Dealing with Danger
Chapter 41: Pairing Off (Year 4)
By Anne B. Walsh
Chapter 41: Pairing Off
"Say, we seem to be short a guest," said Sirius, looking at the empty chair Tonks had been occupying for most of the evening. "Any idea where she went?"
"The powder room," said Danger with delicacy.
"That was ten minutes ago," said Charlie, fidgeting with something in his pocket. "Think she’s all right? Maybe someone should go check."
"Let the poor girl be," said Remus. "I want to hear more about this Norwegian Ridgeback — why were you hand-raising it again?"
"Well, he came to us under some odd circumstances," said Charlie, hand still in his pocket. "Tonks... found him. In a basement in Bath."
Aletha chuckled, suddenly understanding. "It seems to me I’ve heard that story before," she said, turning to Remus. "The night there’d be no need to feed Fang?"
"Ah," said Remus, his face clearing. "So... the people in Bath hand-raised this dragon, so he’s semi-tolerant of humans, is that right?"
"Yes, and for some reason he seems to like me better than anyone else. So when I got my transfer, he went into a sulk and wouldn’t eat. Eventually they transferred him with me, and he perked right back up. He doesn’t like me to get too close, but if he doesn’t see me every so often, he gets grouchy."
"I wonder how he’d react to... Mummy?" asked Danger, her eyes wicked.
"I’d rather not find out, if you don’t mind," said Charlie hastily. "I mean, I like dragons quite a bit, but I’d rather not be too close if one got enthusiastic, if you understand me right."
"More of what Diggory got at the first task?" said Sirius.
"Or worse. Did I tell you about the time—" Charlie pulled his hand from his pocket to gesture enthusiastically, and something small fell from it to land on the floor with a muffled thump. Aletha got a glance at it as it fell, and suddenly several things became clear.
"Excuse me," she said, standing up. "I’ll go see what’s happened to Tonks."
I wonder if she knows, and she’s hiding because she doesn’t think she’s ready?
She started towards the bathroom, but changed course when she heard the telltale sounds. Someone was in the music room, crying, and unless one of the cubs had sneaked home from Hogwarts, there was only one candidate.
Though why Tonks was crying with one of the Pack’s photograph albums on her lap, Aletha hadn’t a clue.
Feeling like a traitor, she cleared her throat. Tonks jumped a foot and slammed the book shut, but not before Aletha got a glimpse of two types of brown hair very close together on the page the younger woman had been looking at.
"Is something wrong?" Aletha asked quietly. "We were starting to worry about you."
"No, nothing’s wrong," said Tonks, putting the album aside. "I was just... looking at some of your old pictures here. Thinking of Mum... wishing she were here..." Her face crumpled. "No, I’m not, either," she wailed under her breath, dropping her face into her hands. "I’m bloody miserable and it’s not because of Mum!"
Aletha flicked an Imperturbable Charm onto the doorway and crossed the room, pulling up a rocking chair to be near the big armchair where Tonks was sobbing. "Anything I can help with?" she asked.
"No. Maybe. I don’t know." Tonks lifted her face, revealing her ‘real’ features, vaguely similar to Sirius’ and not at all unattractive. "Do you understand love?"
"I can’t say I understand it," said Aletha. "I’ve had some experience with it, certainly."
"Have you ever... no, you haven’t, it’s not normal, I’m just a freak, I should have known that..."
"Have I ever...?" Aletha repeated, prompting.
"Have you ever... ever been in love... with two people at the same time?"
"Two people at the same time?"
Tonks balled her fist and slammed it into the cushions of the armchair. "I knew it," she said in time with her punches. "I knew it, I knew it, I knew I was a freak... I should get my head examined, I hate myself..."
"Hold it," said Aletha, catching Tonks’ fist as it traveled back for another blow. "Who are these people? Do they know? I need some more information if I’m going to help you."
Tonks shook her head. "You don’t want to know."
"Yes, I do."
"No."
"Yes." Aletha let out a small chuckle. "Don’t try this game with me. I’m a mother. And you know our lot. They don’t give up easily. We had to learn to outlast them, and I will outlast you, so why don’t you just tell me now and save us both some time."
Tonks remained defiant for the space of three breaths, then began to sag. "They should hire you at the Office," she said, her shoulders drooping. "Make you an interrogator."
"Sirius says that every week. Now. Who are you in love with?"
"Charlie."
"No problems so far."
Tonks had sagged so far by this time that her mouth was pressed against the back of the armchair, and the name that emerged was distorted by the cushions just enough that Aletha thought she might have heard wrong. Because if I didn’t, we really do have a problem. "Say that again, please?"
Tonks sat up a little and swallowed hard. "Remus."
All right, I wasn’t wrong. And we do have a problem.
Tonks sniffled hard. "See, there. You think I’m messed up now."
"No, I’m just surprised." Control, Letha, control. "All right. You’re in love with Remus. When did this happen?"
Tonks stared at her. "You mean you don’t hate me?"
"Why should I hate you?"
"Because I want to break up your best friends’ marriage!"
"Do you?"
Another sniffle. "No."
Aletha Summoned the box of tissues from the bathroom and handed one to Tonks. "Blow. When did you... fall in love with Remus?"
Tonks wiped her eyes. "While the hearing was going on, while I was doing bodyguard duty. I never meant to, I swear I didn’t... but he was always so polite, even when people were being rude to him... even when there was nearly a riot and people threw things, he didn’t shout back at them. It was like they weren’t there at all, he just walked right on by, and I... I couldn’t help it. He’s amazing."
"I agree," said Aletha. "Anything else?"
