And I, I was up past the dawn. Spots of twilight gone.
I've been hounded by the wounds that with speak, and spittle bitter tongue.
Things eclipsing all the time, for bending more's a lie.
And I always learn the hard way, its instinct to be true; an instinct to be true.

And I'm, gonna tell this world - The only difference now, is that I'm envisioning.
And I'm, gonna spread my wings, cause I'm envisioning, my only sinking ship.

And oh, everywhere I go, taken with that same old
feeling with me now, it gets me through my ups and
downs.

I'm wide awake. I'm wide awake. I'm wide awake.

Chapter 2

Harry was gently woken by Hermione. His eyes opened slowly and from a glance over her shoulder, out the window, he could tell it was early evening. He looked at her in a sorry way. She smiled and tucked some of her chocolate locks behind a small ear, before softly saying,

"It's a bit late,"

He nodded, "Right… sorry. Didn't sleep much last night,"

"It's alright. Ron's saying he's got a surprise for us. He'd like us to dress a bit formally,"

Harry sat up and wondered aloud, "Where could we be going?"

"I've no idea," She grinned, "But he insists we'll have a fun time and for you to get up!"

Harry grinned back at her and nodded positively.

Once she left the room, he began to dig through his suitcases for a collared shirt and some formal pants. He laid them across his bed and headed towards the bathroom for a shower, when he bumped into Ginny. She was in a small coral dress with silver, sparkling jewelry around her neck and on her ears. She was smiling beautifully at him and he smiled back.

"You look lovely,"

"You don't," She insulted lovingly, still beaming.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled, "Yeah, yeah. I'm getting in the shower now. Just a bit low on sleep lately,"

She stepped close to him, her feminine hands crawling onto his chest. They were nose-to-nose when she whispered,

"Well, if you're up all night, Harry, you should be coming to see me. We can be up all night together,"

He blushed and felt a touch of nausea. He put his hands on top of hers and began to back away,

"Ginny…"

"Ginny!" Hermione shouted from another room.

The redhead turned around towards her own bedroom, where Hermione was staying.

"Yeah?"

"I need you to help me! You've a much better fashion sense!" Hermione called back.

Harry smirked at the idea of Hermione rummaging around her shared room, in the hopes of putting together something to impress Ron. She was brilliant, but lacked some basic 'feminine' social intellect. Harry thought briefly that he should remind Hermione that she could cut up a trash bag to wear and Ron would still be floored by her. He decided that he would keep the thought to himself, though. Ginny gave him one last long look, before turning around and going back to Hermione. He barely noticed his shoulders relaxing again and his body loosening its binding tension. He went into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He stepped towards their shower and turned the nozzle, knowing there would be a bit of a wait for hot water. As he undressed, he wondered where all the dirt had gone. He looked at his toned arms and slight body hair, thinking of all the ash, the dirt and blood and sweat that had once decorated his body. All the filth seemed to be there throughout his troubled years, but somehow he was clean again. He couldn't recall the last time he was so clean and he couldn't remember scrubbing that old layer of filth off.

When he stepped into the warming water, he saw flashes of the frozen pond, Godric Gryffindor's sword and the harsh choking around his neck. He focused, though, on the relief he felt when Ron pulled him out of death's icy strangle. He tried very hard to reflect on goodness when he would have flashbacks or brief interactions with his damaged past. He hoped that nightmares that still plagued him from the years of war and fear would begin to have, perhaps, at least, breaks of peace. He went to grab a bottle of washing gel, but very suddenly felt overwhelmingly apathetic. He left his arm in midair, unable to find the energy or will to do anything with it. He eventually slid down and sat on the floor of the shower, leaning against the far wall, allowing the now steaming water to beat against his chest and stomach. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He hoped he wasn't going mad. He, in no way, was manic or crazed the past months, but he considered himself acting unfeeling. He knew Ron and Hermione noticed it, but he hadn't spoken to Ginny about it. Ron had asked him if he was okay and Harry knew that it likely took the redhead days of observation to reach the conclusion that a general inquiry was necessary. Hermione, on the other hand, had been giving him warning, strange glances throughout the days, whenever he acted out of character. She knew something was off about him, but she wasn't about to interrogate him about it. She used her eyes and arms to demonstrate concern generally.

