Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author: nacey
Email: tosh@opera.iinet.net.au
Category: Romance, humour
Rating: R
Spoilers: PS, CoS, PoA, GoF

Timeline: For the sake of my sanity, 806 Never Happened.
Summary: Christmas has hit Hogwarts in Harry's final and seventh year, and it's up to Ron to organize the Christmas Party to beat all Christmas Parties. Harry has no time to help however; he's made Hermione swear off text books for a week and she's made him swear off Quidditch. Ron's life is marred by a schoolboy crush on Fleur Delacour, but he's helped along by the companionship of Lavender and Parvati as they help him out with the party. Hilarity ensues. (I hope).
DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author notes: This story I started in December 2002. It is now January 2004. It was a Secret Santa challenge that blew up in my face. To the girl I owe this to (God, I forget who you were), here's your fic. Sorry it's late. :T I hope you don't mind me sharing it with everyone. Here was my challenge:

*a British television celebrity mentioned (I mentioned three, I think…)

*Ron Weasley teasing Draco Malfoy and completely succeeding

*A Christmas present from Hermione's parents to Harry

*Harry and Hermione being trapped somewhere whilst the Christmas party is going on

*Ron going crazy trying to find them, with Fleur Delacour, and both of them arguing with each other over where the two could possibly be

*Fleur teaching a class and having difficulties because of her accent

I want to thank my audience readers, and my beta-readers Anne Urbanski and Lissanne Jones. Without them this fic wouldn't be quite so polished and pretty. Gods bless you both.

~~*~~

Chapter Two

Harry had come to a very firm and proven conclusion. Time was a complete and utter whore. He'd had an inkling of this when he was younger, but it was nothing compared to what the bitch did to him now that his feelings towards Hermione had been thrown into utter disarray. With Ron being busy, neither of them really had anyone else to hang out with. Well, this wasn't true. Harry could have chosen to hang out with Neville, Seamus and Dean, but that would have left Hermione all alone, and only a complete and utter prick would let his best friend languish alone during the Christmas holidays, no matter how bloody confused he was. So he kept spending time with her, making a concerted effort to ignore his churning stomach and spinning thoughts.

Whether Hermione noticed any change in his behaviour, he wasn't sure. Since their talk in front of the hearth she'd kept herself busy getting ready not only for Christmas, but the party that Ron was organising for Christmas Eve. Before the 'talk', he would have told her to forget about the party and relax, but with Hermione running around the place for Ron he had the opportunity to have some time alone to think, which right now he valued greatly.

He needed to talk to someone. He wrung his brains thinking of who he could talk to. Hagrid… well what would he say? "Oh ah? Yes, well… yes… These - problems aren't really my specialty 'Arry, but it's always good to be nice to a lass and take her for dinner…"

That's the last thing Harry wanted to do - well, it wasn't, but he wasn't even sure if he wanted to go there in the first place. And it seemed clear to him that Hermione didn't. The idea had seemingly been so abhorrent to her that she was threatening violence on Lavender the next time she even uttered a word the wrong way.

Ron was completely out of the question, as presently he'd been spending far too much time with Lavender and thusly was beginning to think like her. That left Harry with very little choice in the matter as to who else he could talk to. Sirius. He could write to Sirius. The question was - did he really *want* to? The only problem with this idea was that he'd rather slowly peel back his own fingernails than discuss this particular quandary with his godfather, and it wasn't because he had any problems communicating with the man. It was just that it was all so damned humiliating. Sure, save the wizarding world? No bloody problem. Figuring out what the hell he wanted from his best friend? Forget it.

The long and the short of it all, however, was that Sirius was really the only person he had to consult on this matter, unless he wanted to complete his humiliation and distress and talk to Dumbledore of all people about it. And there was no metaphor colourful or painful enough to address that possibility.

He drew close the curtains around his bed and, pulling out a scroll and eagle-feather quill (with a wistful thought as to who gave it to him), he began to compose his letter in his head. Thankfully most people were out shopping or playing in the snow or hanging out the study hall and writing their Christmas cards, so the dorm was pleasantly empty and quiet. All that could be heard was his breaths and the sound of his quill squeaking against the parchment.

Dear Sirius,

Even though my present and card for you are still to arrive, Merry Christmas. I really appreciate all you've done for me over the years, and I'm not quite sure what I'd do without you around to talk to and generally smack me around the ears when I've been an idiot. You've been a marvellous godparent, and I thought I'd remind you how much you mean to me.

Bloody hell, I can't tell you how hard this letter is to write. I may as well get it over with and well and truly make a complete dick of myself.

See, the thing is that Ron and his friend Lavender seem to think that there's something going on between Hermione and me because we've spent so much time together this Christmas. We've only been spending this time together because she couldn't go home this Christmas as her parents went on holiday. Not that it's the only reason; because she's my friend, I like being with her naturally. Anyway, Ron and his lovely friend are of the opinion that you don't spend the amount of time that Hermione and I have been spending together without feeling something for the other.

I had thought that they were completely and utterly full of shit, pardon the French. That was until I sat down with Hermione… well, I sat, she sort of paced about… but anyway, I talked to her about it and she got all upset at Lavender, and I think she was horrified at the thought of Lavender marring the sanctity of the pure and unyielding bond between Hermione and myself. Now, not to put too fine a point on it, I was rather surprised to find myself utterly disappointed by her response, and not in the way I was expecting. I mean, I was flattered that our friendship meant so much to her, and - well her exact words were rather confusing. She was complaining about people categorising everything, and Lavender trying to fit what Hermione and I have into some kind of conventional idea of what a firmly platonic friendship should be. Then she launched into exactly how amazingly close we are and how Lavender just couldn't understand that, and if she tried her head would fall off. Her head. Off her shoulders. I think I nearly got up and kissed her for that, and that's just the sort of thing I *don't* want to think when I look at Hermione!!

Anyway, I'm really bloody confused now and I could throttle Lavender, I really could! I'm sorry to waste your time with this pap, but it's just been getting to me and I don't really have anyone else to talk to about it. I better go. I have to wrap Christmas presents to be sent off and I have to send yours too. Then there's getting dressed for the party tonight. You know, the one that's not supposed to exist.

--Harry.

He folded up the letter and slipped it in and envelope before stuffing it into his pants pocket. He decided he'd send all his other Christmas mail later, as this one wouldn't be done with Hedwig and it was only a short flight for the owl anyway. He sent off one of the brown nondescript mail birds and took a moment to talk to Hedwig whilst he was there.

"Don't worry," he said, patting her soft feathers fondly. "I'll have plenty for you to send off later. All right?"

She nipped at his finger gently and made a low hoot.

That afternoon he did all the things one does on the afternoon before Christmas. He wrapped his presents, he addressed envelopes to be sent off, he sent them and he came back to the Common Room in improved spirits. Being so busy let his mind come back to his uncertainties with a fresh and more logical approach. He was quite sure that what went on the afternoon a couple of days back was the effects of being around Lavender for more than five minutes. And Hermione was right - after all they'd been through, they were bound to have a different kind of relationship than most people would expect. There. All sorted out.

