again since the First Task celebration, have you?"
Hermione tried to give Harry a hard stare, but found her mouth twitching up at the corners. He grinned sheepishly.
"Er... Well, it's barely been a week and a half since the First Task, and I reckon I've got loads of time till February 24th. That's almost three months away."
"But who knows how long it'll take us to work out how to decipher the screeching?" Hermione reasonably pointed out. "And then - once we've figured out what the Second Task is - we'll have to find the best spells to help you get through it and practice them. ... And the Second Task is hardly going to be easier than the first, is it? The tasks are just likely to get even more dangerous."
Harry paled slightly, looking thoughtful as he considered Hermione's words.
"Blimey! When you put it like that... You're right Hermione! I dunno what I was thinking!" Then a puzzled look crossed his features. "Wait... what did you mean, 'we'? I thought I was supposed to work out the Clue by myself. You know... Triwiz rules? You even said so yourself."
This time it was Hermione who looked abashed, her cheeks growing warmer as they turned pink. She bit her lip and fluttered her eyelashes.
"Well, yes, I did say that. But that was before..."
Harry raised his eyebrows, unable to prevent a little smirk from crossing his lips.
"Besides, the other Champions have an unfair advantage, having three years' worth of magical training and knowledge on you," Hermione added defensively. "And... and McGonagall as good as said that I should keep helping you."
"I'm not complaining, mind you. And McGonagall's right - I need you, Hermione. You're the smartest, loyalest, kindest person I know. ... You've stuck by me through everything, and I wouldn't have got past the Dragon without your help..."
Another thought seemed to strike Harry; he cast his eyes down, looking deeply disturbed as he continued.
"I probably wouldn't've survived this long without you. I... I can't believe how stupid I've been - all the time I've wasted when I should be learning as much magic as possible! There's a bloody evil genius after me, and I picked rubbish like Divination because it looked easy."
Hating to see his confidence so shaken, Hermione quickly took Harry's fork-free hand in her own and gave it a comforting squeeze.
"Harry, don't! ... Don't beat yourself up like that. You're brilliant in Defence - better than me - and amazing at Charms."
"Took me ages to get Accio though."
"That was just because you couldn't concentrate. You were anxious about the dragon, not to mention being too upset about Ron ditching you and all the idiots wearing Potter Stinks badges. You would have have got it in no time flat otherwise. You're brilliant in Charms! ... You can do a Corporeal Patronus! Not just anybody can produce a Patronus Charm, especially not a Corporeal Patronus - they're beyond NEWT levels. And yours is off-the charts! It's easily as powerful as Dumbledore's."
"It... it is?" Harry's eyebrows furrowed, looking both surprised and skeptical.
"Yes, Harry, it is! Last year, you chased off over a hundred Dementors with your Patronus. I wouldn't have survived without you, Harry - none of us would have. You saved us all - you, me, and Sirius - from being Soul Murdered by those horrid wraiths.
"That's almost unheard of. Most wizards who can perform Corporeal Patronuses can only manage to ward off between ten and twenty Dementors at best. The only other wizard powerful enough to chase off a hundred Dementors all by himself with a single Patronus is Dumbledore. He did it last year too, when all those Dementors swarmed you during the match.
"You didn't see it because..." Hermione shuddered, remembering that terrifying quidditch match - the night she'd almost lost it, thinking Harry was dead when he hit the ground. "...because you passed out and fell off your broom."
Harry looked as if he were remembering something too. He returned Hermione's comforting hand squeeze under the table with one of his own.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"For what?"
"For making you cry."
"It wasn't your fault you fell off your broom - the Dementors..."
"No - I mean because I didn't talk to you for a month after you told McGonagall about the Firebolt, when you were just trying to save my life. That was horrible of me..."
"I should have talked to you about it first," Hermione moaned.
"You tried to, remember? But I was being an idiot," Harry insisted. "I should have taken it to McGonagall to be checked myself. I knew there was something weird about getting the most expensive broom in the world anonymously, even before you showed up in the common room.
"I knew Dumbledore or McGonagall or Lupin wouldn't have forked out that much for me - I even told Ron so myself before you showed up - but I didn't care. I ignored my own gut instinct because I was so excited to fly it. If Sirius really had been a bloodthirsty maniac, and you hadn't done what you did, I could have died."
Hermione's heart began to race as Harry leaned in closer; she wondered if he was about to kiss her... in front of everyone at breakfast no less. But the moment was spoiled when Draco Malfoy swaggered up to the Gryffindor table, Pansy Parkinson at his side, smug expressions on both of their faces.
