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 Three

The night was brisk enough that Ron's teeth began to chatter. Fleur was wrapped in a magnificent white fur-lined cloak, white gloved hands clutching it about her. Her pretty face was proud and unreadable, despite the icy conditions that would have had anyone else wincing and shuddering. They strode purposefully down the muddy back road from the cottage, the mud crunching with slushy ice. Fleur seemed to be thinking now. Ron could guess from the fluttering lashes and the funny little pout that had just formed on her lips.

"We must start at ze beginning," she said. "Where was ze last time you saw 'Arry?"

"In the Common Room," said Ron, annoyance and worry making his insides heavy. "The portkey is just after this turn in the road, by the way."

Fleur nodded. "And what was 'e doing?"

"He was having some punch with Hermione."

Fleur had the slightest dent of thought on her forehead. "Mmmm.... was z'ere any's'ing suspicious about zis punch?"

"It was non-alcoholic," said Ron. "And the House Elves made it. Apart from that..."

Fleur sighed. "Perhaps 'e is 'off for a snog', as you say."

"Very good!" Ron sniggered. "I wasn't aware you were making an effort to learn our filthy 'eenglish' ways!"

Fleur laughed. Her smile lit up her face and the sound was like crystal bells. "Of course I am. You 'filsy Eenglish' would never let me live comfortably here if I did not!" She stood tall, and it was as if a beautiful white crane had extended itself to full height. "I know much English now. I can say... Bloody hell, and bollocks!" She shouted the foreign words with an enthusiastic ardour. "I also like bugger! And... Sod off you silly smegging plonker!"

The words seemed so absurd falling from Fleur's beautiful flawless lips that Ron couldn't help but double over in helpless laughter. Fleur laughed too, giggling till her ivory cheeks were pink. She rarely ever did anything around anyone other than smile distantly or look superior. As she giggled she almost looked human, reachable, and not a lofty dream, not an angel on high. Ron took a good look at her, his smile fading but his heart warming gently.

"You know... you're really beautiful when you forget you are."

Fleur's smile fell away, and she narrowed her eyes affectionately at Ron.

"I feel like it is a curse to me sometimes," she said. "I am proud of who I am, of what I am, but sometimes I wish I was not part Veela." She looked down. "I wish that I could do my job wiz'out dressing up to my neck. I wish I could talk to a man and know 'e is listening to what I am saying, and not lost in 'is own 'ormones." Her narrowed eyes became cold and sharp. "I envy your friends."

Ron frowned. "My friends?"

"'Ermione. And that Lavender girl."

Damn. Flipping damn damn buggery damn. Why did she have to bring up the one woman he really didn't want to be thinking about right now, not when things with Fleur were going so swimmingly? It was a waste of a perfectly good job of forgetting about the girl. Despite this, some stubborn part of him got very annoyed and he found himself arguing with Fleur.

"They're beautiful!" he said. "Just not the same way you are."

"Exactly," she said. "Zey are not so beautiful zat ze men about zem cannot function normally. Not so much zat boys like you don't even s'ink to get to know z'em properly."

"Boys do want to get to know you," said Ron. "It's just... you don't share much. You distance yourself all the time, you know?"

Fleur lifted her head, and a brow. "Sharing is often mistaken for romantic interest. Being part Veela, such a s'ing could be a matter of life and death."

The full gravity of Fleur's words hit Ron, and the isolation and loneliness she suffered was keen and bright in her pale blue eyes. Some part of him felt it was best to move Fleur off the subject in case the melancholy that had become her consumed her entirely. He patted her shoulder, smiling at her kindly.

"Don't worry," said Ron. "We'll find Harry and when we get back to the party, you can have a nice time dancing."

Fleur smiled, snuggling deep into her cloak.

"And will you dance wi'z me, Ronald?"

Ron gave a tense smile as he imagined the situation. He'd be on the floor, out cold after an enraged Lavender Brown would make her opinions on the idea of him dancing with Fleur known. This would involve her racing across the floor, knocking Ron to the ground accidentally in blind rage as she would reach to claw out Fleur's eyes and instead wrapping her long fingers about Fleur's fragile and swan-like neck. While this vision occupied his brain, however, the rest of him was distracted by Fleur's pretty smile and the way her lips wrapped deliciously about his name (...Rrrronald...) and before both his brain and his body had a chance to confer, his penis hijacked his mouth and made it mutter:

"Sure, yeah... okay!"

Fuck.

Fleur squeezed his hand with a grin. "Wonderful!"

It was a troubled Ron who picked up the portkey as they reached it. It was a dusty and rusted old cauldron, about the same size as a rockmelon (for small potions obviously). It was quite a clever set-up that Ron had arranged, but he was of the opinion that it was merely an enhancement of the old method. Lavender and Parvati were of the opinion that it was a bloody brilliant bit of wizarding on his part. Instead of the portkey going with its traveler (which caused all sort of annoyances in the past, like someone having to stay with the portkey to take it back and forth from its transition point) he had figured out a way to alter the charm so that the portkey object stayed behind, and then linked it to another portkey so that this separate portkey took the traveller back to the first one. Ron was just busting to tell his father about it, but he knew he'd have to wait till school was over so that he wouldn't get in trouble for setting up such a network without Hogwarts permission.

The portkey network Ron had set up activated every ten minutes of the hour. Luckily for Ron and Fleur it was 7:18pm, so they hadn't long to wait at all. Ron was inexplicably thankful for this beyond all his reason. He tried to convince himself it had nothing to do with the way Fleur was looking at him and the way it was making him feel. He found himself trying not to think about either Fleur or that other girl who made his crotch feel like it was about to explode. In the next moment, however, Ron was relieved to find himself thinking about neither of these things, for the world felt like it was being drawn through his navel very, very quickly. Then he fell over, and it was cold and dark.

~~*~~

He coughed, his breath being a bother and not coming back to him the way he wanted it to, the pull through the portkey being a little rougher than he expected. Dragging himself shakily to his feet, he wondered why it was so dark and cold. Upon lighting his wand he realised that the reason for this was that he'd landed in a snow bank and had sunk a good two feet into the white fluffy stuff. Holding his wand up to the bank he saw the struggling limbs of Fleur waggling out of it, and he jumped forward, pulling her out of the snow.

"You all right?"

She nodded. "Oui. But now I am all wet!"

Ron waggled his wand with risen brows and a cheeky smile. "Not a problem." Pointing to her robes he said, "Adsicco!"

His wand glowed and shot a wave of gold over Fleur, a hot breeze fluttering past her. She felt her robes, and satisfied that they were perfectly dry, smiled at Ron.