"He’s great to be around, just as an everyday thing. I mean, he cracks these quiet little jokes that make you laugh when you get them, and then when you think of them, all day long, and the next day, and the next. And he laughs at other people’s jokes, too. Even mine. When I said you could tell the bigots were worthless, because they were just ‘big gits’? He actually laughed at that. Charlie never laughs when I make a dumb joke. He groans and tells me how dumb it is."
"Maybe that’s how he shows appreciation for it," Aletha suggested
Tonks didn’t seem to think much of this. "And — God, this sounds wrong — but I’m attracted to the way he’s in love with Danger. Isn’t that sick? I think it’s so gorgeous, the way he’s always near her, and the way they just kiss every so often like it’s nothing special, and the way they don’t seem to need to talk..." She looked pleadingly at Aletha. "How screwed up am I? Really?"
"I don’t think you’re screwed up at all," said Aletha carefully. "I think your interest in Remus is... understandable. But I don’t think I’d call it love. Of course, I’m not you, and I don’t know your feelings, but what you’re describing sounds a lot like a crush."
Tonks groaned. "Just shoot me now. A crush? Like some stupid teenager, falling in love with the drummer from the Weird Sisters?"
"No, not like a stupid teenager. Like a person who wants some security in a tumultuous life, and who sees people who have that security and mistakes wanting what they have for wanting one of them."
Tonks nodded slowly. "I think I get what you’re saying," she said. "But it isn’t like that. It’s him. It really is him. I can’t stop thinking about him — even when I’m with Charlie, I’m thinking about Remus... it’s not fair!" This rose to a volume that made Aletha glad she’d Imperturbed the room. "I want him, but I want him to be happy, and he’s happy barely knowing I exist! It’s not bloody fair!"
She punched the wall at full power before Aletha could stop her. Her fist went through the drywall and came back out bloody. "Shite, look what I did, I’m so sorry, your wall..."
"Is easy to fix," said Aletha, waving her wand to do just that. "Sit still, I’ll get you something for those." She nodded to Tonks’ knuckles. "My potions room is right there."
Tonks nodded and curled back up.
In the potions room, wondering all the while if she was doing right, Aletha pulled a dusty flask off a shelf, opened it, and sniffed it. The fragrance of clean dog, clean laundry, and crisp sheet music reassured her that the potion hadn’t lost its strength since she’d brewed it six years ago.
A variant of a specialized Summoning Charm used to disinfect Healers netted her a pile of Charlie Weasley’s skin flakes. These she dumped into the potion, and watched it change color ever so slightly.
This is wrong, her conscience nagged her. You shouldn’t be doing this. You’re meddling.
But what was the alternative? Try to talk Tonks through it and make everyone worried because they didn’t come back, or embarrass Remus and Tonks and Charlie by revealing the truth? Either way would spoil what Charlie had planned for tonight.
And I’m positive any feelings she has for Remus are a combination of a schoolgirl crush and sheer jealousy because of how well Remus and Danger work together. She’s been with Charlie since Hogwarts, he helped her get through her mother’s death, she loves him. I know she does. This is the best thing to do.
Even if her conscience was still grumbling in the background.
She handed the potion to Tonks and watched with misgivings as the younger witch downed it in a gulp. It barely made her smile as Tonks’ hair shaded rapidly through every hue in the rainbow and settled finally on an exaggerated Weasley red.
"Charlie," Tonks breathed. "Why are we in here when Charlie’s in there?"
"We’ll go back in there right away," Aletha said, and took down the Imperturbable Charm, glad for the side effect that it kept her back to Tonks for a moment. She hadn’t realized it would hit quite so hard. Would anyone else notice anything wrong?
There’s nothing wrong, she tried to argue. You know she really loves Charlie, and she doesn’t really love Remus. She’d make everyone miserable, including herself, if she tried to love Remus. And she’ll make everyone happy, including herself, if she stays in love with Charlie. So this is about the greater good.
She hoped if she told herself that enough times, it would come true.
xXxXx
"You really think I should?"
Charlie’s expression was embarrassingly familiar to Sirius. He’d seen himself parodied often enough to recognize the ‘lovesick puppy’ look. "Yes, we really think you should," he said. "Why shouldn’t you?"
"Well, I don’t know what she’ll say..."
"Any woman with any sense would say yes," said Remus. "And Tonks has sense. Balance, not so much, but sense, yes."
Charlie laughed. "All right, that’s true. But you’re not mad that I’m doing it here?"
"We’re flattered," said Danger. "Or we would be, if we had any indication that you actually intend to do it and not just talk about it."
"I’m going to do it." Charlie squared his shoulders. "Just as soon as she comes back in..."
"Going to do what?" said Tonks, sweeping into the room. "Whatever it is, I’m up for it, lover boy." She wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a kiss squarely on his mouth. Sirius averted his eyes decorously and spotted Aletha, standing in the doorway looking uncomfortable.
What’s wrong? he signed to her.
Nothing, she signed back, but there was a funny little edge to her scent, as if she’d done something she wasn’t sure about.
"Now I’m really sure," said Charlie, emerging from the kiss breathless and flushed. "Let go a second, love? There’s something I need to ask you."
Tonks released him and perched on her chair, leaning forward. "I’m listening."
Charlie went to one knee and pulled the ring box from his pocket. "Will you marry me?"
The chair went over backwards. So did Charlie.
Twenty minutes of congratulations later, toasts having been duly drunk in champagne, the newly betrothed pair departed for the Burrow to break the news to Arthur and Molly.
"And we shouldn’t go to bed for a while, because Molly’s sure to wake us up when she screams for joy," said Remus as the Floo flames faded back into their original color. "When do you think they’ll have the wedding?"
"Soon, I hope," said Danger. "They’ve been living together for a year and a half, and they’ve been together for... what is it now, five years? Six?"
