Chapter 15: Crash Push
---------------------------------
"Thanks, Buckbeak… I'll… I'll see you later."
Feeling as if he were walking through a fog, Harry turned around and stepped away from the hippogriff, carelessly jumping over the fence and making his way back to the castle.
He couldn't get her words out of his head… neither could he stop thinking about the implications that those words entailed.
The question remained… if Hermione had indeed been in love with him, does that mean that she was still in love with him? If she was, why was she dating Roger?
His heart sank just with the mere notion that he had lost the chance to be with her.
But what if she still held those feelings for him? What was she waiting for? Graduation? Voldemort's demise? For Harry to get his head out of his arse and realize that the girl of his dreams had been standing in front of him all these years?
In that land of uncertainty he now inhabited, Harry was sure of just one thing.
He needed to tell her.
And it wasn't just because the effects of the potion would not cease until he dealt with his feelings. He needed to tell her because he knew she deserved to know exactly why had he been acting so weird this past week, why he couldn't stand Roger, and why last night had been the most wondrous night in his seventeen years of life.
He needed to tell her how much he loved her.
He had wasted enough time… he couldn't wait another moment without letting her know.
What happened next… if something were to happen… would be her choice. It wouldn't change how he felt.
Not now… not ever.
He stepped into the castle, barely picking up the sound of the music coming from behind the closed doors to the Great Hall. The All Hallows' Eve Ball was already in full swing.
Briefly, he had considered going straight through those doors, finding Hermione in the crowd and just blurting "I'm in love with you," but he knew he wasn't in his best fashions, not to mention that after spending God-knows-how-long in the company of Buckbeak, he now smelled like a wet dog.
The hallways were deserted as he made his way directly to the Gryffindor common room. As Harry had expected, it was empty except for a few third and second year students who were too busy cheering in a game of Exploding Snaps to notice the preoccupied young man that made his way up to his dormitory.
The room he shared with the boys was empty, although in a particularly great state of disarray. Seamus and Dean's beds were full of clothes, shoes, and other articles, as if they had been in a hurry to find something in their closets. Neville's night table had one object Harry had never noticed before… a hair gel bottle. And Ron's… what the hell was white fur doing on Ron's bed?
Harry's attention quickly shifted to the foreign box waiting for him on his bed. He took off his tie and threw it on the bed before picking up the piece of parchment that lay neatly next to the box. He immediately recognized Ron's messy handwriting.
Hiya Harry,
Fred and George sent me this a few weeks ago, before Luna chose another… well, another costume for me so we could match. I think it will fit you nicely… just in case you decide to join us.
Your friend,
Ron
PS. She's waiting for you, Harry. Don't let her get away.
"Bless you, Ron…" Harry whispered with a grateful smile, laying the parchment on the bed before stripping himself of the rest of his vestments and stepping into the shower.
It was the longest shower Harry had ever taken. The scalding hot liquid didn't bother him as he replayed again and again in his head the different scenarios he could encounter.
He had never been good with words. In fact, Ron was probably the only person in the lot of Hogwarts who had a worst case than him of the foot-in-mouth-titis disease.
So… what words could he use to make her understand just how much he felt for her? What could he say to make her see through his eyes that she was the most wonderful woman in the world and that it would be his honor if she were to give him… them… a chance?
Where was a Hallmark when you needed one?
And what would he say if Hermione told him that she didn't share his feelings? His chest tightened as he leaned his forehead against the cool tile, letting the spray of water pelt his back. What would happen then?
Will they be able to remain friends? From his part, the answer was a resounding yes. It would be hard, it would be painful, but she was too much a part of him to ever let go, and if he could only be with her as Harry Potter, best friend, then that's whom he'll be.
But… could she still be his friend even when she knew how much he desired her?
`It's Hermione you are talking about. She will never leave you.'
"There's no me without you," her whisper echoed in his head. And reluctantly, Harry smiled.
He knew exactly how that felt.
He stepped out of the shower and quickly dried himself with a towel before heading back to his room. Dressing in his favorite boxers (a novelty gift from Fred and George that had the words SEEKER written in big letters over his tush), Harry opened the gift box, took out the costume and laid it on the bed.
A smile tugged at the corner of his lips; he recognized the costume. He had seen it years ago in a BBC special he had seen on the telly about a British composer.
He's here… the Phantom of the Opera.
Harry tried not to think about the fact that the Phantom was a tale of a disfigured man whose love for a woman was not reciprocated. He doubted the Powers-That-Be would use this costume to try to communicate with him. Besides, the possibilities of Fred and George knowing about the muggle story before buying it was close to nil.