Harry hoped then that Hermione and Ron didn't talk about him when he wasn't there. He hated that. He couldn't even describe why. He only knew that he did not like being a topic of discussion behind closed doors. He opened his eyes again and sat up slightly, so that the water was falling directly over his head. He lolled his head round and round, relaxing his back and slouching his shoulders while the hot water cascaded down him.

Hermione pulled Ginny into the room and closed the door behind her and asked,

"Do you know what he's planning?"

Ginny quirked a brow and Hermione insisted, "Ron!"

Ginny shaped her lips in a realizing "Oh," and confessed, "Sorry, Hermione, I have no idea what tonight is about,"

Hermione pouted and went back to digging through her charmed suitcases, pulling out what must have been the wardrobes of at least three people. Ginny stopped her and told her,

"Hermione, you really shouldn't be panicking so much,"

The brunette huffed and Ginny assured her, "Ron is funny, I know, but he's pretty easy to please,"

Hermione sat down on her bed and looked at Ginny pleadingly and asked, "Ginny… are you and Harry having… are you two intimate?"

Ginny blushed slightly and answered, "No, not yet. Harry says he's recovering and that it simply isn't on his mind,"

Hermione wanted to say so much in response; that, if upon looking at her, he was not thinking of her body shape, face or beauty, that it was suspicious. She wanted to say that a giant part of healing from trauma is pushing comfort zones to feel loved and close to others again. She certainly did not want to offend Ginny, though, so she stayed silent.

"Why?" Ginny asked.

Hermione sighed and replied, "Well, Ron and I haven't either… I mean, he kisses me a lot, he holds my hand under the kitchen table and, really, whenever he gets a chance… and he always sits next to me…"

"So, what's the problem?" Ginny wondered while grimacing inwardly that Harry did none of those things with her.

"Nothing – no, I mean, there's not a problem, exactly… I just sometimes wonder if… he'd prefer I look…different," She answered shyly.

Ginny laughed and put her hand on Hermione's shoulder and told her with a big smile, "That's ridiculous! Hermione, he's mad over you! Have you asked him about it?"

"No!" She squeaked – she went to try to cover up the emotional slip, but surrendered to it, "You see? I can't even imagine asking him… even though we've known each other for so long, I know that there's still so much I don't know about him and I want to be closer to him, you know?"

Ginny knew precisely the feelings Hermione spoke of and finally said, "You should tell him that. But his distance definitely has nothing to do with how you look," She smiled again and added, "Whenever you're not looking he's ogling you,"

Hermione blushed and pushed Ginny in a friendly attack of disbelief, "Stop it!"

Ginny giggled and insisted, "I'm serious!"

Hermione scowled playfully, a curl by the corners of her lips evident as she exclaimed, "There's no way! I'd have certainly caught him if he ever did!"

In the bathroom, Harry was meditating, still under the hot water, having soaped his body and hair. He could hear the soft sound of the girls laughing from the other side of the wall from which the shower head protruded. He stood and rinsed off more until he was sure steam was escaping the small window at the top of the left most wall, in the shower. He went to step out of the shower when he saw the inner walls of Azkaban surrounding him. The fright made him slip and fall onto his tailbone. He seethed and felt grateful that there was an overly furry rug beneath him, as it likely soaked in most of the shock. He heard the woman's voice again.

Do not ignore me…

"Stop it!" He yelled harshly, his head pounding with quickly rising frustration.

"Harry?" Hermione's voice came from beyond the bathroom door.

"Yeah?" He asked, rubbing his lower back in pain.

"Are you alright in there?"

"Yeah," He said, exasperated as he stood, "Just had a slip. I'm fine,"

Hermione must have accepted that response, because she was gone from the door as quickly as she had arrived to his aid. Harry took a look in the foggy mirror, rubbing his hand across the glass until he could see himself. His eyesight truly wasn't so bad; it was really just as if the edges and outer lines of everything were smudged. He put his glasses on and all his vision became sharp again. His face certainly did not reveal any apparent signs of insanity, but he had no idea what those signs would look like. He looked down to his callused hands and at his pale stomach. He sighed, calming down again and wrapped a towel around his waist. When he walked into Ron's bedroom, he was standing in front of his mirror, in a very formal collared shirt. Harry and he met eyes and they smiled at each other. If there was anyone that could break Harry's bouts of apathy, it was Ron Weasley. He simply couldn't imagine being happy in life again without Ron.

