Disclaimer: This is AU; do I really still need to tell you that I do not own HP and I am only borrowing JKR's world for fun?
Author's Note: Written originally for the fanfict00bs drabble-a-thon for Amethyst_J's request: AU fourth year. Harry decides his best hope of surviving the Yule Ball is to ask Hermione. Whether she accepts or not is up to you.
And then, well, the plot bunny went and ran with the idea… So the build-up to the Yule Ball the way it should have gone (with some slight rearranging of canon to suit my purposes) and the Yule Ball itself, as it should have been. Borrowing some lines from canon which you will probably recognize. Enjoy!
The Only Girl
The Date
He had thought facing down the Hungarian Horntail would be hard-this was ten, no a hundred, times harder.
He had to go a ball?! And he had to go the ball with a girl-and dance?!
Harry could almost wish he had let the bloody Hungarian Horntail fry him to a crisp instead.
A girl-he had to ask a girl to go to the Yule Ball with him.
He grimaced as his stomach seemed to roil at the very thought. He wondered if he were going to be sick. (He was sure that would just be great, really add to the luster of his reputation as the school champion along with Cedric- going up to a girl and asking her to go to the Ball with him and then promptly puking all over her shoes.)
Yup, this was going to be terrible.
Dragons were positively cute and cuddly compared to the terrifying prospect of facing a girl and asking her to go to a ball.
A girl- a girl- Hogwarts seemed to be full of girls all of a sudden-but who should he ask?
He knew who he wanted to ask-in some alternate world where he was taller and could actually talk to her without stuttering and blushing and looking, in short, like a complete idiot.
But in this world- this world where he couldn't even look at Cho without panicking and turning into a bumbling, incoherent idiot- who could he ask?
But even as he thought it, he knew the answer.
The one girl whom he could talk to, the one girl he liked to talk to, the one girl-the only girl-who could possibly, probably even, make going to the Ball not a nerve-wracking disaster of an evening.
Hermione. He needed Hermione.
He hurried over to the library where he knew she would be, finding her hunched over a table and frowning slightly as she read the enormous book open in front of her.
"Hermione," he whispered urgently, "I need to talk to you."
She looked up with a slight smile and closed her book. "Okay."
She slid her books into her bag and stood up and they left, Harry oddly, uncomfortably aware that Krum, whom he hadn't even noticed earlier when he'd walked into the library, was watching them go. (What was his problem?)
He waited until they were on the stairs- which jerked and then started moving creakily.
"What is it, Harry?"
He looked at her, his eyes wide, as the staircase stopped at another hallway and they hurried to get off it and into the hallway. His heart was suddenly beating at three times its normal rate-this was Hermione, for heaven's sake; he couldn't be nervous about talking to Hermione.
"I- er- I need you to do me a favor," he began, nervously, his fingers fiddling with the folds of his robe.
"Of course, what is it?"
And the friendliness and willingness of her smile somehow did something to him-and he found himself staring at her as if he'd never seen her before, seeing the warmth of her eyes and the color and shape of her mou-he stopped that train of thought, uncomfortable with where it was heading. Her smile-she had a nice smile, a pretty smile, he found himself thinking suddenly.
This was Hermione and she was his best friend-and the thought gave him some courage.
"I- er- IwantyoutogototheBallwithme," he blurted out, very quickly, in one breath.
She blinked and stared, as spots of color appeared on her cheeks.
"I have to go to the Ball and dance and stuff," he found himself continuing to speak very quickly, not letting her answer because he was nervous and desperately afraid of what he would do if she said no, "and I- er- I want to go with you 'cause I know you and I like you and- and I think, if I went with you, it could be fun." Fun, as opposed to excruciating.
She was still flushed but then she smiled. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Yes, I'll go to the Ball with you," she clarified.
He let out his breath. Okay. "Thanks, Hermione." He managed a smile for her-and then was surprised at how easy it was to smile now that he wasn't nervous anymore and was even glad.