"Well done," she said. "I couldn't 'ave done it better myself."

Sliding his wand away, Ron guided Fleur about the difficult path, and then they were striding across the lawn towards the castle, looking awfully determined.

"We'll look in Gryffindor Tower first," said Ron, "Since that's where we saw 'em last."

Fleur nodded in agreement. Ron was glad she agreed and didn't ask questions. He was quite deliberately going to the Tower, mainly so he could go up to Harry's trunk and dig out the Marauder's Map to save some time. Of course, then a play-act of Ron not knowing where Harry was would have to follow, but Ron was sure that if he were clever enough he could manipulate his way to Harry very quickly. Providing he was still in the castle, of course. He better be in the bloody castle, thought Ron. If he's not, I'll kill him. Ron always thought in death threats when he was under dire stress and subject to worry for people he deeply cared about.

It didn't take them long to get up to the Tower, and once there Ron ducked up to the dormitory. He unlocked Harry's trunk and digging his hand into the elasticated pocket in the side, he pulled out the map. Unfolding it, the map yielded the answer to the question of Harry's whereabouts.

"Charms?" he breathed. "What on earth?"

Shaking his head, he stuffed the map back in the trunk and ran down to the Common Room.

Fleur was peering at the old tapestries hung about the room, resting a hand on the mantle of the fireplace.

"Uhm... they're not there," he said. Fleur lifted a brow, bringing her hands together with a sigh.

"Well zen... we mus' look elsewhere."

"The classrooms are probably a good place to start," Ron said as laid back as he could, but without being too laid back and giving him away. As a result, he looked a touch constipated. He just decided to stop acting like anything at all. "Come on."

Fleur followed him as he strode down the hall purposefully. Not that he knew it, but she frowned at him. After he had gone down two corridors without checking any of the broom cupboards, nor any of the stairwells that curled off it, or even calling out Harry or Hermione's names, she pulled him to a stop.

"Where are we going?" she demanded.

"To look for Harry and Hermione," Ron said, looking at her as if she were a little soft in the head.

"Well you 'aven't even been looking!" she said, "Z'ey could be anywhere 'ere and you 'aven't checked!"

He looked back and forth and frowned. "Well, they're not here."

She lifted a brow and stared at him. "'Ow do you know?"

He frowned seriously. "I have a feeling. Come on."

"No," Fleur said, striding to a door and opening it. "I don't trust de 'feelings' when a student's well-being is in jeopardy."

Ron rubbed his face tiredly. Great. They'd be searching through half the school all night, and he'd be missing out on the greatest party of the century.

"Fleur, just believe me, all right? My feeling says the classrooms. I've been right before, now let's just keep going."

"'ARRY!" she cried, calling into the stairwell that was on the other side of the door she opened. "'ErmioNEE!"

"SHhhH!" hissed Ron, running over to her and pulling her away from the door. "Are you *trying* to get me into trouble?"

She looked at him sharply. "Obviously zat is more important to you z'an 'Arry's well being."

"No, of course not!" he said. "I've more than managed to help him out in the past without getting us both into trouble. Now, come here and be quiet!"

Fleur seethed. It was apparent she did not appreciate being talked to in such a way. She would never have been talked to in such a way in her life, and particularly not from Ron, who reserved that sort of behaviour for Hermione.

"I will not 'eel like a wayward puppy!" she retorted.

He blinked at her. "Then don't act like one!"

Her jaw dropped. Her ivory cheeks grew red. She stormed over to Ron and with a swift swing, slapped him right across the face. He staggered back, clutching his face, shocked at the sting that slammed over his cheek. He wasn't expecting such a thing, as he'd never had a woman react like that in his life. He looked back and forth between them, then stood very tall.

"I'm going to go look for Harry and Hermione now."

Without another word, he stomped off towards the classrooms. He was so incredibly mad that he didn't even want to look at Fleur. Slapping might have been all well and good back in France, but here, and with the people he socialised with, it was just a little uncalled for. Behind him the woman continued to call for his friends, doors opening and closing as she checked in closets and walkways. The first classroom they'd hit was Transfiguration(). It was just a few yards up ahead. He ran up to the door, and going in he made a good show of looking for Harry and Hermione. He checked behind tables and chairs, in cupboards, behind the podium, all around the room. Of course they weren't there. He knew exactly where they were. He just hoped they were still there when he got to them.

He strode to the door, and just as he opened it, Fleur arrived on the other side. They almost bumped into each other, and as it was they stood barely an inch apart. For a long moment she stood there, hands bracing the doorway, breathing quite smoothly, eyes locked on his before glancing at his lips momentarily. She met his eyes again, and cocking a brow, stepped back from him.

"You looked?"

"Yeah," said Ron.

She paused, eyeing him judiciously. "Properly?"

If he were a bird, he could have ruffled his feathers indignantly. Instead, he puffed up his chest and scowled at her. "Yeah, of course!" He sneered then. "I even called out their names!"

She narrowed her eyes and lifted her nose. "Good. Let's keep going."

She was slowly sending him up the wall. He never knew she could be like this. All the time he'd been chasing her, she'd seemed cool and unflappable and wonderful and never had he thought she'd be infuriatingly superior. Well... he would have expected her to be had he used his brains, but he'd conveniently forgotten the fact. His body, however, didn't care in the slightest and was still very excited after sharing the same air as her heavenly body for a few moments. It was teeth-grindingly annoying, to be so angry with her and so bloody turned on by her at the same time.

"'Istory," Fleur said, opening the door and swanning into the dark room. Ron followed her, listening to her call out his friends names, sans the 'h's.

He watched her as she looked, and it occurred to him that something had changed since she'd struck him. He couldn't put his finger on it exactly, but he'd seemed to have moved up in her esteem somehow. Perhaps it was his reaction. Maybe all the other men acted differently when she did that to them. She must have done it before, she was too easy to fly off the handle at him. What did they do - what would they do, men so terribly in love with her? Grovel? Beg? Ron felt like doing neither, and at the moment he was swinging between hitting her or kissing her rather possessively.

Kissing? It was an odd thing to want to do. He'd often felt the same towards Hermione. He wracked his brains, he didn't like feeling things he didn't understand.

"Zey are not 'ere," Fleur said, and she went past him, wafting of perfumes and beautiful soaps. He quietly followed, thinking deeply, trying to understand.

Charms was next. He'd be back to the party soon, back to Lavender. God, why did he keep coming back to that? That girl was like a song that got stuck in your head. It kept popping up every five minutes in the mind and wouldn't leave until he thought about it for a good minute.