As he strolled through the Common Room he saw Hermione lounging on the big chair by the fire, looking rather thoughtful. He smiled, stopping by the couch and leaning on it, watching her a moment.

"Hey…"

She glanced up and smiled faintly. "Oh hello."

"You've been scarce lately," he said.

She shrugged, looking back to the fire. "Ron needed help arranging the - thing."

He nodded. "I figured as much. How are you getting to the party tonight?"

"I'm not sure," she said. "A lot of people have been asking other people out but - I don't know, it's just a silly gathering, I thought it wasn't necessary."

"Want me to take you?"

He'd said it before he'd even thought about it. Hermione looked up at him as if she were a deer caught in a set of headlights.

"Oh… oh, I don't know, Harry."

"Well, I expect we'd be hanging out there anyway. We may as well go together. Oh - unless there's someone you were hoping to see there…"

"Don't be silly," Hermione sighed impatiently. "I just thought there might be someone else you'd rather take."

Harry gave a cheeky smile, shaking his head. "Not really, no."

"Ah..." She blushed, shrugging. "All right then."

He smiled and slapped the back of the couch he leant against. He felt much happier than he wanted to be feeling at that moment. "Right. We should start getting ready, the party starts in an hour."

She nodded, getting up out of her seat slowly. "Yes. I've been waiting for Lavender and Parvati to finish in the bathroom but I don't think that'll happen. I may as well storm my way in there and try to get some mirror space."

Harry chuckled. "They'll rue the moment they got in your way."

Hermione rolled her eyes and blushed. "I'll see you in half an hour."

Harry turned and headed for the boys' dorm, rather pleased with himself. He'd offered to take Hermione to the Christmas party that night and he wasn't even remotely excited in any way out of the ordinary. Yes, he had this silly 'tingly' business quite under control.

~~*~~

Ron had never been so stressed out in his entire life. Even his OWLs were a pittance compared to the pressure of the entire seventh year depending on him to throw the best party they'd ever been to. Supplies of wizard's ale and firewhisky aside, the cottage they'd hired had to be better decorated, better fitted and just all 'round better everything than the rumours and stories of the year before. This would not be a hard task. Nobody had come up with anything memorable since Fred and George's efforts in 1995. That was the source of the bulk of his distress. It was a matter of personal pride that this party rock the pants off anything that had been before, and it was a matter of personal worth that he do something better than his lunkheaded twin brothers.

He had been preparing for the party with Lavender and Parvati all day. Parvati had been at the cottage with Lavender, charming it to burst with decorations and filling every crystalline floating snowflake platter and floating ice bowl with sweets and pastries. Out the front of the cottage would be the most amazing Christmas party decoration ever. Parvati had practiced her knuckles raw getting the charm just so. Lavender helped her all morning with these particular demonstrations as they were the most time consuming, and then she got back to the castle to help out Ron in his dealings with the 'help' they hired to run the party. Ron didn't know whether to be insulted or not at Parvati and Lavender's insistence that one of them be with him at all times when talking to their soon-to-be hired help. Or the leader of the hired help, anyway. Truth be told, Ron thought they should be doing it for free. Lavender had brought him round so that they could have the help at all, but not without Ron's grousing.

"I can't believe we're paying them for this!"

"Firstly, it's not our money, most of it is Malfoy's," said Lavender as they strode down the hall to the lower levels. "Besides, our little friend in charge said that for the extra work and the indignity of poncing around in little red and green suits with bells on--"

"He loves those suits!" cried Ron.

Lavender eyed him. "That may be so, but they represent the servitude of a working body of elves unpaid by the erroneously benevolent Big Man in the silly red suit-"

"--Erroneously--" Ron spluttered. "It's Father fucking Christmas, not the bloody Grand Inquisitor Torquemada!!"

Lavender listened to him snap, then smiled sweetly. "Feel better?"

Ron frowned in thought for a moment, then nodded. "Much."

"They'll deserve it, Ron," she said, squeezing his shoulder to calm him. "They're flat out as it is making this castle lovely for Christmas."

Ron felt himself relaxing, and he nodded. "It's not our money, it's Malfoy's," he said, almost a chant.

Lavender lifted a brow, eyeing him again. "Ron... don't you find that just a little bit amusing?"

Ron looked back to her. He thought about it. Malfoy. Paying their help. He broke down into laughter at the sight of Malfoy when he found out. Lavender watched him laugh heartily, a naughty grin on her features.

"You're brilliant!" he hooted, "You are absolutely-" He chuckled harder. "Oh my... Oh that'll keep me laughing for a week that will! Bloody hell!"

Lavender looked proud and curtseyed, then clasped her hands together and shook them over her head like a triumphant politician. "Thank you, thank you."

The paying of their help was a quick and clean affair, thanks to Lavender, and they were both free of their duties by about three o'clock that afternoon. It would be another three hours until the party would start, but Ron knew that Lavender would need the time to get ready.

"You can go now if you like," he said as they went back to Gryffindor Tower. "Get ready for the party." At the word 'party', Ron groaned. "Bloody hell. I forgot."

Lavender rose her brows at him blankly. "Excuse me?"

"I never asked anyone to go with me." He swore under his breath.

The girl next to him became very quiet, and she shrugged, looking away. "Why don't you just ask Hermione?"

"Harry would kill me," he said. "Besides, we'd just fight all night."

Lavender looked genuinely surprised. "I thought you liked that."

"It got old," said Ron, perhaps a little sadly. "It's just better getting along with someone, you know?"

She nodded.

"So who are you going with?" he said, looking to her.

She had already been acting strange. Now Ron was shocked to see the girl blushing and acting coy.

"Oh... well..."

"Lav?"

She looked up to him, sighing hotly. "Nobody. I'm not going with anyone."

Ron skidded to a halt in the hallway. He was dumbfounded. Lavender. The Queen of Dating, the girl who couldn't survive if she didn't have her romantic life in full swing with all social events accounted for, wasn't going with anyone. Here was the girl he was sure could get any fellow in the entire year if she wanted to, by her looks alone! Though... most of the boys found her personality as trying as - as he used to. He surprised himself. He'd almost forgot that he'd seen a part of her that, with the possible exception of Parvati, only he got to see. When she forgot about trying to be the redoubtable popular pretty thing with all the gossip, she was a lot of fun to be around. She never made issue of the fact he was a Weasley, in fact other than thinking that his brother Bill was a rather handsome fellow ('babe' was her exact description), and that Fred and George were incredibly funny, she didn't really care one way or the other. She didn't use him as a way to Harry, either. He was just Ron, great in his own right in the mind of Lavender, and she was currently dateless.

"Is Parvati going with someone?"

Lavender folded her arms and looked away. "Dean, of course."

"Oh..." Ron frowned, as he just couldn't figure it out. "Didn't anyone ask you to go with them?"

The girl blushed redder than he'd ever seen her. "Yes, of course they did but uhm..." She shrugged and sighed. "I didn't really feel like going with any of them."

"I see." Ron looked down to his feet. He looked back to her. She was frowning softly, gazing down the hall where they'd been. She looked very sad. "Can I ask you why not?"