"So is it true then, Potter?" Malfoy drawled. "You actually have a date with Granger? Skeeter actually got that bit right after all, did she, about you and Granger being besotted?"
"So what if she did?" Harry retorted coolly, raising his eyebrows.
"Well, it's just a bit odd, considering the bit that Skeeter got wrong - you know, the rubbish about your 'stunningly pretty' girlfriend. I just reckoned someone of your station could do better than show up to a fancy shindig with a bushy haired, buck toothed Mudblood."
Hermione scowled. Parvati and Lavender both shot vicious glares at Malfoy.
"I like Hermione's hair - she's perfect just the way she is," said Harry, his voice even. "I almost feel sorry for Parkinson though, if you're planning on making her get a nose-job before you think she's good enough to go to the Ball with you."
Hermione was startled, and under other circumstances might have admonished Harry for commenting on Pansy's looks. But having so recently endured many of Pansy's taunts about looking like a chipmunk or a jackrabbit, Hermione found it difficult to feel much sympathy for her. And she reckoned that Harry had hit uncomfortably close to home when Pansy gasped, suddenly clutching her hand to her face and shooting a dirty look at Draco. Seamus and Ron both sniggered.
"Watch your mouth, Potter," sneered Malfoy, his pallid cheeks flushing. "Or you might not make it to the Second Task."
"Right, because I'm really worried about you after facing a Dragon," said Harry, rolling his eyes.
Fuming now, Malfoy huffed; he grabbed Pansy's arm hard, making her squeak, and stalked off with her.
A number of emotions rushing through her veins, Hermione was very pleased with Harry's cool-headed response and sharp comebacks. But some of his proclamations had left her with butterflies in her stomach. Of course, Harry could have just been being kind, defending her from Draco Malfoy's taunts. Hermione dithered for a moment before deciding to ask.
"Harry - what you said... about my hair...?"
"I love your hair!" said Harry firmly. "And I noticed recently that you shrank your teeth a bit, but I thought they were fine just the way they were. I meant it when I said you're perfect just as you are, and yesterday when I said that you're beautiful!"
Hermione blushed. Harry seemed to think he'd said enough, because he turned pink and focused on finishing his breakfast, digging into his scrambled eggs and bacon.
As the day wore on, many of the girls who had been eyeballing Harry and giggling earlier began looking very disappointed as it became more clear that the rumours sweeping through the castle about Harry taking Hermione to the Yule Ball were true. By the end of the day, everyone seemed to know.
Harry, determined to make up for lost time, hadn't hesitated when Hermione suggested that they make a trip to the library to see if there was anything which would help with the Golden Egg clue. Unfortunately they had found next to nothing in the books about Golden Eggs, excepting a snippet in a chapter in a book about King Midas - an ancient Greek Alchemist who had apparently worked out the secret of turning things into gold.
"...but that's it," said Hermione, slamming the book shut in exasperation. "Just a passage about him transforming goose eggs into gold. And nothing about it seems relevant to screeching eggs."
"Hmm... D'you think that's where the story of the goose who laid the golden egg came from?" asked Harry.
"You know, I think it might, actually." Then Hermione's features brightened. "But that gives me another idea..."
As Hermione darted off to look for another book, she noticed that Viktor Krum was yet again lurking in the library, this time with a perplexed look on his face. But by the time she returned with a book on the reproduction cycles of magical land and water fowl, he was gone. Hermione plopped down in her seat, noticing Harry with his head in a book about Banshees.
"Banshees?"
"Well, it sounded horrible when I opened the egg - like screaming Banshees, so I thought maybe this book would have something about translating Banshee shrieks, but there's really nothing in here except to say that their screams are actually a defence mechanism."
"Oh, that's a very clever idea, Harry. It's a shame that it didn't pan out," She stared at Harry for a moment, quite impressed with his brainwave, which set her on another track of thought. "Of course!" she burst out, "We've been going about this all wrong! This isn't about the egg at all..."
Hermione jumped up again, and ran off to look for more books. When she found the section on magical languages, Hermione pulled a dozen books off the shelf, and returned, puffing from exertion under the weight of the heavy tomes. Harry's eyes boggled at the sight of all the books.
"You take that pile, Harry," she said, pushing several books towards him. "Look for any magical languages described as sounding screechy or screamy to humans."
"Your pile is loads bigger," Harry noted wryly.