"Five," said Sirius. "But I’ve never seen her quite like that. What did you tell her, Letha? Kissing him would make him more likely to propose?"
Aletha’s smile was almost entirely natural. If you didn’t know her through and through, Sirius thought, you’d never see the little lines that meant it was forced. "Something like that. She had a problem that I helped her work through quickly, because I knew Charlie was waiting with the ring in here."
"Helped her work through it quickly? That looked like you dosed her with a love potion..." Sirius was laughing, until he got a look at Aletha’s face. "Er, Letha love, you do know I was joking, right?"
"You did, didn’t you," said Remus quietly.
Aletha’s chin went up. "Yes, I did. I did what had to be done."
"You call dosing her with a love potion ‘what had to be done’?" Danger sounded incredulous. "If she doesn’t really love him, why force her to marry him? They’ll only be miserable in the long run..."
"You have no idea what’s going on here, so don’t try to figure out why I did it," Aletha said harshly. "And no, I won’t tell you. It’s between me and Tonks, and no one else. It’s done, and I still say it was for the best. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to bed."
Sirius leaned against the wall, feeling the beat of Aletha’s feet marking time up the stairs. "Maybe we just shouldn’t have guests over," he said wearily.
"Maybe not." Remus was frowning. "But a love potion... why would she give Tonks a love potion, when she was already in love with Charlie? Unless she’d fallen out of love, and Letha thought it would be better to preserve the status quo..."
"But that doesn’t make sense," objected Danger. "Love potions wear off. It takes a while, but they do. Unless she’s planning to keep dosing Tonks, it’s not going to help."
"You know, we never asked, but maybe Tonks wanted the potion," Sirius said, aware he was grasping at straws but doing it anyway. "Maybe she knew Charlie was going to propose and wanted to... give him a good show."
"Ugh!" Danger shuddered all over. "That’s even more horrible — manufacturing love to give somebody a good show..."
"But the truth is, we don’t know all the facts," said Remus firmly. "And we shouldn’t judge Letha based on only a partial knowledge. Why don’t we suspend judgment until more information arises, clean up from our entertaining, and listen for Molly’s carols of joy before we go to bed?"
"See, this is why I’m not the alpha," said Sirius. "I couldn’t say it like that."
"But you could say it."
"If I had to. It just wouldn’t sound as good as it does when you say it."
"You like it because he’s advocating not jumping to conclusions about the woman you married," said Danger, starting the dishes to stacking themselves with a wave of her wand.
"That too." Sirius gathered the silverware and sent it sailing into the kitchen.
xXxXx
"So you know what you’re doing, right?" Hermione said, straightening Ron’s collar.
"Yes, I know. You’ve only told me about a thousand times." Ron picked some lint off his blanket. "Don’t admit anything, get her to admit something — you know, she makes her living getting people to admit things. How am I going to get her to do it?"
"Because she thinks you’re just a dumb kid," said Harry.
Ron muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "Bet she’s right."
"Besides, you’ve got another witness," said Draco. "One she doesn’t know about."
"As long as I can maintain it," said Neville. "I’ve been practicing — I can hold the form with no trouble, but it’s harder to stay invisible reliably, especially if I get surprised."
"So stay somewhere she can’t see you, even if you lose it," said Ginny. "You’re smaller than a human anyway, so you can hide places a human couldn’t. You just have to be close enough to hear."
Harry checked the clock. "It’s almost five-thirty," he said. "You’d better hurry."
Ron nodded and sat down on his bed. "Ready, Neville?"
"I think so. Hang on a tic." Neville shut his eyes and muttered to himself, but instead of making everyone’s eyes veer away from him, this muttering produced a rapid decrease in his size, the sprouting of silvery fur, and various other changes. Moments later, a silvery demiguise climbed onto Ron’s back, shut its black eyes, and vanished.
Ron stood up and wobbled a little. Harry steadied him until he regained his balance. "Got it now," he said. "Wish me luck."
"Break a leg," said Draco. "Preferably hers."
"You’re so violent," said Meghan, making a face. "Be careful, Neville. Don’t let her see you too."
The demiguise’s head reappeared for a moment, long enough for it to shake back and forth vigorously.
xXxXx
Rita Skeeter walked down the steps of the little hut by the Forest, humming to herself. She’d thought there was no way anyone of pure human blood could be so large, and she’d been right. This would make juicy copy... Dumbledore’s pet gamekeeper, foolishly promoted to a teaching position, a good friend of Harry Potter and his family, actually half-giant...
And then there was her next interview — here he came now, walking slowly across the lawns. The red hair made him easy to spot. Harry Potter’s best friend, an illegal Animagus. Which meant Harry himself must be as well, mustn’t he? It just wouldn’t make sense otherwise. No one talked about whatever-his-name-was Weasley.
Rita frowned. The boy’s cloak seemed to be moving oddly, as if something held it down on his back... no, it was just that he was holding it shut in the front, to guard against the cold wind. That was all. She was getting paranoid.
But that was how one got good copy, after all, by keeping one’s eyes and ears — and antennae — open.
The boy nodded to her sulkily as he stopped. "Here I am," he said bluntly. "What do you want?"
"Just to talk to you, Mr. Weasley — I’m afraid I’ve forgotten your first name..."
"Ron."
"May I call you Ron? Lovely." She seized his arm and started leading him around the cabin. "I saw some tables back here — we can sit and talk, be very comfortable..." She deposited him in a chair, then slipped back around the corner just in time to see Hagrid depart by the front door, headed for the castle, just as he’d told her. Perfect.
The boy had seated himself in one of the chairs, his cloak hanging over the back. "How’d you see me?" he asked as Rita sat down across from him. "There wasn’t anyone around."
"Trade secret, I’m afraid." Rita was arranging her tools on the table before her. "Now, if we could just start..."
