Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or his world. I just play with them sometimes, but I always put them back where I found them.

A/N: For those who've already been reading this story, I've just cleaned up the first four chapters, and combined one and two into one to offer you a higher-quality beginning. Following chapters will not be quite this long, though some may approach the 4,000 word mark.

I've had a lot of confusion on this point (mostly of my own making), but this story begins in the sixth year for Harry & Co. I didn't like how the series ended, so I'm re-writing it, you could say. If you really enjoyed reading Harry Potter and the Extended Camping Trip, you may want to find another fic to spend your time on. Also, Slughorn is not a part of this story. I don't like him, either. Oh, and I think the Horcruxes are stupid, so they aren't there. In this world, Lupin has been brought back to teach DADA, and Snape is still happily installed as the Potions professor.

If you come across anything that contradicts these statements, ignore it. Better yet, send me a PM or leave a review, and I'll be more than happy to publicly grovel at your feet. Or maybe just go back and fix it. It'll really depend on what mood you catch me in :)

Enjoy!

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It was widely known throughout the wizarding world that if there was ever something to be kept safe, it would be most protected in exactly two places.

The goblins of Gringotts were not the sort of magical creature a sane witch or wizard would desire to cross, nor were the dragons rumored to live deep in the catacombs beneath the bank. Anything placed under the protection of the fiercely territorial goblins was sure to be untouched by any but the rightful owner—as long as the fees on the vault were kept up, anyway.

But even the goblins of Gringotts could not protect something as well as the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Albus Dumbledore had been entrusted with some of the most valuable objects and information any in the wizarding world could remember, and many they had never known existed. Even people felt safest in his presence. Indeed, when danger had lurked in the wizarding world during the first rise and reign of Lord Voldemort, witches and wizards had breathed a collective sigh of relief each September when their children departed on the Hogwarts Express. Their children would be safe under his watchful eye.

Yes, Albus Dumbledore, with his seemingly endless wealth of power and knowledge, could keep any object, any person, any secret in the world as safe as it could be.

Except, apparently, from his students.

It started on a mild Tuesday evening in the third week of September, in the Ravenclaw common room, when a flush-faced third year boy came running in from a late detention with Professor Lupin to share his discovery. He had seen the corner of a parchment on Lupin's desk when turning in the inventory he'd taken of magical creatures available for class demonstration.

Padma Patil had been sitting near the fire and had overheard the boy rush in to share his findings with his friends. Ever the dutiful sister, she cornered Parvati Patil the next morning before breakfast and shared what she had heard.

Parvati, ever the dutiful best friend, had rushed to the Gryffindor table to spread the word to Lavender Brown, who squealed loudly and turned immediately to Seamus Finnegan, her current male obsession, to whisper loudly in his ear. A tiny gnat of a rumor began to grow.

Pansy Parkinson was walking past the Gryffindor table, sneering at Brown's pathetic display of unrequited love, when she heard the news Brown had whispered in the uninterested boy's ear. Pansy quickened her pace to reach her beloved Drak-y and share the good news with him. His scowl deepened into the small, secret smile he saved for her alone. When she snuggled next to him, he leaned away to retrieve something from the bag at his feet. He pulled open the Daily Prophet, using it as a shield to protect their intimate moments from prying eyes. How she loved her Drak-y.

Draco was revolted by the dog-like girl who had been drooling over him for years. He held up a copy of the Daily Prophet to keep anyone else from seeing his humiliation at having to put up with her, but he could not help but be genuinely interested in the tidbit she had brought him.

Student after student passed the news during breakfast that day, and as the first classes began, a faint buzzing of excitement began spreading through the student body of Hogwarts.

A Christmas Ball? A Christmas Ball at Hogwarts?

Surely not. A Christmas Ball? Now?

How could he?

Why would he?

Yet, despite the tone of bewilderment and disbelief sweeping through the corridors of Hogwarts, the anticipation building in the student body became palpable. Within days, the supposed Christmas Ball was all anyone could talk about. Hopes and disappointments ran rabid as some teachers flatly denied it, while others refused to speak on the matter. The students, of course, came up with their own new theories by the hour. One day there were to be unicorns, the next, merpeople from the lake.

