Disclaimer: Much to my dismay, Harry Potter and the entire magical Hogwarts world are still not mine. Rats. Perhaps in another dimension or parallel universe they could belong to me? In this one, however, JK Rowling still holds that honour.
Author's Note: To answer a question posed by some reviewers, according to The Harry Potter Lexicon, Michael Corner "is a dark-haired boy who met Ginny Weasley at the Yule Ball and began dating her at the end of the 1994-1995 school year; although Ginny, Michael, and his friends joined the DA, Michael sulked so much after Gryffindor defeated Ravenclaw [the final quidditch match in Ginny's fourth year, when Ron became "a quidditch king" in truth-OOTP, Chapter 16] in 1996, that Ginny dumped him, after which he took up with Cho Chang." Like the golden trio, Michael is in his seventh year at Hogwarts. For the purposes of this story, he and Ginny got together again for a short time over the Christmas holidays of the year in which my story takes place. Hope this clears up the confusion. (I swear, The Harry Potter Lexicon is addictive; my obsession for it is almost as bad as Hermione's for Hogarts, a History, LOL.)
Shutting up now--on to the story.
HELPING NEVILLE
Chapter 8
Harry could not remember ever being this nervous-not facing the Basilisk, not facing the Norwegian Ridgeback, not facing Lord Voldemort . . . okay, maybe he had been this nervous before. But over a dance?
'This is the Valentine's Ball, Potter,' he reminded himself, 'not the final battle. So what if I'm a lousy dancer; I'm not trying to impress anyone.'
'Oh, no? Maybe you're not out to impress Susan Bones, but you'd sure like to make Hermione sit up and take notice, now wouldn't you, hotshot?' asked the devil on his shoulder.
Yep, Harry had to admit that he would like to do that. Eying his reflection, Harry plucked fretfully at the lapels of his dress robes and made a futile attempt to smooth down his unruly black hair.
'Forget it dearie,' advised the mirror. 'When have you ever been able to tame that mop of yours? I think you look cute as a button-Hermione will love you!'
Hmmm, not exactly the look he was going for, Harry thought, revolted-sexy, manly, dashingly handsome, yes . . . but cute as a button? Definitely not! Wait a minute, did she say that Herm . . .?
'Yes!' answered the mirror. And she refused to say another word.
Harry's old robes from fourth year now stopped about six inches short of his ankles, so Harry had been forced to undergo what, for any seventeen-year-old boy, whether Muggle or wizard, was extreme torture: he'd had to go shopping. The experience had been unnerving to say the least, but Harry had to admit that the elderly witch who'd served him at Gladrags had good taste. His brand-new dress robes were made of black velvet and lined in deep-forest green silk; underneath the robes he wore a soft white cotton button-down and simple black dress pants.
"Oy, Harry," came an amused voice from behind him. "Stop admiring yourself and let's get downstairs." Ron sniggered at Harry's nervous expression. "Cheer up, Harry. Hermione said she'd save you a dance."
"I'm not thinking about that," Harry protested.
"Right," Ron said skeptically. "Of course you're not. Anxious to get things going with Susan, are you? Looking forward to a nice snog in the old Astronomy Tower with your favourite Hufflepuff?"
"Shut up, Ron," Harry grumped. "You know I don't feel that way about Susan."
Ron grinned. "So what are you so nervous about then?"
Harry just glared.
"Come on, let's go," Ron laughed. "I'm just winding you up. She'll think you look smashing in those new togs, mate."
"You think so," Harry asked uncertainly. "Remember how good she looked fourth year?"
"Blimey Harry, you look fine. Get a grip there. And by the way," Ron added slyly, "I don't remember what Susan Bones wore fourth year. Hormone now . . ."
Harry flushed. Get a grip, Potter.
Meanwhile, on the other side of Gryffindor Tower, surrounded by a giggling Lavender and a smirking Parvati, Hermione was struggling with a bottle of Sleakeasy's hair potion in one hand and a wide-toothed comb in the other. Frustrated and out of breath, she threw down the comb in a fit of pique.
"Bother," she ground out. "I hate my hair! Stupid bushy mess!"
"Here, let me help you with that," Lavender offered, picked up the discarded comb. "What are you trying to do?"
"I thought I'd pull it back in a chignon, but first I need to get rid of the waves," Hermione said.
"Why get rid of them?" asked Parvati, surveying Hermione critically. "You've got gorgeous hair, you know-thick and shiny. Men love that," she added, giving her own luxuriant hair a complacent pat.