He had to perform a charm on the black trousers to compensate for the fact that he was a bit shorter than Ron in stature. The white crisp shirt fit him perfectly, for Harry was thicker than Ron around the arms and the chest. The black vest with its silver embroidery was a tailor's masterpiece, and he was surprised to find that he didn't mind having to wear the bone-white bowtie that came with the costume. He slipped into the black tuxedo coat with ease before looking at his reflection in the full-length mirror.
Even with the mess on top of his head that people call hair, he looked halfway decent.
He did his best to arrange his hair, but it always ended up sticking on the back. Harry looked with unease at the tube of gel hair on Neville's dresser; he had never use any before, but he knew he had to look his best if he wanted to divert Hermione's attention from Roger.
The hair gel seemed to do the trick for the moment, because for the first time in Harry's life, his hair was behaving normally. He slicked it back before picking up the mask from the package. He really wanted to wear the mask (he thought it would help him if Hermione couldn't notice him blushing), but there he found a dilemma, for wearing his glasses over the mask would make him look ridiculous. But not wearing his glasses would mean bumping into everything and anything, and he would probably end up visiting Madam Pomfrey's once again.
`You're a wizard, Harry. Start thinking like one.'
Harry grabbed his wand from the pile of discarded clothing and, touching his eyeglasses, performed a Disillusionment charm. He watched in the mirror as the glasses became chameleon-like and took the colors and contours of his face. Removing them slowly, Harry placed the mask over his eyes before putting them on again and walking to the mirror.
He was ready.
Harry left the safety of his room and walked out of the Gryffindor common room, making his way through the labyrinth of hallways of Hogwarts toward the Great Hall.
On the way, something quite unexpected happened.
His scar burned.
It was a blinding blaze so violent that Harry fell on his knees. He grabbed his head with both hands, breathing deeply through his nose, trying to remember the Occlumency lessons Snape had given him.
`Voldemort can't be nearby… he just can't… this is Hogwarts… this is Hogwarts… we are safe.'
Harry sat against the wall while the burning receded. There was no way in hell that Voldemort nor his Death Eaters could be here. Even when he had encountered a life-threatening adventure every year since coming here, he knew the Hogwarts castle was the safest building on the planet, with every conceivable charm in place to prevent the entrance of those who were not welcome.
`It's just the nerves.'
It was comprehensible, thought Harry. He was about to have the most life-altering conversation of his life, not including the revelation of the Prophecy at the end of his Fifth Year. His hands were sweaty even in the cool temperature, and he had to wipe his forehead twice before standing up and leaning back against the wall.
Harry cracked a half-hearted smile. Seemed his head was more willing to go off and fight Voldemort than to tell Hermione how he felt.
`I'm doing this, whether you like it or not.'
Harry pushed himself from the wall, the burning now reduce to a slight sting over his scar, and continued his walk toward the Great Hall.
Rounding the last corner, Harry collided with an unexpected object. The force of the impact was so strong than Harry fell back on the floor before realizing what was going on.
`Great. First the scar and now this…'
"Hey, you okay -" but his words died out. Standing up from the floor was none other than Draco Malfoy, dressed in black and red. Malfoy grimaced when realization dawned on him as to whom he had crashed into.
Harry instinctively reached in his tux's pocket for his wand as he stood up. He really didn't want to waste another moment, but if Malfoy was looking for trouble, he was going to find it.
"Gryffindor scum," Harry heard Malfoy whisper. His temper flared, but he thought of Hermione, and the desire to get to her was stronger than the desire to pick a fight with this git. Biting his tongue, Harry placed his wand back in his pocket before walking right past Malfoy.
He hadn't taken two steps when he heard Malfoy whisper, "Do us all a favor, Potter. Turn around and crawl back to the hole you came from."
Harry looked over his shoulder in time to see Malfoy's billowing cloak as the Slytherin rounded the corner. Um, that was strange, Harry thought. He had called him Potter… not Potty, not Pothead, not Scarface, not Saint Potter… he couldn't remember the last time Malfoy had actually called him by his name. And his voice… the words were carried it in a tone Harry had never heard Malfoy use.
Turn around.
He scoffed… as if he would ever listen to Draco Malfoy. If Malfoy had a problem with Harry going to the ball, then let it be his problem.
Harry finally stood in front of the massive oak doors that marked the entrance to the Great Hall. Loud orchestra music could be heard coming from behind the doors, along with dozens of snippets of casual and cheerful conversation.
For an instant, such a strong sense of panic gripped Harry that he considered listening to Malfoy, turning around, going back to his room and hide under his bed.
`I am not going back on this… not until I speak with her.'
Harry pushed the doors open and took a sharp intake of breath at the sight that awaited him.
