Why Dance When You Can Slay The Dragon?

And now it’s time for the Yule Ball portion of this little narrative. You’ll notice that I’ve borrowed extensively from the movie version of the Yule Ball. I just liked the whole rock concert experience a lot.

Enjoy!

I don't own Harry Potter. I'm in talks for a rental agreement and we might have a partnership by the new fiscal year.

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Chapter Two: I fought in the Triwizard Tournament and all I got was this stupid T-shirt

“One two three, one two three, and spin,” Hermione coached him, and he spun her appropriately. “Good. Now, dip carefully.”

He slowly pulled her back in and lowered her into a dip, and she smiled as he stood her back up.

“Excellent, Harry. You’ve become quite the dancer.”

“I had a great teacher,” Harry grinned, tenderly caressing her cheek. Hermione smiled and leaned in, kissing him firmly. When they pulled apart, she had a huge grin plastered on her face, and Harry chuckled at the sight.

“If you smile any more, you’ll split your face in two,” Harry poked her in the side, and she giggled, kissing him again. Reaching under her legs, he lifted her up, placing her on the teacher’s desk. Giggling again, she wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer.

“I can’t help it if I have the most amazing boyfriend ever,” she said, and Harry felt his heart leap at the word “boyfriend”.

“Yeah, I am pretty amazing,” he said, and Hermione laughed as he looked impressively off into the distance, striking a pose.

“And so very modest,” she added in an overly sappy, adoring voice. “Oh, Harry, you’re simply everything I’d ever want in a man.” She pretended to swoon, and Harry grabbed at her sides, tickling her furiously. Squealing, she attempted to wriggle away, but Harry had her pinned against the desk. “Harryyyyyy!”

Harry relented, and she slapped him on the chest, resting her head against it moments later. Harry reached down and lifted her face up with his finger, moving his hand behind her head. He pulled her into another kiss, this one much more tender than the others. He slowly flicked his tongue against her lips, the way he’d been told to by the boys late at night in the dorm when no one could sleep. Hermione gasped against his mouth, parting her lips, and their tongues clashed. Hermione quickly backed down, letting Harry’s tongue roam her mouth. She tasted like chocolate, as she had eaten a piece offered earlier by Ron.

They were interrupted by a slamming sound, and they jerked apart, looking over to see the classroom door fly open, seemingly of its own accord. They jumped as a familiar voice came from the general direction of the doorframe.

“Oh, bloody hell, you two! Can’t you keep your hands off each other for three minutes?”

“Ron?” Hermione narrowed her eyes at the voice, and Ron materialized out of nowhere, clutching Harry’s invisibility cloak in his hand. He looked at the two of them with mingled disgust and amusement.

“It’s half an hour past curfew,” he said. “I checked the map,” he held up the Marauders’ Map, “and went to make sure you were all right. Guess you were just busy,” he chuckled.

The couple looked at each other and blushed, realizing they were still in their previous position, Hermione’s legs wrapped around Harry’s torso. They hastened to extricate themselves.

“You’re not… mad?” Hermione asked as Ron made his way towards them. He shrugged.

“I reckon I’d have to be a right foul git to be mad,” he said. “I’ve overreacted once already, and…I don’t know, you seem right for each other.”

Hermione smiled, and Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Ron. That means a lot.”

Ron’s ears turned slightly red as he held the cloak up.

“All right, enough mushy stuff,” he said. “Let’s get back to the common room.”

……

Later that night, the trio was alone by the fireplace. A few other students were still mingling in the common room, finishing last minute essays and generally socializing, though they knew by now that the “Golden Trio” were best left to their own devices. Hermione sat on one end of a couch by the fireplace, Harry dozing on her lap as she ran her fingers through his hair. Ron was playing chess against himself, occasionally glancing at the pair and rolling his eyes in amusement.

“You like him a lot, don’t you?” he eventually asked quietly, so as not to awaken a sleeping Harry. Hermione smiled down at the sleeping boy on her lap and spoke.

“Yes,” she whispered. “More than I think he knows. When he asked me to the ball, I was so happy. He was finally seeing me as a girl. I figured it was my chance to…get close to him.” She looked up at him, and her smile turned slightly sad. “Ron, I’m sorry it didn’t work between us – “

“Don’t worry about me,” Ron said hastily. “I did…well, I still do like you. But you and I could never have what you and Harry have.”

Hermione laughed quietly. “We’d probably end up strangling each other in the first year.”

