Chapter 894 - Ch: 5-7 (cont. ch 6)

Chapter 5: Early Christmas

It was Thursday, the last night before the last day of the end of the term. Sure enough, just as Harry had expected, Professor Snape announced that he would be springing an Antidotes exam on the class on Friday. He eyed Harry with a smug looking sneer on his face, no doubt expecting him to fail miserably. Harry stared back at Snape defiantly, knowing that he had this in the bag if Snape didn't mess with him.

"Evil bastard, he is," Ron complained bitterly that night in the common room,"Spoiling the last bit of term with a load of studying."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, looking up from her Potions notes. Harry chuckled, looking up from his own Antidote notes, glad not to be on the receiving end of one of those looks for a change.

"Hmm... not exactly putting much effort into it though, are you?" Hermione said waspishly as Ron delicately placed another card on top of his fortress of Exploding Snap cards. "And I'd think you would do better to be studying too, Neville," she added, seeing him working on his own tower of cards.

"I'm just going to flub it anyway," Neville moaned. "Snape hates me. What's the point?"

"Besides, it's Christmas, Hermione," Ron grumbled. "Give it a rest, why don't you?"

"Suit yourselves," Hermione retorted, rolling her eyes.

Ron ignored her, concentrating hard as he carefully added another card to his castle. The entire construction collapsed, exploding in his face, leaving a few scorch marks on his cheeks and singed eyebrows.

"Nice look, Ron," sniggered Fred, who had just come down from the dorms with George. "Smouldering eyebrows! That'll go well with your dress-robes."

Ron scowled at his brothers.

"Haven't you two got anything better to do?" he sniped.

"Actually, we wanted to send a letter," said George. "Fred's just joking. Can we borrow Pigwidgeon?"

"Oh!" The irritation faded from Ron's face. "Sorry, Pig's already off delivering our Christmas Cards to the Burrow."

"You can borrow Hedwig, if you like," Harry suggested.

George glanced at Fred inquiringly. Fred shrugged.

"Yeah, all right then. Thanks, Harry!" said George, turning to leave. But Fred didn't seem quite ready to go just yet; he peered shrewdly at Ron and Neville.

"So, you two found dates to the Ball yet?" he asked, his tone casual.

Neville turned pink, and tried to hide his face behind his tower of Snap cards.

The scowl returned to Ron's face.

"No!" he groused. "You know we haven't!"

"Well, you two should get a move on then," said Fred pointedly, "before all the good ones get snapped up."

George rolled his eyes. "Come on Fred, let's get this over with."

Fred inexplicably shot a wink at Neville and finally turned to follow his Twin to the Owlery. Neville's shade of pink deepened. Ginny, who had been sitting nearby reading and glancing up at intervals, frowned as she watched Fred and George departing.

"Fred's right, Neville!" said Ron as soon as the Twins were gone, "We should get a move on! We don't want to end up with a pair of Trolls."

Neville's eyes darted shiftily away as pink turned to crimson.

"A pair of what?" snapped Ginny, rounding angrily on her brother as she slammed her book shut. Hermione narrowed her eyes at Ron.

"We-e-ell," said Ron slowly, eyeing his infuriated sister warily, "I'd rather go with a Slytherin like Daphne Greengrass, than with someone like Eloise Midgen, let's say..."

"So you'll have anyone absolutely horrible, as long as they're hot little numbers - is that it?"

"Er... yeah. That sounds about right," Ron agreed, gawking at his sister in bewilderment.

"No, it doesn't sound right at all," Ginny fumed. "Girls have feelings too, Ron. We're not just toys for your amusement!"

Ron stared at Ginny for a moment, then a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head, as if he had just figured out what Ginny was on about. His ears turned scarlet.

"I can't take you! You're my sister!" he yelped, horrified.

Ginny gaped at him, stunned into silence. Then she giggled hysterically.

"You're such an idiot sometimes, Ron! You really think I'm cross because I want you to take me to the Ball?"

"Yeah! I do!" said Ron heatedly, looking a bit frightened too. "It's bloody obvious that you can't get a date, and you reckoned that seeing as I can't get one either that we might as well go together. Go on! Tell me I'm wrong!"

"For your information, I do have a date, Ron," Ginny said coolly. "I'm going with Neville. The only reason we hadn't told you yet was because we didn't know how you'd react."

Ron's eyes boggled, and he shot a surprised look at Neville.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Neville moaned, shrinking in his seat. "I should have told you. Ginny and I didn't really decide until yesterday though."

Ron simply looked confused for a moment, then he slumped miserably in his chair.

"No Neville! I'm sorry! ... I'm so pathetic," he groaned. "At this rate, I'm probably going to be the only one left without a date. And... er, sorry Ginny... about, er... thinking you actually wanted me to take you. I am an idiot!"

Ginny eyed Ron sympathetically, seeing him looking more receptive to new information finally.

"It's all right, Ron - I forgive you. Anyway, I was going to tell you, before you started going on about Trolls, that I found a date for you."

"You... you did?" There was a brief flicker of worry in Ron's eye, and Harry could tell that he was afraid that Ginny had set him up with someone less than attractive.

"Yes, I did! And you're going with her, and you will be nice to her!" Ginny said bossily.

"Er... Wh-who is it then?"

"My friend, Luna Lovegood."

"Oh! You mean the loo...?"

"Don't you dare finish that question," said Ginny, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Ron gulped. "I... I'll be nice to her, I promise."

"Good! I'll hold you to that." Then Ginny abruptly picked up her book and began reading again, indicating that as far as she was concerned, the matter was settled.

~o0o~

It was Friday, and she still didn't have a date. Shivering, unused to such cold, Fleur Delacour irritably roamed the stone corridors of Hogwarts, haughtily waving off suitors in droves. Sometimes she thought being part Veela was more trouble than it was worth. How was she to know whether a boy really liked her, when all they could see was what was on the outside?

Fleur had hoped it might be better at Hogwarts, with more boys to choose from, but it was just the same as at Beauxbatons. The boys, nearly to the last one, were uninterested in who she was as a person and oblivious to anything she said, with eyes only for whichever part of her figure caught their fancy.

The only ones who seemed to be able to resist her Veela charms were those who were already taken. It was so unfair! Just based on her observations from a distance, that Cedric Diggory boy seemed nice. Fleur had even put on her most alluring poses on purpose, hoping to either entice him, or to test his strength of character before presenting a verbal invitation - only to discover he had already been taken by Cho Chang.

At this point, Fleur would have even settled for Harry Potter, young and inexperienced though he was. From everything she had learned of him, since that first night, she had misjudged him more than a bit harshly. Harry Potter seemed quite pleasant and well mannered - especially compared to most others. Finally taking the time to speak with Harry Potter the other day, after watching him fly with Viktor Krum, had only further cemented her opinion.

But now he too was taken - which was a shame. That he seemed to truly appreciate Hermione Granger, despite her lack of interest in keeping up her appearance, bespoke well of him. Fleur rather thought Granger was very lucky to have him as a boyfriend. Though Fleur had to concede, underneath that bushy hair and those baggy clothes, there was a diamond in the rough. A little polish, and Fleur herself might be tempted by such a girl.

If she weren't so concerned about the warnings she had received regarding British customs, Fleur might have considered asking some of the girls for a date. But she was far too anxious about the possible repercussions should any take offence. That Skeeter person seemed all too keen to uncover some sort of scandal at Hogwarts, and Madame Maxime was counting on Fleur to represent Beauxbatons well, without creating some sort of tawdry media frenzy.

Fleur had few options left; time was running short. She would simply have to choose from among the least objectionable boys and be done with it.

~o0o~

Finally it was over. When the last class on Friday ended, Harry breathed a sigh of relief. All things considered, it had gone rather well. He had managed to get through the Potions exam without being too rattled by Snape's digs at the beginning of class.

"I hope you weren't expecting your transparent ploy to curry favour with the Durmstrang Champion to carry any weight with me, Potter," Snape sneered when he passed Harry his test paper. "Dumbledore may believe you are living up to the ideals of international cooperation which best represent the spirit of the tournament, but I can see right through your little charade.

"Bolstering your international celebrity status by rubbing elbows with those far more talented than yourself may have convinced others, but to me you are still nothing more than an arrogant little boy of mediocre intellect who thinks far too highly of himself.

"If you weren't a Champion, I would make your participation in the Yule Ball contingent on passing this exam, Potter. And if you do manage to pass this test with more than an Acceptable percentage, I will be very surprised indeed."

"You will be," Harry muttered to himself through gritted teeth as Snape stalked back to his desk.

Hermione shot Harry a sympathetic look and hissed, "Ignore him," under her breath.

Harry took several deep breaths and closed his eyes, imagining snogging Hermione before starting his test. Feeling more relaxed, he ploughed through the exam, then handed in the completed test with confidence at the end of class.

Snape peered down his nose at the parchment as if it were something slimy and snatched it from Harry's hand, replacing it with another parchment from his desk. Harry peered at it, perplexed.