The Great Hall had been decorated to look like an Opera House. The full moon could be seen behind a huge chandelier that was hanging from nothing in the middle of the hall, and dozens and dozens of candelabra and light spheres were levitating overhead. The house tables had been pushed to the side, and were filled to the brim with the most delicious looking treats that Harry had ever seen. Balconies were hanging high on the sides, and crimson velvet curtains were hanging from those balconies all the way to the floor, forming small canopies.
What little he could see of the walls, though, amazed him, for they were alive! Scenes from famous stories were playing all around him… Count Dracula holding Mina Harker in his arms, delicately touching her face, even when his eyes were burning with passion… Dr. Frankenstein flicking the switch, lightning crashing over and over against the machine that would bring his "monster" to life… an Egyptian mummy rising from his coffin and walking toward a group of archeologists… a man transforming into a muggle version of a werewolf and howling into the night… the three witches of Macbeth throwing the ingredients of their potion into their bubbling cauldron as they intoned their incantations… and many other scenes from books he did not recognized but was sure Hermione had read before she reached her ninth birthday.
`Love, you have done the impossible… you've outdone yourself.'
There were two grand staircases leading to an elevated stage on what was once been the faculty area, with a grander balcony above the stage. On the stage, a short wizard waved his wand from side to side, directing the orchestra of ghosts that were playing their flutes, oboes, violins, trumpets, cellos and other instruments Harry did not recognized.
On the balcony above stood a good-looking wizard dressed in a muggle-style tuxedo, using what appeared to be a 1940's microphone to sing. Harry laughed out loud when he noticed Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, Madam Pomfrey and Madam Pince standing next to the balcony, clicking their wine glasses to the rhythm of the music, looking at the singer with obvious admiration. Professor Sprout even blushed when he winked at her. Professors Snape looked rather annoyed at their childish behavior, sneering as he sipped his goblet, while Flitwick and Hagrid looked as if they were about to burst into a song and dance duet.
"Harry! About time you came!"
Harry felt a pat on the back and looked down to see Colin grinning widely at him, a lovely Hufflepuff girl by his side. Harry smiled back before returning his attention to the students in front of him.
Merlin, how he wished he had a camera with him! His fellow students were dressed as everything and anything under the sun, from vampies and devils, to werewolves and mummies, to Flobberworms and Blast-Ended Skrewts, from musketeers to jedis, to classical masquerade costumes with peacock feathers and domino masks, and top-hats and cloaks, and… was that a giant bunny rabbit?
A lot of students were crowding the dance floor, swaying from side to side with the rhythm of the music, while others were chatting at the corners or gorging on the delicious food the elves had prepared for them.
A pair dressed completely in black was approaching him, and it took him a few moments to recognize that the girl in the skintight leather outfit and the guy in the full-length leather coat were his two good friends, Ginny and Neville, dressed like the characters of the Matrix. He had fond memories of watching the movie together last summer, when they spent the night at Hermione's house after celebrating Harry's birthday.
"Wow, Ginny… you look… whoa," Harry said with sincerity, getting a grin from the redhead.
"I know. And doesn't Neville look delicious enough to eat with a spoon?" Ginny replied, turning her eyes to the young man next to her. Neville cough loudly, his ears shining red from embarrassment as he mumbled something that sounded awfully like "not here, love".
"Hey, where's Ron?" Harry asked, craning his head over the heads of his fellow students. He was actually trying to see if he could spot Hermione on the crowd. Neville and Ginny shared a knowing look and a secret smile before turning their attention back to Harry.
"Want my brother? Just look for the big, white, fluffy thing on the dance floor," Ginny smirked. Harry frowned, turning his attention back to the dance floor when he recognized Luna, wearing a beautiful white gown, her shiny hair braided with golden thread, her wide blue eyes brimming with laughter. And dancing with Luna was…
The giant bunny rabbit.
Oh, sweet, sweet Ron… what have you done?
Harry looked back at Ginny and Neville with a questioning look, and the pair just nodded in reply, their smiles growing wider. Harry bit his lip, but it was to no avail, and he just burst out laughing. His tummy was aching by the time the laughter subsided, and he was wiping the tears from his eyes by the time he chanced another look at his redheaded best friend.
"Don't worry. I already asked Colin to take a picture… can't wait to show it to the Twins," joked Ginny. They watched as Luna and Ron stopped dancing and went to the nearby juice table.
"That's our cue," Neville said, and the three of them made their way toward the big and fluffy white mothball that was Ron. Luna was the first one to spot them, and she grinned widely when she saw who had joined Ginny and Neville.
.
"HARRY!" Luna said with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, hugging him with such force she almost knocked him backwards. Ron positively beamed when he saw his friend, patting him on the back with a furry hand.