"I'm a faster reader..." Hermione shot him an apologetic look at almost the same instant she said it, skipping a beat, horrified and hoping she hadn't damaged their burgeoning new relationship. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to sound like you're slow. Your reading speed is perfectly normal."
"No need to apologise, Hermione," said Harry, grinning. "I know you're a genius, and I wouldn't have you any other way."
Blushing furiously, Hermione propped up the first volume in front of her, hiding her strawberry-red cheeks. Indeed, Harry was only halfway through his first book by the time Hermione cracked open her third. She had nearly finished it before she found something which looked promising.
"Harry," she squeaked excitedly as her eyeballs flew across the page she was perusing, "I think I might have found something. Listen: Mermish, the language of the Merfolk - also known as the Nereid - is a language harsh, sometimes even painful, to human ears, and indecipherable above water. However, once the Nereid is submerged, the sounds of its utterance is magically transmogrified, which is then interpreted by the brain of the listener to be in the language of the listener's native tongue.
"It is important to note that this does not connote the reverse to be the case. In order to carry on a conversation with members of the Nereid species, a human must learn how to speak and understand the Natural Language..."
"Blimey!" swore Harry, dropping his book on the table and bolting up from his chair. "That could be it, Hermione! Maybe I need to open the Egg underwater. Let's go get it and see."
"What? Right now?"
"Yeah, while it's still light outside. It gets dark too early this time of year."
"Oh, er... okay." Hermione hurriedly threw her bag over her shoulder, and trotted after Harry, suddenly comprehending his spur of the moment plan.
~o0o~
Once back at Gryffindor Tower, Harry raced up the stairs to the dormitory, tossed his book bag on his bed, and flung open his trunk, retrieving his Egg and shoving it in the pocket of his robes. Dashing back down to the common room, Harry looked impatiently around for Hermione. He let out a sigh of relief to see her arrive moments later, looking slightly out of breath.
"Come on," he said eagerly, grabbing Hermione's hand and pulling her towards the portrait hole.
"Harry," she wheezed as they ran through the castle, "maybe there's some other way - perhaps a tub..."
"Then we'd have to find a tub somewhere," Harry argued. "This is quicker."
"Fair point," Hermione agreed. "As long as you're not fussed about the cold."
Once he threw open the castle doors, Harry had to admit it was freezing outside; icy rain which was nearly sleet fell from slate-grey clouds. But he'd never let cold and wet stop him before and he wasn't about to start now. Hand in hand, he and Hermione pelted down the hillside until they reached the edge of the lake.
The surface of the cold water rippled where the raindrops fell and the dark silhouette of the Durmstrang ship stood out against the already snow-covered mountains surrounding the lake, cutting a breathtaking wintry scene. His hands shaking slightly, Harry held the Golden Egg in his hand and knelt beside the lakeshore.
"Here goes nothing," he said, grinning at Hermione.
Then, taking a deep breath, Harry thrust his hands into the freezing water; he opened the Egg and leaned over, plunging his head in for a listen. He was surprised when another head suddenly appeared next to his own under the surface of the lake, but he tried to maintain his concentration, thrilled that Hermione's research had paid off. Instead of the sound of a thousand screeching banshees, an ethereal seraphic choir could be heard.
There was something oddly enticing about the unearthly, seductive chorus of feminine voices, despite the somewhat dismal nature of the song itself. If Hermione weren't his girlfriend now, Harry could imagine that he might have to follow those enchanting voices no matter where they led. But whatever magic the voices held were no match for her.
Come seek us where our voices sound,
We cannot sing above the ground,
And while you're searching ponder this,
We've taken what you'll sorely miss,
An hour long you'll have to look,
And to recover what we took,
But past an hour, the prospect's black,
Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.
Harry's head broke the surface with a splash as he gasped for breath, wiping his shaggy drenched fringe from his eyes and replacing his glasses. He glanced at Hermione who was sputtering and shivering beside him, her normally bushy hair dripping and plastered to her head.
"You know you didn't have to -" he began.
"You d-didn't th-think I was g-g-going to be left out, d-did you?" Hermione interjected, her teeth chattering.
"Not really," Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I just didn't want you to freeze to death. Anyway, you deserved to listen for yourself - you were bang on about the Mermish - You're a bloody genius, Hermione! I dunno if I'd've ever worked that out by myself."
"J-j-just a b-bit of research, H-Harry," Hermione retorted, managing to look a bit pleased and embarrassed all at once. "A-anyway, it was y-your idea wh-which inspired me. You're b-b-brilliant too!"