She frowned deeper, turning away a little, cheeks blazing. "Look, it's no big deal. I've just been really busy and I didn't think about it."

Ron tilted his head, doubt on his face. "Yeah right - you, not thinking about dating?"

She spun about, glaring at him. "Do you think that's all I care about? Whose arm I'm on and how pretty I look? I've got a bloody brain, you know!"

He felt immediate regret at saying what he did, and he took a hold of her shoulders, shaking his head.

"I know, I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to say that. It's just - you do tend to make a big deal of it."

"I know," she said. "And I do enjoy it, it's just... it's not my entire world, you know?" She seemed embarrassed then. "And the boys that did ask me, I mean... they meant well, it's just when it came to looking them in the eye and imagining myself spending such an important evening with them, I..." She shuddered a little. "I just couldn't do it. I couldn't say yes." She glared at Ron again, and there seemed to be a glint of accusation in her eyes. "And I don't know why."

He felt himself burning up at this look from her, and the palms of his hands ached in an altogether pleasant way. He shrugged shyly, toeing the ground and looking away.

"Well... you could go with me, you know, since we both haven't got anyone to-"

"Yes."

Blank shock struck Ron. Yes? It was the first time any girl had said yes to him in his life. He hadn't gone on a proper date since the Yule Ball and he'd made a habit of hanging out in large groups since then rather than doing any one-on-one evenings out. He felt himself burning to the very tips of his ears, and he smiled.

"I thought you said you couldn't imagine going with just 'any boy'."

Lavender looked coy. "Well... I could imagine going with you."

"Oh..."

Dizziness set up home in his brain. He looked at her. She really was a great bird. Pretty blue eyes, bouncy brown hair and an infectious smile. He was really glad he'd become friends with her. A funny feeling surged up in his stomach, and on a whim he stepped forward and dropped a kiss to her cheek.

"See you in a while."

He strode away quickly, maybe so she wouldn't be able to hit him, but hitting wasn't on the girl's mind at all. She was watching him go with a fascinated smile, her hand resting on her cheek.

~~*~~

Harry stood in front of the long mirror, frowning deeply at himself. His hair was a ruffled mess on top of his head. Sadly, there was very little he could do about that. No matter what he did, magic remedy or no, it would stick out at all angles. He hoped Hermione could forgive him for that, because it was one of the most anticipated evenings of the year and they would walk in there with him looking like he only just got out of bed. Even she could fix her hair if she needed to. For a moment he wondered what she was going to wear... A deep shock thrilled through his system as he remembered what she'd said to him earlier... Did I get something to wear to the party... Dear God! She'd thought about it! She thought about him and her going together!

"Don't be stupid," he sighed to himself, striding to his trunk and pulling out two sets of dress robes. One was from the year previous, a deep emerald green sort of thing with a jet black clip at the collar. The other was a spartan affair, deep black, soft and sleek without being an embarrassingly girly silk. It was sturdy and warm, which was the important thing. Harry held up both of the cloaks, staring at himself in the mirror.

"You only have half an hour to get ready, you know," said the mirror.

Harry sighed hotly. "Well, are you going to help me or are you going to keep insulting me?"

"Which would you prefer?"

Harry gave a patient tapping of his foot. "I have a very good hammer right where I can get at it."

"Temper, temper. Must be some date..."

"It's no big deal," Harry said.

"Of course not," said the mirror gently, a touch of sarcasm to its voice. "That green makes you look like a Christmas tree."

"Thank you," said Harry, bundling up the cloak and stuffing it in his trunk again. Standing in front of the mirror, he looked at himself. He had a fine-knit turtleneck sweater on, which was a rather snug fit. Not that he liked to sing praises about himself but it made his shoulders look rather broad (which they were). Instead of his regular jeans he wore a pair of very nicely fitted black pants, and unbeknownst to him his father would have been incredibly proud. He looked like a real beatnik. Either way, he looked good enough for the mirror to whistle in appreciation.

"Quite an outfit. Are you going to give someone else a turn now?"

"All right," Harry growled, fussing with his hair as he strode to his bed. He watched the snow out the window as he fixed his black dress cloak to himself, and he felt a bit like Luke Skywalker in Return of the Jedi, with all the black and the turtleneck. He would have laughed about it if his nerves hadn't been so bad.

"Wow, Harry, are you on the pull tonight?"

Harry turned about in time to see a smirking Ron duck into his alcove, drawing his curtains about himself.

"No, goodness no. I just didn't want to disappoint Hermione," he said. "Nothing worse than going having to a huge party with your best friend as your 'date', and I didn't want to compound the situation by dressing like I did it with my eyes closed."

"Well, you already look like you did it without brushing your hair."

Harry pressed his fringe down with a frown. "You know I can't help that."

Ron burst out from behind his curtains, fully changed into a rather impressive set of robes. Harry was surprised to see that Ron had moved away from the general maroon colour he'd been lugged with all these years thanks to hand-me-downs and his mother's taste in clothing and had chosen a silky emerald green material for his dress robes. Harry was always amused at Ron's choices in clothes now he had the money to spend on himself. They were very Wizard, and he liked that a lot. Ron looked like a real well-to-do wizard, and nothing pleased Harry more than to see Ron in nice clothes for once. He was also a little surprised that they'd nearly worn the same colour to the party. Thankfully he'd gone with the black for once. He looked back to his best friend. Under the robes Ron wore a billowy white shirt of a rough homespun cotton, and a matching green silk waistcoat that was patterned in a gold vine-stitch. He wore black pants and his shoes were black shining leather. He looked a million dollars. Harry stepped into the bathroom as Ron fussed with his hair in the mirror.

"Holy cow..." he said. "Did you invite the Queen?"

Ron spun about. "What?"

"You look great!"

Ron looked away again, a pre-occupied look on his face. "Oh. Thanks, Harry."

"Sharp," said the mirror. "Get me a medic, I think I need stitches!"

Harry frowned at the mirror. "Biased goit."

The mirror somehow managed to blow Harry a raspberry.

Ron turned away from Harry, rushing back into the bedroom. Harry followed him, rather entertained by Ron's odd behaviour.

"Who are you going with?"

"Lav," Ron said, fiddling with the collar of his shirt while pacing about.

"Oh, did Fleur knock you back?" joked Harry.

Ron glared at him, and in the next moment looked rather shaken. He glanced away, gulping. "I never asked her."

Harry fought a smirk off his face and he nodded. "I guess it wouldn't be proper to invite a teacher."

"Right!" Ron nodded, pointing at him, sounding rather thankful. "Exactly! That's why."

The alarm clock on his bedside table caught Harry's eyes, and he jumped.

"Shit! It's five-thirty already!"

Ron jumped at this too. "Bugger!"

Harry swore under his breath as they both raced to the door and down the stairs. As he descended the stone steps, he was thinking of a wide range of things. How Ron suited money. How it was a relief that Ron seemed to be forgetting about Fleur. How he hoped his less dressy formal cloak would keep him warm. He quite forgot about any of the things that had been bothering him before, about Hermione being anything to him other than a best friend, or what Ron and Lavender had said to him. He'd quite neatly dealt with all his preoccupations and he was back in a logical and much happier place. This was the way things were supposed to be. Best friend at his side, best friend down the stairs, the night just waiting to be lived.