"Hiya, guys. And who are you supposed to be, milady?" Harry asked when Luna finally let go of him.
"I am Diana, a famous witch from the Greek and Roman eras. Muggles called Diana the Goddess of Nature and - " Luna started to explain, but was interrupted by her boyfriend.
"Love, Harry doesn't need a lesson right now," Ron said sheepishly.
"And you? What does Diana have to do with a rabbit?" Harry asked, biting his lower lip in an attempt to stop from laughing at Ron.
"He's not a rabbit, Harry. He's a gryndybuck… Diana's familiar, now extinct. Goodness, Harry… didn't you read the editorial in the Quibbler last month? A gryndybuck's skeletal remains were found near the black mountains of Romania. Fascinating creature!" Luna said in such a serious manner that the situation only became funnier in Harry's mind. Ron was by now blushing scarlet, but still managed to look dignified in front of his girlfriend.
"Ron does look awfully like a fluffy rabbit," Neville added, eyeing the redhead critically. That was the last straw for Ron.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, I am NOT a rabbit! Look at my tail! Does this look like a rabbit's tail to you?" Ron said, turning around. Indeed, his tail looked like a baby dragon's tail, very incongruous against the white fur that covered his derriere. To top things off, he wiggled his buttocks, opening the way for Harry, Ginny and Neville to convulse from laughter.
"Blimey, you are all prats! Love, I'm going to get us some pudding. All that dancing made me hungry," Ron groaned, kissing his girlfriend's cheek before turning to Harry and saying, "You, come with me."
The still-snickering Harry followed Ron through the blockade of students toward the other side of hall. "Shut it," Ron whispered between clenched teeth when they were out of earshot.
"I'm sorry," Harry smiled, wiping the tears that once again sprung in his eyes, "it's just that... that tail is really menacing Ron."
"Well, I don't care one bit what you lot think. Wearing this bunny outfit was the only way that Luna would wear hers. I mean, have you seen her legs? They go on forever! And the way her skin glows… man, oh man… I'm so lucky," said Ron with a goofy smile on his face, "I mean, she looks so good that not even Malfoy has made a comment about my costume. He's been too distracted by her legs, I bet."
Harry looked toward the doors to find Malfoy had indeed come back. He was standing to the right of the massive oak doors, Crabbe and Goyle standing on each side of him. The Slytherin's face looked unusually serious without his trademarks sneer as he completely ignored Pansy nibbling his earlobe, his gray eyes searching for something or someone in the hall.
What the hell had crawled up his butt and died?
"So… seeing Luna dressed like that makes it all worthwhile?" Harry asked Ron when they finally reached the pastry table.
"You can be sure it," Ron grinned, taking a big bite out of a pumpkin pie, "And speaking of crazy things we do for those we love… Since you decided to join us… does that mean you are going to speak with Hermione?"
Harry gave Ron a rather nervous smile, but nodded with certainty.
"Merlin, I can wait to know how that turns out," his friend said, his eyes shining with happiness.
"Are you sure I'm doing the right thing, Ron?" asked Harry, needing his best friend's reassurance.
"Can you really stand the thought of Hermione not knowing how you feel, mate?" Ron asked softly.
Harry could only shake his head.
"Then don't wait a second longer," Ron cheered, slapping him on the shoulder playfully.
Harry used the chance to ask the question he was both dreading and hoping to ask.
"Do you know where she is?"
"Of course, I know. I always keep an eye out for my best mate's girl," Ron said, biting into a delicious-looking fudge bonbon. He closed his eyes and smiled dreamily, savoring the sweet treat for so long that Harry lost his patience.
"AND? WHERE IS SHE?" Harry blurted. Ron used his head to nod toward the front of the dance floor. Harry looked in the general direction, and it only took him a few seconds to spot her.
"She looks beautiful, doesn't she?"
Harry barely had enough working neurons to nod absently at Ron as he gazed at the object of his affection.
Hermione's long and shapely legs were inviting to the touch through the slits on the side of the white embroidered gown, which reminded him of the illustrations of Greek goddesses he had seen in books. The hairs in the back of his neck stood on end when he chanced a glance at the low-cut v-line that revealed more of his best friend than he had ever seen, her curves accentuated by the golden pendant she wore around her neck. Her shoulders were bared except for the delicate clamps that held the dress together.
There was a dash of gold and silver glitter on her arms and shoulders, and he could almost imagine how they would feel if he were to run his hands over them, how it would feel to move aside the dress clamp and kiss her bare shoulder.