"What are you planning, exactly?" Harry asked him.

Ron grinned and rushed over to him, closing the door and whispering, "It's a surprise, for Hermione,"

"What should I be wearing?"

"Do you still have your dress robes?" Ron asked excitedly.

Harry's brows bounced up on his forehead and he replied, "Well, yes, but do you really think we'll be needing that?"

"Yeah, but bring them in a different bag or something – dress formally, but not like that," Ron told him.

"You've lost me,"

"Just trust me," Ron beamed, "Oh, and, can you take this too?"

Ron handed Harry a newly dry-cleaned something covered by a black cloak. Harry nodded and shrugged off his confusion. He set the same extension charm on his pant pocket that Hermione set on her pocketbook. He packed dress shoes and robes and put on a semi-formal outfit, which was apparently only for show. Ron, Ginny and Harry waited downstairs for Hermione to descend, while Ginny insisted that they be particularly complimentary towards Hermione. When she finally did come down, Ron was immediately entranced by her; she donned blue gem earrings and a matching necklace that was thin and silver and gave her bust an elegant allure. She was dressed in a knee-length, strapless black dress and very high heels; in fact, she was now able to look Ron directly in the eye. He smiled at her with eyes sparkling and Harry sucked in secondhand happiness. Ginny went and grabbed his hand in hers which startled him momentarily. He gave her a half-smile and she, a bit deflated, settled for the reaction.

Ron took his father's newer and more functional flying car and took them for a half-an-hour drive. None of them recognized the territory they flew over. He eventually landed the car safely and helped Hermione and Ginny out of the car. He cast invisibility over the car and led them from their out-of-sight parking spot, into the cobble street of a busy strip. Hermione noted that everything looked very upper-class and formal – more-so than what her outfit called for. She stuck close to Ron's side as he led them down the road to a large, white hall where hundreds of people were dressed in gowns and tuxes. Long stained glass windows revealed chandeliers inside, a banquet and tons and tons of people. Ron turned to the three behind him and smiled knowingly.

"What's going on here?" Ginny asked.

Ron looked to Hermione, who was feeling acutely self-conscious in the face of the elegant ball gowns and buildings and he announced,

"I wanna make it up to you, Hermione,"

She thought briefly that the shade of red his cheeks were turning was adorable and flattering before asking, "What?"

"You told me I ruined that night for you… the Yule Ball,"

Harry was shocked and Ginny didn't understand the significance of the situation; he had expected no less. Hermione's eyes were immediately glassy and Ron explained,

"The guy who owns this hall is a wizard and I saw a bit about him in the paper, he's got a lot of money. Too much, if you ask me. He was holding this giant dance for his co-workers and a bunch of big-wigs – he's in the business of trading, selling and taming rare dragons," Ron set his eyes back onto Hermione's, "So, I wrote to him. I told him that I'm really dirt poor, but that I finally… got the girl of my dreams to hold my hand and… I told him that there was a lot of time and mistakes I wanted to make up for, for love, you know?"

Hermione's cheeks were slowly becoming red while Ron went to take her hands in his. He looked at her tenderly and continued,

"I asked him if there was any way he would ever consider giving me admission to the private dance he was holding, after I explained all about the Yule Ball mishap and all… he didn't just give me four invitations, but he, uh… he gave me a job,"

Ginny let out a shrill little scream while Harry's face was overcome with a giant grin; as was Hermione's. She darted her eyes all over his freckled face, looking for signs that it might all be a dream. He told the group,

"So, I'll be leaving pretty soon for overseas for a little… he says he likes my character," Ron smiled.

"This is for me?" Hermione asked timidly.