"Your holiday homework," said Snape, a nasty little smirk hovering about his lips.

Now the Christmas Holidays were afoot, and with it came a whole load of homework for the Fourth Years from all the teachers, including McGonagall. That was to be expected, but there seemed to be an inordinate amount of Potions essays, and Harry was almost certain Snape was deliberately targeting him.

"Bloody Hell!" said Ron, still grumbling by the time they reached the Entrance Hall as he continued to peruse the mile long list of various potions ingredients for each of which Snape expected a foot of parchment.

"This'll take us till Easter to finish - never mind Christmas," Neville groaned. Even Hermione was shocked by the excessive amount of homework.

"This does seem a bit overboard..." she muttered, frowning at Snape's list.

Then Malfoy's voice rang out nearby, as he loudly addressed Crabbe and Goyle, no doubt for the benefit of the Gryffindors.

"Ah, no Potions homework!" Malfoy gloated "I feel as free as a lark! ... Can you imagine, some teachers are actually handing out homework over the Holidays. But not Professor Snape. At least heunderstands how important it is for us to spend as much time as possible fraternising with our foreign guests, making them feel welcome."

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed sycophantically, and Malfoy caught Harry's eye with a look of malicious glee. Harry crumpled the list of expected essays which Snape had given him in his fist and ground his teeth.

"Ooooh! ... He is just too much!" Hermione fumed, suddenly catching on. "I just bet he had his father put Snape up to this. You go on to the common room with the others, Harry, I'll be there in just a minute."

"Wait, what? Hermione...?" Harry rubbed at his forehead, puzzled as she darted off through the crowd of students, headed for who knew where.

"Trouble in Paradise, Potter?" Malfoy chortled.

Harry snorted. "For you maybe! You think I didn't notice that Parkinson's been avoiding you and giving you dirty looks lately? What'd you do? ...invite Greengrass to the Ball instead?"

"For your information, Potter, Parkinson and I have an understanding," Malfoy drawled. "In fact, I expect that I'll be going with the French Champion."

Ron sniggered. "Yeah, right! Good luck with that, Malfoy."

"Does Fleur know that?" asked Harry, his features brightening. "There she is right now... let's ask her! Hey, Fleur..."

"Nice try, Potter! You can't fool me," Malfoy sneered.

"Oh, 'Arry, 'ello! Ees nice to see you again."

Gaping in surprise at the sound of Delacour's voice, shocked that Potter was on a first name basis with the French Champion too, Malfoy spun around.

"Malfoy was just telling me he wanted to ask you something, Fleur," said Harry, his face a picture of innocence. "Isn't that right, Malfoy?"

"Er... What? ... Oh, yeah... er," Malfoy sputtered, looking utterly discombobulated.

"Oh?" Fleur looked Malfoy up and down, bearing an expression which made her look as if she was trying very hard not to sneeze.

Draco glanced at Crabbe and Goyle, who were gawking at him and waiting expectantly for him to make his move. He inwardly groaned and cursed Potter for putting him in this position. Swallowing nervously, Draco attempted his winningest smile at Delacour, who was patiently awaiting his invitation, and bowed slightly.

"I...er... I would be ever so honoured, to extend my hand to Mademoiselle Delacour, in the hopes that you would grace me with your company at the Yule Ball." Draco inwardly cringed, hearing his quavering voice end on a slightly high pitch.

Despite her best effort, Fleur couldn't help the crinkling of her nose. Her heightened Veela senses set off alarm bells in her brain. This boy, Malfoy, he most certainly was not nice. Malfoy - the name was somehow familiar to her, then she recalled from her father's dealings across the channel, the warnings of his business acquaintances.

"Non! I theenk not," she said loftily. "Please, do not bozzer me again!" she added for good measure, with a wave of her hand as if to shoo Malfoy away.

If looks could kill, Harry reckoned he'd be dead from the look Malfoy was giving him right now. Harry grinned as Malfoy whirled around and quickly stalked off, his hulkish minions scurrying behind him. Ron and Neville stuffed their fists in their mouths, muffling their roars of laughter.

"Surely, zis Malfoy ees no friend of yours, 'Arry?" Fleur inquired once the Slytherins were out of sight.

"No, he's not," Harry agreed, more serious now. He wasn't sure if it was appropriate to tell Fleur why though. Fleur seemed to catch his hesitation, and what she said next caught Harry by surprise.

"I thought not. Would be very strange for family who supports Dark Lord to be your friend."

"Yeah... it would," said Harry. "You know about the Malfoys then?"

"I know leetle from Papa. And I know leetle of your history, 'Arry. I put together, and I understand zat Malfoy family ees very bad family - Blood-Purists. We have zem in France too - I do not like! ... Zis Malfoy boy, he harasses you and 'Ermione, non?"

"That's about the size of it, yeah," Harry sighed. "Anyway, sorry you got caught in the middle of that."

"No apology nécessaire, 'Arry." Fleur beamed radiantly. "Malfoy, 'e would ask me to Ball anyway. To shame one such as him in your presence gives me great pleasure. Ees too bad zat 'Ermione ees not here to see also. Per'aps I see you both at dinner, tonight."

"Er... yeah. See you later then."

Feeling a bit bemused, Harry watched for a moment as Fleur exited the castle, then turned to see Ron and Neville - and a few other guys nearby - in a near catatonic state, open-mouthed and drooling. Harry suddenly understood; when Fleur had smiled, her Veela allure must have been turned on full blast. He wondered why it didn't affect him now - like it had at the World Cup - then he reckoned it must have something to do with how he felt about Hermione.

~o0o~

When Hermione arrived, she winced as her eardrums were assaulted by the gales of laughter echoing in the Gryffindor common room. Ron and Neville were guffawing loudly and Fred and George were rolling on the floor holding their sides and howling. Ginny, Lavender and Parvati were falling all over each other, giggling hysterically, tears streaming down their cheeks.

A number of other Gryffindors were in the common room too, and they were all laughing uproariously as well. Harry was just grinning and watching.

"What's going on?" Hermione shouted to be heard.

"Malfoy just asked Fleur to the Yule Ball," Harry yelled back. "She turned him down flat."

"Oh?" Hermione gave Harry a why-was-that-so-funny? sort of look.

"You kind of had to be there," shouted Harry, looking apologetic. "Ron tells it best - but he's too busy laughing his arse off at the moment. If you wait long enough though, I know he'll tell it again."

Hermione nodded, grinning; the mood was infectious, and she was quite familiar with Ron's penchant for repeating a good tale and his talent for silliness. Sure enough, as soon as the laughter began dying down, and Seamus and Dean arrived from wherever they'd been, Ron began telling it again, embellishing little details.

"...You should've seen his face when Harry said, 'There's Fleur right now... let's ask her!'..." Ron did an impression of Malfoy spinning around with a gormless look on his face, and mimicked Malfoy's sputtering when Harry went on to tell Fleur that Malfoy wanted to ask her something. Soon the entire common room was laughing again, Hermione wheezing along with them, clutching at stitches in her side.

By the time things eventually calmed down, Harry was dying to ask Hermione where she had gone.

"You'll see soon enough," was her mysterious answer, before popping up to the girls' dorm with Lavender and Parvati.

Harry was a bit puzzled, having thought that Hermione would want to get started on the piles of homework Snape had set for the Christmas Holidays. But he couldn't concentrate anyway now, so he had a game of Wizard Chess with Ron, which ended with a Bishop and a Knight violently brutalising his King.

"Better luck next time, Harry," Ron chuckled.

Finally it was time to get ready for dinner, and the fourth year boys headed to their dorm to change. Seamus and Dean looked fairly pleased with themselves as they were putting on their robes.

"So," said Harry, a knowing expression on his face, "who are you two going to the Ball with then?"

"Well, I was going to ask Lavender," said Seamus with a sigh, "but that obviously ain't happening now tha' she's goin' with Krum. An' I couldn't get up the nerve t'ask anyone else, but Dean came through..."

"Oh! You and Dean? I had no idea..." said Harry, surprised, given all the Naughty Witches magazines he knew Seamus kept stashed under his mattress. Ron sniggered, then shut up when Harry gave him a there's-nothing-wrong-with-that-sort-of-thing look.

"Nah," Dean laughed amiably. "I asked Parvati to the Ball after Susan Bones said she was going with someone else, and she said she'd hook up Seamus with her sister, Padma."

Once ready, Harry followed the rest of the Gryffindors down the marble stairs to the Great Hall for the first dinner of the Christmas Holidays, arm in arm with Hermione, who was still keeping mum about whatever she had been doing while Draco Malfoy had been getting shot down by Fleur.

"Come on, Please? Why won't you tell me?" he begged, giving her his best puppy eyes.

"Just hold your horses, Harry. It won't be long now," said Hermione, with an almost smug expression. Bursting with anticipation, Harry took his seat next to her.

The first big surprise of the evening was when Fleur sat down at the Gryffindor table, right next to Hermione, much to the chagrin of many of Fleur's fellow Beauxbatons (who were all sitting at the Ravenclaw table, as they nearly always did). The Great Hall buzzed with intrigue, as everyone stared and whispered.