Harry pushed those thoughts out of his head when his eyes traveled upwards. Oh, how he loved those glorious brown curls! Her hair glowed by the light of the hall, and every strand seemed to be made out of priceless Egyptian silk. Two braids held together behind her head by a pearly clasp framed her face, except for the loose tendrils that rebelled against the confinement. His hands trembled at the thought of burying themselves in those curls, feeling every silky thread under his fingertips.
And her face… oh dear Lord, have mercy on him.
Hermione positively glowed as she smiled up at her dance partner, the most adorable dimples decorating her face, with just a little bit of blush on her cheeks and rosy gloss on her lips. Instead of a domino mask, she had a smattering of glitter around her eyes, adding to her already surrealistic beauty.
How could he have been so blind? How could have spent so many late-nights studying, talking, or just sitting next to this girl and not fully comprehend the extent of her beauty?
`Because you love her for who she is… not for what she looks like.'
"Go get her tiger," Ron said, giving Harry an encouraging pat on the bum that sent the emerald-eyed boy yelping. He glared at Ron's retreating figure before reaching for a nearby partygoer's glass of pumpkin juice and gulping it down in one go. His mouth felt so dry and heavy he thought he had lost all ability for speech.
Like the Red Seas parting for Moses, the students in the dance floor unconsciously made way to for Harry to reach his goal. It didn't take him long to recognize the Praetorian dancing with Hermione as Roger Davies. Harry didn't know if it was common sense or jealousy, but he thought Roger looked absolutely ridiculous in a skirt.
The song ended, and Hermione and Roger parted to join their fellow students in applause. The singer announced a five-minute break, a break Hermione and her date used to approach one of the snack tables.
Harry just stood there, about one meter away, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers, feeling as nervous as he had felt when she had suggested the moonlight ride, thinking that maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.
Hermione certainly seemed to be enjoying the company of Roger. The two were laughing and talking as they sipped the warm butterbeers they had picked up from the table.
`Maybe this was a mistake. I mean… if Hermione wants to have something with Roger, who am I to ruin it?'
`Stop it! Just stop it! You came here to tell her how you felt… Let her decide! You owe her much more than that!'
Before he knew it, Harry found himself standing behind Hermione. He was close enough that the aroma of her lavender shampoo seemed to surround him, and once more he found his mouth was so dry he could hardly open it. But the sound of her familiar voice was somewhat soothing as she spoke with Roger about the enchantments playing on the walls. It was enough to make his brain start working again… somewhat.
`Alright… you've never been in this situation… but you've seen movies about it. You know what to do. Just be cool, calm, collected… suave… charming… and you'll swept her off her feet.'
`As if Hermione would ever be impressed by that.'
`Have a better idea?'
`…'
`I didn't think so. Now, let's get this show on the road,'
Apparently, Roger did not recognized Harry in his getup, judging by the fact that he was completely ignoring the young man standing behind his date. So might as well strike two birds with a stone: introduce himself to Hermione… and piss Roger off.
"Excuse me," Harry asked, doing his best to smile seductively, "I am looking for my best friend. You see? I promised I would save the first dance for her… and there are girls waiting for their turns."
Hermione's shoulder had tensed a little at the sound of his voice, and while Roger just looked at him with confusion, Hermione turned around slowly.
Harry's smile… along with his cool, calm, and suave plan… went right out the window.
"Harry?" said Hermione with a grin as she looked up into the masked face of her best friend. Harry could only nod; she looked even lovelier from this distance. Before he knew it, her arms had enveloped him in a bone-crushing hug that he shyly returned by hugging her waist with the lightest of touches.
"Oh, I'm so glad you came," the young woman whispered in his ear before giving him a small peck on the cheek just under the line of the mask. He was grateful for the disguise, for he was blushing violently by the time she let go and stepped back.
"I'm glad I came too," Harry whispered hoarsely, before clearing his throat unceremoniously. He forced himself to be polite to Roger and decided to greet him, "Hello, Davies."
"Hello, Potter. Nice to see you decided to join our little party," replied Roger with a nod and… was that a real smile? What was up with that?
Hermione gave Roger a nudge on the ribs before turning her caramel eyes back to Harry. Again, Harry experienced the magnetic pull of those eyes, and felt as if he were drowning in the whirling of colors and shapes reflected on them.
"Y-y-y-you look great, Hermione," stuttered Harry nervously. Hermione just lowered her head shyly, a sudden blush creeping on her cheeks.
"You don't look too bad yourself, Harry," Hermione said, raising her head, her hands reaching to the bowtie around his neck, straightened it with skill. The boy once again felt the need to clear his throat of an imaginary obstacle while racking his brain for something - anything - he could reply that wouldn't make him look like a complete loser.
An odd silence followed, one that Harry used to look around the hall for his other friends in search of encouragement. He didn't found them where he had left them, but he did find Ron on the stage, speaking to the singer as he pointed at something down below. What was he up to?