Ron breathed out, "Course,"

He cupped his hands around her cheeks and told her, "Everything's for you, Hermione,"

Harry was smiling, watching the brunette falling in love all over again. Ron had perfected the art of romantic timing and Harry envied him for that. Ginny was up to disrupting their romantic gaze, though.

"Well, Ron! When do you go? And what will you be doing?"

Ron looked to his sister and told her, "I'll give you and mum and dad all the details tomorrow. Let's go to this party,"

Hermione stopped him and exclaimed, "I haven't got something appropriate to wear, Ron! You should've warned me, really!"

"Don't worry," He smirked, "Harry?"

They all turned to him reaching into his pant pocket and slowly pulling out something long and covered by a black sheet on a wire hanger. Ron gave Harry a thanking smile as he took the hanging article and presented it to Hermione. She unwrapped it as Ron held it up for her; awe and tears struck her face when she recognized the gown she wore to the Yule Ball. She looked up to Ron's knowing eyes and she stammered,

"How – how? When?"

Ron chuckled and replied, "It just needed a gentle cleaning. It looks brand new, doesn't it?"

She covered her glossed lips with a weak hand and seemed at a complete loss. Ron finally announced, "So, let's go get changed and let me make it up to you,"

Hermione and Ginny ran off together to change in a close-by bar while Harry and Ron simply slipped into the shadow of an alleyway. They switched into tuxes and Harry complimented Ron, saying, "You've really got this romance down to an art, haven't you?"

Ron told him it took a lot of practice and far too much thinking, but that it was worth the reaction. The group reconvened outside the hall and Ron flashed his specialized invitations to the young man outside the doors. The hall was luxurious and massive. There was a table in Ron's name and it donned entry gift-baskets and name cards, marking their individual seats. Ron's seat had a note, that in cursive read;

So glad to hear from a real gentleman in this day and age. My colleagues and I are extremely excited to have you join our team. You'll be hearing from me soon. I hope you and your love enjoy yourselves.

Regards,

Theodore M. Barthum

They placed down their smaller belongings onto the table while Hermione admired the live orchestra. Hypnotized by the music, glowing chandeliers, decorated tile and stone – the beautiful colors and shapes of the wizards and witches dancing and socializing; she was frozen and nearly faint. The music carried through the entire hall, making the stained glass windows dance. Giant vases held massively tall flowers that shimmered in the light of the sparkling drinks and lights and people. The hall was lit with whites and golds; pearls and coins and crystals hung from the high, rounded ceiling. Hermione was only brought back to the reality of the night by Ron gently touching her revealed shoulder. She turned to find him presenting a long, twisted glass of a sparkling, carbonated something.

"No alcohol," He assured, "We can party like that later,"

She giggled and threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him so sweetly, he nearly melted. He looked guilty, then and asked her,

"You'll still be happy when you realize I'm a terrible dancer, right?"

She laughed again and nodded positively. He grinned back at her and she sipped on what tasted like strawberry and pomegranate in some sort of carbonated mango puree. It was thick with flavor but light on her throat. Harry had gone to the far end of the hall, starving and looking at the extensive, stone tables of food. He ended up making himself a plate that was so covered and stacked, he decided that he might not be able to dance at all. Or ever fit into his dress robes ever again. Ginny was conversing with someone; a boy. At the same time that Harry regretfully wished he were at this extravagant event with someone else, he also felt a type of betrayal; his inner animal was territorial and he couldn't help that. He put his plate down onto their designated table and watched from afar, while Ron and Hermione danced in the crowd of party-goers. The young man was vaguely familiar, but Harry didn't want to think about it too much.

Harry Potter…

He glared to himself, trying to chew loud enough that it would cover the noise in his head.

You cannot ignore me.

You will not escape me.

I must see you.

Hear me.

Hear me.

He looked up to find a masked woman sitting in across from him. He was startled and stared wide-eyed. The edges of her figure were frayed, like parchment saved from a fire. Her white-blue eyes pierced him from behind her feathered and jeweled mask. Her red lips parted slowly,

"You cannot ignore me. You will not escape me. I must see you. Hear me. Hear me, Harry Potter,"

"Mate?"