Hermione shivered again, her lips turning blue. Harry didn't know what came over him: maybe it was Hermione's high praises, maybe it was her loyalty, or the thrill of discovery, or the fact that she'd helped him solve yet another problem, or that she looked beautiful and half-frozen and in need of warming. Whatever it was, Harry moved as if possessed, leaning towards Hermione, and kissed her.
Hermione was taken by surprise when Harry chose that moment to kiss her, but she'd been hoping ever since that morning that the right opportunity would arise again and she gave herself to the moment, the heat of the kiss thawing her frozen lips. Shivers of elation instead of cold rushed through her veins and she took Harry's drenched head in her hands, not wanting the kiss to end.
Of course, eventually it did have to end, and Hermione couldn't help feeling vaguely disappointed when their lips parted. Harry must have caught the yearning look and misread it, she thought, when he suddenly flushed a deep shade of red plum.
"Er... Sorry. I just... I thought... er, you looked kissable."
Hermione almost giggled, but caught herself, beaming back at Harry as she shook her head, feeling her own face grow hotter.
"Don't be sorry!" she squeaked. "It was lovely. I just... er, I didn't want it to be over."
And to prove it, Hermione leaned towards her surprised looking Harry and pressed her lips to his again. They both lost themselves in one another for an endless moment, and when the second steamy kiss was finished, Harry looked utterly dazed, grinning giddily.
Footsteps crunching on frosty pebbles broke the moment. Hermione and Harry both scrambled to their feet, faces blazing with embarrassment.
Harry swallowed nervously, eyeing the surly looking figure of Viktor Krum who was braving the icy rain in jogging gear and trainers. Harry's hand hovered near his wand, recalling Sirius's admonition to be cautious around Karkaroff's students. He was startled when a sardonic smirk crossed Krum's features.
"So, is true then - Skeeter's article and rumours zat you and Her-my-own-ninny are together," said Krum, managing to look both droll and disappointed.
"Er... what?" Harry gaped at Krum. That was the last thing he had expected the Durmstrang Champion to bring up. Hermione seemed equally stunned, apparently to the point of speechlessness.
"I vos hoping zat were only rumours," Krum tried to explain. "I see Skeeter's article, but I do not believe. Zen I hear ozzers say is true today, and I am not so certain. I hoped to ask Her-my-own-ninny for date - but now I see truth. Please can forgive me?"
"Forgive you? Oh, er... Yeah! Of course," said Harry, still amazed, but starting to feel a lot friendlier toward the Durmstrang Champion. Without the scowl on his face, Krum didn't seem at all the sort who would be into Dark Magic.
"You... you were actually going to ask me out?" Hermione squeaked, having finally found her voice. "Why me?"
Harry grinned at Hermione's utterly bewildered expression. Krum glanced at Harry, looking like he was carefully considering his words before speaking to Hermione.
"All I can say, is zat Harry Potter is very lucky man to haff you as girlfriend. I must now look elsewhere for date." Krum smiled wryly, then turned back to Harry. "I haff heard you are very good flyer, Harry Potter - Seeker like me. Perhaps ve fly together some time?"
Harry felt a little woozy, astonished yet again to be treated as an equal by the older Champion and Professional Quidditch player.
"Er... yeah!" he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "That sounds great! And it's Harry... just Harry is fine."
"My friends call me Viktor." Krum reached his hand out to shake Harry's. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Harry. ... And you also, Her-my-own-ninny," he added with a little bow.
"If... if you'd like, I might know someone who would be interested in a date," said Hermione.
Viktor looked thoughtful for a moment before responding.
"If she is friend of yours, she must be nice. Perhaps she vould like to meet tomorrow. Now I must take my leave - return to ship before too dark."
Harry and Hermione both watched their new friend traipse off along the lakeshore to where the Durmstrang ship was docked, growing soggier as the rain continued to fall from the darkening skies. Then the quiet pair made their way back up the hill to the castle, both wrapped up in their thoughts.
Halfway up the hill, under a copse of pines, Harry suddenly halted. Hermione stopped and turned to give him a puzzled look. Harry took Hermione's hands and peered earnestly into her big brown eyes.
"He's right you know," said Harry, his heart thumping in his ears. "Viktor's right! ... I am really lucky... and Malfoy's an idiot! Viktor could have any girl he wanted, but it was you who caught his fancy, Hermione. ... He obviously sees what I see - how gorgeous you really are! ..."