He would go to the Ball with Hermione and maybe, it would be fun.
He glanced at Hermione as they walked back towards Gryffindor Tower, saw the small smile playing on her lips and the lingering pink of her cheeks. Hermione was, he decided, quite pretty, even with her bushy hair, and wondered why he'd never really noticed before. And he could talk to her, felt comfortable with her.
He smiled, suddenly looking forward to the Yule Ball. It would be fun.
~*~*~
Another Date?
It was amazing what having a girl to go to the Ball with could do to his mood and his mindset. Harry found he was much more relaxed without the dread of that hanging over him and only the worry of the golden egg and the Second Task-which, as he told himself repeatedly (and never more emphatically than after Hermione had reminded him of it) wasn't for another two months which would surely be plenty of time. Especially with Hermione's help.
Plus, having a date to the Ball gave him a water-tight excuse to refuse the girls who came up to him randomly at times, whether he'd ever spoken one word to them or not, and asked him to go to the Ball. "I'm already going with someone" sounded much better than a flat "no."
Harry had been rather afraid that Ron might explode or something when he found out about him and Hermione going to the Ball, which was why he and Hermione had tacitly agreed not to mention it at first, until they had to-and, as it turned out, that had probably been a wise decision.
Harry and Hermione got back to the Common Room one evening to find Ron looking ashen-faced and somewhat ill, as he sat in a distant corner of the room, with Ginny talking in what seemed to be a soothing voice.
"What's wrong?"
Ron looked up with a sort of blank horror on his face. "Why did I do it? I don't know what made me do it!"
"What?" Harry asked.
"He- er- just asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him," Ginny said, looking and sounding as if she was fighting back a smile.
"You what?" Harry asked, his voice rising slightly in his surprise.
"I don't know what made me do it!" Ron gasped. "What was I playing at? There were people- all around- I've gone mad- everyone watching! I was just walking past her in the Entrance Hall-she was standing there talking to Diggory-and it sort of came over me- and I asked her!"
Ron moaned and put his face in his hands, still talking though Harry could hardly understand his words other than to decipher that Fleur had (predictably) not been particularly gracious in her refusal.
He glanced at Hermione and met her eyes, seeing that she was also torn between sympathy for Ron and some reluctant amusement at Ron's shell-shocked reaction.
"She is part Veela," Harry told Ron in an attempt to make him feel better. "Her grandmother was one so it's no wonder she acts the way she does."
"And she's not the only pretty girl," Hermione added encouragingly.
Ron looked up at Hermione as if he had never seen her before or she had just said something absolutely astounding. "Say, Hermione, you're a girl!"
Harry winced inwardly on Ron's behalf. The expression on Hermione's face was about as welcoming as a Blast-ended Skrewt. But Ron- seemingly oblivious- forged on anyway. "You're a girl," he said again, "you can come with me."
"No I can't," Hermione snapped before she opened her mouth again to admit the truth but Harry interrupted her, saying it before she could, thinking vaguely that Ron might take the news better from him or, at the very least, would then be more angry at him and not at Hermione, who didn't need to have Ron angry with her for this reason.
"No, she can't," Harry spoke up, hesitating for a split second before finishing, "she's going with me."
Ginny's ill-hidden amusement vanished immediately.
Ron blinked and then glowered. "Say, I suggested she go with me first."
"No, I asked her a couple days ago," Harry said honestly.
"You what?" Ron looked from Harry to Hermione, gaping and looking markedly less than pleased.
"He asked me and I said yes," Hermione said, her tone daring Ron to make some sort of protest.
Ron half-glowered at Harry, a distinctly mulish expression falling over his face, but he took the hint and didn't say any more on the subject.
"I'm going to bed," Hermione announced, not looking entirely mollified at Ron's sudden tact. Her tone softened as she offered Harry a slight smile. "Good night."
"Night," Harry answered automatically, looking up at her with the ghost of a smile curving his lips in response.