The Daily Prophet brought new word of disappearances on a weekly basis, if not more, and having something so far off the norm was a welcome distraction, especially for students who had family in the Ministry of Magic, a dangerous place to be at that time. After the Battle of the Ministry, as it had come to be called, the Dark Lord could no longer hide his return to strength. Instead, he relied upon and strengthened the fear in everyone's mind that he had already infiltrated every corner of their world. While he hadn't truly gotten his hooks into the Ministry of Magic, it was certainly true that many there were already his faithful followers, and dozens of others were under his power.

The thin veil that had always separated the students of Slytherin from the rest of the school had solidified over the summer, and they were given a particularly wide berth these days. Many of their parents had been suspected or confirmed followers of the Dark Lord in his early years, and most of the students didn't quite trust their children to be any less deceitful in their loyalties.

Draco Malfoy, of course, adored this kind of treatment. It was the role he had been bred for his entire life, to be feared by his enemies, and revered by his followers. It was, indeed, the same outlook that had led Tom Marvolo Riddle to begin his ascent to power, decades before Draco's conception, though Draco didn't know this.

The shadow that had fallen over the wizarding world needed to be broken by a few rays of light, and Albus Dumbldore, of course, knew this better than anyone. His students needed something to hope for, something to be excited about, and perhaps, he hoped, something to bring them together as a sort of family. This Christmas Ball would be that something and inviting new delegations from Beuxbatons and Durmstrang would be the common factor to unite the students of Hogwarts under a common flag, greeting their guests as a whole and learning to combine their talents. He knew this would be a difficult achievement, to say the least, but an old man must be allowed his dreams, after all.

On the day Dumbledore made the official announcement regarding the Christmas Ball, the Golden Trio was sitting in the Great Hall, waiting for breakfast to begin. It was a Wednesday, in the last week of September, and although they had Potions first thing with their least favorite instructor, they were chatting happily with the few other Gryffindors, though most were still in bed. Hermione was trying to help Neville with his Advanced Herbology essay, though she wasn't in the class, but Harry and Ron were caught up in conversation about the upcoming rumored ball.

"But don't you suppose," mused Ron, pulling Hermione out of her deep thoughts of snapping crabgrass, "that there'd be a reason for it? If there were a Christmas Ball, I mean?"

"Dumbledore has a reason for just about everything, doesn't he?" offered Seamus Finnegan, shrugging. "Who's to say we'll ever know, though?"

"I imagine," piped up Neville, who was looking distractedly down as his ink-spotted parchment, "he's trying to build up our morale, you know, since You-Know-Who is back to power. And it wouldn't hurt that a dance might bring us closer together as a school. Dumbledore and the Sorting Hat are always saying how we need to be united to face dark times. Well, that's now, isn't it?" he finished, looking up at the mildly surprised faces of his classmates.

"That's very true, Neville," Hermione replied softly, glancing back at the Slytherin table. There was almost a dark glow around the students, huddled together against the animosity that seemed to be always directed at them these days. "I'm sure that's exactly what Professor Dumbledore's looking to happen. We've got a few minutes left; let's finish this up before breakfast starts." They bent their heads in, reading over the essay together. Every few moments, Hermione would tap her quill on something Neville had written, and whisper gently in his ear as he scratched her corrections onto another, clean parchment.

Harry watched the deft motions of Hermione's quill hand with interest. He was always so fascinated by her hands as they moved so gracefully against the long white feather quill. It had taken him weeks at Hogwarts to master the art of writing with a quill and ink. In primary school with the Dursleys, he'd only ever used pencils and ballpoint pens on clean, lined sheets of white paper. The rough surface of the slightly yellow parchment had taken a while to get used to, as well, but Hermione never seemed to have faltered, writing her quick, neat notes from the first day in classes.

Hermione glanced up and caught Harry's eye. She grinned at him with an exasperated look in her eye before tucking back into her work with Neville. He smiled back at her and quickly turned to the conversation around him, not wanting her to think more of the glance than was necessary. She certainly didn't need to know that he watched her every chance he got, or that he noticed the smallest details about her, like the way her hair got bushier each time she ran her fingers through it in frustration.

When she inadvertently caught Harry's eye, Hermione tried to play it off as a moment of irritation with Neville, and quickly pulled her hair down across her face to hide the slight flush that always crept across her face when he looked at her like that. She knew it wasn't original, having a crush on The-Boy-Who-Lived, and nor did she think she had half a chance against any of the other girls at Hogwarts. When she had first heard about the upcoming Christmas Ball, she had felt only relief that Harry's interest in Cho Chang seemed to have dissipated, and a pang as she realized he would surely find someone more interesting soon enough.