Harry jumped in his seat and looked over his shoulder, to wear a slightly sweaty Ron stood, looking a touch concerned. Harry glanced to the other end of the table, where the woman had been sitting, but there was no one there.

"You doin' alright?" Ron asked.

Harry looked to Ron and told him, "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I bit distracted is all,"

"Where's Ginny?"

Harry shrugged and replied, "Dunno. She was talking to someone across the hall a little while ago,"

Ron followed Harry's eyes to the other end of the dance floor, where Ginny had been. She had migrated to a corner with the young man and Ron wondered,

"Isn't that Cormac McLaggen?"

"Is it?" Harry answered, squinting his eyes behind his glasses to see more clearly.

"He certainly looks different," Hermione said.

They both looked to Ron's right side, where Hermione had somehow, some when, crept up to. She gave an awkward smile and muttered,

"Just wanted to contribute,"

Ron switched his eyes back to Harry and asked, "You mind dancing with Hermione while I gorge myself?"

Harry smiled again and stood, taking Hermione's hand.

"Of course,"

Ron gave Hermione a kiss on the cheek, asked her if she wanted anything and when she declined, he left them to dance. They entered the dance floor together and Harry remembered their dance when Ron had left them. He knew Hermione was thinking of it too. Her eyes were glassy but her smile was sincere and Harry couldn't quite tell what it made her feel. Maybe she was so glad all of that was past, maybe she missed her parents more on nights she couldn't be more loved, maybe she was feeling the soreness of the night of the Yule Ball all over again. Maybe she remembered dancing with Harry, but wishing it was Ron, maybe she wishing the night would last forever but knew it wouldn't. Or, maybe it was all of those feelings boiling and festering deep inside her that made her miserably euphoric.

"Why is Ginny talking to McLaggen?"

Harry answered her with another question, "Why is he even here?"

"I heard he went into dragon trading early – his father owns a conservation somewhere in Ireland,"

Harry understood how McLaggen might have connections then, to events like the ball. He spun Hermione and when she came back around, she asked again,

"But why is she talking to him?"

"How should I know?" He responded as indifferently as possible.

Hermione perked an eyebrow and told him, "She says you two aren't very romantic,"

Harry blushed and whined, "Why do girls insist on talking about personal stuff like that?"

There was a short quiet wherein they waltzed together and simply shared a stare. Harry eventually broke and told her,

"I'm not sure, Herm. I just don't feel good yet,"

She nodded and replied, "That's okay, just be careful,"

The night went on and they danced it away, twirling and laughing and as midnight approached, they began drinking. The more alcohol Ron consumed, the better dancer he became and the more drinks that Harry and Hermione took, the more they laughed and danced. They reminisced on their early years at Hogwarts, recalling Professors' names and who was useless and who was the most fun, the best and worst Quidditch games. At around two in the morning, the party began to clear and dismiss and Ron encouraged them to go to a bar. They eventually found Ginny, still huddled in the corner table with McLaggen. Ron, drunkenly courageous, interrupted them and dragged Ginny away.

"Are we going home?" She asked.

"No," He roughed up her hair, "We're going drinking,"

"You already sound tipsy! Plus, I'm tired and I can't drink!"

Ron made some kind of groaning noise, "Gin, don't be like that,"

She scowled at him and ended up being forced into a wizard's bar that was about a half-an-hour away from the party site. The place was bouncing with current wizard music and Ginny watched them, disgruntled, as the three competed with jumping shots. Their sloppy laughter and dancing and joking made Ginny frustrated and far apart from the group. When she complained that she was hungry, Ron insisted that she should have stayed with them when they ate, instead of 'running off' with McLaggen. She blushed and argued with Ron a little but quieted down again. Harry did not come to her defense, his buzz making him happy to be with his best friends and somehow aggravated with her. He offered her a butterbeer, but she declined snobbishly and oozed disdain most the rest of the night.

Hermione's once perfect hair had come undone, her glossy curls falling around her face and her classy smile had turned into a fun, seductive smirk. Ron and she were bonding in a way Harry never had with Ginny. In fact, they were bonding in a way Harry never had with anyone. His envy grew, but he could still feel that secondhand happiness.