Hermione bit her lip and blushed, fluttering her eyelashes shyly.
Harry swallowed, hesitating, wondering if things were moving too quickly. But the more he thought about it, though the heavy revelations of the last couple of days had been coming at him hard and fast, they had ripped open the curtain which had been partially concealing his feelings about Hermione for ages - ever since that night - the one at the end of first year - the night he had faced Voldemort for the first time since his infancy. ... Harry decided to go for broke and let the chips fall where they may.
"...You're the best thing that ever happened to me! I... I love you, Hermione!"
Hermione's eyes widened, her heart soaring, stunned at Harry's earnest declaration. She trembled slightly and melted in his green gaze.
"I love you too, Harry," she murmured. The next thing she knew, their lips met again for another deep, burning kiss - a kiss which curled her toes and kept her warm even after, through the icy downpour all the rest of the way to the castle.
Chapter 4: Physical Activities
Harry and Hermione had received a few odd glances when they returned to Gryffindor Tower, wet and dripping all over the scarlet and gold rugs. But after changing into clean dry clothes, and settling together in a little settee near the fireplace in the common room, nobody gave them a second look. For a few minutes they both basked in the heat of the crackling flames, simply enjoying the warmth.
"So, what do you think about the rhyme, Harry?" asked Hermione, finally breaking the silence.
"Well, seems pretty obvious seeing as it was in Mermish," said Harry. "The Merpeople are somehow going to steal something of mine, something I'll really miss. They'll hide it in the lake somewhere and I'll have an hour to get it back. Pretty basic, really! ... Dunno what they'd steal from me though.
"I doubt they'd know about the Marauder's Map or my Invisibility Cloak - and I reckon they'd have to leave me my wand. So, maybe my Firebolt?"
"Yes..." Hermione nodded slowly, her brows knitted in thought. "That's more or less what I was thinking too. It does seem to be the most logical interpretation of the song..."
"...but it seems like there's more to it, doesn't it?" said Harry, picking up on Hermione's uncertainty. "Anyway, whatever it is, isn't the most important bit right now. My biggest problems are that I don't know how to swim, and I reckon I'll need a spell or some sort of magic to breathe under water."
"What? You've never been swimming?"
"The Dursleys," Harry muttered, "They always left me locked in my... er, at home, when they took Dudley swimming, or left me at Mrs Figg's when they went on day-trips to the beach. And my primary school didn't have a pool."
Hermione scowled, catching Harry's near slip. She'd gathered from some of the things that Harry had been more open about over the years that the Dursleys weren't at all nice to him, and she knew that Harry had had bars on his bedroom window from the story of how the Weasley brothers had rescued him the summer before second year.
But there was something much more than simple dislike and strict parenting which Harry would almost never talk about. Hermione vowed to herself to press him on it eventually, but now didn't really seem like the right time.
"That's okay, Harry, I can teach you all the basic swim strokes," she said gently. "Though it'll be a bit hard learning in the lake during the winter - I suppose we can look in Advanced Charms textbooks from later years or in the library for warming charms."
"Yeah, that makes sense. Thanks, Hermione." Harry paused for a moment, and Hermione could see another query forming in his mind, this one apparently even more anxiety inducing. "Er... I don't suppose you could teach me how to dance too?"
"Actually, I can." Hermione smiled, thrilled to finally have the opportunity to put her skills to use. "Mum and Dad gave me lessons when I was little..." She left it there, not liking to admit that nobody had ever wanted to dance with her at any of the functions she had attended with her parents - not that most boys were ever very keen to dance anyway, at any age apparently.
"Brilliant!" said Harry, breathing a huge sigh of relief...
~o0o~
The last weeks of the term before the start of the Christmas Holidays were busier than Harry had ever imagined they could be. Not only was he contending with piles of homework that some teachers like McGonagall and Snape were doling out, but now, he also had swim and dance lessons with Hermione.
And though he much preferred the swimming and dancing lessons, Harry found himself with a new appreciation for studying his other subjects with Hermione as well. Harry reckoned that Snape would be in for a big surprise when he aced the Antidotes Exam that he was certain Snape had planned for the last day of the term - as long as he managed to concentrate and ignore Snape's usual deliberate attempts to antagonise and sabotage him during exams.
Hermione had found a Warming Charm in one of the Advanced Charms books, and they had both managed to learn it in one afternoon, which made swim lessons in the increasingly icy lake much more palatable - especially when it began snowing properly. They still hadn't discovered anything in the library which would allow Harry to breathe underwater, but there was plenty of time for that now.