Harry leapt down the flight of stairs, and as his feet hit the last step, his breath was knocked right out of his chest. He was too dumbfounded to do anything other than stare with his jaw dangling at what he saw.

Hermione had used the half hour very cleverly. Most of her hair was pulled up in a messy knot on top of her head, pinched into place with a Muggle hair-clip, some long tresses dangling down free of it in warm honey-brown tones. It made her abundance of hair a heaven, framing her face gently with whispy strands. She wore a light blue shimmery blouse, ruffled neck open to her cleavage (Dear God, he thought, When did she get those?), a long skirt, deep blue like the night, with a split that went up past her knee to show the exact amount of thigh to keep it distinctly classy. Strappy shoes cradled her beautiful long feet and toes, which were painted in blue nail polish. He stared her up and down, mouth opening and closing without sound leaving it. She was beautiful, utterly beautiful.

He never took in her expression as he'd come down the stairs, and by the time he cleared a space in his overloaded brain to say something she was frowning at him with affectionate amusement.

"Harry," she said, "Close your mouth."

Harry did so, gulping. "Sorry."

Good, that was good. He said something that wasn't 'boobs', 'ugh' or 'want now'. Ron came trotting down the steps behind him, very tall and proud, and then performed the same stunned blank stare and gaping fish routine as Harry just had, but with his eyes locked upon Lavender. Harry had great difficulty dragging his eyes from Hermione to see what Ron was so enthralled with, but when he did he found himself impressed. No wonder the girl had been hogging the mirror as Hermione had claimed!

She stood rather nervously, clasping her hands together (When did Lavender ever get nervous? Harry thought), gazing at Ron like he was Prince William. She was garbed in the most breathtaking gown Harry was sure he had ever seen. It was made of layers upon layers of a translucent pinkish white material, thin and floating in nature. The gown was cut in fashionable ribbons at the bottom, and similar long slips of fabric also hung from her shoulders and about the bodice. All the layering and curling of the fabric made Lavender look as though she were dressed in giant lily petals. The colour made her skin look immaculate and it glinted with pearly glitter that blinked as she moved. Her eyelids seemed to be dabbed with stardust and her hair shone like the night, her dark brown tresses spattered with even more glitter. From her shoulders arced the most amazing things Harry had ever seen. Looking almost as if they had been plucked from a real insect, long shimmering clear wings stretched out from her back, every now and again fluttering and angling open and closed like butterflies' wings. The veins that ran through them were black and made them look like delicate stained glass windows. Lavender made quite the perfect Christmas Faerie.

"You look... I mean... your hair, and the - the dress!" Ron gulped. "Wow."

"Yeah," nodded Harry, his eyes trailing back to Hermione every now and again, "You look great, Lavender. How..." He frowned at the wings. "How are they doing that? The moving?"

"Just a simple charm," Lavender said, shrugged her shoulders, the wings shuddering as she did so. "It'll wear off in a few days."

Ron's eyes roved over Lavender and her outfit as he found it in himself to mumble, "Uhm... Everything's set at the cottage."

Lavender grinned. "Great! Let's get going then before everyone starts arriving!"

At her grin, Ron's eyes glazed over. He stepped forward dully as Lavender grabbed his hand.

"Are you both coming?" she asked Hermione and Harry. Harry was still in the process of getting used to seeing this much of Hermione.

"Soon," Hermione said, turning and watching them make their way to the portrait hole. "I'm going to have some of the non-alcoholic Christmas punch Dobby brought us with Harry."

Ron's face twitched as Dobby's name was mentioned, and he smiled thinly. "I'm going to leave. He might have spiked my glass." He put an arm around Lavender and tipped his head to the portrait hole. Lavender smirked and they climbed their way out and off to the party.

Harry looked about. The Common Room had been quite empty on the way up to his room, but the seventh year dorm had been quite busy. The highly preened and beautiful students were quite quick to disappear once they were ready, not willing to mill about the Common Room and risk getting caught. Harry fidgeted nervously as Hermione strolled briskly over to the pitcher and goblets of punch at the coffee table by the fire.

"We shouldn't stick around," said Harry. "Don't want to be caught, you know."

Hermione smirked. "I have it on good authority that Dumbledore is keeping McGonagall clear of the tower tonight." She winked at him. "At least until eight-thirty anyway."

Harry shook his head, accepting a goblet of punch from Hermione. "He's a sneaky bugger."

Hermione chuckled. "I know."

The punch was deliriously good. It was a challenge for Harry not to down the whole thing in one gulp. It was an unconventional melange of different fruit juices, with what seemed like a splash of butterbeer and something else Harry couldn't identify. He sighed deeply.

"Wow."

Hermione nodded eagerly. "I must give Dobby an extra pair of socks for this."

Harry smiled. His cloak rippled in the corner of his eyes, and he remembered what he wore. Compared to Hermione's eye-popping outfit, and Lavender's astounding garb, not to mention Ron's princely attire, Harry felt quite underdressed. He stepped back, frowning at himself.

"Do I look all right?"

Hermione nodded as she swallowed some punch. "Oh yes, you look very nice."

Harry shrugged. "I feel like Luke Skywalker..."

"Oh, don't say that!" Hermione gasped, breaking into laughter. "Now I'll think that all night!"

He blushed, pulling his cloak about himself

"Well, you're better looking than Mark Hamill," she said, stepping forward and batting his hands away to open his cloak. "You look understated. It brings the attention to your lovely green eyes." As she said that she looked up at him, into his eyes.

Her eager smile drifted from her features, and Harry felt his skin burning. Her hair sat about her face just so, and her eyes looked so warm and brown with the firelight from the hearth. He gulped, feeling as though he had a fever. He then grew irritated. There was a clicking and a tapping and it made Hermione look away. Her eyes glinted and he looked to where she was looking. The window?

"It's the mail!" she said, and she strode over to the window, opening it for the snowy white owl. "Are you expecting something?"

The owl flew directly over to Harry, alighting on the table gracefully and blinking up at him with her gold eyes. Harry's heart jumped in his chest and thumped hard as he remembered the letter he'd sent to Sirius. A response? So soon? Harry needed days to even try to calm himself down in this situation, and Sirius answered him in one measly afternoon? He pulled the letter from the owl's leg, and he realised with great embarrassment that Hermione seemed interested as to what he'd received.

"A letter from Sirius," he said. "I asked him about Quidditch."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned away, pouring herself some more punch. Harry sighed with relief, and with shaking hands, opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. It was in Sirius' long elegant script, and it was exactly fifteen words long.

Dear Harry,

For God's sakes, just take the girl out for dinner.

Love,

Your Godfather.

Harry stuffed the letter back in the envelope, cheeks burning brightly, swearing a storm under his breath.

"Smart-arsed git," he growled, "Bloody smart-arsed smeggery bollocked fat-headed greasy bastardly git!"