Ron chuckled, smiling fondly. “Don’t worry about me, Hermione. You two deserve each other.”

“Thank you, Ron,” Hermione said. “I’m sure Harry would appreciate it, too.”

“How long have you…liked him?” Ron asked, absently toppling a white rook with a black knight.

She blushed. “I’m not really sure. Since I met him, I guess. He was the first boy to care about me, my first friend…my first love….”

Ron looked at her in surprise. “Love?”

She nodded, still looking into Harry’s peaceful face. “Maybe I’m still too young to tell, but I really think I’m in love with him. If nothing else, I care for him a lot.” She leaned down and kissed Harry’s forehead. Seconds later, his eyes fluttered open, a smile lighting on his face upon seeing her.

“Hey, sleepyhead,” she whispered. “Don’t you think it’s time for bed?”

Harry frowned. “But I want to spend more time with you.”

Hermione smiled, giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “We have all day tomorrow. And the day after, and the day after….”

“Okay, but the day after that is looking kind of busy,” Harry grinned. “I might have to clear some space in my schedule.”

“I’ll have my people call your people,” Hermione assured him jokingly. Harry chuckled.

“Wouldn’t it be great to have people?” he asked, sitting up and fumbling for his glasses, which Hermione had removed in case he rolled around on the couch. “We should hire some.”

“Harry you’re fourteen,” Hermione rolled her eyes as she handed him his glasses. “What would you need people for?”

“To make everyone think I’m important,” Harry replied, accepting his glasses and putting them on. “Do you know how important it sounds when you say ‘Call my people and set something up.’?”

“Nearly every witch and wizard on this side of the ocean knows who you are,” Hermione said, kissing him on the jaw. “You don’t need any help looking important.”

Harry sighed exaggeratedly. “I suppose you’re right.” He grinned. “Again. I should know better than to disagree with you.”

“Yes, you should,” Hermione replied matter-of-factly. “Now, goodnight, Harry. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You know, the four-posters are pretty big,” Harry said as she kissed him goodnight. “And these winter nights are so cold. I bet we could both fit.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Goodnight, Harry,” she said finally, her tone closing the matter. Harry mock pouted and turned, heading for his dorm, followed by Ron, who had observed the scene with a great deal of eye-rolling and an exasperated smile.

……

“Mate, you know how to tie a tie?” Dean asked.

“Tie a tie?” Seamus countered with raised eyebrows. “I’ve never even worn a tie!”

The two stood in front of a large mirror, fiddling uselessly with the articles in question. Nearby, Harry deftly tied his own (having had the process hammered into his head by Hermione), tightened it, and donned his outer robe, while next to him, Ron bemoaned his frilly dress robes.

“I look like my great aunt Tessie!” he shouted, raising an arm to sniff at the robes, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “I smell like my great aunt Tessie!”

He turned to Harry, who was now neatly folding a handkerchief and poking it into his pocket.

“Murder me, Harry.”

……

They descended the staircase to the common room moments later, and Harry felt his jaw literally drop when his eyes met the sight waiting for him.

Hermione smiled nervously up at him, wearing robes of light blue periwinkle that fit snugly, though not so much as to be deemed inappropriate. Her hair was pulled back into an elegant braid that fell just below her shoulders, and she wore an ornate hairpiece shaped like a blue and green flower.

“Hermione, you look…amazing,” Harry said, meeting her.

She smiled. “Thank you, Harry,” she looked nervously down at herself. “Madame Malkin said I would look good in this shade of blue, but I told her – “

“Blue looks wonderful on you,” Harry insisted. “Madame Malkin definitely knew what she was doing. And I like your fancy braid,” he twitched her hair, and Hermione smiled wider.

“Parvati did it for me,” she said. “She said I’d look nice with my hair back.”

“Well, you have some great fashion consultants,” Harry grinned, and Hermione finally laughed, taking his arm.

“Well, shall we, then?”

Harry nodded. “Let’s.”

When they got down to the great hall, they saw that the whole place had been transformed into a frosty winter wonderland. The walls, instead of stone, looked they were carved directly from ice, and fake snow fell from the ceiling, evaporating moments before hitting the occupants. Instead of the four long house tables, dozens of dozens of smaller tables filled the hall, with a slightly larger head table that was clearly meant for the champions and tournament sponsors.