Harry's biggest concern after that, wasn't so much finding unused classrooms in which to practice dancing with Hermione, but making sure they wouldn't be caught off guard by other students walking in on them. He was still utterly embarrassed by the idea of others seeing him dance, certain that he would be the only Champion with two left feet. So he had taken to bringing along the Marauder's Map to find the most isolated unused classrooms, and had practiced Colloportus, the Locking Charm, to keep other students out.
Meanwhile, though neither were actively avoiding Harry and Hermione anymore, Ron and Neville more or less kept to themselves, vacillating between trying to pluck up the courage to ask girls to the Yule Ball, and just giving up the ghost, opting to go stag instead.
"Why do they all hang out in packs?" Neville moaned as they passed a gaggle of giggling girls in the hallway. "How are you supposed to get one alone to ask?"
"Dunno, mate," Ron shrugged, in one of his more cynical moments. "Is it even worth the trouble though? I mean, sure, girls are nice to look at, and they smell nice, but they're all blooming mad - even Hermione's gone barmy this year!"
"I suppose," Neville muttered, not sure who Ron was trying to convince more.
"...Still," said Ron, apparently shifting into a more hopeful phase as he eyeballed an exceptionally pretty blonde Slytherin, Daphne Greengrass, whom he'd normally never look at twice if he could help it, simply on a matter of principle, "it wouldn't be all bad I guess - except for the dancing bit! Who're you thinking of trying it on with?"
"I was thinking maybe of asking Hannah Abbott, but I took too long working up the nerve - it's too late now," Neville sighed. "Some Ravenclaw bloke asked her - Anthony Goldstein, I think his name is."
"Sorry, Nev! That's arsed," said Ron absentmindedly as he stared, slack-jawed, at several older, curvaceous Beauxbatons girls who were dawdling near the entrance of the Great Hall, tittering as they in turn eyed Cedric Diggory.
Ron was so distracted that he didn't hear when someone called out his name. Neville, who had momentarily been engrossed by the buxom figures as well, finally heard when the voice called out a third time, and nudged him.
"Oi... Ron!"
Ron swiveled around, vaguely annoyed to have his ogling interrupted. He stiffened slightly when he saw who it was, still not entirely sure how he felt about things - not sure that he was ready yet - maybe if he had a date of his own - perhaps one of those Beauxbatons...
"Oh... Hi, Harry! What's up?" he asked, trying his best to sound casual, his eyes briefly flickering towards Harry's girlfriend.
"Viktor... Er... Krum that is," Harry began, looking a bit awkward himself, "he and I are going to chase a Snitch around the Pitch for a bit."
Ron goggled at Harry, mouth agape.
"Are you mental?" he gasped. "It's practically a blizzard out there."
"Er... yeah, I know." Harry grinned. "It's normal weather for Krum though - Durmstrang is somewhere in Norway, north of the Arctic Circle, according to him. I, er, just thought you might like to come and watch - get a chance to meet him. I know what Sirius said, but Krum's alright really - you'd like him."
"Really?"
"Yeah, really!" Harry nodded, then glanced at Neville. "You're invited too, Neville."
A surge of excitement welled up inside Ron, then crashed against the shoals of his envy, and something else, something even more painful. For a moment, the idea of Harry being chums with Viktor Krum felt like a stab in his gut. But he couldn't ignore the fact that Harry was offering him, Ron, a chance to meet Krum and make friends too... Finally, Ron's excitement won out.
"Yeah! All right, Harry, that sounds smashing!" said Ron eagerly. "How about it, Neville, you coming too?" he asked his other friend.
"Er... yeah! Okay!" Neville squeaked, his face lighting up.
Neville couldn't quite believe he wasn't dreaming, having missed the World Cup on account of the fact that his Gran thought it a boorish activity. He wasn't the ultimate Krum fan that Ron was, but the notion that he'd finally get a chance to see the world's best (and youngest in history) Professional Seeker, in action, wasn't lost on Neville.
As it turned out, a few others had apparently been invited to watch as well. Ginny, and Parvati and Lavender, were already bundled up in coats and scarves and waiting in the stands, whispering and giggling; a young Ravenclaw girl with big dreamy looking eyes and dirty-blonde hair was sitting next to Ginny too. Lavender looked especially pleased with herself about something.