Harry grinned; he felt like Christmas had come early, catching the look of rage on Draco Malfoy's face. Harry almost wondered if this was the surprise that Hermione had somehow orchestrated, but he immediately chucked out that idea as soon as it crossed his mind, as Hermione had been elsewhere during Draco's disgrace. Fleur was clearly intending to make a bold statement all of her own accord.

The murmur in the Hall quieted when Dumbledore stood up and took to the fore of the staff table, clearly to make some sort of speech. Harry peered at Dumbledore expectantly as the headmaster cleared his throat. Dumbledore's crystal blue gaze cast out across the Hall, briefly noting Fleur's change in seating arrangements with apparent approval; he caught Harry's eye and winked.

"Greetings to students, colleagues, and our esteemed guests from the Continent," Dumbledore began warmly, his rich, sonorous tones carrying throughout the Hall, "I know how important this time of year is for many - a time to reconnect with family, and with friends - a time for good cheer and celebration - a time to cast aside old prejudices and to forge new bonds of friendship and solidarity.

"And it is in this spirit I am greatly pleased to see our Champions spreading their wings and coming together, in a display of fealty which truly embodies the greatest ideals of the Triwizard Tournament. Words alone cannot express how much it warms my heart to see Hogwarts students welcoming our friends from the Continent with open arms.

"Therefore, in order to give you all more time to get to know one another this joyous Holiday Season, I am pleased to announce that all homework assignments handed out have been canceled.

"There is more than enough time during the schoolyear proper for hard work, when hard work is to be expected. This is to be a time of relaxation and merriment - let your hair down and fill your hearts with cheer!

"... not to mention filling your bellies with the sumptuous feast," he added with a twinkle in his eye before taking his seat.

The Great Hall burst into thunderous applause and whoops of delight, but nobody was cheering louder than those at the Gryffindor table. Harry's face almost hurt from grinning so much when he spotted Snape's livid features, which were turning a hue of purple that nearly put Uncle Vernon's to shame. Draco Malfoy looked like he might burst into flame and explode.

"This is all you, isn't it?" Harry said to Hermione, his face a mixture of awe and exultation. "You made this happen! This is the best early Christmas Present ever - well... second best early Christmas Present, after you being my girlfriend that is."

"Merry Christmas, Harry." Hermione beamed, giving him a bone-crushing hug and a lingering kiss on the cheek.

Chapter 6: Countdown to Christmas

Upon returning to his seat at the staff table, Dumbledore couldn't help but notice the Potion Master's venomous glares at young Harry Potter; he sighed and glanced at the Deputy Headmistress to his left. Her own expression was taut, her lips pursed and brow creased with irritation. Her annoyance, however, was not directed at Harry Potter - it was directed at the headmaster himself, and no small measure of her anger was directed at Severus as well.

As the feast appeared on the gold and silver platters adorning the table, and Dumbledore carved a slice of roast chicken for himself, he pondered his decision. Minerva would have no doubt preferred that her fourth year Gryffindors' Potions homework had simply been cut down to a far more manageable size, and that the fourth year Slytherins had been given holiday homework as well.

That would have certainly been an equitable arrangement, but it had occurred to Dumbledore after listening to Miss Granger repeat Draco Malfoy's taunts at Minerva's prodding, that this holiday season was uniquely special, warranting the cancellation of all homework assignments. Hosting guests for the Triwizard Tournament didn't happen every year after all.

It had pleased the headmaster to no end to bear witness from his tower to Harry Potter's burgeoning friendship with Viktor Krum as the pair flew around the Quidditch Pitch together nearly a week ago. Just as it pleased him to see the Delacour girl forging bonds of friendship with Granger and Harry. It was a hopeful sign in these troubling times.

Harry's vision during the summer of Voldemort's return to Britain with Pettigrew boded ill for the future. There could be no doubt that the self-appointed "Dark Lord" was seeking another means to regain a human form, and would yet again attempt to kill the boy who had defeated him three times already, all in his bid to restore a Pureblood Supremacist Order to wizarding Britain, under his iron rule.

But if Harry's strength of character and inestimably kind nature proved anything, it was that the Prophecy - dubious though the business of Prophecies may be - held great truth to it: Harry had the power within himself to defeat Voldemort - a power which was beyond Voldemort's ken. The only real quandary was what to do about the connection between Harry and Voldemort - a connection which had disturbing implications.

It was bad enough that Dumbledore had yet to devise a means of breaking that connection, thus freeing Harry to flourish and allow his prodigious abilities - as embodied by the boy's remarkable Patronus - to grow to their fullest potential, but now Dumbledore had to contend with questioning the trust he had placed in Severus Snape as well.

Which was stronger, Severus's commitment to protecting the life of the child of the only woman Severus had ever cared for, or his hate for the man whom that woman had married and the boy she had borne?

Trust did not come easy to Dumbledore, but he had trusted Severus's desire for some measure of redemption and for vengeance against the 'Dark Lord' in her name. And that trust was becoming increasingly shaken with every act of cruelty waged against Harry and Harry's friends.

His eyes once again flickering towards his deputy headmistress, who was now digging into a lamb chop and potatoes, Dumbledore considered seeking her counsel and entrusting her with his darkest secrets. There was no question she had earned that trust in spades.

When Professor McGonagall had burst into the headmaster's office with Hermione Granger in tow, her fury at Professor Snape's blatant disregard for protocol and his utter lack of any commitment to fairness - was only matched by her enormous concern for Harry's safety and well-being. Dumbledore had been forced to concede that Severus had overstepped his boundaries yet again when it came to Harry Potter.

Following his impromptu meeting with Minerva and Miss Granger, Dumbledore had summoned Severus to his office, and the outcome of that conversation had left him unsettled. Severus had not taken his dressing down well.

~o0o~

"You disappoint me, Severus," the headmaster sighed, "...yet again. After last year, I had hoped for better."

"Better?" The contempt in Snape's tone was poorly hidden, "After Potter and his little friends set Black free? ... Did you really think...?"

"I would have hoped, that my word would be enough, Severus," Dumbledore interjected. "As I explained at the time, Sirius Black was innocent - Pettigrew was the traitor."

"Based entirely on the word of three insolent children and Black's partner in crime, Lupin," Snape snarled.

"Three children whose moral integrity is unassailable," Dumbledore countered. "As is Remus Lupin's."

"Integrity? Don't make me laugh. Potter and his friends are liars and thieves. Troublemakers all - just like James Potter and his little gang! They think themselves above the rules... Potter, Weasley, and Granger attacked me."

"Do you really want to go there?" said Dumbledore coldly. "You were hardly an innocent yourself, Severus, in your days as student. How long did you stalk Remus, hoping to expose his secret, knowing I would have no choice but to expel him if you did? How many times did you attempt to get past the Whomping Willow of your own accord before Black revealed the secret of gaining entrance to you?

"...Which he did out of sheer frustration with your attempts to expose Remus's condition to the world I would hasten to add. ... And shall I also bring up the many complaints raised by others against you and your compatriots, Severus?

"Assaulting and verbally abusing muggleborns was quite the pastime for you and your friends, was it not? ... Practice, I would wager, for your post-Hogwarts career as a Death Eater. Do not think to convince me that you hold any moral high ground, in casting aspersions against James Potter, Black, and Lupin. You do not."

"I switched sides..." Snape growled. "I have helped you protect the Potters' son ever since."

"For which I am most grateful," Dumbledore acknowledged. "But that was only after several years of aiding and abetting the mass-murder and torture of innocents. And I have oft considered the question of whether you would have switched sides, had Lily Potter never been targeted by Voldemort."

Dumbledore paused, raising his bushy white eyebrows and noting that Severus remained silent on that score.

"In any case," the headmaster went on, his unease growing, "as I was saying, I am very grateful for the fact that you have kept to the Letter of your promise in helping me protect Harry. However I am very disappointed that you have not kept to the Spirit of your promise. ... The lens through which you see Harry is grotesquely distorted, but that is your business - I can do little about that. Harry's health and well-being however, is both of our business's. How many times must I step in when you treat him unfairly, Severus?"

"You know why I must," Professor Snape interjected heatedly, his sallow cheeks flushing. "Am I not your spy? Lucius Malfoy has certain expectations..."

But Dumbledore was having none of it, and interrupted Snape in turn. "What Lucius Malfoy expects is for you to favour his son - to look the other way and disregard young Draco's insubordination and infractions - to mark up Draco's scores when they slide down - and to grant Draco privileges for which he is quite undeserving. These I allow, no matter how painful it is for me to do so, in order for you to maintain your status as Lucius Malfoy's friend and confidante.

"However, do you really expect me to believe that your constant attempts to harass Harry, and your attempts to fail him, or contrive reasons for his expulsion, are part of the facade you maintain to placate Lucius Malfoy? ... Of course not!

"This is just another excuse to cover for your hate of James Potter, which you have already openly admitted to projecting upon his son. Lucius must surely know that reprisals against Potter for slights against Draco - whether imagined or deservedly real - are off the table as long as I am headmaster.