Ron's plan became quite evident when the singer turned his eyes toward the dancing students and, looking at where Harry and Hermione were standing, said into the mike, "This next song is dedicated to the most wonderful feeling in the world… love… and to two people in the audience that were lucky enough to have discover it… 4…3…2…1… hit it."
As soon as the first notes of the song reached their ears, Hermione beamed, her eyes drawn to the stage, "How wonderful! This is one of my favorite songs." Harry watched from the corner of his eye as Roger looked from Hermione to him and back again before releasing a surprising sigh.
"You know what? I'm a bit knackered. Potter, would you mind terribly dancing with my date? I bet she wouldn't want to miss it," said Roger, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. Hermione seemed as surprise as Harry was by the suggestion, judging by the way she looked at the Head Boy over her shoulder.
Surprised or not, Harry wasn't about to miss this opportunity.
"It would be my pleasure,"' whispered Harry rather solemnly as he extended his hand toward Hermione. She seemed to hesitate for an instant before placing her hand on his. Giving Roger a fleeting glance over her shoulder, Hermione allowed Harry to guide her toward the middle of the dance floor. The young man didn't know if it was only his nerves, but he thought the beating of his heart could be heard over the beating of the drums of the band.
"What is The Gryndybuck Formerly Known As Ron doing on stage?" Hermione suddenly asked when her eyes noticed the presence of her other friend. Ron seemed to be having a bit of trouble walking through the orchestra, for at the moment he was trying to unhook his tail from the thankfully unused tuba horn. Harry mumbled something that sounded like "no idea" as they reached a spot that allowed them some movement without bumping into the other couples.
"This looks like a good place," Harry whispered sheepishly as he turned on his heel to stand in front of Hermione. The young woman nodded softly as one of her hands slid over his arm to settle on the back of his shoulder. Delicious shivers traveled up and down Harry's spine as he raised the hand that was still joined with hers to the side before placing the other one on her waist, becoming painfully conscious of the warm skin hiding under the thin material of her gown.
`Remember, Potter… front, back… side to side. You can do it! Just like you did last night… before you fell on top of her and tried to snog her senseless, I mean.'
They started moving to the beat of the song just as the singer pulled the microphone toward him.
Crash…
Would you like me to forget myself
and lose myself
in you?
"Y-y-you really look go-go-gorgeous, Hermione. Who-who are you supposed to be?" Harry whispered.
`Smooth, Potter. As if the sweaty hands, the light shivering, and the spacey expression in your face weren't enough to make her see what a dolt you are.'
"You mean the costume?" she asked, her cheeks slightly flushed by his confession.
Harry nodded.
Push…
Just one push will do
then I'm overboard.
Drowning in you.
"I'm dressed as Helen of Troy," answered Hermione.
"Helen who?"
"Helen of Troy. Honestly! Don't you remember History of Magic?"
The blank look on Harry's face was the only answer she needed.
"A witch in Ancient Greece, of great beauty and wisdom, who was caught in the middle of a power struggle between two empires," Hermione said. A strange expression befell on her eyes when she added, "She was said to be `the face men went to war and die for'."
I hear a whisper slowly and
soon our lips will be near.
"Oh, that Helen of Troy," " replied Harry, giving her a small but sincere smile, "Well, I can see the resemblance now". She looked up at him, her eyes showing both amusement and disbelief.
"Very funny, Harry. I hardly think a man would go to war for me," she whispered, laughing as she added, "I just wanted to wear a cool dress for once."
In between the day and night
I step into the blue twilight.
He wasn't laughing. In fact, his expression was so serious it caught her off guard.
Catch me, darling catch me.
How could she doubt herself? How could she not think she was beautiful? But then again, his Hermione had always been insecure about her looks.
If only she could see herself the way he saw her.
As he stared into those drowning pools that she called eyes, Harry said the only thing he could think of that might make her think twice before doubting herself.
"I would go to war for you."
Hold me back.
I think I'm falling
over you.
What did you do?
`And I would die for you too.'
To say the least, Hermione was so surprised by the simple statement that she was rendered temporarily speechless. He figured she was stunned not only because of the words, but also of the unmistakable sincerity his voice carried.
Help me now.
I'm losing me…
into you.
What did you do?
What did you do?
They gazed at each other's eyes for a few instants that seemed to last an eternity, before Hermione looked away and replied, "Thanks, Harry. That's… that's really sweet of you to say." She smiled before adding, "Although I don't know if I should trust the opinion of a four-eye that is not wearing his eyeglasses."
He smiled at that, loving the relative familiarity in the conversation, "Who told you I wasn't wearing them?"