"Yeah, you really do, Hermione," Lavender agreed. "Why don't you skip the chignon and just go with your natural waves. No, not like that," she laughed, when Hermione held up an unkempt strand. "We can use Sleakeasy's to get the frizz out, and then . . . hmmmm . . . do you have any hair ornaments?"
Hermione shook her head and then brightened. With a wave of her wand, she conjured up a sprig of lily-of-the-valley.
"Perfect," squealed Parvati. Working together, the two girls soon had Hermione's hair molded into soft curls, which they then pulled up into a loose, high ponytail, bound together with a covered elastic band. As a finishing touch, the spray of flowers was fastened over the elastic band and a few tendrils pulled over to soften the side of her face.
"What do you think?" Lavender asked, smiling and turning Hermione to the full-length mirror.
Hermione had to admit that her two dorm-mates knew their stuff. She looked like herself, only better, more . . . more put-together, for lack of a better word.
"Thanks guys," she said with a grateful smile. "Guess I'm not such a 'know-it-all' after all, eh? You both are head and shoulders above me when it comes to this kind of stuff."
"Go on and have a great time," laughed Parvati. "Harry's gonna love the new look."
"But I'm going to the dance with Michael Corner," Hermione reminded her, with a puzzled look. The blush on her cheeks betrayed her, however.
"Right," said Lavender, grinning. "Just have fun, okay?"
"You too," Hermione smiled at the two girls. "See you later!" And with that she headed off to the common room, where she had arranged to meet Ginny and Neville. Ron and Harry had left earlier to pick up their dates from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff; Michael was meeting Hermione in the corridor outside Gryffindor Tower.
* * * * *
The decorating committee had certainly outdone itself tonight, thought Harry. The Great Hall had been bewitched to look like a winter wonderland, and hundreds of tall, silvery trees edged the stone walls, their long branches aglitter with shimmering ice and tiny white lights. Pastel-coloured fairies flitted from tree to tree, weaving their way between luminous butterflies of violet and palest green. The ceiling was enchanted to resemble a starry night sky, across which the northern lights rippled occasionally, while the floors were covered with a carpet of magical "snow."
Small tables were scattered among the trees, set with sparkling crystal and china; silver cutlery gleamed on the pristine white damask tablecloths. Tiny red roses mixed with baby's breath in crystal vases provided the only spot of colour. The entire atmosphere was intimate, charming, and cozy. Harry noted with discomfort that most of the tables were set for two, although here and there a larger table could accommodate six to eight people.
"Let's sit down over there," he suggested to Susan, pointing to one of the larger tables.
"Okay," she said agreeably. Truth be told, she was no more anxious to be alone with Harry than Harry was to be alone with her.
When Harry had first asked her if she would like to be his date for the Valentine's Ball, Susan had felt excited and, yes, flattered. Flattered that Harry Potter wanted to go somewhere with her; flattered that she would be seen dancing with "the Boy Who Lived." She had also been surprised; all of Hogwarts (except the couple involved) thought that Harry and Hermione fancied each other.
But after the first thrill had passed, Susan couldn't help feeling a little nervous about the prospect of going with him to the Valentine's Ball. Harry was a nice person, although rather shy, but Susan didn't know him all that well. Being shy herself, she was worried that they wouldn't know what to say to each other. Up to this point, the only thing they really had in common was the DA, and while that should be good for a bit of conversation, she couldn't see talk about defensive magic taking up the entire evening.
'Hey, Harry, learned any new curses lately?'
'Oh yeah! Picked up one the other day-turns your opponent's hair green and glues his eyes together.'
'That would be a great curse to try out on Voldemort, Harry--perfect protection from AVADA KEDAVRA. Maybe it'll keep him from killing you and the rest of us.'
Nope, DA talk would only take them so far. Of course, there was one other possible topic of conversation . . .
'So I was wondering, Harry: what's it like knowing that the most evil wizard ever born keeps trying to kill you? Think he'll succeed? Think about death much?'
Even worse. But wait-there was one other avenue! Even though Susan had never personally experienced an attack by Voldemort, both she and Harry had had family members murdered by either the dark Lord or his minions.
'Noticed any Thestrals hanging around the castle lately, Harry?'
Not good.
Ever the gentleman, Harry pulled out a chair when they reached the table and helped Susan sit down. She looked pretty in a satin dress robe of palest pink. Instead of the usual plait, her hair fell down her back in soft curls.