"Yet still you carry out Lucius's hopeful requests to retaliate against Harry on Draco's behalf without hesitation - not for him, but for yourself. You are so used to seeking reprisal against Harry for what you believe are sins bequeathed by his father, that you have no compunction against doing the same at the behest of Lucius and Draco.

"That ends today, Severus! No longer will you unfairly mark down Harry's exam scores, as you attempted to do at the end of last year before I stepped in and reversed them. And no longer will you differentiate between Slytherin and Gryffindor in terms of how much homework you dole out, as you did today.

"From now on, if you believe that any particular individual student requires extra work to maintain a reasonable standard in your class - especially if it is Harry Potter or one of his friends - you will confer with me first. I will also henceforth be monitoring the points deductions and detentions you hand out, just to be certain you are not abusing your power in that regard as well. Is this understood?"

Professor Snape glowered mutinously, his dark eyes glittering, then he slowly nodded.

"Yes Headmaster, of course!" he said, as evenly as possible, looking sulky. "I will do as you ask."

Dumbledore eyed his Potions Professor keenly, then nodded in return.

"Very good, Severus! I will, of course, be making adjustments regarding the holiday homework you handed out to some, but not others. And if Lucius questions you on this matter, or tasks you with future reprisals against Harry, you will inform him that I simply won't allow it, as you should have done before. ... Lucius will understand. Favouring Harry Potter is what he expects of me after all."

~o0o~

Professor Snape had sat there a moment in silence before taking Dumbledore's pointed expression as a dismissal. It was clear that his orders to treat Harry Potter with a modicum of respect had been taken under duress, and Dumbledore wondered for how long he could hope to trust Severus's feelings of guilt over the death of Lily Potter, and his antipathy towards Voldemort, to win out. Could he truly be trusted to be spy once again, should the self-styled "Dark Lord" reconstitute himself, or was it too dangerous?

Out of the corner of his eye, Dumbledore surreptitiously regarded his Deputy Headmistress now, as they ate dinner; he had no such concerns about her. Minerva's devotion to the safety of Harry Potter - indeed to the safety of all students, regardless of House - was surely more trustworthy than a desire for redemption and vengeance. Minerva could not be a spy of course, but perhaps it was time that she learned of Severus's role in things - and perhaps be informed of Dumbledore's other quandaries as well...

~o0o~

There was another popping sound in the Gryffindor common room, accompanied by gales of laughter. Harry, who had been enjoying a game of wizard chess with Ron, grinned to see that another had fallen victim to one of Fred and George's Canary Creams, no doubt hidden in the centre of a mince pie.

"Not again," moaned Neville, who was now covered in yellow feathers.

"Ah, don' worry about it, mate," laughed his fellow feathered friend, Seamus, who had also eaten a mince pie. "It's all in good fun, eh? ...an' they'll be gone soon enough."

"That's true," Neville sighed. Then he let out a little resigned chuckle and flapped his "wings."

Hermione shook her head and gave him a little half-smile, having reconciled herself to the situation. Nobody seemed to be coming to any harm from bursting into feather. Then she glanced at the clock on the wall.

"Harry, it's almost time."

"Oh, yeah, it is," said Harry, "I'm going for a fly with Viktor, Ron - no Snitch this time. You coming? You can borrow a school broom and join us."

"Yeah, sure," Ron quickly agreed, his face lighting up.

The Christmas Holidays were in full swing now, everyone taking full advantage of Dumbledore's proclamation of no holiday homework this year. The castle and its surrounds were filled with a frenzy of Festive activity while delicious smells wafted from the kitchens, and the professors had gone all out with the decorations. Peeves hid in suits of armour bedecked with red Father Christmas caps, belting out Christmas tunes with salty improvised lyrics at the top of his lungs.

Parties were held in common rooms, and wintry activities were held on the grounds. A number of students had taken up ice-skating on the parts of the lake with the thickest layers of ice close to the shore; snowball wars became increasingly hazardous as wands propelled the snowballs in ever greater volume and velocity. The snowmen, snow-forts, and ice-sculptures adorning the lawns grew more intricate daily.

And Fleur and Viktor weren't the only ones to have started hanging out with Harry and Hermione and their friends. Cedric and Cho Chang had also joined in more than once. The only ones who seemed to be having less than a good time were a number of Slytherins, several in particular.

Infuriated to learn that Daphne Greengrass had accepted Zabini's invitation to the Yule Ball, Draco had finally approached Pansy, despite the fact that she had refused to have her pug nose reshaped for him by a Healer her father knew.

"You must be joking!" snapped Pansy. "I'd rather go with Weasley - well, probably not Weasley, but Potter maybe. At least Potter knows how to treat a girl. He's not obsessed with perfect looks, unlike you!"

"Potter?" snarled Draco, "You'd rather go with a blood-traitor than me, would you? Too bad for you he's already got a Mudblood to take to the Ball. You'll look pretty stupid at the Ball without a date."

"For your information, I have a date!" Pansy hissed angrily. "I didn't bother waiting around to see if you'd relent and choose me as a last resort! ... So we'll see who shows up without one, won't we?" she added with one final glare before turning on her heel and storming off to her dormitory.

"I'll go to the Ball with you, Draco," said Millicent Bulstrode, leering at him hopefully. Draco gave her a glance, looking a bit green around the gills; then he marched off to the boys' dormitory, cursing under his breath.

"Oi, I thought you were going with me," said Goyle, frowning.

"Well, a girl can try and trade up, can't she?" Millicent sniggered.

"S'pose so," Goyle grunted, shrugging, knowing he was in no position to complain.

~o0o~

During the run up to Christmas Eve, Harry and Hermione slipped away from the others whenever they could for a bit of last minute dance practice. Upon returning to Gryffindor Tower after their sessions, which ended with snogging more often than not, Harry found himself wishing more and more for a bit of privacy at nights to relieve the stirrings of his growing ardour; cold showers just weren't cutting it.

Even with the curtains pulled around his bed, Harry was reluctant to give in to his need, afraid that he would be heard. Given Seamus's hidden supply of magazines, Harry didn't doubt that of all his dormmates, Seamus at least was taking care of his urges under cover of night behind his curtains with little concern for potential of being heard. But Harry wasn't Seamus, and he vowed to himself to look up privacy and silencing charms at his next opportunity.

It was mid-afternoon on Christmas Eve, and just as he was considering seeing if the library was open while Hermione was busy doing something with Lavender and Parvati, there was a tap on the frosted over window of the fourth year boys' dormitory. Harry opened the window, letting in a blast of cold air and a flurry of snow, pleased to see that Hedwig had made it back in the nick of time.

"Sorry, Hedwig," said Harry, as he untied the small parcel from his exhausted owl's talons. "I know it's been a bit of a rush for you - between delivering that letter for the Twins and picking this up for me. I'll make it up to you - I promise."

Harry found some owl treats for Hedwig and poured some water from the jug beside his bed into a glass for her.

"Merry Christmas, Hedwig," he said gratefully, stroking her feathers while she thirstily guzzled the water and nibbled the owl treats. "I hope she doesn't think that I've gone mad," he added, his brows knitting in worry. "You do think she'll like it, don't you?"

Hedwig lifted her beak and uttered a little hoot to reassure him. Then Harry carefully stashed the little package in the drawer of his nightstand with the Christmas Card for Hermione when Hedwig darted back out the window and flew off to the owlery for a good, long nap.

Satisfied that he was as ready as could be now for Christmas, Harry shut the window and put his Charms books back in his trunk. Then he went back downstairs, wove through the crowded common room, past Seamus and Dean and Ron and Neville (who were all playing a game of four-way wizard checkers), slipped out through the portrait hole, and made his way to the library to look through the Advanced Charms books for a solution to his privacy problem.

~o0o~

Harry awoke with a start, his heart pounding. It was nearly pitch black, then he remembered his curtains were closed, and thanked his lucky stars that the silencing charm that he had found had worked perfectly last night. It felt really early though; something had woken him, but he wasn't sure what.

He turned over in bed to reach through the curtains for his clock to see what time it was, and stared into two luminescent, green tennis-ball sized orbs peering right back at him.

"Dobby!" Harry gasped, jerking back and nearly falling out of his bed. "Blimey! Don't do that! You scared me half to death!"

"Dobby is very sorry, Harry Potter, sir," the anxious house-elf squeaked. "Dobby is taking Harry Potter's extra present and his card for Missy Granger to put in her stocking, and then Dobby is coming back and bringing Harry Potter a present and wishing him a Merry Christmas, sir."

"How did you know I got Hermione an extra present?" Harry asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Tis part of a house-elf's magic," said Dobby. "We is taking presents from givers and putting them in stockings and pillowcases of receivers during the night, and we is always knowing when there is last minute and extra presents."

"Oh! Of course!" said Harry, feeling a bit silly. "You know, I never really thought about how the presents always ended up in our pillowcases and stockings. Anyway, I got you a present too, Dobby, it's not much."