Hermione spun about, opening her eyes wide at Harry's exclamations. It took a lot to get Harry to swear that much.

"He thinks he's funny," Harry said, shoving the letter into a pants pocket hastily and grabbing his scarf from the couch, as well as Hermione's, and her cloak. "Come on, we better get going."

"Okay," she said, setting down her drink, eyeing him warily.

"I'm all right," he insisted, feeling like an idiot. Hermione did not seem at all convinced. "Really."

She just sighed at him.

They quickly strode down the hole, arm in arm, and Harry swung between steaming over the letter and staring at Hermione. Staring at Hermione was bad. He was supposed to have this all sorted out. One silly outfit was not supposed to throw all his hard work out the window like that. And Sirius - he expected him to understand! He was as bad as Ron and Lavender! Harry came to one conclusion. The world was populated with sex-crazed perverts.

Of course, he thought to himself. They're the ones that reproduce the most with all their sex-having.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Hermione said, "You look hot. Are you coming down with something?"

She reached up and began pressing her hands to his cheeks. He stifled a whimper and pulled her hands away.

"I'm fine, I really am," he said, holding both her hands (gosh, they were soft) in his, bringing him far more joy than he wanted it to. "This cloak is just better at keeping me warm than I realised."

"Thank you for reminding me," she said. They were just at the door of the castle already and Hermione set about putting on her cloak. Harry reached out for it.

"Here."

She glanced up at him, seemingly surprised. She let him take it, and he wrapped it around her shoulders. As she pulled on her scarf, he lifted the thick loose tresses of her hair, his fingers running through them as they settled on her shoulders. His fingers positively tingled, and he felt a jolt that went from every point in his body right to his toes. He gulped. There was quite a persistent voice in his head that demanded that he do that again. His hands ached, and he tried to quell the feeling by patting her on the shoulders to tell her he was done. She turned, looking up at him, her face soft.

"Thank you."

Harry shrugged, his mouth deciding that it was going to go on holiday unless there was to be some kissing on the menu. He stepped forward, opening the door for her, and the chill from outside struck their faces. Harry wrapped his (rather suave) black scarf around his neck tightly for good measure, and putting an arm around Hermione protectively, stepped out into the night with her.

"Gosh, Harry," she said, gazing about them. "Look at all the snow! It's wonderful!"

"Heavy fall this year," Harry managed, nodding shortly. He was proud of himself, for the second time that night. He managed not to say something royally embarrassing.

"Now, remember that the portkey is an old hole-riddled mitten."

Harry nodded. "What colour is it?"

Hermione frowned. "I don't know. I'm sure we'll find it easily enough, what with all the snow about."

"Yes," Harry said, a squirmy feeling in his belly. He did the first thing that he thought of to make himself feel better - pull whatever made him feel so nice closer to him. It happened to be Hermione, whom he had his arm around. She looked up at him, a shy but seemingly amused smile on her face.

"You are acting strange tonight, Harry," she said.

"Oh, sorry..."

"Don't be," she said, taking his other hand and putting it over hers.

Harry smiled. In all his worrying and fretting, it never occurred to Harry that Hermione might act positively to any notions of romance between them. Though, him opening a door and being unusually affectionate was hardly the sort of thing that indicated attraction (certainly not the skin-burning heart-thumping affliction he'd been suffering from the past few days), so she might have been returning what could have been easily misconstrued as a sign of affection. Shit, he thought. This has to be complicated.

They rounded the corner of the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and just beyond this was a hollow and decaying log. Hermione broke away from Harry, running to it and looking in the hole, lighting her wand.

"Yes!" she said, "It's here. What time is it?"

Harry checked his watch. "Six."

"Good, it'll send us off in a few minutes!"

She grabbed the portkey and held it out to Harry. It was a green mitten, riddled with rather neat-looking holes, and it smelt very nice, almost as if it had been dunked in expensive cologne. Hermione sniffed it and tilted her head at it.

"It's a bit conspicuous, isn't it?" she said. "They really should be more careful."

Harry nodded in agreement, taking hold of the thing with his hands. Hermione pulled off her own maroon gloves and stuffed them in her cloak pockets before taking hold of the portkey. They stood there for a long moment, and Harry found himself staring at Hermione again. Thankfully, this time it was her face he was looking at. She would look away, at the trees or the ground around them, and then shyly (or was it perhaps a coy look there?), she would look back to Harry.

"Ugh. Bugger it's cold", he muttered, shivering in the night air. He sent a wide grin at Hermione. "Wouldn't happen to have a fire in your purse, would you?"

She suddenly looked very embarrassed, and digging inside the presumably charmed purse, pulled out a jar of blue flame. Harry barked in laughter.

"What the hell?!"

"Oh, don't laugh!" she said, flapping a hand and stuffing the jar back in her purse. "I don't know why I brought it. I always get very worked up before going anywhere and I make sure I have things for every possibility. Don't ask me why... there's a pen in here, and my wand, and a scarf, my lipstick..."

"You're wearing lipstick?" he asked curiously.

"Of course I am," she said. "What, do you think my lips just magically got this colour?"

"They're not that colour?"

"Goodness no, Harry!" she said, smiling in disbelief. "They're a good three shades darker than usual!"

"Oh..." He blushed, feeling rather stupid. "They look the same to me."

Hermione rolled her eyes, slapping her purse shut. "So much for that..."

"No," Harry said, shaking his head, trying to salvage the situation. "I mean they look lovely. They always look lovely."

She frowned at him through a slight bluster of wind, cheeks reddening (from the sudden cold he was sure). Slowly, a humouring smile made its way to her face.

"Nice save, Harry."

Harry blushed, wishing he could just rewind past that whole conversation and start with something suave, like, "Gosh your lips look nice tonight. New lipstick?" But then he figured he would have just sounded incredibly gay. Move on, Harry, move on, he thought. Hermione sighed, clutching the mitten that Harry had been holding onto, for the five minutes wait was nearly over.

"Excited?" she asked him.

"I think so," Harry said. "This night might turn out to be okay."

Hermione looked at him oddly. "Oh? What made you think that it wouldn't?"

At that very moment the portkey pulled them in with a flash, and in the next they were gone.

~~*~~

Harry landed on a cold stone floor. All around him was dark, and above him was not a myriad of stars set in a blue satin sky, but a raftered stone roof. He rolled over, and sitting up he saw desks lined up all around them, and a podium behind him. There were strange objects all around the room, and a set of small steps on the podium behind a lectern. With a groan, Harry realised they were in the Charms classroom, and not at the party.

"What on earth?" he heard Hermione gasp. "Where- Charms?!"

Harry nodded. "Bloody hell. Ron's stuffed up."

Hermione was quiet, and pulling herself to her feet she raced over to the door. Harry heard the doorknob rattling, and he assumed she had pulled out her wand as she muttered spell after spell.

"Alohomora!" she exclaimed, getting increasingly irate. "Finite incantatem! Oh for bloody hell's sakes, open up door!"

"I don't think that's an official spell, Hermione."

