* 4 *

Christmas morning was beautiful. Hermione gathered in the bustling common room with Harry and Ron as soon as she woke up and finished opening all of her presents. After eagerly relaying what they all received – save for Ron, who seemed nearly always disappointed in his gifts – the three went down to breakfast together.

They spent the day bumbling cheerfully about the castle grounds, though Hermione's good mood was for quite a different reason than the boys': at last she had gotten attention for her prowess in Potions, and her confidence had soared because of it.

She disappeared into the castle at five o'clock, leaving the boys to their noisy snowball fight. They continued until seven, at which time they figured they had no other option but to get ready for the festivity they were both dreading. By eight, they were standing outside the Great Hall, meeting up with twins Parvati and Padma Patil and apparently quite determined to look absolutely miserable.

When Professor McGonagall's commanding voice rang throughout the Hall calling the champions to her side, Harry's entire body tensed up. He walked toward his Head of House, trying to seem as normal as possible, even though he felt he was about to explode from his nerves mercilessly vacuuming the pressure from his stomach and rendering him feeling completely hollow.

As the procession of champions entered the Hall, Harry looked from face to face, curious as to how everyone else had prepared for the occasion and analyzing their attire to see if his suit was out of place.

Phew. One less thing of many to worry about… his mind tried to comfort him.

Concluding he looked rather normal, he relaxed a bit, until his eyes rested on a girl he had already seen in his first survey of the room, but had only just now recognized.

"Hermione!" he mouthed, eyebrows raised at how positively…different she looked.

Harry hadn't paid much attention to the champions or their dates – especially as he vehemently tried to ignore Cho Chang's presence with Cedric Diggory – but he now had his eyes peeled, surveying Hermione's sleek, dolled-up brown hair and flowing pink dress. He was incredibly impressed.

She was arm-in-arm with Viktor Krum, and she was gorgeous. Harry smiled to himself, temporarily forgetting his nerves in the face of seeing his best friend like that.

The Great Hall was magnanimously decorated for the occasion. Huge trees full of icicles and snow stood at the far end of the frosty Hall, and the large, round tables lined up proportionally throughout the room had a single ice-sculpture-shaped lantern in their centers. Instead of being the usual mass of black robes, the Hall was full of ladies in beautiful dresses of every color and boys in more subdued yet equally fancy dress robes and suits.

Harry and Ron were intimidated by the great lengths to which the staff must've gone to decorate the Hall like this. Its professional polish made Harry even more worried since, as one of the Triwizard champions, he was about to lead the rest of the students in a dance, and his footwork was anything but elegant, to say the absolute least.

It helped ease Harry's nerves that Parvati looked so stunning in the lighted Hall. She had donned her best dress for the ball and she shone like a bright light of her own with bangles dangled around her wrists, which reflected their light numerous times from the ice sculptures placed around the Hall. He hoped that she would hog all the attention from students' hungry eyes so he would have the chance to make his inexpert dancing pass by without notice.

In the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron brooding. At least he wasn't the only one not expecting to have much fun tonight.

After greeting the judges, the champions sat down at the table. Dumbledore ordered pork chops by shuffling through the menu and, after having decided on his desired dish, speaking clearly and directly to his plate. The students in the Hall watched his example in awe and followed suit.

Harry felt a bit queasy with all the unease about the night hitting him at full force, but coerced himself to eat something lest he collapse on the dance floor.

Soon, Harry heard a giggle. With his mouth full of goulash, he glanced up from his plate to find Hermione deep in conversation with Krum. He watched Krum's thick eyebrows narrow in emphasis as he explained to Hermione every impressive detail he could remember about the Durmstrang castle. Though his words were very modest, he was clearly puffing out his chest a bit about it.

Fleur Delacour looked lovely in her silver satin dress, but was being anything but elegant in harshly dismissing the Great Hall's decorations as tacky and low-tier. Roger Davies, Fleur's date, seemed to be able to concentrate on nothing but his stunning partner. Harry was heavily amused by Roger's stupid, gaping mouth.

At last, Dumbledore asked everyone to stand and raised the platform upon which Harry and Parvati would be dancing. The Weird Sisters clambered onto the stage, and Harry's heart sank. It was time.

"Come on!" Parvati hissed. She urged him to get to his feet.

Harry stood up, his heart racing now. He and Parvati walked onto the dance floor and, as The Weird Sisters began with a mournful melody, Parvati took control, seizing his hand and steering his feet, for which he was tremendously thankful. It was not necessarily as traumatizing as he'd thought it would be. To his delight, many students who had been watching now stood and walked to the floor with their own partners, taking attention off of him in the process. At the last note, he immediately let go of Parvati and led her to Ron and Padma's table.

Harry sat down next to Ron and opened a butterbeer, eyeing Padma's impatiently jiggling foot and Ron's disgruntled expression. Harry turned to see where his best friend was staring and saw that Hermione and Krum were dancing in the distance.

