"What's going on between you and Hermione?"
"Nothing is going on, Ron. Why do you ask?" Harry lied.
"Since your match, you barely look at each other, let alone talk. In the rare instances you do talk, it's all about the tournament. What happened?" the redhead tried again, unwilling to let go.
Harry sighed in defeat and sat back on the armchair in front of the fireplace in Gryffindor common room. "It's nothing, mate. She told me she'd go to the ball with Viktor. I'm okay with it, really."
At least, I will be as soon as I figure out who to take to the thing myself.
The redhead scratched his head in confusion. "You two were going together? I was even working on this rant about how she chose you over me."
The raven-haired boy shot his friend a weird look before answering, "I thought so too." He shrugged and two boys settled in a momentary silence. "What do you mean you were working on a rant?"
The youngest Weasley boy smiled self-depreciatingly. "What? Did you expect my envious rants were spontaneous?" he joked before turning serious. "It was odd, to be honest. One moment, I'm mad she's going with you. The next, I make the team and 'puff'," he explained, using hand motions to emphasise the word 'puff'. "There goes the anger and I feel great."
Harry chuckled at his friend. "Nothing like Quidditch to put things into perspective, eh?" He paused a moment before continuing, "You have serious issues, mate."
"I realise," Ron agreed with a nod. "Then again, so do you."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, while I was working on my rant, I watched you and Hermione." The freckled boy shook his head for reasons unknown. "You two are something else, mate. It's like your world revolves around her, and hers around you. Whenever she enters a room, you notice immediately, like you sense her coming. No matter what happens, Hermione always knows what you will need next and have it ready. It's freaky."
"That's great, mate, but what does it have to do with anything?" Harry asked, exasperated and embarrassed.
"What I'm trying to say is, you are in love with her." When he saw Harry's sceptical expression, he amended, "Okay, love might be too strong a word. You are in like with her," he said or asked, unsurely. "Whatever the right word is, you have feelings for her. So, why are you letting Krum take her from you?"
Harry ruffled the hairs back of his head in frustration. "And what was I supposed to? Tell her she can't go with Viktor?" He leaned back in his seat. "Apparently, she considers him the better choice. Who am I to interfere with her choices?"
The redhead shrugged, "I don't know, mate. But I don't like seeing you two at odds."
"Don't worry. We'll get past it," Harry said with a smile. "Now, I need to find a date for the ball. While we are at it, so do you."
Ron groaned and hid his head under a pillow. "Don't remind me," he said, his voice muffled. He straightened again, looking like he was preparing for war, and rolled up his sleeves. "Okay, let's review the candidates, shall we?"
Harry grinned and copied the action. "Well, Cho is out. She and Cedric spend far too much time together to not be dating."
Ron nodded and added, "So is Delacour. She's way out of our league."
"I wouldn't be so sure. I've seen her check you out more than a few times," Harry said with a straight face.
The redhead perked up, a pleased smile gracing his lips. "Really?"
The raven-head snorted in disbelief. "No, not really. Come on, mate, get it together, will you?"
"Arse."
"I don't think I'd have fun with any of the Gryffindor girls our year or the year below, so they are out for me." He pondered for a moment. "Though I can picture you and Lavender or Parvati together."
"And why is that?" Ron asked defensively.
"No clue. It's not like I have a ton of experience in this kind of stuff, do I?" Harry answered with a shrug.
"Who else is there?"
Harry eyed the motifs on the ceiling as he thought. "Well, there are Bones and Abbott but they wore those ridiculous badges. There is Katie's Hufflepuff buddy, but I don't know her, like at all. There are Jones, Roper and Vane in Hufflepuff again. Greengrass, Davis, Parkinson, Smith and Moon is out. I don't need the drama. Parvati's twin, Parkins, Li, Turpin, Tolipan and Brocklehurst in Ravenclaw. Then there are McDougal and Dunbar from us."
Ron was cross-eyed as he listened to Harry count the girls sorted with them. "Shit. What are we going to do?"
"Boycott the ball?" Harry asked, his tone not hopeful.
"You have to attend. Not only you are a champion, but you talk a big game about organising a dinner with the champions or some such," Ron dashed his hopes.
"I'll figure something out," the raven-haired boy sighed. "You should ask Parvati. She's cute, fun and you know at least few things about her."
The redhead nodded. "I might."
I can't believe I have to find a date. A week ago, I announced I had no time to date. Fuck.
Harry continued to ponder his choices and why he shouldn't choose them. Maybe I should suck it up and ask Fleur for a favour? Nah. Skeeter would have a field day and I need no more headaches.
"Harry! There you are," Hermione huffed, pulling the said boy out of his musings. "I've been looking all over for you."
Harry looked at the girl like she's gone crazy and took a cursory look around the common room. "Are you sure you looked all over? 'Cause I'm sure we've been here for the last hour. Like we told you, we'd be after lunch."
"I also remember reminding you to get ready for your visit to St. Mungo's to meet with Healer Abbott."
"Oh, shit!"
Harry was off his seat like a bullet, dashing upstairs to his dorm to change into presentable clothes. He returned not five minutes later, his clothes ruffled, his hair messy beyond normal, out of breath and sweating.
His bushy-haired friend huffed and did her best to make his hair and clothes look less like Harry just survived an attack. While Hermione was busy micro-managing his appearance, Harry focused hard on ignoring how close she was and how nice it was to have her hands all over him.
"That's... not as bad," Hermione commented and pushed Harry towards the portrait of the Lady in Pink. "Go. Madam Pomfrey is waiting for you at the entrance hall."