"Lumos," she muttered, holding up her wand. After a moment, she shook her head. "Ron didn't do this," she said. "Everyone would be in here in that case, because the mitten would have sent them here." She sighed, tapping her foot. "And whoever did this did a good job on that door."

"Would have to have been a top grading student," Harry reasoned.

"With a green glove," Hermione said, "And a lot of money, judging by the smell of it."

They made eye contact and knew exactly who the other was thinking of.

"Malfoy," they said in unison.

"He's getting us back for the dig in the hallway," Harry said. "Bastard."

Hermione looked about them, and she jumped a bit. "Oh of course! The window!"

Harry frowned and turned to where she was looking. Behind the podium was a row of stained glass windows, and Hermione ran over to them, reaching for the handles. She struggled with them, growling as she yanked and pushed and tugged.

"Bloody - when's the last time they - AARGH!"

The window swung open and nearly took Hermione with it. Harry raced over, grabbing her about the waist and pulling her to him. Her arms were about him tightly, and she buried her face in his shoulder, breathing rapidly.

"Careful!" he said.

Stepping forward, he looked out the window. He quite remembered the three-storey fall from the Charm's classroom windows, and seeing it did nothing to calm him.

"Your broom," Hermione said, voice tense, her arms still about him. "Accio your broom."

Harry shook his head. "I can't, Hermione. It's locked up, it's a really expensive broom."

Hermione groaned, smacking her head on Harry's shoulder and pushing herself away from him, sitting down heavily on the podium behind her.

"Perfect."

"Come to think of it, Ron's is locked up too," he said, sitting down next to her. "And they're the only brooms I know the location of - apart from Madam Hooch's first year training brooms but they're locked up as well."

Hermione sighed. "And you can't accio a broom you can't picture in your mind," she said.

"Exactly."

Suddenly Hermione stood, frowning at the door. "Damn it. I know I can beat that door. Especially if it was Malfoy who did it. If I've kicked his arse in duelling then I can kick his arse with this."

With that she stomped over to the door, and with sparkle after flash, worked at the lock.

Harry felt a sinking feeling in his chest. Her eagerness to get out of the present situation did not leave Harry with the warm and fuzzies. In fact, his brain was formulating a range of reasons why Hermione would like to get away from being stuck in a room with him. Most of them had something to do with him being a stupid pathetic gimboid with all the grace and charm of Goyle after a few beers. Perhaps he was being too hard on himself.

"Bloody door!" growled Hermione.

Then again... perhaps not.

~~*~~

The sight for anyone walking up the path to the party cottage was one to behold. Ron really had outdone not only himself, but his brothers and every other Hogwarts student that ever endeavoured to hold a Christmas Party. In the front gardens, hopping, skipping and dancing in a delightful box-step, were eight snowmen and women, dressed up rather fetchingly in old worn accessories like scarves, top-hats and shawls. Glowing orbs lined the path to the front door, and on a sign on the door in twinkling glowing red and green letters were the words, "Merry Christmas." Added hastily underneath in blue paint were, "Unless you're a teacher, then you can sod off."

Inside was more lavish than out, as they didn't want to attract too much attention to the cottage. The dancing snowmen were, however, pretty much making that care pointless. Once inside, guests were greeted by the sight of the air full of Christmas faeries, warm dry magic snow and floating trays of hors d'oeuvres. Everlasting Icicles lined each doorway and banister, table, chair and window. Upon the tables laden with nibbly delights were also large everlasting ice-sculptures of the animal of each Hogwarts house, all wearing some silly kind of Christmas accessory. Gryffindor's lion wore real holly in its mane, Hufflepuff's badger wore mittens and a scarf, the eagle of Ravenclaw had a string of mistletoe around its neck and the snake of Slytherin wore a Father Christmas hat on a jaunty angle. The windows were charmed so that the frost moved and changed to form Christmas greetings all evening, though it was obvious Ron had gotten in there to do some charms of his own as every now and again the windows would say, "Malfoy is a Git" and "Go Gryffindor".

The piece de resistance, however, was the twenty or so house-elves running about the entertainment area, filling up people's cups with mulled wine and Christmas punch, charmingly dressed as Christmas Elves. They were resplendent in their red jumpers, little green overalls and long striped socks with pointy green slippers. They wore hats with bells so that one could hear where they were running and not step or sit on them. They were grinning and bouncing and seemed to be having as much of a good time as the students were.

The students were obviously awed. Their eyes would linger on the decorations as they chatted and socialised. Whenever anyone arrived, they would make a beeline to Ron and Lavender and Parvati.

"Brilliant," said Justin Finch-Fletchley, whapping Ron on the shoulder quite roughly. "Bloody fantastic! You've really done an awesome job, Ron!"

Ron smiled, very pleased with himself, and shrugged modestly. "Lavender and Parvati did a lot of work on it, so I can't take all the credit."

"No, he can't," said Parvati with a smirk.

"What about Harry, did he help too?" asked Justin.

"Naw, mate," said Ron, trying not to snigger all of a sudden. "He wanted to relax this Christmas."

"As well as chase skirt," muttered Lavender into her goblet of wine. Ron broke into a giggle.

Justin just looked bewildered, and giving Ron a final smack on the shoulder he wandered off.

"Hmm, that is something," said Parvati. "Harry's not here yet."

Lavender frowned, and turning about she checked the watch of a nearby student. She looked to Ron.

"He should have been here half an hour ago."

Ron waved a hand. "Bah. He's probably snogging Hermione in the Common Room."

Parvati's jaw dropped. "You're kidding? They're--"

"Not yet," said Lavender. "But you can tell Harry is absolutely dying to. I think Hermione's still a bit clueless about it all."

Parvati would have said something to this, but Dean shoved a goblet of alcoholic punch into her hands.

"Drink that and be quiet," he said, a glint of humour in his eyes. For that, he received a smack from the pretty Indian girl.

The party quickly whipped up to quite an event, the wizard wireless beating out some of the students' favourite tunes, the living room jam-packed with dancing teenagers, the food and the wine being consumed at a hell of a rate. Draco Malfoy arrived fashionably late, as one would say. He looked devastatingly handsome in his black garb, which, for the occasion, was edged in intricate silver embroidery, as was his waist-coat. His platinum blond hair was tied back in a black ribbon, and the shorter tresses were loose at the front, serving to make him look rather Victorian. The hair was only half an inch above his shoulders when out, but then again he'd only decided that he wanted to grow his hair the year before. Crabbe and Goyle plodded in behind him, and even they couldn't help but lift their eyes to the ceilings and the windows in admiration of the decorations. Draco looked down his pointed nose at the party around him, and slowly making his way over to Ron, he gave a huffing sigh through his nose.

"Well..." he said in his trademark drawl. "You managed not to completely stuff up the arrangements." His cold grey eyes fell on Ron. "Well done."

Ron shook his head. "Thanks, Malfoy. I'll try to take that as a compliment."

"Don't try too hard," replied Draco. He looked around, as if something smelt wrong. "Don't see your bosom buddy Potter around. Did you both have a lover's tiff?"

All of Ron's good will was sorely tested. "No, Malfoy. I'm sure he'll turn up eventually."