Fleur reached the door to Charms and she turned the knob. It did not open for her. She frowned, and gripping the knob, pulled and pushed the door, wiggling it back and forth, and after this didn't yield results, she growled. It had to be the cutest sound Ron had ever heard, and he tried to ignore his neck and cheeks going hot. He reached the door, and Fleur was attacking it with several unlocking charms.

"It is not working," Fleur said, a little bit of panic in her voice.

Ron frowned and did the only logical thing left. He thumped on the door repeatedly, calling out their names.

"Harry! Hermione!" And he added, "Are you in there?!" Even though he was fairly certain they were.

It was odd. For a few moments there was nothing. No sound, no movements. Then there was a flurry of footsteps, and their voices were loud on the other side of the door.

"Ron!" It was Hermione. It was strange. She sounded distinctly guilty. "What are you doing here?!"

He blinked. "What?"

"Ron, what time is it?"

That was Harry this time. Ron frowned. This was getting very peculiar.

"About seven thirty!" He cleared his throat. "Have we interrupted something?"

"NO!" came the reply in unison, both voices peaked in panic.

Fleur just smirked.

"Well - what are you doing in there?"

"We think Malfoy might have something to do with it," said Hermione, "He left a trick portkey. A green mitten."

Ron growled. "I left a maroon one! I'd say you've been diddled all right!"

"Thing is, we've tried everything on the door," Hermione continued. "It must be a spell I'm not aware of."

"It is a particularly complicated one," said Fleur. "I am not surprised."

"Is that Fleur?" called Hermione.

After a guilty pause, Ron replied. "Yeah."

There was another pause. Then Hermione spoke. "I thought you were taking Lavender out tonight!" She sounded quite accusatory.

Ron blushed, not that they knew it. Fleur just arched a brow.

"Uhm - I did, I mean I am! Fleur was just helping me look for you both!"

"That's nice," said Harry. Ron wasn't quite sure how to take that one. "Listen, Ron. Can you take my broom out for me? Leave it on my bed? I can Accio it and then Hermione and I can get the hell out of here."

"All right," said Ron, quite relieved that the whole situation was just a particularly clever prank against Harry and not some terrible plot by You-Know-Who to take over the world. He really wanted to get back to the party. "That'll only take me a few minutes. We'll head off now, all right?"

"Thanks Ron!" called Harry. "You're the best!"

Ron nodded. "You've no idea. Well..." He squirmed a little, meeting Fleur's rather amused expression. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do in there."

"RON!" cried Hermione from the other side of the door. Fleur chuckled.

"See ya!"

As he strolled off with Fleur (in a much calmer state), he could hear Hermione shouting at him from the classroom, but thankfully he was too far away now to hear any insults she may have had for him. She then went quiet very quickly. Ron didn't want to think about why. Really did not. They turned the corner, and Ron enjoyed the fact that he didn't have to overly worry about Harry's well being for once.

"You were right about ze classroom," Fleur said.

Ron shrugged. "I had a feeling."

"I don't doubt it," Fleur said in a rather dry tone.

"Hello, are you accusing me of something?"

Fleur just smiled. "You 'ave your secrets, you and 'Arry and 'Ermione. You 'ave your way of finding s'ings out, and I am not silly. I know you break ze rules, and I know zat you are not all you seem, you and zem." She tapped his nose. "I don't expect to find out your secrets, I just know you 'ave z'em."

"Good, 'cause I'm not telling."

He turned about and walked up the steps on the way to Gryffindor Tower. Some part of him was feeling the proximity every time Fleur grew close to him, and the other part just wanted to back away and get going, be in a place with people other than Fleur. She was too beautiful, too tempting, too much. They walked in silence for a while until they reached the portrait, when Ron muttered the password. As they climbed into the hole and into the Common Room, Ron could hear her breaths as she struggled in her dress. He turned, and he reached out.

"You all right?"

"Z'is dress is too long and too tight!"

"Here..." He put his hands on her ribcage, and pulling her forward, helped her out of the hole.

They staggered for a moment, and then righted themselves, Ron leaning against the wall, Fleur wobbling then finding herself up against him. Her large blue eyes gleamed at the contact, and she eyed him, a little smile on her face. Ron never imagined in a million years that he'd be so close to her, that he'd have his hands on her like this. She felt perfect, absolutely perfect.

"It's a pity," she breathed.

"Huh?"

She batted her long dark eyelashes prettily. "Z'ere is no mistletoe 'ere." She dragged her finger down the line of his jaw.

"You always require mistletoe to lay one on someone?"

Fleur giggled. "Mmm, non..." She leant in, and at the last moment breathed his name in that way that had him dizzy.

Round soft lips settled upon his own, and he was rather shocked as they pressed down, parting, warm and delicious. His body thrummed, his skin warm, but his heart... Oh God it was incredibly still. He frowned, wondering what was wrong, wondering how anything could be wrong when this is exactly what he always wanted! He pressed his lips against hers, wrapped his arms about her, teased her mouth with the tip of his tongue, eliciting a rather surprised moan from the woman in his arms. Oh yes, tingles, warm skin, hot breaths... nothing. Absolutely nothing. His mind wandered as his body enjoyed the sensations it was experiencing, and a thought flit through it. I wonder how Lav's going at that party...

A crashing heat plunged through him, and he pulled Fleur away with a jerk. He panted, eyes wide, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, I'm really sorry."

Fleur frowned, and was rather surprised when he broke away, storming up the stairs to the dorms. He could suddenly only think of one thing, only one vision filling his mind, and it had nothing to do with ivory dresses and long platinum hair. He laid Harry's broom out on the bed, opened the window in the dorm and bolted back down the stairs. He had to get back to the party.

Fleur awaited him at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded, a slightly bemused look on her face.

"'As somes'ing come up?"

Ron cleared his throat. Reaching the bottom of the steps, he took her hands, looking rather apologetic.

"Actually, it's what didn't come up," Ron said. Fleur blinked. "Sorry, bad joke, not really appropriate. I'm really sorry, Fleur, but - it's just not happening, you know?"

A dawning look spread across the beautiful face across from him, and she nodded. "Of course."

"You understand, don't you?"

She looked a little sad, but also knowing. It killed Ron to do it to her, but he suddenly knew a truth more deep and more binding than any he'd ever experienced before. Fleur smiled slightly, pulling her hands away from his.

"You go to 'er, Ronald," she said. "I 'ave my fun elsewhere tonight, mmm?"