"Wait a second." The boy sat up. "There weren’t any people around... but there was this big bug, and it looked funny..." He stared closely at her. "I read somewhere that..." He waved to himself. "...you know... can spot other ones. You’re not..."
Rita suppressed a feeling of alarm — it wasn’t as if he could harm her with the knowledge — and permitted herself a smirk instead.
"You are! You’re an—"
"Ah-ah," said Rita quickly, waving her hand.
The boy subsided. "But you are," he said. "Aren’t you?"
Rita lifted her Quick-Quotes Quill away from the paper and leaned in. "Yes," she said, smiling toothily. "Yes, I am. And do you know what you can do about it?"
"Nothing," grumbled the boy, staring at the table.
"That’s right. Nothing. Because if you tell anyone, anyone at all — why, then I’ll have no choice but to tell everyone what I saw. And you don’t want that. They might let you off Azkaban, but you’d probably be suspended, maybe even expelled from school. It’d be on your record for life. And anyone who helped you, if they were adults, they could go to Azkaban for it." Ah-ha — a flash of alarm in the boy’s eyes. Rita filed the information carefully away and set her quill down on the parchment again. "Now, why don’t you tell me all about Harry Potter? What’s he really like? Proud? Officious? Overbearing?"
"Best friend I’ve ever had."
"No, no, you’re not understanding me. I know you have to say that when he’s listening, but there’s no one else here. We’re alone. You can be honest with me. Tell me about the real Harry."
"Are you deaf, or stupid? He’s my friend."
Rita smiled to herself as her quill rearranged those sentences into a more pleasing form. "Careful, now, Ron," she urged. "Insults won’t get us anywhere. I just want the truth."
"And I’m telling you the truth, and you won’t listen to it. Asking me more times won’t change the answers." The boy scowled. "Why do you want to talk to me anyway? Why don’t you just make things up, like you did with Harry, and with his dad?"
"Harry’s father?" Rita frowned. "You must be mistaken. I don’t recall ever interviewing the late James Potter."
"You know who I’m talking about. Mr. Lupin."
Rita smiled. "Ah, yes. But you don’t understand, Ron. I didn’t have to make anything up. I just happened to hear about his rather shady financial dealings while I was... buzzing around Gringotts."
The boy launched into a tirade about how the scheme Lupin had used wasn’t shady, how it had been the only way to keep Death Eaters from getting at the money. Rita polished her nails and let her quill do its work.
"...nothing but a spy," the boy wound up, and added a few lines of description that nearly made the quill smoke. "Who’s next? Me? Hermione? Draco?"
Rita chuckled. "No, not Mr. Black. There’s no need. His face alone does the job nicely. Did he enjoy his little sojourn at the Notts’ this summer?"
The boy scowled. "Bet you had something to do with that," he muttered.
Rita kept her smile placid, but a flash of alarm raced through her. How could he have known —
No. He doesn’t know. He’s casting in the dark. I can’t let him know he’s hit. Move on. "You didn’t answer me," she said. "How did he like it?"
The interview lasted another fifteen minutes, but the boy was more and more uncooperative until the very end, when he flatly refused to answer anything else. "Have enough for another one of your articles yet?" he asked.
"Just one more question," purred Rita. "Who will Harry be taking to the Yule Ball?"
"The what?"
"The Yule Ball. On Christmas Day. He’ll have to open the dancing, as a champion. I wondered if you could tell me who he’s thought of asking?"
The boy looked dumbfounded. "There’s a dance?"
"First you’ve heard of it?" said Rita in surprise. "I thought it would be all over the school by now."
The boy shook his head. "They haven’t told us anything," he said. "A dance with partners?"
"Most dances require partners," said Rita, suddenly tired of this young fool. "Well, if you can’t tell me anything, I’ll just, as you put it, make something up. Thank you so much, Ron, it was a pleasure talking with you, really a pleasure. And don’t forget, because I haven’t..."
The boy glared at her. "If you call, I come?"
"Like a hawk to its master’s glove," said Rita sweetly. "Good-bye, Ron. Have a happy Christmas."
She changed forms and started for the gate — after all, he couldn’t tell anyone about her, and she shouldn’t be on the grounds in human form any longer than she had to be...
xXxXx
"I should have brought a jar," said Ron in disgust, kicking at clods of dirt.
"Some other time, maybe," said Neville philosophically. "She did have something to do with sending Draco to the Notts’, though. Her smell went over funny when you said it. And she’s been around Gringotts — the goblins wouldn’t like that."
"But we can’t use any of it, or she’ll tell about me, and get Mr. Moony and them into trouble." Ron kicked a pebble and watched it go sailing into the Forest. "Why didn’t I bring a jar?"
"We can write it down and save it, and maybe tell someone about it," said Neville, fastening his cloak. "Someone who won’t get you in trouble for it. Or anyone else. Come on, it’s getting toward dinnertime, and everyone will want to hear about the Yule Ball."
xXxXx
"...and champions have to open the dancing," said Ron, waving his fork for emphasis. "So Harry’s going to need a partner."
Harry looked down at his half-finished dinner and felt suddenly unable to eat anything else. "I have to dance all by myself?" he said.
"No, you have to dance with a girl," said Luna.
"I knew that. But without anyone else on the floor? I mean, besides the other champions?"
"That is what ‘open the dancing’ usually means," said Hermione. "But I don’t think you have to do a whole song. It’s not like a wedding."
"Oh, good." Harry shoved his plate away. "I never would have known that if you hadn’t told me."
"So who’re you going to ask?" said Draco.
"Why’s it any of your business?"
"Merlin, I was just asking."
"Who’s allowed to go?" Neville asked. "I mean, is there an age you have to be?"