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione said in awe, looking around at the Hall. Harry grinned, deciding a clichéd line was in order.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he said softly into her ear, and she blushed, tapping him playfully on the arm.

“Harry!” she smiled. “How dare you use such a cheesy line on me?”

Harry laughed and led her to their table, being a gentleman and helping her into her chair. He sat next to her, and she sneaked a kiss when no one was looking. They were soon joined by the other judges, and Harry was surprised to see Percy Weasley sit in the spot that ought to have been occupied by Barty Crouch, though he was a sufficient distance away that they didn’t have to engage in any conversation.

Soon, the other students were seated, and Harry saw Ron accompanied by Neville and Ginny (Neville was grinning at his luck, while Ginny seemed to be smiling at his enthusiasm) and a bemused-looking girl with silvery blue eyes (she seemed to be Ron’s date).

“Who’s that girl with Ron?” Hermione asked, following Harry’s gaze.

“Dunno,” Harry replied. “She’s a bit…odd-looking, though, isn’t she?”

Hermione laughed. “Well, maybe she thinks you’re odd looking.”

“Well, I know I’m odd-looking,” Harry said. “I mean, how does a plain guy like me end up with a gorgeous girl like you? That’s pretty odd.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’re just full off corny romantic lines, aren’t you?”

“You haven’t seen anything yet, Granger,” Harry said as though challenging her to a duel, and she rolled her eyes again.

Dinner was an enjoyable affair, mostly full of Harry and Hermione stealing food from each other’s plates and dueling each other with their forks. Harry swore he noticed Dumbledore watching them in apparent amusement, his eyes twinkling when Harry met them.

“Perhaps we should resurrect sword fighting as a Triwizard Event, wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Potter?” he asked, and Harry nodded while Hermione giggled in amusement.

“That would be a great idea, Professor,” Harry agreed, and Dumbledore chuckled to himself, turning and speaking to Percy.

When they had finished their food, Dumbledore stood and directed everyone else to do so. With a wave of his wand, the tables on one half of the Hall vanished in a wisp of snowflakes, and another wave raised a platform along the far wall. Several men and women climbed onto the stage, taking up instruments ranging from what looked like electric guitars to cellos.

“Harry,” Hermione took Harry’s hands, directing them to their proper positions. “Just like we practiced. You’ll do great.”

Opening the dance with Hermione wasn’t so bad. Aside from the many stares and mutterings of “I knew they were dating” coming from the crowd, that is. Hermione and Harry took their positions, and Harry made it through the steps. He wasn’t ready for professional ballroom dancing, but he was better than Cedric, he thought smugly, watching the boy in question narrowly avoid stepping on Cho’s foot. When the first song finished, Hermione smiled up at Harry.

“Thirsty?”

Harry nodded and gratefully allowed her to lead him from the floor, though he couldn’t help but notice her glance longingly back at the dance floor, where the second song (a slightly faster number) had picked up, and many couples were now dancing happily.

“One drink, and then we can dance some more,” Harry promised her, and Hermione brightened considerably.

Hermione went to get them a seat, and Harry grabbed a couple of drinks. As he poured the second cup, he heard a voice in the background scream “ARE YOU READAAAAAYYY!!!”

He turned and laughed at what he saw. A full-blown mosh had begun, and students were now jumping up and down, screaming in joy. Amidst the crowd, Neville was nervously dancing while Ginny thrashed next to him. Harry had always known she’d had a wild streak. Not far from her, Fred and George were actually lifting professor Flitwick over their heads and crowd surfing him.

“Now I’m glad we got out of there when we did,” Hermione said, smiling at Harry as he joined her.

“I think it looks like fun,” Harry said, and Hermione smiled, standing and dragging him toward the group, their drinks forgotten.

……

It was twenty minutes before they finally managed to extricate themselves from the crowd, both laughing joyously as they found their old seats, the punch (enchanted to stay cold no matter how long it was left) the perfect solution for their parched throats.

“Bloody good time!” Ron shouted, pulling along his blonde companion, followed closely by Ginny and Neville, Ginny looking as though she’d had the time of her life, Neville looking slightly frightened.

“That was exciting, but terrifying,” he said, sitting down. Ginny was laughing.

“Was it exciting because of that Slytherin girl grinding against you?” she asked, and Neville turned scarlet. “I reckon she would’ve shagged you right on the spot if you hadn’t run away.”

Neville could only splutter wordlessly as Hermione turned to Ginny.