Parvati was asked to dance by a Beauxbatons boy, and she accepted, looking personally offended when Harry seemed to take no notice of the boy. She did not return to their table when the song ended.

Hermione came over and leapt into Parvati's empty chair, beaming. "Hi," Harry greeted her, but Ron remained silent.

"Viktor's getting some drinks," Hermione explained simply.

Ron quickly thought to mock her. "Oh, he isn't Vicky yet?"

Hermione was visibly affronted at his bizarre accusation, and made an irritated sound of disapproval.

Harry tuned them out as his two best friends started to bicker yet again, but he was brought back to his senses when Ron insisted the only reason Krum came with Hermione was to get a leg up on how Harry was planning to go about the next challenge in the tournament. Harry attempted to make Ron see that he didn't mind Hermione having come to the ball with Krum, but it was useless. Trying to convince Ron that he was being bigheaded was like trying to tell a peacock to forget about its feathers.

Having had enough of Ron's jealous accusations, Hermione got to her feet and stomped off angrily across the floor, hiding behind the mass of people who now blocked Ron's vision.

Hermione was fuming with rage. How could Ron accuse her of "fraternizing with the enemy"? She was simply trying to have a good time and he didn't want any of it because he wasn't enjoying the dance at all! "It's his own fault he's in such a surly mood," Hermione assured herself, "I have nothing to do with it."

In the midst of Hermione justifying her partnering with Krum, Viktor himself found her and made a beeline toward where she was standing. "I haff vound you," he stated, smiling. He handed her a butterbeer.

At that moment, Fleur Delacour came over to talk to Krum. "Viktor, weel you dance wiz me?" She quickly darted her eyes in the direction of Roger Davies, her date. Roger was staring after her, drooling. Fleur grimaced. "'E 'az been like zat all night."

Viktor looked torn. He again met Hermione's eyes and finally noticed that she seemed to be a little off. His own dark eyes turned sympathetic.

"Vill you be okay?" he inquired in earnest.

Hermione immediately tried to straighten up her apparently bothered visage. "Yes, I'll be fine, thanks. You two go ahead." She smiled, hoping he wouldn't continue to implore.

"OK," Viktor said simply, much to her relief. He strode off with Fleur, glancing once more back at Hermione before disappearing.

Hermione was fine with Viktor dancing with Fleur. She was determined not to be like Ron: a total spoilsport, green with envy and unable to think of anything but what irked him. Remembering Viktor's kind eagerness to make sure she was all right, Hermione felt butterflies again. The Yule Ball was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that celebrated the Triwizard Tournament, and she certainly wasn't going to let Ron ruin it for her.

She watched the couples around her dancing, and suddenly felt in her improved mood that she'd like nothing more than to dance again, even if it wasn't with Viktor.

The witch excused herself and moved through some of the dancing couples to escape to near the staff table. There, she could drink her butterbeer and wait for Viktor without feeling in the way. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall were on the floor, and she could see Hagrid's towering figure, but Igor Karkaroff was nowhere to be found. Hermione put her back to the table and watched as those who were dancing moved in step to a new song.

She felt enthusiastic as ever, sipping her butterbeer quickly so she could get back in the action. Mid-sip, she turned her head to look in Ron and Harry's direction, but they had disappeared, too. Curious, she looked down her nose and saw Snape sitting in one of the staff chairs with his arms crossed, looking unaffected by the merriment in the Hall.

"Hello, Professor Snape," she called rather joyfully, placing her butterbeer back on the table.

Snape turned to look at her, his sable eyes inquisitive. He faltered for a second. Hermione figured it was because she had found him, a bat in a bright, festive hall, looking completely out of place.

"Miss Granger," was his reply. He did not understand her festive mood, despite the occasion. These events always bored more than excited him.

Hermione drank from the last dregs of her butterbeer, and in the next second, a crazy, spur-of-the-moment idea shot through her head. She did really want to dance…

She moved closer to her professor so he could hear her.

"Um, Professor Snape, would you…" she began, but stopped herself. She had no idea why she had gotten the sudden urge to say what popped into her mind like that.

Breathe, Hermione.

"Err…well… Would you mind dancing with me?"

Did I say that? Shocked by her own words, she immediately covered her mouth with her hand.

Snape's eyes shot wide. He unfolded his arms a slight bit, but remained wholly still otherwise. This was his unhelpful reply.

Hermione was now flushing through several shades of pink. "I mean, I'm not sure if teachers are allowed to dance with students, but I saw Professor Dumbledore and he was…I saw him with…at one point… I mean, I don't know if you even know how to dance…"

Hermione gasped. "Errm…that's not…not what I meant!" she said, closing her eyes, shaking her head, and feeling beyond foolish.