Shortly after Neville and Ron took seats, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan showed up, followed moments later by Seamus and Dean, then Katie Bell, Alicia, and Angelina Johnson.
The Snitch was released. Harry and Viktor waited a few minutes for it to zip into the air and lose itself in the thickly falling flurries of snow, then they kicked off, soaring up above the stands and swooping around the goal posts.
The news that Harry Potter and Viktor Krum were flying around the Quidditch Pitch together had clearly started spreading through Hogwarts like a wildfire, as students from other Houses braved the weather and the stands began to fill.
~o0o~
"What? Potter and Krum? No way!" Draco scoffed at his disheveled Housemate who was brushing snow from his shoulders onto the green and silver rug in the Slytherin common room. "You sure you weren't seeing things - it's been practically whiteout conditions all day."
"They're out there right now," said Theodore Nott, "Come back with me and see for yourself."
"Probably a challenge match," Draco snorted, standing up. "Why else would Krum want to hang out with Potter?"
"Dunno about that." Theo shrugged as he followed Draco back to their dorm so that Draco could get his coat. "I saw them chatting in the courtyard yesterday after classes let out for the week - they looked pretty chummy to me. Potter's pet mudblood was there and some other Gryffindor bints too - they were all laughing it up about something."
Ten minutes later, after wading through the snowdrifts piling around the castle, Draco stood on a bluff overlooking the Quidditch Pitch with Theo. Retrieving his Omnioculars from his coat pocket, Draco peered through them and spun the dial. His face darkened as the two silhouettes on brooms, barely visible through the snow flurries from a distance, came into focus.
"Un-fucking-believable!" Draco swore, growing angrier by the minute at the Durmstrang student's betrayal. "I'll have to tell father about this," he muttered.
"See? What'd I tell you?" said Theo, smirking at Draco's familiar refrain.
~o0o~
Harry was in his element when he was flying, and he had flown in more than enough bad weather to put on a good showing. By the time he and Viktor decided to call it quits, they had both managed to catch the Snitch once each. Grinning, his cheeks red from the biting cold, Harry climbed off his broom, sinking into the white powdery drifts on the lawn of the pitch.
"You are most excellent flyer, Harry," said Viktor as he and Harry strode toward the edge of the pitch. "And zat Wronski Feint vos very nice manoeuvre..."
"I learned it from watching you at the World Cup," Harry fairly pointed out.
"Ah! I see! I may regret zat some day, should ve ever meet professionally," Viktor chuckled.
As Harry drew closer to the stands, Ron, Neville, Hermione, and the rest of his friends were waiting, some of them very excited to meet Viktor Krum for the first time - though at least two of their fellow Gryffindors had met him more than once already. Viktor caught sight of the bouncy girl with wavy golden hair spilling out from under the hood of her parka as she leapt up and down next to the girl with long dark hair.
"By ze vay, I am liking Laffender very much! She has much joy. Please, you can thank Her-my-o-nee for me for introduction?"
"Yeah, of course. No problem, Viktor," said Harry, breaking into another grin.
~o0o~
Sunday was the last Hogsmeade Day of the term, the last chance to shop for presents before Christmas without resorting to Owl Order, and Hermione had decided that she and Harry could afford to take some time away from studying for a visit. Harry thought it might be good practice, a test run for a date with Hermione, and attacked his hair with a wet comb, uselessly trying to make it stay flat and straight in the right places.
Thankfully the snowstorm had largely come to an end, and only a few light flakes swirled from the pearly grey skies above. As usual, Hogsmeade was as pretty as a Victorian Christmas painting at winter, lampposts decorated with Holly Wreaths, windowpanes crisscrossed with webs of frost, glittering icicles hanging from eaves, and thatched roofs covered with snow, looking like gingerbread houses.
Harry reckoned any date with Hermione in town ought to include a lengthy visit to a bookstore or library, and made Tomes and Scrolls their first stop. He was pleased to see he was right on the mark when Hermione beamed at him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. When she disappeared down one of the aisles, Harry took the opportunity to purchase a book she had peered at longingly, and a book he knew that Ron would read as well.
After the usual tour through the village, with stops in Zonko's and Honeydukes, Harry's only quandary was where to eat lunch. He slowed as they neared Madam Puddifoot's tea shop, and was relieved to no end when the little crinkle between Hermione's eyebrows indicated her distaste. He sped up and made a beeline for the Three Broomsticks.