Draco stared at Ron, cool amusement on his sharp pale features. "Yes. I'm sure."

The rich boy swanned off, his dark cloak flapping behind him. Ron had an awful feeling in his stomach. It was a cold squishy feeling. He turned to Lavender, shaking his head.

"I think I should find Harry."

Lavender glanced about the faces of the people at the party, and looking back to Ron, she sighed. "All right. I'm sure he really is just back at the Common Room with Hermione."

"Yeah, but I'd like to make sure," said Ron. "I trust Malfoy as far as I could comfortably spit a rat, and the git looks like he knows something I don't."

Lavender nodded, following Ron as he strode to the door, grabbing his cloak from the closet.

"I'll come with you," she said.

Ron shook his head, clutching her shoulders.

"Nah, Lav. I need you to stay here and make sure the party goes all right. I won't be gone long."

The girl looked to her feet sadly, a dent of frustration in her brow.

"You will," she said. "I know what it's like when you and Harry and - and Hermione go off on one of your adventures." She eyed him, eyes glinting sadly. "I won't see you until tomorrow. And when I do you'll probably be in the infirmary again."

Ron sighed, running a hand through his fiery red hair. The look that Lavender was giving him was killing him. He never knew it could be this hard to leave somebody behind somewhere. Ron's stress levels had gone from nonexistent to peaking. They burst through the roof as a male student let out a gleeful yelp.

"Hey! Professor Delacour is here!"

Lavender's eyes flashed, and she folded her arms with a hot sigh. "Who invited her?"

"One of the fellas, no doubt," Ron groaned. He gave his cloak to Lavender and stormed through to the front door. "Oi! What are you doing here, can't you read the bloody sign?"

Fleur lifted a brow in amusement. Dressed top to bottom in an elegant gown that was the purest of white, hair piled up on top of her head in a roll, looking as if she just clubbed Marilyn Monroe over the head and stole every last drop of her mojo, Fleur obviously did not expect such a greeting from Ronald Weasley, of all people. She probably expected him to pee down his own leg.

"You are not 'appy to see me," she said, patting her hair lightly.

"Of course I'm not," Ron said, dragging her aside by the elbow. He was livid. His cheeks were scarlet. He was trying very hard not to look at Fleur's cleavage. "You're a professor! You're not supposed to be here!"

"I won't tell any of ze other professors," she said. "Come, Ronald. I am a young woman who would like to 'ave a good time, and I s'ought I would go to a party for Christmas. Yours came quite recommended from Monseiur Malfoy."

Bloody Malfoy, thought Ron. He'd do anything to get a piece of arse.

"Besides, many of the boys 'ad invited me, and I s'ought it would be rude to refuse zem."

"Rude?!" Ron wailed. "This from a woman who slaps me down every time I even LOOK at her the wrong way?!"

Fleur's cool eyes twinkled. "Ah, but Ronald, I expect more from you."

"Why?!"

She smiled. It nearly felled him. "Don't you remember? You're a nice boy when you are not looking."

Ron shook his head. He didn't care. He didn't have to deal with this. Harry was missing and it was far more important.

"Look, I don't care, I really don't," said Ron, letting go of Fleur and striding over to a scowling Lavender. "I gotta go."

"You are leaving your own party?" asked Fleur.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Don't spread it around but Harry's late and no one's seen him. I'm off to check the castle."

Without even a flutter of her lashes, Fleur stood straight. "I am coming wi'z you."

"Like hell!" growled Lavender, striding foward and yanking Ron back. He staggered, not expecting such a rough tug from the girl, and wondered for a moment why he'd never thought of seeing if she would be any good playing Quidditch. She had a beater's strength. He put his hands on her shoulders to calm her, but she still scowled.

Ron looked to Fleur. A determined look was about her. Wandering about a castle with Fleur Delacour... why did it not seem as thrilling a prospect as it did a week ago? Harry's missing, he thought. How can you think about girls when Harry's missing? Yes, logic was also Ronald Weasley's friend. The most important thing was Harry. Harry. Two gorgeous women... brunette on the right, blonde on the left. Ron really didn't want to go anywhere. Harry! Right Harry...

"He's probably just spending time with Hermione," Ron said, waving his hands at Fleur. "Just stay here and have a good time. Look after Lavender till I get back."

Lavender glared at him. Her message was clear. She would rather look up Snape's robe with a very bright torch than spend another moment with Fleur. Ron was suddenly bewildered. He never remembered Lavender being so hateful to Fleur before. It was ten times worse than the annoyance that Hermione seemed to exhibit towards the woman. Regardless, he was going to leave right now. He took his cloak from Lavender and wrapped it about himself.

"You do not understand," said Fleur, grabbing Ron's arm. "'E saved my Gabrielle's life, an' he saved mine. If 'Arry is in trouble I would like to 'elp 'im."

Ron stared at her oddly. "Fleur... he's probably off having a snog."

Fleur lifted a brow, folding her arms. "Oh? Z'en why are you so worried?"

He sighed. Bollocks. Smart-arse. "All right. Come on then."

Lavender jumped forward in protest. "Ron!"

Rubbing his face he turned about, taking Lavender by the shoulders.

"Lav, I'll be back soon, all right? I told you, I really need you here."

She frowned, pixie-like lips pouting, her large blue eyes filled with genuine hurt. She sighed, turning away.

"Fine."

He took in the sight of the woman standing there. She was hunched, half turned away, faerie wings waving morosely. The dress was still as pretty as it had been earlier, but with her sadness she made a tragic vision. She was lovely, but she was nothing next to Fleur. Fleur in her glittering white dress and flawless ivory skin looked as a goddess next to Lavender's tiny spritely presence. Lavender's hair sparkled in vain in comparison to Fleur's long platinum blonde locks that gleamed with a beauty entirely and infuriatingly natural. Fleur did not have to work hard to look as beautiful as she did, and with a little added glitz she blew the competition away. Lavender's prettiness was one achieved through daily regimens and hours of primping. Underneath the care and neatness was a regular brown-haired girl a touch on the skinny side with no features that really set her apart from any other mildly pretty young witch.

And for some damn reason his guts told him that this was the most gorgeous thing he'd ever laid eyes on, that it was all he'd ever want and that he knew he'd be perfectly happy if he had nothing but her for the rest of his life. It was crazy talk, utter nonsense. He felt this new conviction slipping through every inch of his veins, making him tingle all over, his mind losing hold of all the things he thought he knew about girls and finding itself in utterly uncharted territory.

Ron did the only thing he knew to do at that moment. Smiling shortly and oddly at Lavender, he grabbed Fleur by the arm and strode out the door into the night.

~~*~~

"Adaperio ianua! No? Bugger. Too easy. Aperio incantatem! Finally! Here we are... What?! That sneaky bastard!"

Harry looked up from the floor. Hermione was stooped in front of the door, peering at the lock, her wand glowing as she swished and flicked and tapped her little heart out. She was scowling at the door know, gripping the knob and seemingly frustrated.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"He's obviously dipped into his father's library for this one," she said. "It's a binding spell I don't recognise."

Harry sighed. "You can't break the spell?"