For the next few minutes, Harry passed the time by asking Susan about her family and home village. Just when he'd begun to run out of questions, Harry was relieved to see Ron and Luna enter the hall. Luna was lovely in an offbeat way, her long blonde hair woven through with bunches of clover (odd combination, thought Harry, but it worked) and her surprisingly excellent figure shown off to advantage in banana-yellow dress robes. As the couple approached, Harry saw that miniature quaffles dangled from her ears and what appeared at first to be a thin gold necklace was actually a string of minuscule crowns.
"Hey guys," Harry said, "come on and sit with us. Luna, you look, er, nice."
"Thank you, Harry."
"Very interesting earrings," Susan remarked. "And are those crowns?" she asked, pointing at Luna's necklace.
"Yes," Luna smiled. "Weasley is my king, after all."
Ron turned beet-red in his dark blue dress robes and mumbled something under his breath. Harry grinned and leaned forward to say something to Ron; just then two other couples entered the transformed Great Hall.
Harry's grin froze on his face and his eyes widened.
Ginny and Neville were in front; Neville, handsome and obviously uncomfortable, was wearing dress robes of deepest plum, while Ginny was in light mauve. But for all Harry cared, the two of them could have shown up wearing dirty trainers and burlap sacks. His eyes were on the vision behind them.
Hermione looked amazing in a flowing robe of shimmering aqua silk with a delicate chiffon overlay. The shirred empire waist gathered into an inverted "V" at the bodice with ruching on the sides, highlighting her lush curves. She had done something with her hair, too: plentiful chestnut curls spilled down over her shoulders from some kind of clip thing made out of tiny white flowers.
"Oi, over here!" Ron's shout startled Harry out of his mental reverie and he made an effort to appear normal.
"Hi there everyone," Ginny smiled and turned to Neville, who gulped and quickly pulled out a chair for her, desperately trying to ignore Ron's pointed stare.
"Good evening," Michael said rather formally, pulling out Hermione's chair and gesturing for her to sit down across from Harry and Susan. "Hello, Luna," he added, acknowledging the other Ravenclaw at the table. "Susan," he smiled, nodding at her. Inexplicably, Susan flushed.
'Stupid jumped-up git,' thought Harry morosely. He noticed that Hermione's lips were tinted a delicate rose-pink and she was wearing just a touch of some kind of pale shiny stuff on her eyes and cheeks; her eyelashes looked even longer than usual. And wait a minute--had Hermione always had-those? Harry wondered, trying not to stare below her neck. He raised his eyes to find a pair of amused brown ones twinkling at him from across the table.
"Hi," Hermione mouthed softly, looking directly at him. A small smile played around her glossy lips. Harry grinned nervously and unconsciously slipped a finger into his collar, pulling it away from his neck. The white dress shirt that had seemed so perfect earlier now felt as if it were strangling him. Hermione bit her lip and glanced away. Harry pulled harder at the offending collar.
* * * * *
Ginny was having a wonderful time. Despite Ron's constant attempts at intimidation, Neville hadn't backed down, even when Ron had asked him point-blank what his intentions were regarding Ron's baby sister. Ginny had been mad enough to spit, but fortunately Neville had handled the silly git perfectly by innocently replying, "I think that's between me and Ginny; but don't worry, my intentions towards Ginny are quite as honourable as yours are towards Luna."
Needless to say Ron was rendered speechless by this and had to content himself with filthy looks for the remainder of the evening.
Meanwhile, on opposite sides of the table, an intricate little game of "peek-a-boo" was going on. In between sporadic attempts at small talk, Harry was stealing glances at Hermione. If she wasn't looking at him (which wasn't often), the stolen glance would turn into a flat-out stare. When Hermione would catch him at it, they would both flinch, blush, and look away. Ginny found it hilarious.
"Have you thought about what you'd like to do after Hogwarts, Susan?" Harry asked politely. Peek. Stare.
"I'm not sure but I think working in the Ministry might be interesting, don't you think so, Harry? Harry?"
Harry pulled his eyes away from Hermione long enough to give a noncommittal answer. "Sure, sounds great." Peek. Oops, eye contact! Flinch, blush.
"Still taking Divination this year, Harry?" Susan inquired.
"No, dropped it." Direct look across the table. "Trelawney's an old fraud and Firenze, well, let's just say he's a bit strange." Approving nod from Hermione.
And so it went throughout the entire meal.