She didn't want Harry Potter, just her friend Harry, whom she knew to be brave and strong, smart and caring, and any other positive adjective she could bring to mind. How she would love for him to kiss her, with those lips that grinned at her in that heart-breakingly familiar way, to hold her close in his arms. She wanted to kiss the scar that had caused him so much pain. But most of all she wanted to make his pain disappear. After the terrible media storms of the past two years, she dreamed of running away with Harry, through the Forbidden Forest, away from Hogwarts and the whole wizarding world. They could be together, apart from the war and Lord Voldemort and the worry that she knew he felt from being the Chosen One. But Harry would simply not be Harry if he would ever agree to such a selfish act of cowardice, and Hermione would not have had him any other way. As if she could have had him at all.

So lost was Hermione in her romantic thoughts that she didn't notice Neville reaching across her for his textbook until he had already knocked her quill out of her hand. It clicked gently against the edge of the table before landing on the floor. She started slightly and reached down for the quill, only to see that the tip had snapped. With an irritated groan, she rifled through her bag for a fresh quill, before remembering that Lavender had borrowed her spare quill earlier in the week and never returned it. She reached across the table to ask Lavender for her quill back, but found Harry's hand outstretched with his own quill, offering it to her.

"Oh," Hermione said, startled, "thank you."

"You're welcome."

She reached out to take the quill, her fingertips brushing against Harry's knuckles as she did so. Her eyes locked with Harry's for just a moment. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—to explain the caress, but was interrupted by peals of laughter from Parvati and Lavender from across the table. They jumped at the sudden shrill noise, and when Hermione turned to see what her idiotic classmates were laughing about, she found the two silly girls eyeing the place where, she realized with embarrassment, her fingers were still touching Harry's. The flush crept up her face again and she quickly turned away to help Neville finish his essay, trying desperately to keep her mind on the crabgrass.

"What's so funny?" Harry asked him suspiciously once they had filled their plates and began eating.

Ron glanced behind him at Hermione—who was now going over the previous lesson's potions homework with Neville with a decidedly pained look on her face—before muttering, "You saw Lavender and Parvati just now."

It was Harry's turn to blush scarlet as he whispered back, "And what of it?"

Ron ignored the hint of a threat in Harry's voice and went on to say, "Oh please, it's not like either of you are being subtle about it."

"What are you on about?" Harry demanded furiously.

"Aren't you two secretly dating?" There was the slightest accusatory tone to Ron's voice, though he tried to keep it light-hearted.

Luckily, breakfast appeared at the table that moment, and the hall filled with noise as students excitedly fill their plates. Conversation lagged as they grabbed of the offered kippers, eggs, fruit, and toast. Harry greedily drank down a glass of pumpkin juice both to avoid Ron's question and quench the dryness in his mouth that seemed to appear every time he came in close contact with Hermione. He certainly hadn't expected that from Ron, of all people, but all that came to mind in response was, if only. He glanced at Hermione surreptitiously to make sure she hadn't heard what Ron said, but she was still involved in Neville's paper.

"No," he said carefully, allowing Hermione to pass them the ham. "Why would you think that?"

Ron looked at Harry incredulously, wondering how his friend could be so thick, and waited until Hermione's attention was fully refocused on Neville before answering. "Well," he said, suddenly uncomfortable as he realized his assumption might have been wrong, "I mean—you're always—that is—" Harry raised one eyebrow slightly, letting Ron know how feeble his suspicions sounded, despite how much he wished Ron was right. "Look mate," Ron said, trying again to verbalize his thoughts, "it's pretty clear that you've been ogling her for the last few months. I don't know when it happened, and I don't want to know if anything's happened between you two, but it's getting to where more than just me have noticed."

That caught Harry's attention. "What do you mean, more than you have noticed? And I'm not saying you're right, by the way," he added quickly, shutting down Ron's suddenly surprised expression.

"Well," Ron began, "I heard Lavender and Parvati talking in the common room yesterday, and they were just sure that you and Hermione have been dating secretly for weeks. They said something about how you never touch each other anymore, like you're trying to keep people from noticing, but they said that you're not being very subtle, that it's really obvious." He shrugged apologetically, then continued, "And if they've have already figured it out, pretty soon the whole school—"

"But there's nothing going on!" Harry exploded quietly. "There's nothing that they can have figured out, because we're not together!"