She looked over her shoulder at him, her face lit by the cool wand-light. "It's flattering that you think I could so easily unravel an obscure and obviously incredibly old spell such as this. Sadly for you, no, no I can't. Not without some library time anyway." She blew a sigh through her cheeks.

He frowned. "Sadly for me?"

"Of course," she said, looking at him with a humouring but slightly self-deprecating smile. "You hardly wanted to spend the night locked with me in a room with the Christmas party of the decade going on a few miles off."

"I don't mind," he said with a slight shrug. The only problem with this time in the classroom was that Hermione was giving all her attention to the door.

Hermione shot a frustrated sigh and she turned about, leaning against the door. "Oh really, Harry, you don't have to be nice for me. I know you're disappointed."

"I'm not," said Harry, "I'm really not."

She frowned, turning away from him and crouching in front of the lock. "Now you're just being stubborn."

Was he disappointed? He thought about it, thought about the party and then he thought about what he had here. Yes, it would have been very nice to see the fruits of Ron's labours. But right now he had Hermione all to himself, and there was no chance of anyone walking in, or for her cat to distract her, or for any other intrusion that could annoy Harry. He knew that had they been at the party, they would have either been perched at the drinks or on a couch, watching everyone get staggeringly drunk. This in itself seemed fun enough, and Harry had intended on getting quite soused himself. The problem was that he would have probably said something to embarrass himself, most likely about Hermione's cleavage. The night would have been a very slow burn, his mind wrapping itself around the wish that he could just, for two moments, have her alone so he could sort out the wild feelings that plagued him. And here she was, his, entirely his for however long it took for them to be found, or till the spell wore off.

"Are you disappointed?" he asked her suddenly.

She looked over her shoulder again. Her brows knitted as she sighed.

"Not really," she said. "It would have been nice to see Ron's efforts pay off, but there will be plenty of parties this year."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "My thoughts exactly."

She seemed to fight a smile. "So you really aren't disappointed?"

"No, I'm not disappointed."

She blew a sigh through her teeth, and turned away from the door. "All right. I think I got rid of the other spells that were laid over the binding charm. You know, silentius and so forth. So if someone comes, we'll hear them, and they'll hear us through the door. Other than that, it's a waiting game."

Harry looked about himself. The windows of the classroom were wide open and the clouds had rolled by earlier that night to leave the sky bare and a deep rich blue that was a riot of stars. There was a spot on the podium that looked nice. He walked over to it, and opening one of the nearby cupboards he pulled out some cushions.

"May as well make ourselves comfortable," he said, holding up a cushion.

Hermione sighed, plodding over to him and taking the cushion with a weary smile. She sat down with Harry, leaning against him a little, her arm against his chest.

"What?"

She shook her head, fighting a smile on her face. "Nothing. I'm just thinking... I hope Malfoy is having a good time."

Harry sniggered. "Are you kidding? He's probably pinned in a corner by Pansy Parkinson. She's drunk beyond hope and at any moment she's going to go for the grope."

"Oh God!" Hermione burst into laughter, flapping a hand. "Please let's not talk about that."

"Oh? I thought you girls all found Draco 'sexy in an evil way'!" He lifted his voice to imitate a girl, probably Lavender.

"Ohhh no," Hermione groaned. "I suppose he's pretty in a completely shallow way. I don't know. I don't like blondes too much."

Harry's stomach did a flip-flop of utter glee. "What do you prefer? Red-heads? Sandy-haired fellows?"

"Not at all!" she protested. She paused suddenly, and Harry could feel her squirming uncomfortably beside him. Her next words were a rushed mutter. "I like men with very dark hair."

His stomach leapt into his throat. All right, let's not get too excited, he thought. Calm down, be cool.

"Well! I'll just have to tell Sirius to watch his back, then," he quipped.

In response, he was whacked rather firmly on the chest, Hermione gasping at him.

"He's old enough to be my father!"

"It was a joke, Hermione," Harry said, stifling a snigger.

"Well he is rather attractive, but..." Hermione shook herself. "No, we're not going into that territory! Gosh!" She turned on him. "When on earth did you turn into such a pervert?"

"Pervert?" he chuckled. "I was joking! You were the one considering it!"

"It's not my fault your godfather is so bloody handsome," Hermione grumbled. "We're moving off this subject."

"Are we? All right." He chuckled again, quite unable to stop. He found he loved it when she was flustered. "What are we talking about now, then?"

"Anything but what we were talking about previously."

"That's nice and vague," said Harry. "Have you enjoyed your break then?"

"Oh yes," Hermione sighed happily. "It's just a shame that it's going to be over soon. But it's good that it's ended. Imagine holidays lasting for any longer... Ugh! I would go mad if I didn't have anything to do."

"I think the signs of that were showing yesterday, what with you growling at Lavender because she wouldn't let you look at the charms book she'd gotten from the library."

"I just wanted to help her!" exclaimed Hermione. "She was doing it all wrong!"

"I'm sure she would have figured it out in her own time," said Harry amusedly. "Besides, we had a deal."

"I remember the deal," said Hermione, "And it's all very unfair! You told everyone about it, didn't you?" Harry smiled broadly and nodded. "You evil bastard," she muttered darkly. "Notice I never told you that you weren't allowed to fly your broom."

"Of course not," said Harry with a smirk. "It was a way out of here."

She sighed hotly. "Well, I was trying to help Lavender, wasn't I?"

"Hmmm, I don't think it counted as an emergency situation."

"So it had to be an emergency situation for the agreement to be broken?" she said. She sat upright, glaring at him.

"Yes," said Harry, making an effort to keep his eyes to her face as she had her lit wand at a most interesting angle that made the most of her outfit's low neckline. Hermione was frowning at him.

"Since when did being stuck with a room with you count as an 'emergency' anyway?"

Harry lifted a brow. "You obviously didn't see yourself trying to get out of here. You were downright desperate!" He sat up and began to wave an invisible wand about, imitating Hermione's well spoken incantation style and looking completely gay in the process. "Alohomora! Adaperio ianua! Aperio incantatem! Finite incantatem!"

"I wasn't!" she gasped, pulling his hands down from the play-acting and glaring at him, trying not to laugh at how silly he was being. "And I told you, I was more concerned about your night than mine!"

"So far I'm thoroughly enjoying it," he said with a chuckle.

"Well, that doesn't make sense!" Hermione said, folding her arms with a puzzled frown. "All we've done is sit in this stupid classroom and natter at each other!"

"I know."

Hermione's breath rushed from her chest, and her cheeks burned red. Her brown eyes seemed to glint with a fire, her lips parted slightly and he knew she was thinking, adding it all up. He felt his own skin burning, tingling. Did she understand now? Did she know how hard his heart was beating in his chest? She didn't look away, not even when he gazed back at her, adoration clear in his eyes.

Giddiness overwhelmed him as Hermione shifted onto her side, leaning closer to him. He tilted his head, hunger consuming him unexpectedly. He opened his mouth a fraction, eyes drifting closed.

It was at that exact moment that there was a rafter-shaking thumping on the classroom door.

~~*~~

Onto Chapter Three