Ginny smiled to herself and exchanged a conspiratorial glance with Neville. Luckily, dessert had just appeared (literally) on their plates and Ron was too busy eating his enormous wedge of trifle to notice anything amiss. Well, eating and sliding glances at Luna. The Ravenclaw girl, on the other hand, seemed content to pass the time with her dreamy blue gaze fixed on Ron.
Hermione didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Did Harry mean to keep peeking at her in that bizarre way, or was he suffering from one of his bouts of shyness? Michael certainly didn't have any problem with shyness-he hadn't shut up for a moment. The ridiculous part was that while he addressed his comments to Hermione, his eyes kept travelling across the table to Susan Bones. Susan would meet his gaze, blush, jump, and look away. The situation was ludicrous.
A stifled giggle escaped.
"Er, excuse me?" asked Michael, understandably puzzled. He frowned. He was not accustomed to girls laughing when he discussed an issue as serious as the N.E.W.T.s.
"Sorry," gasped Hermione, making a valiant effort to stifle her amusement.
Michael shot her an alarmed glance, only to be startled by a giggle from the witch to his right.
"Ginny?" he asked with raised brow.
"I'm . . . s-sorry," Ginny managed between giggles. "It's just . . ."
Looking from Michael's outraged face to Ginny's rosy countenance, Neville fought his own battle, his face turning the same plum as his robe as he struggled to contain his laughter.
Before long all three had lost the battle and were laughing uproariously, tears streaming down their faces.
Luna turned her attention from Ron to smile at them in a vague, concerned fashion, while Ron, up to this point oblivious to everything but the food on his plate and the pretty Ravenclaw by his side, finally noticed the commotion. His eyes darted from Hormone, to Ginny, to Neville--his brow puckered in confusion.
"What the bloody hell is wrong with the lot of you?"
"It would be nice," noted Michael icily, "if you could let the rest of us in on the joke." Susan appeared to agree, her pleasant features clouded with annoyance.
Seeing Michael's irate expression, Hormone made a desperate attempt to get a grip on herself. Wiping at her tears, she took a deep breath and, looking up, met a pair of amused emerald eyes. Harry might have no clue what they found so funny but it was wonderful to see Hermione enjoying herself-not to mention getting to see Michael with his nose out of joint.
Corner wasn't a bad fellow, really, Harry thought fairly. A bit pompous, perhaps, but a decent bloke. Of course, he did go out with Cho for a while there and now seemed to have his sights set on Hermione . . . Harry frowned.
By now all three friends had managed to get themselves under control. Ginny and Neville exchanged one last amused glance, while Hermione turned to Michael and sweetly apologised for her "unseemly" display. She assured him (lying through her teeth, thought Harry) that the laughter had nothing to do with him, but that the stress of the week had just been too much and well . . .
Michael nodded his understanding, although he still appeared rather put out and conversation was subdued for the remainder of the dinner.
Happily (or unhappily, thought Harry) the table was cleared shortly after, and the band began tuning up for the dancing. Ginny grabbed Neville and pulled him onto the floor as the first notes sounded and Michael turned to Hermione and asked her to dance.
Silence fell over the table like a heavy blanket. Luna was humming and tapping her foot in time to the beat, seemingly unaware of the tension. Ron's ears had turned bright red and he was nervously jiggling his knee and giving Luna uneasy glances.
Silence.
Harry knew he should ask Susan to dance-surely she expected him to. After all, he thought glumly, this was a ball after all.
Before long the dance floor was packed with couples weaving and bobbing their way through the enchanted snow. Suddenly, Luna turned to Ron and said matter-of-factly, "I want to dance." Ron winced and shot her a horrified look.
"I . . . er . . . I can't . . . I mean, I'm rubbish at . . ."
"Oh, come on Ronald," Luna said impatiently. She jumped to her feet, seized Ron's arm, and yanked him to his feet. "Do you think I care if you can dance or not?"
"You don't?" asked Ron uncertainly. Luna just smiled in her dreamy way and led him out.
'Checkmate,' Harry thought, hugely entertained at the sight of his tall red-headed friend being so thoroughly outmaneuvered. He chucked to himself, then all humour vanished as he realised that he and Susan were the only ones still sitting at the table.
"So," he said weakly, "I suppose you want to . . . er . . ."
"Why did you ask me to the ball, Harry?" Susan asked, out of the blue.
Harry goggled at her, aghast. "Um, well, because . . . er . . . because I . . . you . . ." he stammered.