Ron shrugged. "I don’t think they’d let the really little kids go," he said.
"Thanks a lot," said Meghan.
"Didn’t mean you specifically."
"Well, if there’s a student at Hogwarts littler than Meghan, I’ve never seen her," said Ginny. "Or him."
"There will be," said Meghan with dignity. "Mama Letha says I’m just slow to grow."
"And she would know, because she’s just so," said Draco. "Dinner table poetry. Thank you very much."
Ron dropped an ice cube down Draco’s back. Draco yelped and knocked his pumpkin juice over into Ron’s lap. Harry ignored the ensuing ruckus in favor of his own thoughts.
Could I ask Cho? Would she go with me? She’s older than me, she’s pretty, she’s popular, she’s really good at Quidditch...
"She’ll never go with you if you don’t ask her," said Luna from across the table.
"Huh?" Harry looked up. "Who?"
"Whoever you’re thinking about. She won’t go to the Ball with you if you don’t ask her to go. And you’d better ask her soon, or someone else might."
"Fine." Tomorrow, Harry decided. He’d ask her tomorrow.
xXxXx
But the next day was the official announcement of the Yule Ball to students, and every girl in the castle got so incredibly giggly when Harry came near that he didn’t dare approach Cho. What if she giggled too? What if she thought he was funny for even asking?
Neville had been relieved to hear that younger students than fourth year could go to the ball if invited, and was looking forward to the dancing lessons that the eligible students would be getting over the next weeks. "I asked Professor McGonagall if Meghan could come to those, because she’s my partner," he said in the common room that night. "She said yes, as long as it doesn’t interfere with her homework."
"But is she your date?" said Draco. "I mean, have you asked her yet?"
"I asked her at dinner. Didn’t you hear me?"
"No. I think I was thinking about the homework. I really don’t get it. I mean, why should switching things between species be any different than switching them within species?"
Neville shrugged. "Just is, I guess. How about you?"
"How about me?"
"Have you asked Luna yet?"
"No. Thanks for reminding me." Draco shut his book. "Luna, got a minute?"
Luna looked up from her work. "Yes. Why?"
"I want to talk to you. Somewhere private."
Hermione and Ginny giggled. Luna looked oddly sad. "All right," she said, and headed for the portrait hole.
"No, here," said Draco, heading for the fireplace. "Down here." While Luna opened the entrance, he looked over her shoulder back at the other boys. Here goes nothing, he mouthed.
Ron made a rude gesture. "As if he doesn’t know what’s going to happen," he said under his breath to Harry. "Lucky little snot. Why can’t we have girls like that?"
Hermione murmured something under her breath. Harry frowned. "What’d you say, Neenie?"
"I wasn’t talking to you," Hermione said coolly. "Keep going with your essay if you want me to check it tonight."
xXxXx
By the time Draco got into the main room of the Hogwarts Den, Luna had already reconfigured it into the pirate ship, and was standing in the crow’s nest, looking into the distance, where murals across wall and ceiling made it look like the ocean and star-filled sky went on forever. Draco clambered up himself and leaned on the railing beside her. "So," he said after a moment of silence. "Will you?"
"Will I what?"
"Will you go to the ball with me?"
Luna looked away, then back at him. "I’m sorry," she said. "I can’t."
Draco nearly took a step back, but the railing stopped him. "What do you mean, you can’t?"
"I can’t. I’m not going to be here for Christmas."
"What?"
"Draco, I spent last Christmas here with you, and Dad was away working. We promised then that we’d spend this Christmas together. I can’t break my promise." She turned her head away, but not before Draco had seen the unusual brightness in her eyes. "I’m sorry."
Draco’s half-formed dreams of dancing all night with Luna in his arms crumbled into dry sand. "It’s all right," he said in a voice that sounded as if it had been scoured with that same sand. "I’ll find somebody else."
"I’ll help you." Luna turned back to him. "I really am sorry, Draco. I wish I could go to the ball with you."
"I wish you could go to the ball with me too." Draco put one arm around Luna, then added the other one, and suddenly things multiplied.
"For luck for your vacation," he said when they parted.
She smiled tearily. "For luck for your date."
"I’ll need a lot for that. How am I supposed to go up to some random girl and just ask her?"
"Because it doesn’t have to be a random girl." Luna pulled his ear down to her mouth and whispered a name.
Draco pulled away, surprised. "No."
"Yes."
"But she won’t go with me."
"She will."
"But she wants to go with—"
"She’ll like it just fine if she can tell him someone else asked her first." A hint of Luna’s usual smile appeared on her face. "She’s trying to make him jealous."
Draco swallowed. "Fine, but why does she have to get me involved? I’ll do it, I’ll do it," he added hastily. "But if he tries hitting me over it, I’m hitting back."
"I’ll give you more luck so he misses."
They were quite a time returning to the common room.
xXxXx
Dear Colleen,
I am using the last of the invisible ink you sent me to write this, because I hope that after this we will not need to use invisible ink anymore. Are you surprised to find out that we have been corresponding for nearly nine months? I know I am.
I feel it is time to make a confession; I never expected anything like this to develop from my gifts to you. I discovered that you feared my House, and thought it was a pity. I decided to become a benefactor from afar, to raise your opinion of Slytherins in a general way. I see now that I was trying to buy your good opinion, which cannot be bought. I hope you will forgive me.
When your letters started arriving, I realized my other great mistake. I had failed to see you as an individual person. Oh, I had found out what you liked and disliked, but I had not realized that attached to that simple list was a human being as complex as myself, and as worthy of interest and respect. I had assumed that your being a girl, and a Gryffindor, made you somehow less than I. For this, too, I beg your forgiveness.