"You don't sound happy about that, mate." Ron stared at him knowingly. "I felt the same way, third year. It's only normal when you're around a girl that long, that eventually you'll, well, notice she's a girl. It's okay, mate. I only felt that way for a few months, and then it went away. Just try to act more normally around her, and no one will be any the wiser. It'll go away on its own after a while, and everything will go back to normal."

This sounded like perfectly sage advice. The only problem, Harry thought, was Ron's assumption that the way he felt was new and that it would go away. He'd never stopped to consider how he felt about the female edge of their triangle, but if he sat down with himself, Harry had to admit that he'd first noticed she was more than just a friend to him at the end of their second year. After killing the basilisk, as he felt the venom coursing through his body, edging toward his heart, his only conscious thought was that the danger to Hermione was now gone. He knew that the teachers would reanimate all of the snake's victims, and that there would be no further attack against the Muggleborns of Hogwarts. It wasn't until years later, however, that he had acknowledged that as more than a spasm of his dying mind and realized how deep his feeling for Hermione ran, or how long he had loved her without ever saying so.

Harry looked away from Ron, to see Hermione's forehead deeply furrowed as she read through Neville's essay, periodically crossing through phrases and scribbling corrections in what Harry knew would be her perfect, tiny handwriting. The shape of her brow really was quite exquisite, he realized, perfectly rounding into her delicate cheekbones and leading down to her lips, now pursed in exasperation. As she worked, Neville was frantically copying down every new word onto a fresh piece of parchment. In his desperation, Neville's quill caught the edge of the ink bottle, sending the black liquid flowing across the table. As Neville gasped in horror, Harry was impressed at how coolly Hermione cleaned the spilled ink with a flick of her wand before turning back to Neville's essay.

She asked Neville something, and he pulled out a watch in response, indicating that they were nearly out of time to finish his assignment before they had to leave for Potions. With a quick glance at the head table, Hermione shifted so that her actions would not be visible from the front of the Great Hall. Harry leaned back slightly, to see all of the ink from Neville's essay flowing into her wand. She muttered an incantation he couldn't quite hear and the ink began pouring back out onto the newest parchment Neville had just produced from his bag. As Harry watched, the puddle of black ink slowly separated, spreading across the paper and into the essay Hermione had just corrected, all in Neville's messy, loopy handwriting. Harry could not suppress the smile of adoration that crept across his face. Hermione's goodness, her talent, and her willingness to help others never ceased to amaze him, no matter how often she proved herself. Added to her own natural beauty, Harry didn't wonder how easily Krum had fallen for her, and found himself wondering how it had taken him so long to notice for himself how incredible she was. She smiled at Neville, who was thanking her over and over for her help, and Harry knew that she would never ask Neville for a single thing in return. His Hermione was just too good of a person for that.

"So, yeah?" Harry was pulled out of his private thoughts by Ron slugging his shoulder. Hard.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, hitting Ron back. Hermione looked at them over her shoulder and rolled her eyes at their boyishness.

"Oi, mate!" Ron replied. "Were you listening at all?"

"Erm…to what?" Wanting the entire train of discussion to be over, Harry began shoveling his food into his mouth, barely tasting the delicious morning concoctions of the school elves.

Ron rolled his eyes in annoyance at his two vacant friends, then lowered his voice and said conspiratorially, "I said, I can tell Lavender that you and Hermione have broken it off, so no one will bug either of you about it! And you get to keep being all weird and spacey, and everyone will think it's just a broken heart. And I'll get to be Lavender's new favorite person to talk to for gossip," he added, sounding quite pleased at his ability to help himself while helping a friend.

"Um, no, thanks," Harry said, suddenly no longer hungry. "I'll take care of it myself. Thanks for telling me, though."

"Oh, uh, sure," Ron said uncertainly.

Hermione kept Ron from saying anymore by leaning in to remind them of the homework they needed to do before Astronomy that following night.

They all sat in silence after that. The other two were cleaning up their breakfast while Harry still sat, pushing eggs around his plate glumly. Ron glared down at him sulkily, but Harry just ignored him. He didn't know how to tell his best friend that he thought their other best friend might just be the love of his life, but he knew that the breakfast table wasn't the right setting.