Harry pulled back his curtain and retrieved the parcel he had been keeping in the drawer of his nightstand, and handed it to the stunned house-elf.

"Harry Potter is getting a present for Dobby?"

"Er... yeah," said Harry as Dobby gleefully ripped into the wrapping, revealing a pair of purple and gold socks. "I got it during my Hogsmeade visit. I hope you like them."

"Dobby loves them!" Dobby squealed. "Socks is Dobby's most favourite clothes sir! How did Harry Potter know?"

"Er... lucky guess." Harry grinned, pleased at his success. Then he reckoned he ought to open Dobby's present for him. Harry almost laughed when a pair of woolen socks, one green with silver broomsticks, and the other red with gold snitches, fell out of the wrapping and rolled onto the bed.

"Wh-what's going on?" grumbled a groggy voice the next bed over. "It's not even light yet."

"Just Dobby," Harry told Ron. "He was bringing me a Christmas Present. It's not even six yet though. You can go back to sleep."

Reminded that it was Christmas Day, Ron bolted right up, wide awake and grinning. Christmas was the one day a year that Ron actually liked waking up early.

"Go back to sleep? No way! It's Christmas," said Ron excitedly. "Merry Christmas, Dobby!"

"Thank you, sir!" Dobby squeaked happily. "Merry Christmas to you too. Dobby would stay, but there is much work to be doing in kitchens, and Dobby still has a few more presents to deliver before other students is waking." And on that note, Dobby vanished with a little pop...

~o0o~

Hermione stirred, yawning, when Crookshanks purred and butted his furry head under her chin. She blinked blearily, and saw that it was just after six thirty am. It wouldn't even be light yet for at least two hours. But if she knew Ron and Harry, they would probably be up soon if they weren't already. It was Christmas Day, after all.

"Morning Crookshanks! Merry Christmas!" Hermione whispered, giving her cat a pet and a kiss on the head.

"That you. Hermione?" murmured Lavender.

"Oh, you're awake!" Hermione was surprised; she wasn't used to Lavender waking up this early on a Sunday.

"I've been awake for half an hour," Lavender said quietly, her voice tinged with excitement. "I love Christmas, but I didn't want to wake anyone else. Parvati usually sleeps in till at least seven."

"Who can sleep with all this whispering?" grumbled Parvati, throwing a pillow at Lavender. "Sounds like a leaky balloon in here. Might as well wake up now and open our presents."

Lavender giggled, then the other girls began stirring as well. Hermione crawled to the end of the bed in her nightie and grabbed her pillowcase, tipping it on her cover. There were numerous presents from her parents, including books and the usual assortment of sugar-free sweets. Those were made up for a bit by an assortment of sugar-loaded wizarding sweets sent by Hagrid, including Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Chocolate Frogs, Ice Mice, and Fizzing Whizbees.

There was also, of course, the expected parcel from Mrs Weasley, including mince pies, nut brittle, and her traditional woolly jumper, green with a picture of a dragon on it this year. Hermione suddenly realised that Mrs Weasley must have taken Rita Skeeter's assertion in the Daily Prophet that she and Harry were a couple seriously, and expected that Harry's jumper would be exactly the same.

Hermione giggled at the idea that she and Harry would be thatcouple - the one with matching sweaters - much like her mum and dad in fact. Thinking of Harry, his was the next present she found. From its size and weight she knew it was a heavy tome.

First removing the silver bow and ribbon, and carefully peeling the scarlet, emerald, and gold paper, Hermione gasped to find the incredibly expensive book she had been drooling over in Tomes and Scrolls inside; a three hundred and fifty year old copy of Mr. William Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, & Tragedies: The Illuminated Wizarding Edition.

"Oh, Harry," she murmured, running her finger along the gold embossed lettering, and taking a deep whiff of the aged burnt sienna coloured leather binding, "you shouldn't have."

Hermione opened the ancient book and turned the vellum pages, admiring the detailed moving illustration on the frontispiece from A Midsummer Night's Dream. She bit her lip and sighed, feeling guilty about Harry spending so much on her their first Christmas together. Wondering how well off Harry actually was, Hermione carefully placed the book on the nightstand next to her bed and opened Ron's present, finding a box of Sugar Quills and a box of Licorice Wands.

Hermione's stocking contained more sugarless goodies from her parents, and some of Hagrid's rock cakes. She was surprised to find another present from Harry tucked at the bottom. It was small, wrapped in purple and gold paper. For some reason her hands trembled slightly as she began unwrapping it.

The dormitory seemed very quiet all of a sudden; the squeaks of delight from the other girls as they unwrapped their presents went silent. Hermione bit her lip again, frowning as she peered at the black velvet jewellery box in her shaking hand.

"I can't believe him," she muttered. "We've barely been together a month."

"That's from Harry?" asked Parvati.

Hermione slowly nodded.

"Then you've really been together since First Year," Parvati insisted, her limpid eyes widening earnestly. "It's obvious he loves you to bits, even though it took him three and a half years to figure it out."

Hermione's features flickered pensively; Harry had said as much to her in his own way. And it was so like Harry to go all in, jumping in with both feet without looking once he'd made up his mind about something.

"Well go on then, open it," said Lavender eagerly. "What's wrong, Hermione?"

"It... it's just... too much! He's spent so much on me already," Hermione moaned. "That book on my nightstand - a muggle edition of that particular book would go for literally millions of pounds at auction. I saw it in the bookstore in the village, so I know it wasn't that much in wizard money, but it was still several hundred galleons - roughly as much as a mid-range quality broomstick.

"And... and now this! ... Wh-what if it's something else really expensive? I only got him a book about quidditch and some science fiction novels."

"It's not a competition, Hermione," Parvati pointed out.

Anguished, Hermione bit her lip. "That's not really what I meant."

"You do deserve it, Hermione," said Lavender perceptively. "You've always been there for him. You do deserve to be treated like a princess if Harry can actually afford it."

"That's just it, I don't really know how much his parents left him. Most of his clothes are just cast-offs from his cousin. He almost never spends any money on himself, except for his school supplies. What if he's spent more than he can really afford?"

"That's for Harry to decide, isn't it?" said Parvati.

"I... I suppose..." Hermione said hesitantly; she knew she was running out of excuses. Her final reticent thought was that she wasn't sure that she was ready for anything that a ring might represent, but from the shape of the jewellery box, she knew it wasn't really a ring.

Drawing a deep breath, Hermione decided to simply roll with it, whatever it was. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Harry by not accepting his presents. Her fingers trembled as they undid the clasp and opened the black velvet box. She gasped at the exquisite contents - a matching set of shimmering pearl earrings and necklace. Hermione smiled through the tears suddenly blurring her vision, clasping a hand to her mouth.

"They're gorgeous!" Lavender squealed, jumping up and down as the other girls in the dorm oohed and aahed.

"They'll go perfectly with your gown and dress robes," Parvati beamed. "Now you won't need to borrow anything."

Chapter 7: The Yule Ball

Harry was the first to spot Hermione in the common room. She was hard to miss - she was wearing the exact same jumper as him, a woolly green sweater with a fairly good likeness of the Hungarian Horntail knitted into the pattern. He grinned, reckoning that Mrs Weasley had believed the Daily Prophet's article from a few months ago, even though he himself hadn't recognised what must have been obvious to Rita Skeeter and many others at Hogwarts for ages.

"Merry Christmas, Hermione," he called out cheerily.

Hermione turned around and beamed at him. Harry suddenly noticed that despite the smile on Hermione's face, her eyes were puffy and red, as if she had been crying. He swallowed guiltily.

"Merry Christmas, Harry," Hermione squeaked, before flinging her arms around him and squeezing him tightly.

"Er... Are you all right, Hermione?"

"Never better!"

"Your... er... presents were alright then?" Harry asked nervously.

"They're lovely, Harry!" Hermione assured him, still clinging tightly to him; though Harry noticed that her voice seemed a bit quavery, sounding as if she might cry again. "Thank you ever so much! Nobody's ever given me anything quite as beautiful as that before."

"You... you really mean that? It... it's just I'd never seen you wearing jewellery before, so I wasn't really sure... and the book, well, I knew you really wanted it, and I wanted you to have what you really wanted... But I don't want you to get the wrong idea... I'm not expecting anything, or trying to pressure you - I just wanted you to have something special - make up for all the stupid presents I've ever given you..."

Hermione shut Harry's anxious babbling up with a kiss, pressing her lips to his briefly, which was as long as she dared to in public. It seemed to be enough. The luminescence returned to Harry's bright green eyes and his features began to relax. Hermione gave him a slightly bemused smile, feeling strangely fluttery inside to see him as nervous about giving her the presents as she had felt receiving them.

"The pearls are exquisite Harry, really! ... You're right, I've never really worn jewellery before, but only because nobody's ever given me anything like that before - unless you count my baby ring. Mum and Dad aren't really big jewellery wearers. And the Shakespeare - it really is amazing, like owning a museum piece."