But none of this is the real point of this letter. By now, of course, you know about the Yule Ball, which is open to all students of fourth year and above. I am in the fourth year, as you know, and I would like to attend the ball, but the more I think about the Slytherin girls, the less interested I become. I know little about most of them, and what I do know I do not like. Most of them have no sense of humor, do not like to read or write, and cannot talk intelligently about any subject except clothing for any period of time.
So, having rambled quite a bit more, I come to the point — Colleen, will you go to the ball with me? I want you to know my face, as I know yours. I want to dance with you, and sit out some dances to talk. I want to be your friend face-to-face, rather than by letter alone. Please write back quickly with your answer, because if you turn me down I doubt if I will go at all.
Distractedly,
Your Secret Admirer
(soon, I hope, no longer secret)
xXxXx
"Why do girls move in herds?" Harry asked Ginny after a frustrating day watching Cho go everywhere with an escort of at least four.
"To make boys afraid, of course. Is it working?"
"Yeah. Is that why they giggle so much too?"
"Are you afraid of giggling?" Ginny grinned. "I can giggle, you know. Be afraid. Be very afraid." She demonstrated.
"Ow, ow!" Harry protested, clapping his hands over his ears. "It hurts! It hurts! Stop, you evil fiend, stop!"
Ginny really was giggling now. "I’ll stop if you will," she said, getting herself under control. "Truce?"
"Truce." Harry shook the extended hand. "You know, I think that’s the second task," he said. "Getting past a load of giggling girls. That’s what the sound in the egg is. Giggling."
"It doesn’t sound like any giggling I’ve ever heard."
"Maybe I have to change it somehow. Muffle it or put it under something." Harry leaned back in his chair. "But I’ve got loads of time to figure it out, and not that much to get a partner for the ball..."
"Ron’s not doing so well, either," said Ginny. "At least you have someone in mind. He doesn’t even have that. Maybe you could give him one of the ones who keep coming up and asking you."
"I don’t think he’d want any of them," Harry said. "Though maybe he could go with that fifth year who was a foot taller than me. He’d fit with her better."
"No, she looked too tough for him. What about that little Hufflepuff third year?"
"Too baby-faced. Remember, he said last night he wants a pretty girl."
Ginny snorted. "Sure he does. And yet he never notices the one closest to home."
"Huh?"
"She’s his year," said Ginny, ticking off points on her fingers. "She’s his House. She’s his friend. And he’s been looking straight past her for a week. Coming to mind yet?"
"Er, Hermione?"
"No, he’s suddenly become really good friends with Lavender Brown when you weren’t looking. Yes, Hermione. Hold still." Ginny tapped on Harry’s head with her knuckles. "Doesn’t sound hollow, but there’s nothing there..."
"Bug off," Harry said, pushing her away. "You really think Ron would go to the ball with Hermione?"
"Well, she’s hoping — but if you say anything to him, she’ll skin you alive," Ginny added, correctly interpreting Harry’s speculative look. "She wants him to ask, not to have to be pushed into it."
"But he’ll never ask her on his own," Harry protested.
"Exactly why she wants him to."
Harry frowned. "Wait. She wants him to do something she knows he’ll never do?"
Ginny shrugged. "I don’t understand it myself."
xXxXx
Hermione stood in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, staff in her hands. The wind blew about the few strands of her hair she hadn’t confined in a band and chilled the tears on her cheeks.
Damn Ron anyway. Why doesn’t he want me? Am I that ugly? I know I’m not beautiful, but am I that repulsive?
She set her feet and brought the staff up, then whirled into a pattern, strike, parry, block, letting the sharp moves work the anger out of her body. No, I’m not repulsive. I’m probably not even ugly. But all he sees in me is good old Hermione, who helps him with his homework. Well, let him. Maybe one of these days, somebody will see me for who I really am...
"Hello," said a gruff voice from behind her.
She whirled. Viktor Krum stood at one of the entrances to the pitch, looking in at her. Her heart seized up for an instant, then took off at double speed. "Hello," she said, aware of every drop of sweat on her face and untidy tendril of hair on her head.
"I realized I had not giffen you vot I promised," Krum said, nodding towards her staff. "The chance to try our staffs, and see how they are different. Vould you like to come now, or must you be somevere else?"
"No, I can come now." Hermione lifted her staff and tapped both ends twice with her wand, one after the other. The staff shrank to pocket-size, and she slid it away with her wand. If only her breathing would slow down... "Thank you."
"The pleasure is mine." Krum bowed to her as she joined him at the entrance. "I see you in the library often. Do you like to read?"
"Very much. It’s one of my favorite things. You?"
"I haff been known to enjoy a book," Krum said, then smiled. "Though the newspapers vould tell you no. No, no, Viktor Krum does not read. Viktor Krum plays Quidditch, and only that. But I think it is not fair that von should be known for only von thing in life. Vot do you think?"
Heat rushed to Hermione’s face. "I agree," she said quickly, noticing that Krum was looking at her oddly. "I think you’re absolutely right. Even if you love something, why should that be the only thing people think you do? No one’s that one-dimensional. Everyone has something different to them, something new."
"But sometimes those who are closest to it cannot see it clearly." Krum nodded. They were crossing the lawn now, headed for the lake. "I see you often vith your friends. They are all boys?"
"Well, all the ones in my year." Hermione giggled, and became aware that it was a shrill and annoying sound. She tried to modulate it downwards, and her voice caught, making her cough. Krum quickly drew his wand and conjured a glass of water for her. "Thank you," she choked out when she could speak again, her face still burning.
Krum nodded and vanished the remainder of the water. "You are all right now?"
"Yes, yes, fine."
Krum frowned. "Your cheeks... they are marked. Haff you been crying?"
"It was just the wind, it made my eyes water." Hermione wiped her cheeks quickly. "Look, here we are!"