Fun. Good. He was just fun. He leapt forward, dropping a kiss on her cheek briefly. "Thanks!"

He turned away and ran for the door.

"Ah... Ronald?"

He stopped, glancing to Fleur.

Fleur pointed to her lips. "You 'ave lipstick on your mouth. I would get rid of z'at before proclaiming your love to a woman."

Ron turned beet red and wiped at his mouth furiously. "Oh... thanks!"

Fleur smirked. "Go."

Ron did exactly that.

~~*~~

Of all the times Ron had to save the day, it was this one. And of all the times Ron had to be actually perceptive for once, it was the time that he sounded hopelessly guilty and put upon. Thankfully, Ron didn't make much of it. Probably because he was alone with Fleur Delacour. These thoughts did not have time to linger in his mind. His heart was still beating from the moment he'd had stolen away from him, and as Hermione gripped the doorknob, shouting at Ron and Fleur about spells and so-forth, all Harry could think about was how close he'd been to tasting her lips. The space between Hermione and him - barely a foot - was suddenly too much. He stepped closer to her, and with a shaking hand, he touched her hip. Hermione looked down, then up at him, cheeks going crimson. Listening to Hermione bark at Ron, he let his hand slide forward and cup the curve of her hip, fingers shifting back and forth experimentally, and Hermione gazed at him flusteredly before shouting through the door again. He sighed, heart thumping so mad it shuddered his ribcage, deciding that this situation had to be dealt with, quickly and precisely.

"Listen, Ron. Can you take my broom out for me? Leave it on my bed? I can Accio it and then Hermione and I can get the hell out of here."

Hermione looked up to him, and he could see she was rather worked up about everything. In the light of their wands, her face had a handsome blush about it. He unwittingly squeezed the hip under his hand in affection and Hermione stifled a gasp, her hands gripping the door helplessly. She shook her head at him with a look of panic that told him exactly how little control she had when he did that to her. Oh, how he wished Ron would just smeg off now.

"All right," cried Ron. "That'll only take me a few minutes. We'll head off now, all right?"

"Thanks Ron!" called Harry. "You're the best!"

"You've no idea. Well..." A pause. A very naughty pause. He would kill Ron. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do in there."

He would most definitely kill Ron.

"RON!" cried Hermione, jumping up and down in front of the door, getting even more steamed when she heard Fleur laugh at them.

"See ya!" came Ron's voice from further away. Good. He was leaving.

"Oh, you COME back here, you evil sod!" Hermione shouted, thumping the door. "Ron! Just you wait I'm going to make you pay for that!!"

"Hermione..."

Hermione slammed her hand on the door, and then kicked it for good measure. "Like he can bloody talk, poncing around with that blonde trollop!"

She stepped up to Harry, planting her hands on her hips angrily. "I can't believe he's done this to Lavender!

Harry smiled as she grumbled, adoring every moment of it. He decided he loved how she got angry. He loved how she swore under her breath and got that little dent in her forehead when she complained about things. He loved it so much he was going to kiss it. He turned her about, the girl still seething with rage, and quietly, swiftly, pressed a soft kiss to her brow. Hermione stilled, her hands curling about his fore arms and taking hold.

"Harry..." she breathed softly.

Her eyes were half-lidded and he could see the desire in the colour of her skin. He didn't let her say anything else. He cupped her jaw in his hands, dipped down and pressed his lips to hers.

Her arms crawled up around his neck, her lips opening underneath his, a plaintive sigh leaving her. After a long caress that went from shy and sweet to verging on heated, Hermione pulled away, smiling coyly, her breaths rushed. Harry ran the pad of his thumb down the line of her jaw, leaning his forehead against hers.

"You're absolutely beautiful," he said. "I think I nearly peed myself when I saw you tonight." He giggled, feeling positively giddy.

Hermione did too, and she sighed. "Harry! Well... thank you, but I often wonder if you see the world the way the rest of us do, particularly regarding me."

"I don't think Ron would have had that crush on you for all that time if you weren't something lovely to look at."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please! It made complete sense from a psychological standpoint for him to develop a crush on me! I'm the closest non-related female he knows and if he's going to discover anything about his sexuality it's going to be with m-"

Harry cut her off with a kiss, running his fingertips down the dips in her throat lightly. As he pulled away, he met her eyes with his own half-lidded in desire.

"You're beautiful, Hermione."

A sigh left her, her eyes locked with his, and she nodded very faintly. "Th-thank you."

He sighed too, cradling her jaw in his hands, gazing at her contentedly.

"You know," he said, drawing his thumb back and forth over the round of her chin, "I thought you weren't interested in me. Not like that..." Alarm made his eyes shine. "Or - am I being presumptuous...?"

"Harry!" she gasped, smacking him in the side playfully and pulling him down to her. She kissed him, not like she kissed him before. It was a forceful, fiery caress, and a shudder of delight swept through his body as her tongue stole between his lips. Pulling away, she was a little breathless, and her brown eyes gleamed with certainty.

"I'm more than interested in you, silly git."

Harry couldn't wipe the damn silly grin of his face.

"Whatever gave you the impression otherwise?"

His grin sobered, and he shrugged. "Well... your reaction in the Common Room when I told you what Lavender had said about us..."

"Oh," She rolled her eyes, embarrassed. "Did it ever occur to you that I have always assumed that you're not really interested in *me*? I mean, I'm not exactly the most glamourous of girls around-"

"So?"

She giggled. "Harry! You have looked at your track record, haven't you?"

He blushed. The few girls he had been interested in did all have a flashy gorgeousness about them, but it wasn't that that he liked. It was their confidence, their wit, and Hermione had that in abundance.

"It wasn't them who were there for me when I needed them, was it? They never calmed me down when I was angry, or made sure I was all right. Or went head-on into danger for me..." He shook his head. "No girl could compare to you, Hermione. Not one." He pressed his forehead to hers, smiling softly. "You're the only one that's put everything on the line to protect me. The only one that saw me for who I was, right down to the core, and didn't walk away."

She sighed, smiling softly, and she wrapped her arms about him, hugging him tightly.

"And I won't," she said, "I never will. Not if I have a choice in the matter."

Harry closed his eyes, resting his cheek on her head. After a time like this, Hermione pulled away, her liquid brown eyes meeting his. He couldn't help but stroke her skin again - the lovely line of the cheek, to the jaw, down the neck, to the base and the curve of her collarbone. Hermione shuddered, her mouth dropping open a little, her eyes fluttering closed.

Stepping forward, Harry lifted her jaw, closing in on the lovely length of her neck and pressing soft kisses there. Hermione wrapped her arms around his shoulders, digging her fingers in and melting in his arms.