"I'm really glad you liked them," said Harry, feeling more relieved. "I was worried it all might seem a bit too much, but I couldn't resist getting the Shakespeare for you."

"Mum named me after the Queen in A Winter's Tale," said Hermione. "Did you know that, then?"

"Absolutely no idea," Harry admitted with a grin. "The only Shakespeare I've read is A Midsummer Night's Dream in primary school."

"Oi, You two in the matching sweaters coming to breakfast or what?" Ron grumbled, standing near the portrait hole impatiently. "I'm famished."

"Okay, we're coming," Harry retorted. "Keep your hair on."

"Where's your jumper, Ron?" Hermione asked as they made their way to the Great Hall.

"I'm going to give it to Dobby later," said Ron airily. "He popped in to wish Harry Merry Christmas, but he vanished before I thought of giving it to him. ... It was maroon again anyway..."

Breakfast at Christmas was usually a quiet affair, as most students usually went home for the holidays. But not this year, and the atmosphere in the Great Hall was boisterous and exuberant, pregnant with anticipation of the evening's special event, the Yule Ball. Chatter and laughter filled the air.

Indeed, a few chortles and sniggers were directed at Harry and Hermione for wearing matching sweaters, though surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly) not coming from Fred and George, who were also wearing matching sweaters.

"You'd think she'd knit us totally different jumpers," George said with a grin. "Or at least put our initials on them and jinx them so we couldn't switch..."

"...considering she's always complaining how she can't tell us apart," said Fred. "Personally, I think Mum doth protest too much. I think she secretly likes having a pair of Twins."

"Well it's not so secret if she's knitting you matching jumpers, is it?" Ginny pointed out reasonably.

"Too true, little sis," Fred amiably agreed. "Though I should think you and Ron are lucky that Mum isn't knitting you two matching jumpers. People might start asking uncomfortable questions."

Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry chuckled; sniggers emanated from Seamus and Dean, and Neville looked a bit bewildered. Ginny snorted with amusement and flung a piece of jammy toast at Fred, but the rude insinuation seemed to fly right over Ron's head.

"I just wish she'd quit knitting me Maroon sweaters," moaned Ron. "I bloody hate Maroon!"

The rest of the morning was spent in the common room, everyone admiring each others' presents. Lavender excitedly showed off the silver and gold filigree necklace that Viktor Krum had given her.

"Viktor had it on the ship, and gave it to me during breakfast," Lavender squealed when Harry asked. "That's probably why the House Elves didn't know about it to put it in my stocking."

Harry was pleased to see that he'd been right about his present for Ron; it was indeed a rare book which captured Ron's attention. Ron was sitting on the sofa by the fire, engrossed with The Makings of a Champion: Winning Quidditch Techniques for All Ages.

Everyone returned to the Great Hall for lunch, which was a magnificent feast with hundreds of golden roast turkeys and all the trimmings, supplemented with sausage rolls, mince pies, and Christmas puddings.

The afternoon was spent outside in the snow, which had fallen heavily again during the night. After flying around a bit with Viktor and Cedric, Harry built a snowman with Hermione, then had a snowball fight with the Weasleys, Neville, Seamus and Dean, and Ginny's friend Luna. By five, dusk had already fallen, and Hermione departed with Lavender and Parvati and Ginny to get ready for the Ball.

Ron shook his head in amazement. "Three hours to get ready for the Ball? They're mad! See Neville - what'd I tell you? ... Girls - completely barmy!"

After another hour and a half, it was too dark too aim, and Harry headed back to Gryffindor Tower with the others to begin getting ready for the Ball themselves. The Fat Lady and her friend looked like they were already smashed, drunk off the chocolate liqueurs they had been eating all afternoon, and it took the Fat Lady a while to remember the new password herself.

"I'm telling you, it's Fairy Lights," Harry yelled after the third attempt. "You changed it three days ago, remember? How did you forget already? You've been letting people in all day, haven't you?"

"Oh, right, Lairy Fights," the Fat Lady tittered drunkenly. "I do remember now."

Harry gave up trying to work his head around how it was possible for a portrait to get drunk after showering and changing into his dress robes. But, as usual, his efforts with a wet comb were for naught. Intensely glowering at his hair in a mirror, Harry was shocked when it suddenly changed, shortening at the back and sides, laying down neatly on top, and parted evenly, his fringe sweeping across his forehead from one side to cover his scar.

"Hey, Ron, you'll never believe what I just did without a wand," he said excitedly as he shut the bathroom door behind him.

But Ron was too busy fiddling with his Maroon vintage robes and cursing at the lacy frills to pay attention.

"Bloody hell! I look all stupid and girly in these," he muttered sourly. "Between this and being with Luna in her butterbeer cork necklace and radish earrings, I'll look a right idiot."

Ron took out his wand and attempted to use a severing charm to cut off the frills, just making the robes look even worse, ragged and frayed edges of lace peeking from the folds of the lapels and cuffs. Harry finally took pity on him, even though he was in a bit of a rush himself now, as he had to meet Hermione with the other Champions and their dates to make a "Grand Entrance" together.

"Here, Ron, let me," he said kindly. Harry muttered, "Diffindo," and carefully ran his wand along the edges until they were all smooth and completely lace free. Then, for good measure, Harry cast a Colour-Changing Charm, and Ron's robes turned royal blue.

Ron's jaw dropped. "Blimey! Thanks Harry! Hermione's right - you really are brilliant at Charms."

"I've just been focusing a bit more lately," said Harry, flushing slightly. "Anyway, I gotta go, Ron - Hermione's probably already waiting with the others."

"Yeah, all right, Harry - see you a bit later then. Thanks again."

~o0o~

Ron trailed behind Ginny and Neville as they in turn followed Dean and Parvati, and Seamus and Padma, down the marble stairs to the Great Hall. Ron looked around nervously, finally spotting Luna Lovegood when they reached the foot of the stairs. His eyes widened, pleasantly surprised to see that the distinctly dotty girl - whom he barely knew, beyond seeing her with Ginny on occasion - didn't look half-bad.

Luna was wearing a pale yellow gown with gold sparkles under her open lemon chiffon yellow dress-robes. And instead of butterbeer corks, her necklace appeared to made of delicate little seashells, and her earrings were silver seahorses which actually looked quite pretty. Luna grinned at the expression on Ron's face.

"Hello, Ronald," she said boldly. "You look quite nice. Royal blue suits you."

"Oh, er... yeah! You too," Ron said lamely, his ears turning pink, mentally kicking himself as soon as he'd said it.

"Come on, let's get seats then." Luna took Ron's arm and he let her guide him to one of the oblong tables at the side of the Great Hall with Ginny and Neville and the others.

Ron tried not to trip over his own feet as he glanced at the decorations, which had changed since lunch time. The Great Hall looked quite different without the long House Tables taking up most of the space. For the first time, Ron noticed that the floor was marble, unlike the stone of most of the floors in the castle.

The dozen Christmas Trees were gone; Poinsettias and Christmas Roses lined the sides of the room instead, broken at intervals by ornately carved ice-sculptures, and the walls were covered in frost. Glittering icicles and garlands of Holly, Mistletoe, and Ivy hung from the pillars and arches which reached across the vaulted ceiling, through which the clear starry night could be seen. The silvery glowing fairies which had been decorating the Christmas trees fluttered around the Hall. The overall effect was of a sparkling winter wonderland.

"Look out for Nargles," said Luna as they took their seats, bringing Ron back to Earth.

"Nargles?"

"They tend to infest Mistletoe. Though I expect the Fairies will keep them in line. That's probably why the Professors let the Fairies stay."

Ron gaped at Luna in frank disbelief, not sure what to say. Ginny giggled and shot Ron a warning look.

"Er... Okay," Ron finally muttered. "Watch out for Nargles then. Got it!" He peered around nervously, looking for Harry and Hermione. Luna seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

"They're probably in the anteroom," she said. "Oh look, here they come now."

Ron's head swiveled. Sure enough, a beam of golden light from nowhere flooded the doorway of the anteroom. The Champions and their dates followed McGonagall through the entry in pairs lined up behind her. First up behind McGonagall was Krum and Lavender, followed by Cedric and Cho Chang.

Then came Fleur and her date, Roger Davies, captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, who appeared to be sneaking glances at her chest with a gormless expression on his face. Fleur looked slightly put out. Bringing up the rear was Harry, who looked more debonair than Ron had ever remembered him looking - almost as dapper as Cedric even.

But Ron didn't recognise the girl with Harry. Nor did Neville apparently; he and Ron exchanged puzzled looks.

"I thought Harry was coming with Hermione," Ron murmured at Lavender and Parvati. "Where is she?"

All the girls giggled.

"That's her with Harry, silly," said Ginny,

"That's Hermione?" Neville was as stunned as Ron. He'd always fancied Hermione a bit, but that was mostly just because she was nice to him and helped him with his homework. He had never really noticed she was actually pretty before.

Ron and Neville both stared at Hermione, flabbergasted, not quite believing that she was the same bushy haired swotter who had kept them from failing utterly in Potions and Transfiguration.