"Because it's pretty obvious to me, to all of us really," Susan said matter-of-factly, "that you fancy Hermione."
Harry had no words.
"I was pretty surprised when you asked me, you know," she continued. "I mean, we don't know each other all that well, and I'm not exactly the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts."
"Hang on," Harry interrupted. "Don't go putting yourself down. You're a very pretty girl, Susan, and you're nice, too. I guess the thing is . . ." he hesitated, flushing.
"The thing is that I'm not the girl for you," Susan said a bit sadly. "No, it's all right," she added hastily when Harry made as if to interrupt, "I understand. And to be honest, although I was flattered that you invited me, I don't . . ." she coloured, "I don't really . . ."
"You don't really fancy me either," Harry grinned. She nodded, smiling sheepishly.
Harry felt as if an enormous load had just been lifted off his shoulders. He grinned at Susan again, this time seeing, instead of a frightening young witch all dressed up at a ball, a nice girl who would make a good and loyal friend.
"Tell me, Miss Bones," Harry said with a smile, "who do you fancy then?"
Susan turned an even deeper shade of crimson and examined her hands.
"Come on," he coaxed, "you can tell me. We're friends now, right?"
She looked up hesitantly and, seeing his concerned green eyes, said "you might want to watch how you use those," indicating Harry's eyes, "if you want to be just my friend."
At Harry's startled expression she relaxed and chuckled. "Sorry, Harry, that was just too good an opportunity to pass up."
"Brat," he managed, laughing. "Now, I believe I asked you a question, Miss Bones?"
"I guess turnabout is fair," she admitted. "All right, I sort of fancy . . . well, I mean, I kind of like . . ."
"Out with it!"
". . . Michael Corner," she whispered.
Harry struggled for words. "Oh. Well he's a nice guy . . ."
"Come on, Harry," Susan laughed, "you think he's a pompous arse. Admit it!"
"No I don't," he protested. Then meeting her smiling eyes he gave a rueful chuckle. "All right, so he's not one of my favourite people."
"He can be a bit-formal-at times, but that's just how he acts when he's feeling unsure of himself. Take tonight for example, with Hermione spending the entire meal looking at you . . ."
Harry stared at her, stunned. "But if you fancy Michael, and Michael's with Hermione, and I fancy," he blushed, but continued bravely on, "Hermione, then maybe we could trade dates. Not that I wouldn't be perfectly happy to spend the remainder of the evening with you," he added, worried that he'd been too blunt.
Susan gave a small laugh. "That would be a brilliant plan, Harry. The only problem is that . . ."
"Hermione doesn't like me that way," Harry broke in sadly.
"No! That's not it at all. Anyone with eyes can see that she's crazy about you-and not just as a friend," she said firmly, seeing that he was about to protest. "Truthfully, Harry, someone who thinks of you as just a friend wouldn't be ignoring her date in order to stare at you all through dinner. No, the problem is with me. Michael doesn't like . . . me . . . that way."
"Rubbish," said a decisive voice from behind. Started, Harry and Susan turned around to see Ginny standing there with Neville. Ginny pulled up a chair and sat down beside Susan while Neville went to get them something to drink.
"Listen," Ginny said firmly. "I think it's time we had a little talk. I wasn't going to say anything, but . . . oh Merlin, I shouldn't tell you. Hermione's gonna kill me."
"If you don't tell us, I'll kill you," Harry burst out.
TBC
Author's Note: I really did think this would be the last chapter, but this story started to take on a life of its own. So there will be one more short and very fluffy chapter left.
If you would like to see a picture of how I imagined Hermione's dress to look, you can see a picture at http://store1.yimg.com/I/prom2000_1837_5631579--just imagine that the dress is made of aqua silk, rather than pink, which I think would complement Hermione's brown eyes and chestnut hair beautifully (I'm such a girl, LOL). I also had to chuckle when I wrote the word "lush" to describe Hermione's, ahem, physical attributes. Couldn't help thinking I sounded like a tacky romance novelist! Oh well, "Helping Neville" is labelled as a "romance/humour" story after all.
The northern lights, or Aurora Borealis, are truly an incredible sight. I've seen them a couple of times up in the Laurentian Mountains in Quebec. The following link will show you what they look like, if you're not familiar with them. Colours can vary. http://www.bonjourquebec.com/photos/regions/nord_quebec/baie_james_tq_003371_p.jpg
