Chapter 2
Hermione turned around and looked at herself in the mirror. She gasped. "Voila!" Ginny spoke from behind her. She had really done an extraordinary job with her costume; that was for sure.
She was reproachful at first when Ginny came up to her with the idea of a full-on makeover for the party that night. She could've done it well enough herself . . . but she finally gave in so that she didn't have to endure the `You're-Never-Going-To-Get-A-Boyfriend-If-You-Don't-Try" speech.
Turns out she made the right choice. Of course, she laughed at the idea at first of her being dressed up as an angel. She took it back now. Ginny had picked out a silky empire-wasted gown that looked rather like a nighty . . . but she said that it was `all part of the ensemble'. It wasn't like it showed that much skin . . . the square-cut neckline didn't reveal all too much. For her hair, Ginny had to blindfold her, so she wouldn't interfere with the process. Hermione thought this was unnecessary, as she had already agreed with the makeover. It turned out beautifully. Her hair was miraculously straightened and pulled back halfway, accentuating her lightly-painted face.
It was when Ginny attached the wings Hermione started to have the blindfold taken off. With a simple spell, her make-up and overall makeover was over. And here she was, standing in front of the mirror and staring at herself in disbelief.
Ginny held out her hand to Hermione, "That'll be fifty sickles."
Hermione snorted and turned around to face her with an amused face, "Nice try."
Ginny shrugged and started on her own costume. She had only done Hermione's early because she had to be in the Room of Requirement early to help with decorations. Hermione looked at the clock posted on the wall . . . six fifteen. She had a good forty-five minutes to prepare for the party. It would probably take her and the Prefects who volunteered (which, frankly, weren't that many) that much time to set up.
With a quick goodbye to Ginny and a swift grab of her mask from her bedside table, Hermione made her way down the stairs and into the Gryffindor Common Room. She walked towards the portrait hole, but her path was blocked by a broad chest in her face. She sighed. Now was not the time . . .
"Hello Hermione." She heard him speak.
Hermione sighed and looked upward into the grinning face of the most annoying being on the face of the planet. She plastered a smile onto her face, it was only polite, "Hello Ronald."
"You look . . . beautiful."
"Amazing you can see what I'm wearing when we're in such close proximity to one another." Hermione hissed.
He backed off, that silly grin still on his face. "Sorry . . . a man can't help himself when he sees a pretty girl like you."
"Apparently so," Hermione stated, "now if you don't mind . . . I have to go set up for the party."
"Oh, I'll accompany you!"
"That won't be necessary . . ."
"No worries, I signed up to help."
Hermione sighed in exasperation, "Of course you did." He nodded and extended his arm to her. She pushed it away and started her walk out of the tower.
"I'll just follow your lead, then." She heard him say from behind her. Again, she sighed . . . This is going to be a very interesting night.
~*~
The finishing touches were made. He straightened his shoulder pads of his not-so-elaborate `Knight in Shining Armor' costume. Since it had been a last-minute invite, he hadn't had enough time to pick out an appropriate costume. Luckily (or not so for him), Draco had extras in his closet.
He chose the one that didn't have to do with anything with accentuating his certain area. Which is what most of the costumes were. He shuttered when he thought why Draco needed any of these get ups. Most of them had to do with someone holding a whip or having an excuse to wear very tight pants.
Resignation loomed over him. He was beginning to have second thoughts about this party. Sure, there was a certainty that it was going to be a good time . . . but he still didn't want to leave the sanctuary that was his room. There was no will to go.
"I'm not going." He stated to the room.
Draco sighed, "Yes, you are."
He turned around, "And what makes you so sure of that?"
Draco smirked, "I always have a way."
Harry flinched, "Should I be scared?"
"Definitely."
Harry rolled his eyes, "I won't give in that easily, you know."
Draco started walking towards him. Harry started to back up until he hit his bedpost. Draco leaned into him slowly and whispered in his ear, "Cho will be there."
Harry suddenly perked up, "She will?" Draco nodded in response. His mood brightened. Maybe he would get to have a second chance with her! He would talk to her . . . flirt with her . . . the usual deal. And make her his by the end of the night. Brilliant.
Draco saw his accomplishment and turned to Blaise. Blaise just smirked and turned away. "Then let's be off! We don't want to be late."
"You have the invites, right?" Blaise asked as they walked through the dark common room.
"Of course." Draco reached into the coat pocket of his pirate costume and pulled out the slips of parchment.
"Remind me again how you got hold of those?" Harry asked.
"A magician never reveals his secrets."
"Don't you mean con-artist . . .?" Harry mumbled.
"I heard that." Draco said.
Harry rolled his eyes and they continued their walk. It was good to know that their little beef was over. Even if it was over something stupid . . . like running into a Gryffindor.
Running into her.