They sat in a cozy booth near the fire, plates in front of them piled with bangers and mash, drinking frothy butterbeers from mugs. The day was almost perfect - it would have been totally perfect save for one little event. Hermione, giggling at Harry's foamy butterbeer moustache, risked a proper kiss, believing their booth to be secluded enough from general viewing.
The flash of a camera bulb went off. Harry groaned and Hermione turned livid to see that Rita Skeeter and her cameraman had sneakily ensconced themselves at a table nearby, behind a leafy ficus. A little smirk crossed Rita's scarlet lips as she stood up and beckoned her cameraman. Harry and Hermione glowered at their backsides as they departed from the tavern.
"She just can't leave us alone," Hermione muttered angrily. "As if there's nothing better to report on."
"Could've been worse though, I suppose," Harry sighed. "Imagine if we'd never got together and you'd come here with Viktor instead. Skeeter would've turned us all into some sort of ridiculous love triangle. That would've been horrible."
"That's true," Hermione agreed, unable to help a little giggle at the idea. "Other than a little minor embarrassment, I don't really see how she could do much harm with a picture of a little kiss," she added with a shake of her head.
~o0o~
The last week before the term came to an end flew by. Fortunately (?) the Blast-Ended Skrewts were now too dangerous to work with, so the last Care of Magical Creatures lesson became an excuse to play in the snow and chat with Hagrid, swapping war stories about aggravating encounters with Rita Skeeter.
Some of the other teachers lightened up a bit as well. Flitwick organised a game involving colour charms with a prize for the best work, and everyone had a good laugh as students ended up with orange polka dots on green skin, or purple stripes on yellow, and a myriad of other colour and shape combinations adorning their features.
Hermione almost won when she turned Harry crimson and gold, patterned in the shape of Phoenix feathers. Harry barely edged her out, painting her skin with kaleidoscopic swirls of colour, every hue of the rainbow, and silvery sparkles sprinkled in for good measure.
Other teachers were far less inclined to let students mess around or play frivolous games. Professors McGonagall and Snape kept the students' noses to the grindstone, and Moody would no more let students skive off than he would burst into a love song and shower everyone with rose petals.
Though Harry was beginning to wonder if something was going on with Moody when he spied Bartemious Crouch several times on the Marauder's Map in either Moody's office or his quarters, while he was checking for unused classrooms unoccupied by students getting up to the sorts of things he had been starting to think about a lot lately himself.
"There's something weird going on, Hermione," said Harry, the third time he spotted Crouch on the Map in as many days. "Why's he hanging out at Hogwarts when there's no Task happening? ... and in Moody's office or quarters when Moody isn't there?"
"Perhaps he's meeting with Moody to go over security at Hogwarts during the tournament, given recent events at the World Cup," Hermione suggested. "They are both ex-Aurors after all. And he could just be waiting for Moody to return from somewhere else on Hogwarts' grounds the times we're looking at the Map."
"I suppose," Harry muttered uncertainly. "That does actually sort of make sense..."
"Anyway," Hermione interjected primly, trying to get Harry to focus, "you still need to work on your waltzing, Harry. Why don't you put the Map down for now - you can keep an eye on it later."
"What? Don't you like squashed toes then?" Harry retorted, wearing a cheeky expression as he put the Map aside.
"Actually, I don't really mind at all, as long as they're not my toes," Hermione quipped back, raising her eyebrows. Harry let out a snort of laughter.
"Alright, I really don't want to look like an idiot out there," he said. "It just feels weird, moving in three step rhythms when I've got two feet."
"It does take a bit of getting used to at first," she admitted. "But you're brilliant at flying, you've got exceptional hand-eye coordination - which is why you're so good at spellwork too - and you're almost better at swimming than me already. You're obviously a natural at physical activities, Harry! Once you get the hang of this, you'll probably be better than nearly everyone else on the dancefloor."
Harry was a bit startled at Hermione's proclamation, not to mention extremely chuffed. Feeling a bit bolder than usual, as his feet began somehow moving of their own accord in time to the waltz on the little Wizard Wireless which Hermione had been bringing to the lessons, Harry leaned in for a kiss. It was the steamiest kiss he had given Hermione yet in the past couple of weeks as he trailed his lips to nuzzle Hermione's neck.
Hermione giggled. "That tickles, Harry. ... And that's not exactly what I meant by physical activities."
"Am I doing it wrong then?" Harry asked sincerely. "Do you want me to stop?"
"No," Hermione shook her bushy head, peering back into his earnest green eyes, her breath quickening, "You're doing it perfectly!"