~o0o~

Harry tried his hardest not to fidget as he entered the Great Hall under a quite literal spotlight. He grinned nervously at Hermione, concentrating hard on not stumbling, carefully placing one foot in front of another. Hermione blushed shyly as she smiled back, fluttering her eyelashes at him and biting her lip.

Harry knew Hermione was a knock-out - he had for a month now, ever since McGonagall had put her foot down and ordered him to go with Hermione to the Ball. But now everyone else could see how gorgeous she was too, looking more like a model than a bookworm tonight.

Hermione's dress robes were a pastel shade of periwinkle blue, made of some sort of floaty fabric. They were open at the front, trailing slightly behind her, and just the right hue to complement the mauve ballgown Hermione was wearing beneath.

Parvati had helped Hermione do something with her hair; half straightening it, pulling it back one side while letting a cascade of delicate ringlets free the other side to tumble over her shoulder like a tawny-brown waterfall which seemed to shine golden when the light struck it.

Hermione had only the barest hint of makeup, just enough to highlight her natural features; Harry hadn't even realised she was wearing any until she had told him.

The whole breathtaking effect was set off by the opalescent strand of pearls gracing Hermione's neck, and the pearl earrings. Harry felt slightly intimidated - almost like he was walking into the Great Hall with a life-size Fairy Queen beside him. He was startled when she took his hand and squeezed it, whispering at him, sounding a bit breathless.

"You look really handsome, Harry! ... a bit like James Bond even. How did you manage to tame your hair? And who gave you that haircut? ... Parvati helped me with mine - she used something called Sleekeazy's hair potion and styled it for me."

"Oh, er... I dunno really," Harry murmured back as they continued across the marble floor. "I just sort of stared at myself in the mirror - I was feeling really cross that it wouldn't do what I wanted it to. And then it just sort of happened - my hair just shortened and styled itself."

"Really?" Hermione looked surprised. "Without a wand?"

"Yeah, it was amazing! I've never even tried transfiguring myself with a wand, much less without one."

"Hmm..."

Harry recognised that pensive frown and, "Hmm..."

"What?"

"Well," Hermione began slowly, "It is possible to do wandless magic of course, but extremely difficult - especially transfigurations. And the only wizards I've heard of who can do self-transfigurations without wands are called Metamorphmagi - they're extremely rare and they're born with the talent.

"Though the talent has to be trained to be used to its full advantage once the wizard has discovered it. Is this the first time you've done it?"

"Er... second actually." Harry felt a thrill run up his spine at the possibility of having discovered a new hidden talent. "I did it once ages ago - before Hogwarts. Aunt Petunia practically shaved all my hair off once, leaving me with only a bit of fringe to cover my scar. I looked a bit like those weird friars from the middle ages with the stupid haircuts.

"I was really upset about having to go to the school next day looking like a freak, and when I woke up the next morning, my hair was completely regrown and back to normal. ... The Dursleys locked me in my cupboard-under-the-stairs for a week after that, even though I didn't know how I'd done it."

Hermione blanched slightly in horror. Harry had been so excited, that he'd let a bit more of his past slip without realising. She couldn't believe that his awful relatives had kept him locked in a cupboard. "His cupboard," Harry had called it. Had they actually made him live in the cupboard? Hermione recovered herself quickly though, focusing on the bit that was making Harry happy.

"That really is amazing, Harry!" she exclaimed, excitement creeping into her own voice. "I think you really must be a metamorphmagus to be able to do that. We'll have to find a book to help you train it up - I'm sure there must be one in the library."

"I can't wait," said Harry, his anxiety completely forgotten. They were almost at the staff table when Harry spotted Draco Malfoy sitting slightly apart from a group of Slytherins, apparently dateless. Harry grinned...

~o0o~

"That can't be Granger," Draco muttered in stunned disbelief. "It can't be..."

"What's the matter, Draco?" Pansy hissed from the table next to his, a hint of a smirk on her lips. "Granger looking good to you now?"

"Shut it, Parkinson," Draco snarled. "Like I'd ever fancy a Mudblood, no matter how good it looked! Watch your mouth!"

Pansy flinched slightly.

"Whatever you say, Draco!" she retorted, her voice taking on a frosty tone. Pansy turned back to her date, a strapping lad from Durmstrang with closely cropped hair.

~o0o~

Harry was pleased to find that he'd made it all the way to the staff table without tripping and falling flat on his face. As he and Hermione took seats with the other Champions, Harry was startled to see Percy sitting next to Ludo Bagman, where he had expected to see Crouch instead.

Percy drew out the empty seat beside him, and gestured to Harry. Taking the hint, Harry sat down next to Percy, feeling a bit awkward. Bagman grinned at Harry and gave him a sly wink.

Hermione flushed as she took the seat next to Harry. The last time Hermione had seen Percy, she had been in a flaming row with him over Winky the House-Elf. She could remember it as if it were yesterday.

When Percy had insisted that a high ranking Ministry Official like Mr Crouch deserved "unswerving obedience from his servants," Hermione's enraged retort that Winky was a slave, not a servant, had been cut off when Mrs Weasley had brought Ron his "new" dress robes to pack. Having apparently forgotten all about it, Percy bore an almost insufferable expression of smugness on his face.

"I'm working for the Senior Undersecretary now," he boasted, as if announcing his ascension to the Throne. "I'm her personal assistant. She sent me to cover for Crouch as he's been ill lately - so I'll be filling in as judge from now on."

"Oh, er, that's cool," said Harry, looking slightly puzzled. He shot a quick look at Professor Moody before returning to Percy. "So, er... what's wrong with Crouch then?"

"Overwork, I expect," Percy replied dismissively, a hint of contempt in his tone. "He's not as young as he used to be, you know. That fiasco at the World Cup took a toll no doubt, and losing his house-elf didn't help..."

"He didn't lose Winky - he sacked her," Hermione hissed angrily, unable to help herself.

"Er, well, yes - of course he did." Percy suddenly seemed to recall the fight he'd had with Hermione, and some of his smugness evaporated.

Clearly thinking better of saying any more, Percy turned to Bagman for conversation instead, but not before Harry caught a slightly odious expression on Percy's face which wasn't altogether unlike Malfoy's. Harry's puzzlement grew stronger, and Hermione frowned at him questioningly, seeing the look on his face.

"Later," said Harry, with a little shake of his head, and a warning glance toward Bagman and Percy.

Hermione took the hint, and pondered the unusual dinner setting instead. Golden plates glittered before them, surrounded by silvery cutlery and sparkling crystal goblets, but the platters, bowls, and dishes which usually held the feast were nowhere to be seen. At each place setting was a scroll of parchment. Hermione and Harry didn't have long to ponder though.

Seeing everyone settled in, Dumbledore unrolled his scroll of parchment and perused it, then peered down at his plate and said, "pork chops."

"It's a menu," Hermione gasped, then she frowned slightly.

"Huh!" said Harry, his own gears spinning as he considered the new, more complex dining procedure. He glanced at Hermione. "Seems like a bit more work for the house-elves, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," Hermione muttered. "But I've decided to table S.P.E.W. for the moment. ... At least until we've reconsidered how to go about it, and got you through this tournament safely."

Putting thoughts of S.P.E.W. aside, Harry and Hermione both ordered from their menus. Harry went for roast beef and mashed potatoes, and Hermione picked the chicken coq au vin and gougère. When bottles of Champagne appeared on the table, both understood why the Yule Ball had been reserved by and large for fourth years and above.

Harry and Hermione engaged in a bit of amiable small talk with the other Champions, and caught snatches of the dinner conversations around the table.

Fleur seemed very uncomfortable with Roger Davies. Roger was too busy ogling her to take in a word she was saying, his eyeballs glued to her cleavage, and she didn't seem happy about it at all. Fleur began making some mildly disparaging comments about the Christmas decorations at Hogwarts in an apparent attempt to draw Roger's attention away from her bosom, to little avail.

Cho and Cedric seemed to be making a lot of goo goo eyes at each other, when not being drawn into other conversations. Harry stifled a grin, suddenly imagining Ron miming throwing up into a bucket and sniggering if he were bearing witness to the scene. Hermione smirked at him, covering it with a sip of champagne.

Lavender and Viktor were getting on splendidly, clearly smitten with one another, though not quite as overtly displaying their affections as Cedric and Cho. Still, there were a few giggles and blushes shared between them.

Igor Karkaroff glowered at the happy couple, interjecting when Viktor began chatting about Durmstrang during the summer, admonishing him not to give away the secret of its location. Viktor reddened, sharing awkward looks with Harry, Hermione, and Lavender, having given up that information the previous week.

Noticing the discomforting moment, Dumbledore drew Karkaroff's attention back to himself, a twinkle in his eye

"Ah, Igor - have you heard the one about the sorcerer, the hag, and the leprechaun?"

"Excuse me?" said Karkaroff, taken aback.

"The sorcerer, the hag, and the leprechaun... One evening at dusk, the three of them strolled into a tavern..."