"Ooh, Harry..."

He'd never heard Hermione speak like that, not with her voice thick with desire and arousal. It sent his blood boiling, and he shook a little, opening his mouth on her neck, sliding his tongue over her skin. She made a noise in her throat, and Harry sucked in a deep breath, trying to combat the dizziness overwhelming him. He had to have her lips again, and he kissed her, dipping within, exploring and teasing. Hermione moaned.

"Harry," she huffed, "We have a party to get to..."

His expression fell. "You want me to stop?"

"Oh, you-" She sighed. "Harry, if we keep on like this I'll look a wreck and I already have to reapply my lipstick. Besides..." She smiled. "We have all night."

Harry's brows lifted. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

She primped at her hair, picking her wand up off the floor. "Better to take our time when no-one is expecting us. Lord knows what Ron thinks with the delay we've had already."

He understood. She wanted to take her time in exploring this new thing between them, she didn't want it to be some rushed groping in a locked up classroom. He nodded, straightening out his own clothes, forgetting his hair because it was a dead loss anyway.

"Come on then," he said, "We're missing the party of all parties."

Hermione wrapped her arm about his own propped and bent elbow. Lifting his hand he called his broom to him. After a few moments, it zoomed into his hand.

"Will you be all right with this?" he asked her. "I know you're not fond of these."

"If I flew one from my house to Grimmauld Place, I can ride on one with you, especially considering you're a markedly better rider than I."

Her firm glance told him that she would be all right. Her arms around him as they mounted the broom were still tight, but he didn't mind in the slightest. They stopped by the bathrooms in Gryffindor Tower to neaten themselves up before hopping out the window on the broom to the cottage where the party was taking place. They avoided the Common Room for McGonagall could have been on patrol by that time. That, and it was far too tempting to stay right there and wile the night away with each other.

~~*~~

He'd looked throughout the entire house. Nobody could say where she was, either because they were too drunk to be able to produce words, or because they actually hadn't seen her. His heart sinking, he trudged outside through the snow. He shivered, pulling his cloak tight around himself. The dancing snowmen had tired some and were no longer doing jigs, but now leaning on each other in slow dances. Ron ignored them, plodding about them and making his way to the back end of the cottage property. He nearly slid onto his bottom on the icy cobbles that lined the passage to the yard. He rounded the corner and as he did, the sight that welcomed him both broke his heart and took his breath away.

She sat under a naked towering dark oak, wings waving back and forth forlornly, shimmering in the cool light of the moon. Her skin was pale and light, some of her hair had fallen loose, the deep brown tresses glittering slowly in the still night air. Her face was upturned to the sky, and a single tear twinkled on the sublime curve of her cheek. Her cloak covered her lap, and her arms were folded on it, fingers woven. On her hair and wings sat flakes of snow, and she looked utterly ethereal.

He trudged over to her quickly, and he knelt in the snow next to her. He lifted a hand and pulled a strand of her hair behind her ear, gazing at her like an unearthly vision.

"Why did I leave you tonight?" he breathed, shaking his head. "I'm a bloody git."

Lavender jumped a little, sprung from her reverie, and she frowned at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I came back."

"I know that," she said sharply, pulling herself to her feet.

"Why don't you put your cloak on, you look like you're freezing." He stood, reaching for her cloak, but she pulled it away from his grip.

"I have a warming charm on me," she said. "I didn't want to ruin my wings."

"I don't want you catching cold," he said. "Why aren't you inside with the others?"

She scowled at him and turned away, leaning on the trunk of the oak. "I couldn't stand to see people snogging."

Ron kicked some snow, looking down at his feet guiltily. "I'm sorry."

"Pfft!" Lavender snorted. "You know how humiliating it is? Being thrown aside for that flipping floozy?"

"I didn't throw you aside!" Ron said. "I was looking for Harry and I found him! He's all right. Malfoy pulled a trick on him!"

"I know," said Lavender darkly. "I heard him bragging about it half an hour ago."

Ron nodded. "Well. It was Fleur's choice to come with me, you know. I wanted to stay with you."

The girl leaning sadly on the trunk of the tree scoffed, pulling her cloak about her partway so not to crumple her sad wings. He stepped around her, meeting her eyes.

"I did! I was really looking forward to spending time with you tonight!"

Lavender put her face in her hands to avoid his gaze, shaking her head. He sighed, panic taking him at the thought that she wouldn't forgive him for his righteous fuck up, that he could lose her tonight.

"You ran off, Ron," she said. "I saw you. You looked at me, you took one good long look at me and you ran out the door with her like a shot!" She glared at him, and her cheeks were pink, her eyes rimmed red with tears. "Do you know what that felt like?!"

"I'm such a git," he swore to himself. "I'm a steaming great frigging idiot!"

She only gave him an agreeing look.

"Listen," he said, taking her shoulders into his hands. "I was afraid. I was really really afraid, all right?"

"I scare you?" she said, brows tilted up, hurt in her eyes.

"No, not you exactly, it's just..." He sighed. "I looked at you and I... I felt like all I could possibly want was -" He took a breath, fear and disbelief taking him as the last words rushed out. "All I wanted was you."

"That made you run away?" she said with narrowed eyes.

"I'm only seventeen, Lavender," he said. "And I have this feeling inside of me that I feel like could make me the biggest man around or break me into a quivering pile of slush! I- I've never felt like that before."

Her lips were pressed together, as if she were battling something inside her, on the verge of forgiving or banishing him. He knew he had to bare himself, he knew he had to be naked and exposed to her before she could feel trust again.

"I think I might be falling in love with you, Lavender," he said, voice shaking, "I feel like -- you know when you're on a sled, and you're just beginning to rush down the hill? Well I'm just over the lip and I'm beginning to rush down... and I know time will go on and I'll keep hurtling and feeling more and more. You know what I mean?"

She didn't say anything. Heavy tears spilled down her pretty face.

"So I'm gonna be honest, and you'll probably never talk to me again, but I'm gonna take that risk cause I don't want to be with you without being completely honest with you - right?"

She nodded slightly.

"I kissed Fleur tonight. Well, she kissed me, but then I kissed her back-"

His heart panicked as Lavender's chin dimpled, her shoulders shaking as a sob took her.

"No, no, you don't get it," he said. "I really kissed her, and I may as well have been kissing a wall!" When he got a confused and hurt look from Lavender, he squeezed her shoulders. "There I was, kissing this woman that I'd been drooling over for years, the most perfect woman I thought existed, and I felt nothing! Absolutely nothing!"