“Who’s this?” she gestured at the blonde girl, who had been staring at an ice sculpture off in the distance, apparently mildly fascinated by it.

“Oh, sorry,” Ginny said. “This is Luna Lovegood. She lives near my house, on the other side of the town. Luna this is – “

“Harry Potter and Hermione Granger,” Luna interrupted her in a faraway voice, not looking away from the ice sculpture. “A pleasure.”

Harry looked at Hermione, who mirrored his perplexed look.

“Luna’s in third year with me,” Ginny hastened to explain. “But in Ravenclaw. Her father’s the editor of the Quibbler. Have you heard of it?”

“Yes, I have,” Hermione said, looking surprised. “It’s a very…interesting magazine.”

Luna finally looked away from the ice sculpture, now looking at Hermione. “Isn’t it, though? Father writes some of the most fascinating articles. He recently did an exposé on Barty Crouch’s mysterious absence from the public eye.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “He’s a vampire,” she whispered, her eyes widening even more than they seemed to be already.

“I feel like a dance,” Hermione said, hurriedly standing, and Harry joined her. The music had slowed down while they’d been talking, and they made their way onto the floor.

“She’s a…unique girl,” Harry observed, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

“She’s more than unique, Harry, though that’s a tactful way of putting it, I suppose,” she said. “I’ve read the Quibbler. They print some of the most farfetched stories I’ve ever seen.”

“Which must be infuriating for a logical girl like yourself,” Harry smiled, and Hermione giggled, kissing him on the nose. She put her other hand on his shoulder, and he moved so both hands were on her waist, both of them unconsciously moving closer.

“Mm,” Hermione said, nuzzling his chest. “I could stay like this forever.”

“It’s a deal,” Harry said, and Hermione smiled.

“Forever’s an awfully long time, though,” she said, looking up at him nervously. He only smiled, kissing her.

“I could do forever with you,” he said. Hermione bit her lip, her eyes darting around nervously before she broke away from him, taking his arm.

“Come on,” she said, dragging him out of the Great Hall and through the Entrance Hall, unaware of a twinkling set of eyes watching their progress.

Harry had little time to appreciate the beauty of the garden that had been erected in front of the castle before Hermione led them to a secluded section of brick wall on the far side of the garden. Coming to a stop, she turned to him, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

“Harry, where are we right now?” she asked, looking up at him. Harry thought that was a rather simple question.

“Hogwarts?”

“No!” she said exasperatedly. “I mean us,” she gestured between the two of them. “We’re going out, but…what then?”

“Well…we date for a while, and if it goes well, we fall in love and get married and have kids, right?” Harry answered. That was always how it went in the movies, at least.

Hermione smiled. “Are you…willing to go there with me? Fall in love and all of that?”

“I…don’t know if I’m in love with you, Hermione,” Harry said, rolling one shoulder in a shrug. “I mean, I’m only fourteen, and…. I think it could happen, though. If you give me some time.”

“I’ll wait as long as you need, Harry,” Hermione said softly, taking his hands in hers. “I’m happy where we are right now.”

Harry smiled. “And I’ll be happy wherever this goes, long as I’m with you.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around him in a hug, and Harry planted a kiss on the top of her head.

“Now, we never finished our dance.”

Harry and Hermione were the last to leave the dance floor that night, right behind Neville and Ginny.

……

The next morning saw Albus Dumbledore staring out of the window in his office, the portraits of the previous headmasters still slumbering in their frames, save for Phineas Nigellus, who was always an early riser.

“Pondering deep thoughts, I hope, Albus,” the Slytherin former headmaster said, and Dumbledore turned, placing his wand to his temple and drawing away the silver fabric of his memories before placing the sample in a large stone basin engraved with runes. Two figures rose from the basin, one a ghostly image of himself, the other his young Potions master.

“It’s getting clearer, stinging again,” Severus said urgently. “Karkaroff’s too. It’s a sign, Albus.”

Another image, this one of Harry and Hermione dancing contentedly, not a care in the world, rose, replacing the previous one.

“How unfortunate,” Albus muttered, prodding the memory with his wand. It collected back around the tip, and he placed it back to his temple, the memory seeming to absorb back into his head.

“Very unfortunate,” he said again, turning back to his window.

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Something happened while I was writing this chapter. Originally, it was going to finish in the garden, end of story, but that last bit with Dumbles came to me, and I thought, “No…I can do better.”

Now the real ride begins.