"Really, Albus," snapped Professor McGonagall, "I hardly think that one is appropriate for the dinner table."

Moody, Bagman, Hagrid, and Madame Maxime all chuckled, and Percy frowned primly. Snape's expression almost suggested a rare agreement with McGonagall's sentiments. But Dumbledore's work was done, as Karkaroff had been thoroughly distracted from Lavender and Viktor.

Finally, after polishing off dessert - a sherry soaked trifle in Harry and Hermione's case - dinner was concluded. The candles hovering above dimmed, and the bright magical spotlight shone once again on the other end of the Great Hall, where a platform had shimmered into existence, replete with lute, guitars, drums, cello, fiddle, and bagpipes. The Weird Sisters marched onto the stage and took up their instruments to polite applause.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione said quietly, beaming at him and taking his hand. "It's time to dance."

Harry let her lead him to the dancefloor, trying to avoid looking anyone in the eye as they followed the other Champions. The Weird Sisters struck up a lilting waltz, and the Champions began to dance.

Harry started to relax when other students began to join in. Dean shot Harry a thumbs up and a smirk as he waltzed by with Parvati. Ginny dragged Neville from his seat, grinning at Harry and Hermione when she passed them. She giggled when Neville kept stepping on her toes and apologising.

Ron groaned, offering mild resistance when Luna pulled him onto the dancefloor. Ginny gave Luna a wink and grin; Luna beamed back in response.

"Just one dance, Ronald," Luna insisted. "I don't care if you're a horrible dancer - I'm dreadful too. But there's not much point in coming to a dance, if we don't dance together at least once."

"Oh all right," Ron grumbled. "Let's get this over with!"

As soon as the first waltz was over, Ron shot back to his seat, followed quickly by Neville. Unperturbed, Ginny and Luna began dancing together, eyeing each other smugly.

Hermione uttered another one of her patented "Hmm's...".

"What's that 'hmm' for?" asked Harry, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Well, if I had to place a bet, I'd wager that Ginny and Luna planned it this way. They're both third years, and the only way they could get to the Ball was with a fourth year."

"Oh!" said Harry, then his eyes widened as he cottoned on to Hermione's implication. "Oh!" he repeated as he peered at Ginny and Luna.

Seamus managed to escape from Padma after the second dance, joining Ron and Neville at the table. Padma rolled her eyes, then spotted one of the Beauxbatons boys she had been keeping an eye on, looking all alone and a bit forlorn. Moments later, she was happily dancing again.

Malfoy tried to cut into a few dances, then gave up on the Slytherin girls after Zabini, Warrington, and Marcus all told him to piss-off. He had another crack at a couple of the Beauxbatons girls, then he stormed out of the Great Hall, passing by Ron, Seamus, and Neville who all sniggered at him.

The three of them sat and watched for a few more minutes before Seamus pulled a flask from his pocket and waved it at Ron and Neville, careful to keep it low and out of sight of the professors.

"Right, lads, me da sent me a bottle o' Firewhiskey. What say we all go have a nip, eh?"

"Blimey!" said Ron, his eyes lighting up. "Firewhiskey? Really? Isn't your dad a muggle though?"

"Yeah, but that's one of the advantages of being married to a witch," Seamus chuckled. "It may've been a bit of shock at firs' the way he tells it, but Da's never regretted livin' a magical life. So, you in, mate?"

"Yeah, I'm in," said Ron eagerly. "What about you, Nev?"

"Er... I'm not sure," said Neville, looking anxious.

"Ah, go on, mate... you only live once!" Seamus raised his eyebrows.

"Er... okay, I guess," Neville mumbled, his eyes darting around the Great Hall.

The three boys slipped into the Entrance Hall, then out through the front doors of the castle into the Courtyard. Snow crunched underfoot, but they were all dressed warmly enough for the time-being. They found a bush behind a bench which hid them from prying eyes, and leaned back against the stone wall of the castle.

Seamus took a hefty swig from his flask and passed it to Ron. He grinned when Ron coughed on the burning liquid.

"Bloody Hell!" Ron gasped, "No wonder they call it Firewhiskey!"

"An' there I thought you were an experienced drinker, Ronny boy," Seamus chuckled, "Have another sip, then pass it t'Neville. It'll smooth out soon enough."

Neville nearly choked on his first sip too, but after the third, it began to seem alright. As the trio of young wizards shared sips from the flask of Firewhiskey, Hagrid and Madame Maxime plonked heavily on the stone bench with a slight cracking sound in front of the bush they were all hiding behind, apparently taking a breather from the dance. The boys silently groaned when Hagrid began to whisper sweet nothings in Olympe's gigantic ear. It looked like they might be awhile.

~o0o~

Harry felt a surge of boldness in the dim light on the dancefloor, and he held Hermione closer as they moved in time to the rhythms of the waltz's and folk songs. Hermione shivered delightedly when Harry's lips brushed against her cheek, gradually tracing a path to her own.

The world fell away and time seemed to stop. Blissful peace washed over them both as they kissed, dancing under the cold starry skies of Yule.

Harry was startled when the lights came up as The Weird Sisters left the stage.

"Has it been a whole set already?" he asked.

"Yes... it's been an hour, Harry," said Hermione. "I think the next band is going to liven things up a bit. They're supposed to be a surprise though."

Harry was stunned when a vaguely familiar looking pop band took over the stage and the Great Hall erupted into loud cheers. Hermione was equally astonished.

"Wait, is that...? No way!" Harry sputtered. "I thought they were a muggle band."

"The Cure?" gasped Hermione.

"Oh come on..." said Fred, grinning as he sauntered by with Angelina, "Looking like that - how could they be anything but wizards? Loads of famous Goth and Heavy Metal bands are."

"Course some of them are vampires and werewolves too," chimed in George, swinging by with Alicia Spinnet.

As the loud drums, guitars, and keyboards rocked the Great Hall, Albus Dumbledore started to tap his toes and nod his head, his eyes twinkling merrily. It had been decades since he had frequented muggle nightclubs in London with his on again/off again partner Elphias Doge, but Dumbledore felt the years fall away as the spirited rhythms lifted his soul. Perhaps he wasn't too old after all.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at Professor McGonagall and held out his hand. She pursed her lips and shook her head disapprovingly.

"I'll take this dance, Albus," giggled Madam Pomfrey as she took his hand instead.

Finally rising from the stone bench after a long snog, Olympe stumbled and giggled when Hagrid caught her. The three drunk boys hiding in the bushes behind them breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the two half-giants headed back to the Ballroom.

Thankfully the magical properties of firewhiskey had protected Ron, Seamus, and Neville from the freezing night. And fortunately for the three of them, they had arrived just in time to see The Cure perform.

Fred and Angelina were burning up the dancefloor during The Cure's set, and people made way for the vigorously dancing duo. But Harry was caught off-guard when Moody appeared to be doing an ungainly little jig nearby with Professor Sinistra. Moody's eye spun grotesquely, and he shot Harry an ugly grin.

"Nice socks, Potter!" Moody chuckled, his magical eye apparently seeing through Harry's robes, as he clunked by on his wooden leg.

Hermione squeaked, quickly putting Harry between herself and Moody.

"That eye of his is so creepy," Hermione muttered. "What was that about your socks, Harry? And wasn't there something else you were going to tell me earlier."

"Oh, er, I forgot - I'm wearing the socks that Dobby gave me." Harry frowned. "And yeah, I don't see how Crouch can be so ill like Percy says. I saw him twice more on the Map in Moody's quarters, just a couple of days ago. ... Something weird is definitely going on - I bet Crouch is here somewhere. He and Moody are up to something - I just know it."

"Maybe there's been some sort of Tournament security breach," said Hermione, shivering slightly as she let Harry lead her off the dancefloor by the hand, "and Crouch has been here staking things out undercover."

"Maybe," Harry muttered as he backed into a shadowy corner away from the crowded dancefloor, "But I'm going to find out once and for all," he added as he reached into his dress-robes. "Keep an eye on Moody and Sinistra..."

"You brought it with you? ...the Map?"

"Yeah, I decided to start carrying it around to try and catch Moody and Crouch together at the same time. Then I had a really weird thought when Percy said Crouch had been ill and couldn't come to Hogwarts..." Harry unfolded the Map and tapped it with his wand, muttering, "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," under his breath.

There was just enough light in the corner to read the names on the map. Hermione glanced down at the map and back up to where she had last seen Moody with Sinistra, then back down again at the map, unable to believe her eyes. Her jaw dropped as she shared a horrified look with Harry, who had seen exactly the same thing.

"It's him!" she hissed quietly, her heart pounding, almost sounding louder in her ears now than the drums, "...dancing with Professor Sinistra! He must be polyjuiced!"

"Yeah," Harry scowled, feeling strangely vindicated, "Moody is really Crouch!"

"Harry, we have to tell Dumbledore - right now!" said Hermione, her voice urgent. "I can't think of a single legitimate reason for Crouch to be impersonating Professor Moody! But we'll have to do it quietly without letting anyone else know..."