He still wished he could have stayed longer to get a closer look at her. All he could see were those eyes . . . and then Draco had to pull him away! That was probably the last time he would see her, anyways . . . it was a rare occasion when Gryffindor's and Slytherin's came into close proximity to each other. Damnit.
They had reached the door to the Room of Requirement.
"Just walk past this wall three times . . . thinking of the party and its location." Draco instructed.
The group complied. Not even ten seconds later, a door appeared in front of them. Draco opened the brass handle and motioned for them to follow . They did and all ended up in a room with members of every house mingling and dancing with each other. It was hard to tell who was from which house . . . but Harry had the feeling there wasn't many Slytherin's here.
They were stopped by a prefect who asked for their invitations. Draco showed them to the guard and they were let through with a polite welcome. Harry immediately was overcome with the elaborate design of the room. Any time he was here was when he needed to escape and didn't want to be found for a long period of time. Thank Merlin, Draco still didn't know of this.
When Harry was in here, the room resembled the Slytherin Common Room with a few extra bookshelves for obvious reasons. Now it was completely transformed. The walls either were red, green, or silver and were covered with streamers and wreaths. There was a dance floor towards the middle with about fifty tables surrounding it. Most of these tables were vacant, as Harry could see. Most people were out and about dancing or mingling.
Draco tugged his arm, but Harry shrugged him off. Draco let him be. It was enough of a struggle to get here . . . he wasn't going to ruin it now. For this, Harry was grateful. His first stop as a solo guest to the party was the snack table towards one of the far corners of the room. There he got some of the punch and took a sip.
He was rather bored on his own . . . so he decided set off to find the reason he even agreed to come to this party in the first place. Cho. Moving through the crowd, Harry searched the room. But since all of the guests were in masks . . . this was rather difficult. He could spot at least twenty girls with long, black hair. Of course . . . the one party I agree to come to is a party where everyone is in a mask, he thought. Oh, the irony.
He was in the middle of the slightly-crowded dance floor, looking all around for the familiar figure that was Cho Chang. To his luck, a slow song started to play. Everyone started to pair off into couples. He sighed. It was hopeless. He could never find her in this crowd. He shouldn't have come . . . he shouldn't have given in to Draco's persuasion . . . he shouldn't have-
She was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.
Her hair was of a cinnamon brown and she was dancing with a rather tall, bulky redhead. The man spun her around, revealing that she had a pair of wings charmed to her back. She was an angel. Not just because of her costume (which was of a most appropriate choice).
Her movements were swift and precise. But she seemed to be rather bored. Although her masked face didn't reveal much . . . the false smile upon her lips could be seen from a mile away. Or a few meters, in his case. The song was a rather boring one . . . something about un-breaking a heart . . .
It ended soon, much to his relief. The man kissed her palm and she set off, saying something to him in an undertone. When she turned around their eyes met. It seemed as though the whole room froze. It was just them.
~*~
Hermione was very hesitant to accept Ron's dance offer. But since he promised it was the only one he would bug her about . . . she let him. It turned out that the song he chose for them to dance one was a love song. How fitting.
The whole time they were dancing she could swear that she felt someone watching her. It was like someone was staring daggers into her back . . . but not a bad kind of daggers . . . more like a tickles of ice that made her shiver. Hermione tried her best to ignore it . . . but the feeling was too strong to let pass by.
She was glad when the song ended. She let Ron kiss her palm and she said a polite thank-you. When she turned around she locked eyes with someone.
Him.
The one who had been staring at her. She could tell. Their eyes bore into one another, communicating in their own way. She felt her legs start to move her forward, closer to where this stranger was. His eyes followed her the whole way, and when she reached him she blushed and looked down, breaking their eye contact.
When she looked back up at him, she found he was still looking at her. This caused her pink tinged cheeks to burn a warmer red. He smiled at her. That smile caused butterflies to erupt in her stomach. But this was a stranger . . . whom she had never met. She thought. The school was a big place, but she could swear she saw that jet-black hair somewhere . . . but where?
He extended his arm out to her and she accepted it. He led them into a more private area where people were just talking. She looked up into his eyes again and opened her mouth. She had to say something to break the ice . . . didn't she?
"Umm . . . hi." She said.
Oh that was classy . . . very ladylike, Granger. He mind scorned her. She tried to shake the annoying voices out of her head, but they were harder to get rid of then anticipated. At least introduce yourself . . . say your name . . . Her-mi-one.
"I'm Hermione." She heard herself say. There you go . . .
"Harry." He stated, holding his hand out for her. She just starred at it, confused as to what to do. Her mind was blank. He wants you to shake it, you moron. Hermione mentally slapped herself as she shook his hand gently.
Harry . . . that was a nice name; a very nice name.
"Do you want to sit down?" Harry asked.