As the plates disappeared into the kitchen below, Dumbledore rose to his feet, effectively silencing any remaining conversation in the Great Hall. The tension in the air was thick. Dumbledore didn't make announcements at breakfast, except at the beginning and end of term, and on holidays. He would surely address the recent grinding of the rumor mill if he had anything to say.

"We have made every attempt at secrecy in planning an event for this coming winter," he began smiling knowingly, "so I assume you are all aware of its existence?"

There was a general murmur of assent.

"There will be a Christmas Ball this year," said Dumbledore, smiling. He was momentarily interrupted by a loud wave of cheering that passed through the hall that was quickly shushed by other students eager to hear more. He continued, "Students of any age will be welcome to attend, though anyone under fourth year will be required to check in with their Head of House periodically throughout the evening, and only those in the sixth and seventh years will be permitted out of their dormitories past twelve o' clock. All younger students will be escorted to their houses by their Prefects at midnight."

More cheers from the student body, and grumbles of complaint from the younger students.

"There is more to this evening than just a celebration for Hogwarts students. Because housing students from Beuxbatons and Durmstrang during the Tri-Wizard Tournament was so successful two years ago, we have invited those same schools to select another delegation of students and staff to join us for our Christmas celebration, along with the…surviving champions."

A shudder of chills ran through the listening students as they realize the weight of Dumbledore's choice of words. Harry noticed several people glancing over at him, and he worked very hard to keep his eyes fixed on Dumbledore. Ron clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving Harry a knowing look. He felt a delicate hand over his on the table, and looked back to see Hermione gazing at him sorrowfully. He flashed a quick smile to ease the worry he knew she always felt for him. He didn't deserve someone as caring as her, especially not when all he could think about was the feel of her soft skin on the back of his hand, when she was just trying to comfort him from his memories of Cedric. Harry swallowed hard to keep his emotions in check in the presence of such loving friends, and looked back to Dumbledore, finding the old wizard's deep blue eyes boring into his own. The look he gave the three friends was far too knowing for Harry's taste, and he blinked to avoid his piercing eyes.

Dumbledore looked away from Harry and clapped his hands loudly and dismissed them all to their morning classes. The moment of tension was over within seconds, and the sounds of scraping benches and excited chatter as everyone got to their feet and ran out of the hall, desperate to beat the teachers to class so they could compare answers to the night's homework and discuss this latest news.

"The champions? Does that mean Krum will be here?" Seamus asked excitedly to no one in particular as they all collected their things.

Hermione gasped quietly. Ron was too excited at the prospect of his Quidditch hero arriving to notice, but Harry heard and took his time reaching for his bag while Ron moved ahead with the crowd. Hermione was waiting politely for Neville to finish putting away his things, and Harry took the opportunity to speak to her without being overheard.

"What's wrong?" he asked her under his breath. "Don't you want to see Viktor again?"

Hermione looked up into his emerald green eyes, and blinked in surprise. She hadn't realized she'd been loud enough to hear, but she couldn't help skipping a heartbeat when she realized how well he'd been able to interpret her body language. "No, not really," she said quietly, hoping no one else would hear. The last time she had seen Viktor, he had proposed marriage to her, inviting her to join him in Bulgaria and finish her schooling at Durmstrang. Without knowing how to answer, Hermione had simply replied that she would need to finish her education at Hogwarts before considering anything of the sort. Viktor was a wonderful person, and she enjoyed spending time with him, despite his inability to say her name correctly, but she wasn't sure she liked him enough to marry him, and her increasing feelings for Harry were only complicating the situation. She had last seen Viktor in the last week of the summer, and in the month since then, he had sent her letter after letter, demanding her answer.

Harry let it go at that. If Hermione wanted to talk, she would. Until then, he'd let her be. But he couldn't help wondering why she would look so utterly terrified at the thought of seeing her long-distance sweetheart. The only reason he could think of was that maybe they were no longer on speaking terms, which worked out for him just fine. If they were no longer an item, surely he would have heard about it somewhere, the Daily Prophet would have mentioned something, so he didn't dare hope it was that. But still, he wondered if she doubted Krum's affections for her, and if maybe he could use that to his advantage. If Hermione didn't want to run into Krum at the party, then she would need a date as an excuse to avoid him. Or maybe, Harry thought, a grin stealing across his face, maybe she wouldn't want to go at all, and they could spend the whole night in the common room together. Harry wasn't fond at all of dancing, especially after the Yule Ball, so he would almost like it better to spend time alone with Hermione. The thought of an entire night with Hermione made him smile wider. They could play chess, talk about anything, and maybe she'd get tired and fall asleep against him on one of the red loveseats scattered across the room. Reminding himself that that wouldn't be happening, Harry went back to what Dumbledore was saying about the party with a slightly deflated mood.