Snape watched her as she babbled nonsensically. His eyes never left hers, and Hermione felt as if he was looking into the depths of her childish, girly soul. He rose.

"No."

Hermione was immediately struck confused. What part of her rambling was he responding to? Did his "no" mean he wouldn't dance, or that he wouldn't mind?

But he stood up.

When he offered his arm, she took it with a great deal of surprise, putting down her butterbeer. It had been a very sudden inclination to even ask him; she had been so sure he would refuse.

They walked out onto the dance floor, maneuvering through the crowd. Slowly, as they passed, several perplexed faces turned toward the infamously morose Professor Snape and his pretty, sleek-haired partner.

And I thought I had to dodge stares when I was with Viktor… Hermione thought to herself, feeling a little uneasy.

They sped up. People were gaping now. The clash of black and pink was as conspicuous in the Great Hall as the wizardly Weasleys would be in the middle of sub-Saharan Africa. The two passed Dumbledore, who abruptly looked up at them.

The headmaster nearly fell over at the sight of Snape on the floor. "How delightful!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly and grinning.

Hermione couldn't see Snape's expression, but she was sure it was bothered and sinister. The music became an upbeat melody, but, out of tandem with the changing tune, Hermione wasn't feeling as sprightly as before. She tried to remain calm, but her worrisome thoughts didn't help this effort: Perhaps he wasn't leading her to a better spot through the crowd at all… Perhaps he was taking her out of the Hall to scold her for being so childish and having completely ignored the rules of the Yule Ball, or something equally unpleasant.

Snape finally stopped, as did Hermione in turn. She looked around anxiously. They were still on the dance floor, but they were now off to just a corner sliver of the floor in an almost abandoned area of the Hall, and they now had a hundred pairs of eyes on them; luckily, their view of Hermione was blocked by the bat-like figure she held onto.

Hermione's nerves felt as though they were about to burst. Her cheeks had already exploded an almost unnatural shade of red. Snape faced her. She cautiously reached her hand up to grasp his, and made a startled sound when his hand touched her waist.

She was now entirely certain her face was about to have third-degree burns.

Calm down…You knew that was going to happen.

She was able to tame her nerves a slight bit. But when they began to actually dance, Hermione held onto his hand for dear life. At the very least, she soon stopped worrying about those staring at them, for she had found she was floating effortlessly around her partner – Snape was remarkably learned.

He didn't say a word, but simply stared someplace between her forehead and nose that somehow wasn't where her eyes were. His own seemed unfocused. She had no idea what could possibly be on his mind in that moment.

Hermione was elated. She had gotten her most stoic and uncaring professor to come out of his shell for a short period to partake in a Yule Ball activity, one he surely wouldn't have attempted on his own at that. Even if the rest of the evening turned out to be a total disaster, this one thought would comfort her.

Hermione was trying to compare Snape's dance to that of Viktor, but the similarities were next to nonexistent. They have two totally different styles, she thought to herself. Viktor was more romantic and passionate, but Snape was more professional and accurate.

When the song changed again after only a few minutes of good, face-hiding fun, Hermione made a disappointed sound and dropped her hands. Snape, however, looked as if he was only switching position.

"P-Professor?" she inquired timidly.

The song had become a slow, almost melancholy tune. As Hermione looked around her, she realized that people were converting to holding each other in slow dancing posture. She looked back at Snape, realizing now why he was switching his position.

Hermione was unsure, both about whether she should dance that way with Snape as well as if it was even allowed. Luckily, she caught a glimpse of Dumbledore's flamboyant dress over Snape's shoulder. She tried to catch the headmaster's eye, waving back and forth and desperate to get his attention while simultaneously shirking that from others. Snape was watching her the whole time.

At last, Dumbledore glanced in her direction, then did a double-take when he saw her waving her hand. He hurried over to her excitedly and asked, "What's the matter, Miss Granger?"

"I was just wondering, if it's…" she began. "Err, is it appropriate for teachers and students to…you know…" Not being able to bring herself to say it, she switched tactics and simply stated, "The song changed." She laughed sheepishly in spite of herself.

Dumbledore laughed, grasping her meaning. "Why, of course, my dear! I don't see why not; in fact, I believe I just saw Minerva teaching Seamus Finnigan how to position himself like a dashing young man for this very special type of dance as well, and look at them now, happy as two peas in a pod," he exaggerated, gesturing widely toward them.

"Besides, it could be a good thing to have Severus cut loose," he said a bit more seriously. He winked at her.

Well, at least one of her worries had been alleviated. As for the other…

Hermione looked back at Snape. He had been quiet all throughout her chat with Dumbledore, but now placed his hands in the correct position on her, this time raising them a bit higher than one normally would to avoid making her uncomfortable.