"Yes. Be velcome, lady." Krum bowed and handed Hermione onto the gangplank. "After you try the staffs, I hope you vill stay for a few moments," he said as he followed her up. "There is something I vish to ask you."
Hermione’s heart speeded up still more.
xXxXx
"I’ll tell you what I don’t think is fair," said Graham Pritchard in Charms. "Why should only the fourth year students and up get to go to this ball?"
"Why, would you want to go?" asked Natalie.
"Why not? There aren’t often dances at Hogwarts. It would be a chance to meet people, to have some fun. But it’s only for the older students, and there’s not likely to be another one before our class leaves."
"You’re so lucky," Natalie said to Meghan. "Neville Longbottom asking you to go with him. He really likes you, doesn’t he?"
Meghan nodded. "We’ve been friends a long time," she said. "I wrote him letters his first year here, and then my parents taught during his second year, so I could come and stay at the school. Third year too."
"Your parents taught here two years?" Graham asked.
"Well, different parents. My birth parents the first year, and my godparents the second year. And I was Madam Pomfrey’s apprentice for the second year as well."
"You are lucky," said Graham. "You know what you want to do when you grow up, and who you want to be with. I don’t."
"Well, you’ve got a lot of time to think about it," Meghan said. "Can you show me how this one is supposed to go again? I keep mixing it up with the one we learned last week."
Meghan got the arm movement right just after the bell rang, while the rest of the class was streaming out of the room. "So twist first, then pull," she said, hugging Graham gratefully. "I thought it was at the same time."
"No, it’s different, but only by a hair..." Graham pulled away quickly. "Good afternoon," he said coolly over Meghan’s shoulder.
"Hello," said Neville’s voice. "I’m just here to get Meghan for dancing lessons. How was class?"
"Fine, thank you." Graham was still talking in that odd, chilly voice.
Neville frowned. "Pearl, would you go on without me?" he said. "I’ll catch up."
"Think Natalie can come along?"
"Well, can you dance?" Neville asked Natalie.
"I don’t know. I never tried."
"I don’t think Professor McGonagall will mind. It’s in the big room on the fourth floor, you know where, Meghan. See you there."
"See you," Meghan called over her shoulder as she scooped up her books and started off with Natalie. "Bye, Graham. Wonder what’s going on?" she asked Natalie when they were out of earshot.
"Graham knows you were unhappy when you and Neville were fighting, and he doesn’t want that to happen again, so he’s pretending he doesn’t like you," said Natalie. "But Neville knows he’s pretending, and he isn’t going to be unhappy about Graham liking you any more, is he?"
Meghan shook her head. "He knows Graham’s just my friend." She waved Natalie closer. "And I think I’m in love with Neville," she said quietly. "I think I always have been."
"Always?" Natalie looked at her wide-eyed. "How did you know?"
Meghan rubbed her left elbow, thinking. "I don’t know how I knew," she confessed finally. "But it was always fun to be with him. More fun than with anyone else, except everyone, the whole Pride. He was always willing to listen to me, to see me as me and not just the little sister or the tagalong."
"So, if it’s fun to be with someone, and it’s not as much fun to be with other people, and that person makes you feel really special and better all over — maybe you’re in love?"
"Maybe. How come?"
Natalie leaned in and whispered something.
"Really?" Meghan clapped her hands excitedly. "Natalie, that’s great! But — does he know?"
"I don’t know — but I hope he does, and then I hope he doesn’t, all at once..." Natalie shook her head. "I’m all confused. But he has to like somebody, or why would he want to go to the dance? It can’t just be because he wants to meet people."
"Maybe if you learn to dance now, there’ll be another dance when you’re old enough to go," Meghan said as they rounded the last corner. "My mum and dad taught me how to dance, and my Aunt Amy — well, she’s my mum’s aunt, but we call her our aunt — she taught me some more. And there’ll be dancing at my cousin’s wedding in May." She jumped up and down a few times for joy. "Do you know anything about dancing?"
Natalie shook her head. "I never have," she said. "Except a couple times in primary school, but all we ever did was jump around to the music. This is the kind of dancing where there’s actual steps, isn’t it?"
"Yes, but it’s not hard. Come on, you can dance with Harry. He’s good, and he hardly ever steps on your feet. He’ll teach you how."
Natalie let herself be pulled into the room after Meghan.
xXxXx
The castle fairly shimmered with Christmas as the end of term and the day itself drew nearer. Harry nearly impaled his hand on a misplaced icicle going down to breakfast one morning; Hedwig, Morpheus, and Pigwidgeon mobbed one of the golden owls from the Christmas trees in the Great Hall after it tried to cadge food out of Draco and Ginny; and Filch gave Ron detention when he caught Ron taking notes on Peeves’ altered lyrics to the Christmas carols sung by the suits of armor.
"Shoveling paths, Muggle-style," Ron groaned that night. "How do Muggles do it?"
But the castle wasn’t the only thing shimmering. Couples were appearing everywhere together; people seemed to be pairing off like mad. "Suppose I’ll set a record," said Harry gloomily the morning of the last day of term. "The only Triwizard champion ever to open a Yule Ball dancing by himself."
"No, you can’t," said Ron. "Look, I’ll make you a deal. When we get back to the common room tonight, we’ll both have partners. Agreed?"
"Fine," said Harry.
They shook on it.
"You could always go with each other," Hermione suggested tartly. "That’d be unusual."
"Oh, right," said Ron. "Like we’re really going to do that. Say, did you ever finish with my dress robes?"
Draco sucked in a breath through his teeth as Hermione swelled visibly. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did," she said in a careful, crisp enunciation, all the more amazing for being done through gritted teeth. "I’ll bring them ‘round to your room tonight, if that’s all right with you, Your Highness?"