"Disillusionment?" she asked, arching her eyebrow in disbelief. Harry nodded rather smugly. "I'm impressed, Mr. Potter."
"I aim to please," replied Harry, his eyes drifting toward the edge of the dance floor. He almost choked when he saw Ron, Luna, Neville and Ginny standing by the stage, making strange hand gestures and mouthing something that he couldn't quite decipher. It took him a few moments to realize his friends were telling him to look at the other couples in the dance floor.
Harry did just that, and was surprised to find Hermione and himself were the only ones that were dancing so far away from each other. The other couples had their arms wrapped around each other, the females around their partner's necks, the guys circling their date's waists, their bodies so close that they touched. Looking back at his friends one last time, now understanding that they were trying to tell him to pull Hermione closer, Harry thought it wasn't such a bad idea himself, for his legs felt as if they were going to give out at any moment, and she could help him with his balance.
Walk.
I walk a line that leads to you…
waiting… anticipating.
With an unusual surge of confidence, Harry guided the hand that was joined with his to the nape of his neck and left it there. Hermione just looked at him, her perfectly sculpted eyebrow raised in puzzlement. He didn't trust himself to speak just yet, so he let his eyes do the talking while his hands traveled around her waist slowly, until she was safely wrapped in his arms.
"We don't want to stand out from the others," Harry whispered huskily, daring to tighten the hold on her waist.
Desire…
has no safety
to lead you on the road.
Going crazy.
"That… we don't," Hermione murmured, her voice sounding an awful lot like his. She then did the unthinkable and wrapped her arms behind his neck, the distance between them considerably lessened to the point her body was brushing against his.
I hear a whisper slowly and
soon our lips will be neared.
Harry wanted to feel her silky curls against his skin, to bury his face in the crook of her neck and never come out.
Hold me back.
I think I'm falling
over you.
What did you do?
Hermione closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his cheek, not unlike she had done the night before.
Sweet Merlin! If this was what torture felt like, Harry wouldn't have minded being tortured for the remainder of his existence.
"I never did tell you… I absolutely adore your costume," Hermione said in an attempt to strike a conversation.
Help me now.
I'm losing me…
into you.
What did you do?
What did you do?
"Recognize it?" Harry asked, painfully aware that she was stroking the hairs at the back of his neck with her fingertips.
I hear you whisper slowly… darling.
"Of course," she laughed.
He couldn't help but smile back as he teased her, "Don't tell me… you read the story when you were ten years old."
In between the day and night
I step into the blue twilight.
"Seven, but who's counting?" Hermione answered, leaning back just enough to look up into his face and gracing him with a bright smile.
`That's my Hermione.'
Hold me back.
I think I'm falling
over you.
What did you do?
"Did you like it?" Harry asked, feeling his own breath on his lips as it bounced back from her skin.
Help me now.
I'm losing me…
into you.
What did you do?
What did you do?
"Very much," she whispered. Her gaze lost somewhere in her mind's eye, she added, "Although I was never too fond of the ending."
What did you do? I think I'm falling.
"Why?" he asked with genuine interest, unaware his fingers were tracing random patterns on her lower back.
What did you do? I think I'm falling.
"Because I could never understand why Christine chose Raoul over The Phantom.'"
Help me now.
I'm losing me…
into you.
What did you do?
"Can you imagine what it like to have someone love you like that? I would give everything to know what that's like," Hermione finished.
What did you do?
`I do love you like that.'
Harry and Hermione seemed not to notice the song's ending, as judge by the way their arms were still wrapped around each other and they continued to sway from side to side.
Hermione didn't know if it was because she could not see his glasses, or because his face was framed by the delicate white mask, but she thought she had never seen that particular shade of green in Harry's eyes, like the green of a lush mountain just before it gets hit by a storm.
Harry thought that the moment had arrived. He had planned on speaking to her, on explaining his feelings and his intentions, and in asking her for her opinion. But this… the turmoil in her caramel eyes, the way her lips were slightly parted, the gloss glinting by the light of the sphere overhead, tempting him as if she were the Devil himself… her breath, which smelled faintly of pumpkin juice… it was too much.
No sane man could ever resist.
Harry could only start to close the distance between himself and the one he desired.
`This is it.'
… Only to lose his balance when someone knocked into him.
`DAMN IT! NOT AGAIN!'
Harry regained his balance before they could crash on the floor, and helped Hermione do the same. After making sure Hermione was okay and steady on her feet, he quickly turned on his heel to give the person a piece of his mind.
He recognized Goyle's retreating back as he stepped out of the dance floor with his date in tow. Harry was tempted to reach into his pocket, take out his wand and hex the living daylights out of Goyle, but all was forgotten when he felt a familiar hand on his forearm.