As Harry moved to join the throng, Hermione reached up to put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll tell you about Viktor tonight, okay?" she whispered.

Harry nodded, and when Hermione moved her hand away, a tingling spread from the spot where she had touched until he felt like his whole upper body was glowing. He realized suddenly that he hadn't made physical contact with Hermione in quite a while, and that Ron had been very right about his subconscious efforts not to touch her.

"Hurry up, Harry!" Hermione said frantically, grabbing his hand and slipping between people to lead him downstairs. "I really want to find out how we did on the essay for last lesson!" Harry groaned, remembering the half-completed fodder he'd turned in the previous Wednesday. Only Hermione's hand on his and the excitement and worry bubbling in her eyes kept him moving forward. He squeezed her hand slightly, earning a surprised backward glance, but followed his best friends dutifully toward the dungeons.

When they reached the doorway into Snape's classroom, Snape had not yet arrived, and so there was nowhere else for Hermione to lead Harry. Wishing he could think of a good reason not to, Harry let go of her hand, lest someone notice and think it meant more than it did. Hermione flashed him a winning smile over her shoulder as Snape came around the corner. Having been the last to arrive, Harry, Ron and Hermione were the first students he saw, and a vicious smile curled his lips.

"Ah, Potter," Snape said with slow malice, ushering the students into the dungeon, but stopping the last three at the door. "You and Mr. Weasley will be staying after class to discuss the poorly contrived waste of my time you both tried to pass off as essays last Wednesday. Pay extra attention in class today, as that will be the topic for your makeup assignment."

Harry noticed several Slytherins, mostly those near Malfoy, smirking openly at his embarrassment. Most of the Gryffindors just rolled their eyes, by now all too familiar with Snape's favoritism toward his own house and too distrustful of anything Slytherin to openly make note of it. Ron made a rude motion behind Snape's back, which made Harry and Hermione laugh, but it was the slight squeeze Hermione gave his left hand that really brightened the outlook for Harry's day. He entwined his fingers with hers for just a moment before entering the classroom behind Ron, then let her go with regret.

~%%~

"Two scrolls! Two more scrolls by the end of the week!" Ron was still fuming about Snape's punishment for their poor work. "Two entire scrolls just on the twelfth use of Dragon's Blood!"

"Well Ron," Hermione said in placating tone, "It is the most important of the twelve uses, and there really are quite a few angles you could take on the topic. You both really should have put more effort into the first essay. I spent hours on it, and he barely passed me."

"But still!" Ron continued on, undeterred by Hermione's never-failing logic. "I couldn't even get one scroll on the first eleven of the uses, how does he expect us to have two scrolls on just one of them? Harry, you were right; he wants to kill you. He wants us to die trying."

Harry sighed and rolled his eyes, trying to balance his knowledge that Hermione was right with his desire to commiserate with Ron about the horrendous assignment they had just been given. He turned to Hermione, grinning, as they made their way to Transfiguration together, angry Ron still leading the way and ranting.

"Hermione," he started slowly, "do you think you could—"

"Of course, Harry," Hermione said quickly. "You know I wouldn't let you write about that alone. You might decide to say it's used in magical cosmetics! Besides," she added quietly, slowing down so that Ron pulled ahead and couldn't hear her next words, "after Ron's asleep, we'll have time to talk about Viktor. There are things you should know before the Durmstrang lot gets here."

Harry gave her a worried look, but she quickly wiped it off of his face by reaching out for his hand again so they could run to catch up with Ron—still ranting, Harry guessed by his manically waving arms—halfway down the hallway. He seemed not to have noticed they were no longer right behind him, but as a thrill ran up Hermione's hand to Harry's arm, he couldn't have cared less who noticed.

Unluckily for him, it was Draco Malfoy who did.

~%%~

A/N: Fair warning to new readers. Following chapters will probably not be this long. This was originally the first two chapters, and I thought they sucked. In reviewing and revamping the early chapters to make a bit more sense, they got much longer. I didn't want to split these up again, but just so you know, most chapters will be around 2000-2500 words (about half this length).

Rock on, keep reading, and as always, review!

cj596