Lavender shook her head at him. "Congratulations!"

"I had one thought of how you were doing here, wondering if you were all right - just *thinking* of you, Lavender, and I felt lightning from my head to my toes. And I knew then, I knew that it didn't matter what girls I kissed, or who I distracted myself with..." He shook his head, cradling her face in his hands. "I'd never feel for any girl the way I feel about you." He fumbled in his cloak for a hanky, and pulling a white gold-trimmed one out he dabbed at her cheeks tenderly. "Please don't cry, Lav. I'm not worth it."

A little hand wrapped around his and she laughed through her tears.

"I think you are," she said, sniffling. "You stupid bastard!"

Ron laughed with her, too scared to assume a thing.

"Here, you have that," he said, putting the hanky in her hand. He cradled her face again. "I'm sorry, I really am. I know screwed up, but if you could ever forgive me... It'd mean more to me than you know. I mean, I don't expect you to forgive me straight away, but-"

"You are thick, aren't you?" she sighed, and tiptoeing, she wrapped her arms about him, hugging him tightly. "Of course I forgive you."

Carefully, Ron slid his arms about her, avoiding the wings, burying his face to the nape of her neck, every moment thanking God that she was holding him.

From inside, a song filtered through on the Wizards' Wireless. Were a Muggle standing there they would have said it sounded like slow jazz, but only Ron and Lavender were there to hear it. He looked up at the sky mottled with clouds, the moon being hugged by the grey. A soft slight flurry of snowflakes drifted past them, and Ron looked back down to Lavender, smiling.

"I like this song," he said, and Lavender smiled.

"Me too."

He briefly remembered instruction he'd had in his fourth year in preparation for the Yule Ball, and digging deep in his memory he pulled out a shred of propriety for the situation that presented itself to him at that moment. He put an arm about her slim waist, and took her hand, pulling her away from the tree.

They shuffled in the snow, warm light from inside amber on the snow, the moon a cool and magical blue, the both of them dancing where they met. Lavender's wings fluttered every now and again contentedly in accordance to her mood, the hem of her dress and cloak drifting back and forth in the snow. The music wrapped them like a blanket, a sound that said how they felt, perfectly and easily. Ron's heart swelled when Lavender leant her head on his shoulder, abandoning the proper ballroom stance and winding her arms about his chest. He smiled and wrapped his arms about her in kind.

As the song wound to a close, Lavender looked up at him, blue eyes gleaming happily. In Ron's opinion, she really was the greatest girl ever to walk the Earth.

"Thank you," he said, "For-"

She tiptoed again, and this time she silenced him with a kiss.

~~*~~

They grinned, bobbing up and down to the music that had burst from the radio after the slow song. They waved their hair about, shouted and span, the room crowded to capacity and the smell of sweat and alcohol thick in the air. There was also smoke from those puffing on pipes of varying kinds of leaf. The Elves had long abandoned the party, too many stomping feet for their health. The charms and the majesty of the room had begun to wane some hours ago from the wear and tear of the house guests. Food was stomped into the carpet, liquor had been spilt. Ashes made dark grey spots here and there. With the rate of alcohol consumption, it would likely be the contents of someone's stomach some time soon.

Harry and Hermione were in the middle of the bouncing throng, holding hands, knocking back full strength butterbeer. They were warm, heading for tiddly, making an effort to get completely drunk. Every now and again they'd wrap their arms about each other, swinging to the music, and Harry really didn't care who saw and what they made of it. He knew it'd be nothing compared to what he really felt.

"Great party!" said Hermione.

"What?!"

"I said GREAT PARTY!" she shouted.

Harry nodded and grinned, and Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes, signalling that she wouldn't try much conversation anymore.

Two figures made their way in from the passageway to the back door, and as they came into the room from the kitchen, Harry roared. Everyone joined in; they were, after all, two thirds of the powerhouse behind the party of the millennium.

Ron blushed bashfully, and Harry was delighted to see that Lavender's arms were wound about the lanky redhead. In his opinion, the far more suited girl was by his best friend's side.

Ron came over, hugging Harry and Hermione briefly.

"Glad you could finally make it mate!" he shouted into Harry's ear.

Harry nodded, bouncing to the music and leaned to Ron. "I'm going to fucking kill Malfoy!" he cried.

Ron looked at Malfoy. He was sitting next to Fleur on the couch, being as charming as he could possibly manage. Considering what a slime-ball he could be, this wasn't as charming as you could imagine.

"You might not have to!" he cried back.

"Oh?!"

"I've got a little bit of an idea!" he cried. "But for it to work, we have to make sure he's really bloody drunk!"

Harry looked over to Fleur and smirked. "That won't be hard!"

"No," shouted Ron. "I just need to ask Fleur the favour. Care to distract the bastard for me?"

Harry cracked his knuckles, not that it could be heard. "Ron, it would be my pleasure!!" He dropped a kiss to Hermione's cheek before walking across the room to Malfoy.

Ron hung back, keeping a keen eye on the situation for his moment.

Harry poked Pansy Parkinson, who was sitting next to Draco in vain. She scowled at him, and he leant to her.

"Mind if I have a word to Malfoy?" he bellowed into her ear.

A dark look let him know what she thought of that.

"It'll get him away from Fleur!" he added.

She blinked slowly, and then with an elegant tilt of her head, rose from the seat and strolled over to the drinks table coolly.

Harry threw himself into the vacated spot and flung his arm around Malfoy.

"Malfoy!" He shook Draco roughly.

Malfoy stared at him like he was the walking dead.

"How the fuck did you get here?!"

"Language, Malfoy, Language!" cried Harry. He slapped him on the shoulder warmly, acting entirely inebriated. "I'm more powerful than you know, you know." Harry waggled his fingers in Malfoy's face.

Draco frowned.

"Malfoy! Can I call you Draco?"

Draco opened his mouth but Harry squeezed him tightly.

"DRACO!" he shouted. "You are the BEST! You wanna know why?! I'll tell you why! You see Hermione over there?" He pointed to the gleefully dancing Hermione. "Isn't she beautiful?!"

Malfoy scowled. "Matter of opinion."

"Yeaaah, she's beautiful all right!" he grinned. "And thanks to you, she's MINE!"

"Thanks to me?"

"If it weren't for you," he shouted, "We wouldn't have been locked up in that bloody room! And we wouldn't have had to amuse ourselves! If you get what I mean! Say no more eh?" He elbowed Draco and cackled. "See? It's all because of you! We revealed our long concealed feelings and now we're in love! We're so fucking happy and it's all thanks to YOU, Malfoy! MATE!" He shook Malfoy by the shoulders again for good measure.