"Let it go, Harry," Hermione whispered soothingly as she took her place by his side, "Don't let that Neanderthal ruin your night."
Harry looked at her, his hand working on autopilot as he searched for her hand and took it in his own, feeling her squeezing his fingers in support.
"Well, Mr. Potter, I already collected on my first dance," Hermione said, looking down at their joined hands for a moment before looking back up at him, "You are free to go around the Hall and impress other girls with your skills."
She winked at him before turning around on her heel and taking two steps toward the tables.
`Oh, I'm not letting you go so easily… not now…'
Before she could go any further, though, she felt his grip tighten on her hand as he pulled her gently back to him. Hermione looked over her shoulder at him, puzzlement written on her face.
"Look, Hermione… I… I have to talk to you… somewhere more quiet," Harry confessed, feeling once again as if his wobbly knees were about to quit on him.
"Right now?" Hermione asked with a slight frown.
`Yes… because I'm a coward when it comes to you and I don't know if I'll ever get the guts to tell you again.'
Harry nodded.
He breathed a sigh of relief when she finally smiled and said, "Sure. Let me tell Roger." She turned around and, this time, he did let her walk away as he left the dance floor. He watched from a distance as Hermione reached Roger, who was talking with three good-looking Hufflepuffs dressed like the Witches of Eastwick, and whispered something in his ear.
Hermione's date seemingly searched the hall for something or someone, and Harry couldn't help but frown when Roger's eyes landed on him. He actually felt like squirming under his acute gaze when the Ravenclaw finally turned to Hermione and nodded, giving her a rather strange smile before whispering something in her ear and kissing her cheek with tenderness.
Harry actually wanted to get jealous by that display of affection, but surprisingly, he found he couldn't. There
was something odd about the interaction he had witnessed so far between Roger and Hermione, something he had never seen
before. Roger seemed more genuine and at ease around her, and she certainly seemed to be enjoying that change in
character.
`Does that mean I am too late?'
That single thought plagued his head as he watched Hermione saying goodbye to Roger and walking straight toward him. Harry's eyes burn from not daring to blink, afraid to lose her in the crowd, until he found her standing next to him.
Hermione took him by the hand, squeezing lightly, with a smile that made Harry's heart jumped inside his chest.
"I'm all yours, Harry."
"W-W-What?" he choked. Thank the heavens he wasn't drinking anything or Hermione would have been soaked from head to toe.
"You wanted to talk… somewhere more quiet," Hermione quizzed, once again puzzled by his behavior.
"Um… yes… yes."
"Want to go to the terrace? You look a little pale…" she suggested, her expression changing from puzzled to concerned, "a bit of fresh air might do you good."
"Yes… let's… let's go," he whispered, allowing Hermione to guide him by the hand toward the curtains that hid the doors to the East terrace.
The moment of truth had arrived.
---------------------------
A/N
Hello everyone. This chapter is dedicated to each and everyone of you that have supported me throughout the process of writing this story. Thank you.
Now, about the chapter… There are a lot of very important details in this chapter (aside from finally revealing Ron's adorable costume, that is), so hopefully you had your eyes wide open!
Would love to know what you think!
---------------------
A bit of trivia:
"He's here… the Phantom of the Opera" is actually part of the lyrics of the song Down Once More from Andrew Lloyd Webber's Phantom of the Opera musical. As you can see, that was the main inspiration for this chapter.
The Great Hall has been enchanted to look like this (Hermione is a bright one, isn't she folks?): http://www.boomspeed.com/anasazi/ball/GreatHall.jpg
Harry's costume looks like this (full domino mask instead of a half-mask): http://www.boomspeed.com/anasazi/ball/Harry.jpg
Hermione's costume (without the headpiece): (http://www.boomspeed.com/anasazi/ball/Mione.jpg)
Ron's (without the vest and bowtie. Isn't Ronniekins adorable folks?): (http://www.boomspeed.com/anasazi/ball/ron.jpg)
Luna's (-whistling-): (http://www.boomspeed.com/anasazi/ball/Luna.jpg)
In case there's someone in this planet who hasn't seen The Matrix, this is what Neville (http://www.boomspeed.com/anasazi/ball/Neville.jpg) and Ginny's (http://www.boomspeed.com/anasazi/ball/ginny.jpg) costume looks like.
The singer that sung the song dedicated to Harry and Hermione was Robi Draco Rosa, one of my personal favorites.
--------------------
Thanks for the overwhelming support to the last chapter! I am extremely grateful of everybody who dropped me a message.
Well, that's all from me for now! See ya!
Anasazi
-who can't get the mental image of Ron shaking his tush in a bunny suit out of her head.
-->