Hermione nodded, "Sure."
They sat down on a small stool against a wall. A conversation was in desperate need of starting. They couldn't just sit there like idiots . . . could they?
"So I saw you dancing out there . . ." he started.
"Oh, yeah . . ." Hermione replied dryly. Idiot.
He turned around to face her, she mirrored his movement. "It didn't look as though you were enjoying yourself. A girl like you should enjoy dancing with her boyfriend."
Hermione laughed, "Boyfriend? Hardly. He's rather annoying, actually . . . will never leave me alone and such."
"Sounds like you have a stalker on your hands." He said with amusement present in his voice.
"I wish. At least a staler is discreet and isn't completely obvious . . . flirting and talking to you every time they get the chance." She admitted.
"You don't like the attention?"
"Hell no!" she exclaimed, causing him to laugh, showing that smile again. She sighed inwardly . . . not letting her cool composure go, "I would like the attention if it was by someone I actually like. Not the stuck-up, preppy, idiotic being that he is. He was never nice to me before . . . but then this year it's like `Hello, you're completely gorgeous and I'm really horny . . . wanna go to Hogsmeade?'"
He laughed again, "Well he was right about one thing."
"And what would that be . . . that his cock twitches every time he's near a human with boobs?"
"Well . . . that . . ." he said, ". . . and the fact that you are completely gorgeous."
Hermione blushed, "No I'm not."
"Yes, you are."
"And how would you know . . . with this mask covering my face?"
He smirked, "We'll just have to take it off, then."
She returned his smirk, "You can't."
Harry cocked his head to the side; smirk still in place, "And why not?"
"When you walked into this room . . . a charm was placed on you so that you can't remove your mask until the party's over. Go ahead, try it." She motioned to his mask.
She saw him life his hands to his face and tug on the mask slightly. Then harder . . . then harder. He gave up and sighed, "Very clever."
"I think it adds to the illusion of a Masquerade . . . makes it more . . ."
"Mysterious . . . magical." He added.
"Exactly." Hermione said.
"You know what else I think is magical?" he asked her, scooting closer to her on the stool. The cushion covering the stool sunk with the extra weight, and Hermione could feel it beside her.
She looked down shyly, "What?"
He moved his hand from its spot on his lap and used it to tilt up her head towards him. She found herself looking into those damn eyes again. But . . . she definitely wasn't complaining. His face tilted to the side, "Your eyes." He stated.
Hermione breathed out. She found herself deeply affected by his actions. His hand, still resting on her chin, was sending fire throughout her system. Oh, how she wanted to kiss him. It was like air to her at this moment. It would be perfect. She could imagine it now . . .
She felt something tickle her neck. Hermione and Harry both looked up at the brief disturbance, his hand falling from its place. There, above them, hung a bunch of green leaves, all held together by a scarlet ribbon. It looked a bit like holly . . . except for the tiny white berries scattered throughout it. But that could only mean . . .
"Mistletoe." She heard him whisper. His voice brought her down to look at him. She blushed under his gaze. His hand made its way to her waist and pulled her closer to her. "It's tradition, right?"
Hermione nodded nervously. His hand tightened against her and his head moved forward. She felt her head do the same, and soon . . . their lips met. The tradition of a chaste kiss under the mistletoe was quickly discarded as Harry added pressure onto her lips. She moaned and unconsciously wrapped her hands around his neck.
She felt his lips detach from hers for a moment, enough time to regain their breaths. But in no time at all they were attached again. A slight wetness could be detected at her entrance . . . she took a chance . . . followed her instincts and let his tongue enter her mouth. It explored and soon her tongue followed suit.
This was it . . . the farthest she had ever gone with anyone. Ever. Just as she felt his hand detach from her waist and rub her leg gently . . . they heard a cough from behind them. Hermione's eyes widened as she turned around and saw the red face of Ginny Weasley. Shit.
"G-Ginny . . ." she managed to stutter. Harry's hands removed themselves from around her and hers from him. She stood up and asked, "How did you find me?"
"Your mask fell off . . ." Ginny said.
Hermione's brow furrowed, "But . . . that's impossible . . ." Realization hit her. She could see his face now! If her mask was off . . . then his must be too. She looked back and gasped. She had no idea . . . none at all.
Harry Potter . . . the Slytherin Prince.
He seemed to have recognized her as well, as his eyes mocked hers in widening. They just started at each other in disbelief. She felt Ginny pull her into the crowd. She kept on glancing back as they made their way across the room, hoping to prove herself differently. It appeared as if Harry had the same idea . . . she could see him pushing his way through the crowd a few feet behind them.
She had kissed a Slytherin . . . a Gryffindor had kissed a Slytherin . . . they had kissed. And she . . . she . . . liked it. A lot.
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