"Potter," said the blond man loudly and shortly. "If you don't extricate yourself from my immediate vicinity I'm going to get that bottle of butterbeer and shove it up your ever-loving arsehole."

There was a flash of a camera, and Harry looked just in time to see someone run away, giggling fiendishly. Harry grinned. Good - he'd get to have a record of this.

He saw Ron babbling away to Fleur in the background, and Fleur looking withdrawn. After a moment the blonde woman nodded with a weary smile, and Ron grinned, shaking her hands in his before giving Harry the thumbs up. He dived back into the crowd, making a beeline for Lavender. Harry looked to Malfoy and squeezed him far too tightly.

"It's all right!" he cried. "It gets me emotional too, mate! You have a good night with your lady here!"

He ruffled the blond hair that looked as though it took hours to style, and nodded with a grin.

"Bless you, ya slimy bastard!"

With that he staggered to his feet and ploughed into the dancing throng of students, Malfoy wiping at his shoulders as though he'd been touched by a leper, Fleur looking incredibly amused. Pansy was soon back at her station.

Harry giggled, meeting back with Hermione, Ron and Lavender in the thick of the party, out of Malfoy's line of sight. He looked to Ron.

"So - did Fleur agree?"

Ron grinned, nodding and giving the thumbs up. "Oh yeah. She said that she would have passed thanks to me --" He stopped and wriggled a moment, avoiding saying anything incriminating, "Thanks to certain circumstances, but she said that Draco was also a... what was that lovely phrase she used? That's right! 'A vile little shit with no respect for those around him.' She thought he thoroughly deserved it thanks to the crap he's given her for the past two years!"

Hermione smirked, and turning about, she grabbed her drink from the mantle and sipped it.

"Nggg - Gah!"

Harry blinked, watching Hermione spasm at the taste.

"What?"

"Oh... s'just the firewhisky I put in it."

Ron blinked. "You're drinking?!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, passing the drink to Harry who sniffed at it interestedly. "Yes, Ron. You really think that I'm going to go to all the trouble of breaking half the rules in the book just to get here without going all the way?" She shook her head. "Honestly, I thought you knew me."

Lavender giggled, snaking an arm around Ron's middle. "You've been told!"

"So what exactly are we doing to Malfoy?"

"Oh no," Ron said. "I'm not telling you."

"Why not?" asked Hermione, looking somewhat disappointed.

"Hello? Head Girl Hermione? If I tell you what we had in mind you'll put a stop to it won't you?"

"Ron!" she gasped. "You think I'd do such a thing?!"

He only stared at her dourly.

Harry chuckled. "Ron, I think you forget that she's had to put up with Malfoy as long as you have."

"Not to mention the fact that he's the worst abuser of the Head Student system Hogwarts has ever known! The amount of points he's taken from Gryffindor and - Ooh!" Hermione scowled. "I still can't forget that bloody argument in the Prefects Meeting last week about the toilet paper supplies..."

"Bugger, we've started her off," Ron groaned. "All right, all right, over here, I'll tell you."

Ron pulled Hermione away from the throng, and Harry was content to stay where he was and watch her face as she was told the Great Plan. She listened intently, and after a moment her mouth popped open and her eyes were wide. Obviously she was shocked. That's it, thought Harry, She's going to forbid us from doing it. He felt very sorry because it was such a deliciously evil idea, too. But she didn't look mad. She bounced and shouted in Ron's ear excitedly.

It was then Ron's turn to look shocked, and he gawped at her. After a moment of opening and closing his mouth like a suffocating fish, he gulped and nodded, and nodded repeatedly looking really very impressed. Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, and after a moment more of heated talking, they wove their way back to Harry. Hermione winked at him with a cheeky smile on the way over, and for a brief moment he forgot where he was.

"What are you up to?" he asked.

"Just making sure Mr. Malfoy gets his comeuppance!" she said demurely into her glass.

"If I were Malfoy I'd be incredibly worried about now..."

"Ohhhh, he should be."

"He's not. He's currently getting drunk, and it looks like Fleur is helping him."

"Good."

Harry grinned. He loved her rebellious side, that naughty little part of her that reared its head when justice needed to be served. What delighted him most was that it was being with him that encouraged this in her, that all her years of looking out for him had helped turn her into this mischievous imp in front of him. Sure, she had always been capable of that, but with his gentle playful prodding she'd gone from strenuously doing her best to behave at all times, to behaving as much as she needed to and indulging herself in a bit of fun if she wanted to. He dared to think that this part of her was his and his alone, but he stopped because he knew one had ownership over themselves only, never anyone else.

Either way, it made him very proud to see her in full 'evil' mode.

"Have you had any of this yet?" she said, lifting her glass.

Harry shook his head, and she smiled.

"Come on then, I'll get you a glass."

~~*~~

The night became magical. It was a word overused in this world, he knew it, but through the beauty of the evening that unfurled about him, he knew what real magic was. There was such surprise, such deep disbelief that the bliss and delight he was feeling was from something he had been denying himself so forcefully the past few days. What was he thinking? Why had he been afraid? He didn't know now, all he saw was Hermione.

There was still modesty, fear that he might say or do the wrong thing, but deep down a security lived that it would be all right, that she wouldn't be as flighty and high-strung as Cho had been.

Now they were dancing, glitter charms creating sparkling snow that drifted down about them, the music weaving a most delicious spinning spell about them. He wasn't too conscious about what other people were doing, they were a very nice backdrop. Hermione grinned in the soft light of the candles about them, brown eyes sparkling with glee, looking as though the night was all she could have wished for.

It brought Harry such intense joy that it was merely him that made her look so happy.

It helped that he was quite leg-wobblingly drunk.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, straining to whisper in his ear, forgetting that it was too loud for that. She ended up shouting.

"Harry, I thought you should know that I'm really very drunk!"

He nodded.

"Really."

He gave her a puzzled look. This shouldn't be news. She'd had a good four shots of firewhisky already.

She nodded, smiling broadly at him before slithering off him and going for another shot of whisky.

"Sure you can stand another?" he shouted over the din, following her shakily.

"I'll be fine!" she cried back. "One more! Just one more!"

"Me too," he said. "But I look after you."

She tilted her head and smiled. "I know."

She grabbed the bottle of whisky, hugging it to her chest greedily. She turned about, squirming through the crowd, and Harry scrabbled to keep up.

"Hey!"