She looked up into his face, carefully avoiding looking directly into his eyes, but still wanting the dance to seem as personal yet casual as it would with anyone else. Instead, she acted supremely interested in the lines of his face, those that had so often scared students into submission by making him appear so angry all the time.

Dumbledore smiled at both of them, then walked off toward Professor McGonagall to leave them alone. The two began to sway slightly as soon as the headmaster had turned away.

As more students came nearer to the two of them, possibly to watch them (or maybe Hermione was just being paranoid), Snape stepped into their field of vision, shielding Hermione from onlookers. She wondered if this was intentional. The lack of much movement in this gentle dance made her limbs slightly cold, and she huddled more into Snape's long, dark cloak.

He looked down at her, his lips slightly parted in an inquisitorial expression, finding himself no longer arm's-length distance from her. He took his right hand from above her waist, reached back to grab the edge of his cloak, and pulled it more around Hermione, keeping it there by replacing his hand farther back.

She looked up at him, her lips pursed in an amused expression, and grinned as a "thank you" to him for helping her avoid being the center of attention and its associated embarrassment. Snape continued his eerie silence, but was now looking directly down into her face, no longer avoiding her eyes.

Hermione soon noticed at least one couple was making it glaringly obvious that their only intention of being in the corner of the dance floor was to spy on the unidentified girl dancing with Professor Snape. This time, he was the one to pull her closer into his protective, black shield.

The room no longer felt chilly to Hermione, and she thought the aegis of his cloak was working: she couldn't see any stray eyes peering at her anymore. If they were watching her feet, she didn't care: her face was protected from their nosy, prying eyeballs. She relaxed as the song slowed further, and sighed almost sleepily at their gentle movement around their spot on the floor. She enjoyed how they were moving: it was so languid and unrushed.

Hermione experienced a true restfulness here, one she had never encountered even at night just before falling asleep. It was as if she was absolved of all responsibility, of all stress. It was a wonderful feeling for her habitually strained mind.

Then, what could've been a miracle happened: The Weird Sisters began playing a new and better song, but to Hermione's delight, it was still slow. She smiled: she didn't have to relinquish her restfulness just yet, could relish it for a few minutes more.

Lightheaded and happy, Hermione's neck gave way a little and her head fell slightly forward onto Snape's chest. She kept her eyes slightly open, but all she could see was a screen of black instead of bright, snowy lights. Snape was now leading the entire dance, Hermione doing nothing but move infinitesimally when he did. She closed her eyes at last and spent the next few minutes in pure, quiet rapture.

Finally, The Weird Sisters were finished with their song. When no more played, she knew the ball was over. She slowly and reluctantly pulled away from Snape. They were still semi-entangled in his cloak when Dumbledore called an enthusiastic "thank you" out to The Weird Sisters. Everyone in the Hall gave the band a loud round of applause and began to depart amongst loud chatter.

Hermione, remembering yet again her eagerness not to be recognized, poked her face out from Snape's cloak every few seconds to make sure no one was watching them anymore. When she was confident that people were now too busy making their way back to the entrance hall to focus on her, she pulled back from Snape.

Then, at last, she met his eyes. He was looking straight into hers, a novel, indescribable yet still slightly stoic expression on his face.

Hermione laughed a bit nervously and teased, "Thank you for accepting my offer this time, Professor." She smiled at him, thinking merrily of the extra potions lessons he had extended to her.

When he said nothing, she looked at the clock. "Oh my gosh," she exclaimed, "it's midnight! I'd better get off to bed." Hermione untangled her arms from around him, at last brought back to earth. She rushed off before anyone could see her standing next to him. Glancing back, she shouted, "I'll see you next term!"

Snape remained where he was as he stared after her. Only after all but a few staff members, including the headmaster, had left the Great Hall did the Slytherin Snake finally make his way toward the entrance hall, his cloak billowing out behind him.

Hermione climbed into the Gryffindor common room unnoticed due to the massive ruckus of raised, excited voices surrounding her. She heard a load of chatter about the dance, which she was expecting. What she didn't expect, however, was that half of it was about her.

"Did you see that ol' Professor Snape was dancing with someone?" It was Seamus, and the expression on his face could only be described as utter glee. Hermione grimaced in horror.

"Snape? No way! You've got to be kidding, mate. Where? I would pay to see that old bat make a fool of himself on the dance floor any day," Fred laughed. A couple of girls who had gathered around them nodded their agreement and giggled.

"Naw, mate, you've done gone insane. Snape'd never let himself have any kind of fun in front of students," George chimed in.

"No, I really saw him! The girl he had completely looked like a student! She was in a pink dress, but her face—"

Hermione, alarmed, didn't listen to the rest. She scrambled past them, clambering up the stairs to the girls' dormitories to change out of her pink dress and into her pajamas and let down her now-sleek brown hair, then set off to the common room again to wish Harry a good night, hoping that would calm her nerves about unwittingly being the talk of the school.