Ron stared at her. "What’s got into you?"
Hermione’s mouth opened, then shut again, and she slammed her goblet down onto the table, swiveled in place, and stalked out of the Great Hall.
"Ron, a word of advice," said Draco, watching her go. "Don’t treat Hermione like your personal seamstress unless you’re actually paying her to fix up your robes. You might end up looking worse than before."
"Doubt it." But Ron looked unsure. "Should I apologize?"
"Only if you want to," said Ginny.
"Only if I want to what?"
Ginny grinned. "You’re learning. Only if you want to see your dress robes in a wearable state again, never mind looking better than they used to."
"’Scuse me," Ron said, grabbing a last piece of toast and swinging his legs over the bench.
"Do you think he’ll ask her?" Harry asked Ginny quietly.
"Don’t know. Ron does have a genius for picking bad times to do things, but this would be a new high."
xXxXx
"What?" Ron stared at Hermione. "Look, I said I was sorry..."
"I know you did, but this isn’t about you!" Hermione stopped, seeming surprised to hear her voice echo around the entrance hall. "Ron, I’m not saying no because I’m mad," she said in a quieter tone. "I’m saying no because I’m already going with someone else."
"You’re what?"
"Going with someone else. Someone else asked me to the ball, and I said yes."
The world did a backflip with a half twist around Ron. This couldn’t be happening. "Who?" Whoever it was, he was going to find him, and he was going to hit him so hard...
Hermione shook her head. "Not now. I’ll tell you later, maybe. Look, Ron, I’m sorry. I might have liked to go with you, but... he asked me first, and I said yes." She looked up at him, eyes perfectly frank. "Next time, ask me first."
Next time, ask me first. Ron repeated it like a mantra as he watched Hermione walk away. Next time, ask me first.
xXxXx
"Why didn’t you tell me Hermione’s going with someone?" Harry asked Draco that night in the common room.
"I assumed you knew. Why? What does it matter?"
"Well, it means she can’t go with Ron."
"My heart bleeds for Ron. Let him find his own girl, Harry, why should you take care of him all the time?"
Harry pointed to where a grey-faced Ron was being talked at soothingly by Ginny.
"Well, he does look pretty pitiful right now," Draco conceded. "But he asked Fleur Delacour to the ball in front of half the school. At least you got turned down in private."
"Yeah." Harry thumped the table moodily. "Beaten to the punch by Cedric bloody Diggory. Why the hell didn’t I ask her last week?"
"Because you were too busy agonizing over it. Harry, you missed out this time. There’ll be other things. Other times."
"But I need a partner right now."
"You have a point."
Harry looked again at Ron and Ginny, and something clicked in his mind. "How dumb am I?" he said under his breath.
"Do you want me to answer that?"
"No." Harry stood up and crossed to his friends. "Ginny," he said. "Will you go to the ball with me?"
"Hey, yeah," said Ron, recovering enough to sit up. "That’s a good idea. Meghan’s taken, Luna’s taken, Hermione’s going with someone else — do you know who it is?" he demanded of Draco.
"Yes, and it’s none of your business. Besides, you wouldn’t believe me anyway."
Harry bared his teeth. "Check your bed tonight," he said under his breath.
"But you’re not going with anyone yet, Ginny," said Ron, turning to her. "You can go with Harry, and I’ll just—"
"Who said I wasn’t going with anyone?" said Ginny. "As it happens, I am going with someone."
Harry experienced very strong déjà vu, as his insides gave one tortured writhe and vanished.
"Oh, not you, too," said Ron. "Who is it this time? Nott? Dursley?"
"Don’t be stupid. I’m going with Draco."
Draco became very interested in his Ancient Runes text. Harry’s guts filled once more with lead.
"You’re what?" demanded Ron. "Since when? What happened to Luna?"
"Luna’s going home this vacation, to be with her father. She promised. So Draco asked me to the ball instead, and I said yes." Ginny leveled a glare at her brother. "Are you going to tell me he’s not suitable?"
"No, of course not — but Harry needs a partner more!" Ron appealed to Draco. "You could go stag, there’s not a problem with that!"
Draco turned around. "Why don’t you sod off and let Harry solve his own problems?" he suggested. "What do you think, Harry?"
"I think..." Harry didn’t quite know what to say. Several alternatives seemed to be presenting themselves, some of which involved violence to his brother’s person, none of which seemed particularly good. "I think..."
Movement off to one side caught his eye. Parvati and Lavender had just climbed through the portrait hole.
"I think you should all wait here," he said, and walked over to the girls. "Parvati?" he said, fingers crossed in the pocket of his robe. "Will you go to the ball with me?"
Parvati giggled madly for a few moments, her face growing redder every second. "All right, if you like," she said finally.
"And Lavender? Would you go with Ron?"
Lavender looked over Harry’s shoulder at Ron, a sizing-up sort of glance. "Okay," she said when she was finished.
"Great," said Harry. "Thanks a lot."
He rejoined the Pride. "There," he said. "Problem solved. You’re going with Lavender, Ron."
"Oh. Okay." Ron sat up to look around at Lavender. "She’s not too bad-looking."
"Don’t say that where she can hear you," Draco recommended.
Ron returned Draco’s earlier suggestion via hand gesture.
Harry dropped into an armchair. Ginny came over to sit next to him. He looked at her. "Why didn’t you ever tell me you were going with Draco?" he said.
"You never asked."
"And why didn’t you tell me you were going with Ginny?" Harry said a bit louder, disrupting Ron and Draco’s friendly war of vulgarity.
Draco nodded at Ginny. "Same answer as her."
I never asked. Harry slumped in his chair. I never asked.
Why didn’t I ask?
He had a feeling the ball was going to be far too long for his taste.