She motioned him to hurry. After a moment's struggle of working through the squish of people, he saw Hermione had been racing for a recently vacated spot on the couch. She leapt for the spot, sitting down with a look of satisfaction. There was scarcely room enough for him there. She looked next to her at the half torso-width there, and with a frustrated dent in her brow she huffed at the student next to her. The student paid no notice, being too busy exploring the intricacies of the tonsils in the girl in his lap. Hermione wriggled in the spot and looked to Harry pleadingly.

No good. He wouldn't usurp someone that had every right to be in the spot he wanted to sit in. It was quite clear there was only room for one bottom.

Hermione smiled. She stood, and with a wave of her arm, offered Harry the spot.

He shook his head.

She offered it to him again.

Rolling his eyes, he sank down onto the couch, wondering what good it would do *him* sitting there. No sooner had he gotten comfortable than he'd gotten an armful of Hermione. His cheeks roared as she sat square on top of him, wriggling restlessly to get comfortable in his lap. She looked very pleased with herself, brandishing the bottle of whisky and the tumbler in her hand.

"See? Problem solved!"

What she didn't realise was that a completely new problem had arisen, so to speak, as every time she shifted her bottom (the soft, warm thing that it was), he was in danger of letting her know exactly how much he enjoyed her sitting on top of him, in the worst possible way. He was just glad she was drunk. What he couldn't believe was that it was Hermione of all people slugging whisky straight from a bottle on top of him.

She offered him the bottle pertly.

"Come on, you only live once."

Harry smiled slowly, shaking his head and taking the bottle from her.

"Tsk! What kind of example do you think you're setting, Miss Granger?"

Hermione turned her head about slowly, tumbler held delicately in one hand, her opposite brow arched askance.

"Harry."

"Yes."

"Take a look around you."

He did. The scene was a little less risqué than one would expect of a mild ancient Roman orgy. Harry coughed and leant close to her.

"What about it?"

"You'd be lucky to find anyone here sober enough to say the word 'example', let alone tell you what it means." She pointed to the bottle in his hand and held up her own tumbler. "Cheers!"

With a sigh of defeat, he knocked back the bottle, taking a good dose of whisky into his mouth, watching Hermione gulp down the entire contents of her glass. Their reactions to the liquid were quite different. Hermione twitched bodily. Harry felt like he'd been smacked in the face with a hot fire iron. Forcing down the whisky, he dissolved into strained and choking coughs, curling up some, only vaguely feeling Hermione rub his back and chest (and bugger it ALL he was too deprived of oxygen to enjoy it). Fire raged down his throat and into his stomach, and he wondered if this is what swallowing dragon's piss might be like.

"Harry! Are you all right!?" Hermione seemed to sober a little in worry.

He could only nod and wave a hand after giving her the whisky bottle back.

"You need to get used to that stuff! It's very strong!"

He gave her a wry look and she winced.

"Would you prefer some rum?"

He choked again. "What am I, a pirate?!"

She held up the bottle in her hand. "Yo ho ho!"

He grabbed the whisky bottle from her and growled.

"Gimme that!"

He shot her an affectionate scowl and tried again. Again, the slap of burning hit him like a kick in the teeth, and he forced himself not to fall to pieces like he had moments ago. He grit his teeth and looked at Hermione, feeling his eyeballs sting with tears. The stuff was painfully strong, but dear God, he would not be outdrunk by Hermione. She lifted her brows, waiting for him to dissolve again, but it didn't happen.

He looked about him. The party was in full swing, and the music from the wireless pounded the room to the very fibres. He saw Ernie MacMillan sharing a dance with Hannah Abbott, and the tall blonde boy (who'd always reminded him vaguely of Steven Fry) lifted a brow as he looked back. He wondered what was getting such a response. He was surprised as he saw Ernie talk into Hannah's ear, and Hannah was swung about in the dance surreptitiously. Her pale blue eyes hit them and her mouth grew to a happily scandalised 'o'. It was like a game of Chinese Whispers from then on. In the dance she spun about and tapped a friend on the shoulder. She mumbled into their ear, and the look hit Harry. He lost count of the people who looked at him, their stares lingering a little too long, and then a long smirk would always break out on their faces. He wasn't entirely sure what the fuss was. It was just Hermione in his lap. So, yes, his hand was on her back (the lilt of the curve of her spine was so very nice, he could stroke it for always), and she was very comfortable against him, sipping at - okay not sipping, slugging - at the whisky and swaying to the music. So what? There were students next to him practically performing open mouth surgery. There was snogging everywhere, and one could assume that the bedrooms upstairs were completely occupied. Why did *he* have to be such the big deal? Again?

He squirmed, frowning a little and leaning to Hermione's ear.

"We're being looked at," he said.

"So?" She shrugged.

"Well... I think they're making assumptions about us," he said.

"And this is a problem, why?"

He blushed, shrugging. "I don't know, I just - I don't want them thinking badly of you."

She lifted a brow. "They could be thinking badly of you."

He chuckled doubtfully.

"They could," she went on. "They could be thinking, 'Oooh, look at Harry Potter. What a bloody slut!'"

"Hermione!"

"Well, it's true!"

He rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yes, I suppose you're right."

"And besides - I wasn't aware that our developing relationship was something you wanted to keep secret."

It was hard to hear her above the clamour of the party, and this wasn't a topic he wanted to shout at her over the noise of other people.

"I'd rather talk about this later," he said.

Hermione frowned, fingers playing with the neck of the bottle in her lap. The hurt in her eyes rang loud and clear, and he sighed, thinking that perhaps kicking himself in the head was a good idea about now.

"It's a matter of safety, all right?" he said. "Not embarrassment."

She looked up at him, and there was doubt in her expression.

Harry sighed. Bugger it. He looked about him, and other people's eyes dragged from boyfriends and girlfriends to him, and then at the drunken elves, and then a melting ice sculpture that had a bad charm - the general chaos that was going on about them. People were having a good time, people didn't care. They were kissing and falling in love and some were just having a good time on their own getting hopelessly drunk. God damn it, he wasn't going to live under a rock. He was going to be one of them.

He leant forward, stroking her jaw deftly and tenderly to turn her head. She took a breath in surprise, and his lips were upon hers.

Her mouth was still as he kissed her firmly, his hand on her back pulling her to him. It was a statement of pride, this kiss, an unabashed display to let the world know that he'd found someone and he didn't care if it was who everyone assumed he would eventually get with. He was a regular seventeen-year-old boy, kissing a beautiful girl on a couch at a party, and it was absolutely wonderful.

~~*~~

Onto Chapter Four