Ron waited until Hermione was out of sight and up the stairs to the girls' dormitory before he glowered at Harry. "What's going on between you two?" he demanded.
"Nothing!" Harry answered quickly-and, he also thought, honestly. "We're friends and we're just going as friends. I couldn't think of any other girl to ask and figured that at least if I went with Hermione, the Ball wouldn't be so terrible."
"Okay, then," Ron accepted rather grudgingly, but afterwards he never mentioned the subject again (although he did start watching Harry and Hermione like a hawk whenever they talked or were even in the same room together).
A week later, Ron still had no date and was making no attempt to hide his displeasure at the fact.
"I think I'm the only one left who hasn't got anyone," Ron groused to Harry. "Except for Neville. Hey-guess who he asked? Hermione!"
"What?" Harry started slightly, completely distracted by this news. Neville-and Hermione? He liked Neville well enough but- Hermione? Hermione deserved better than that. Heck, she deserved better than him-but Harry avoided that thought.
And then Hermione came up to him, looking a little uncomfortable, and said, "Harry, can I tell you something?"
"Sure, what is it?"
She glanced around and pulled Harry into a quiet corner of the Common Room.
"Viktor Krum just asked me to go to the Ball with him," she blurted out very quickly.
He stiffened and stared at her, trying to ignore the sudden twisting of his stomach. "Krum?"
She nodded a little shyly. "Yeah. You know how he's been hanging out at the library a lot these days-and well, he- he said it was because of me," she admitted, blushing slightly.
"Oh," was all Harry said, flatly. He had told himself that he was a much better partner for the Ball than Neville but he couldn't convince himself of that about Viktor Krum. Krum! The Viktor Krum, the one who had been so wonderful at the Quidditch World Cup, Krum who flew like no one he had ever seen. Krum, who was famous and a real champion, not like him who was more of a champion through some trickery when he hadn't even wanted to be a champion at all.
He looked at Hermione again, seeing the color in her cheeks and the almost-shy expression in her eyes. Hermione- shy? "If you'd rather go with him, you can, you know. I-er- I can find someone else to go with," he lied, sternly suppressing the automatic wave of panic he felt at the very idea. Someone else?! There was no one else whom he would ask! But if Hermione wanted to, he owed her that much. She deserved a chance to go to the Yule Ball with a world-famous Quidditch player and school champion.
A slight shadow crossed Hermione's face as she studied him, as if trying to see how sincere his offer was. Harry felt his stomach twist into knots. Oh God, she really did want to go with Krum instead of him…
And then she smiled slightly. "Hmm, go to the Ball with my best friend or go to the Ball with a boy I barely know and who calls me Hermy-own…" She pretended to think for a moment before smiling at him. "No, I think I'd rather go with you, Harry."
He returned her smile with one of his own, sagging back into his chair with the depth of his relief. "Okay." He paused and then asked, with amusement in his tone, "Hermy-own?"
Hermione laughed. "He can't seem to pronounce Hermione and I didn't bother correcting him."
Harry grinned, suddenly feeling much happier now that he was sure Hermione would still be going to the Ball with him and was laughing with him. "Maybe you should have told him your middle name; he should be able to pronounce Jane."
Hermione's smile widened as she nodded. "You're right; maybe I should have." She paused and then asked, "How do you know what my middle name is?"
"You told me, at the beginning of last year, when Ron admitted his middle name was Bilius after his Uncle Bilius who died after seeing a Grim."
"I did? I don't remember."
Harry shrugged a little. "It was sort-of in passing; we got kinda distracted by calling Ron Bilius after that for the fun of watching his face turn red."
"And you remember that?"
"I remember almost everything you've said," he admitted honestly.
Hermione flushed pink with pleasure and smiled brightly at him, her eyes positively sparkling, and Harry thought again that Hermione really was pretty. Had she always been so pretty and he just hadn't noticed it?
To be continued with the Yule Ball…