Harry gave her a shaky nod and hurried out of the tower, down the labyrinth.
"There you are, Mr. Potter."
"Sorry - for - keeping you waiting, Poppy," Harry said in between deep breaths. "I lost track of time."
One of the two women alive to see Harry naked smiled thinly and led Harry out of the castle. "We will apparate from the gates directly to an admittance room in St. Mungo's. Apparition and disapparition are strictly forbidden except in cases of emergency but I cleared it with Abbott."
Magical travel methods, Harry decided, hate me, want to make me suffer, as he stood on shaky legs, gulping down breaths like there is no tomorrow. The snickers coming from Poppy and a blonde woman he hadn't met added insult to the injury, literally.
Once Harry gained control of his bodily functions, Poppy introduced the woman to Harry. "Mr. Potter, this is Chief Healer of St. Mungo's, Daniella Abbott. Healer Abbott, Harry Potter."
Daniella Abbott was a beautiful woman with long blonde hair, light green eyes hidden behind square glasses and long legs that put her a few inches above Harry's height. She is intimidating.
"Nice to meet you, Madam," Harry said with a small bow and his hand held out.
"Nice to meet you too, Mr. Potter," the healer replied, shaking Harry's hand. "If you'll follow me to my office."
As they travelled through the hospital, Harry looked around in interest at the weirdness surrounding him. There was a guy with a wolf's head, a woman with a hand sticking out of her neck, a young man whose skin covered in polka dots.
Man, Dursleys had a point. This is freaky.
"First, I must say, I admire what you are doing, Mr. Potter," Healer Abbott started as soon as they were all seated in her sparsely decorated office. "My hospital is underfunded and understaffed. We encourage all donations, no matter the size."
"Thank you, Madam, but I can't take the sole credit. Many people put a lot of effort into this tournament and many other people contributed with donations. This is a community effort, not an individual one," Harry answered modestly. "Now, why don't you tell me in what areas you need funding the most so I have an idea what we can do."
The experienced healer smiled sadly at Harry. "We need funding, period, Mr. Potter. There isn't a single area or few areas that need funding. Every inch of this place needs more money and need it badly. The ministry cuts our budget further every year." She shook her head in dismay. "But, what we need the most is new equipment for the spell damage ward and funding for research. Since the ministry cut the funding for it, we are beholden to Department of Mysteries to do our research."
Harry cocked his head to a side in confusion. "Why is that a problem?"
The blonde woman leaned forward and folded her hands. "They don't like to share the results of their research. It's a nightmare, getting them to share tidbits of information."
"Hm. And how much, would you say, you need to for upgraded equipment and research?"
She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes tiredly before answering, her tone suggesting she didn't expect Harry's help to solve any of her problems. "We need at least fifty thousand galleons to reopen the research department. We will need to hire new personnel, buy equipment, build a customizable ritual circle. To upgrade the equipment for the spell damage ward, we'll need another ten to twenty thousand."
Harry listened to the woman as he pondered, considering how much damage the incompetence of the ministry could do. It's what people get for voting for a corrupt government. "What about the children's ward?"
The woman smiled sadly, probably remembering Harry's orphan status. "Our paediatric ward is well-funded at the moment," she replied. "Thanks to Mr. Malfoy's generous donations," she added sarcastically.
Harry grinned at the woman's clear dislike of Malfoy. "I can help you, Madam. To our estimates, the tournament will raise nearly a hundred thousand galleons, maybe more. Like I said to the press, some money will go to the schools. I also would like to create a werewolf relief fund. After that, you will get the most of the money. But, I want assurances."
Healer Abbott's eyes narrowed. "What kind of assurances?"
"Nothing bad, I assure you. For one, I don't want the ministry influence on where this money goes. I want to know what is your priority research. I want the equipment you won't use anymore to go to either Hogwarts or other public clinics that serve those who can't afford your hospital."
The healer smiled. "Mr. Potter, I like you."
Their discussion continued for another half an hour, coming up with research subjects and how they could get the most use out of the money.
Before Harry and Madam Pomfrey left, Healer Abbott insisted they visit the children's ward. A nine-years-old orphan girl, specifically. Young Wendy Downes was a dark-haired girl with greyish skin, suffering from a condition few children survived as long as she had.
From what Harry could understand from Abbott's highly technical talk, the girl's mother was a victim of Death Eaters during Voldemort's reign of terror. The bastards tortured her using the vilest magic they could. As a result, the lingering effects of the torture and dark magic stunted the girl's development in her mother's womb. Her magic was sporadic and her control over it was shaky at best of times.
Her mother had died during the childbirth and her father was working as a middleman for a small export company, spending every knut he earned on her treatment.
"Wendy, I'd like you to meet a friend of mine," Healer Abbott said as she bent over the girl's bed, her voice gentle. "This is Harry Potter."
Harry approached the sick girl shyly, feeling uncomfortable with the shine on her green eyes. "Hello, Wendy. How are you doing?"
"I'm good," the girl answered, her voice spacey. "You are famous."
"That, I am," Harry said, kneeling next to her bed.
"My daddy says you defeated the bad man."
Harry smiled kindly at the girl. "My mother defeated him. Like your mother, my mother was a brave woman too. She died to defeat the evil man, to save my life. She's my hero."
"But why would daddy say you defeated him? Daddy wouldn't lie."
"He didn't lie, sweetheart. Everyone thought I did it."
"Oh."
"I need to talk to Healer Abbott now but I will be right back with you, okay?"
"Okay," was the whispered answer from the girl.
Harry rubbed his eyes on his sleeve as he walked to where Abbott was talking to a young healer. "Why is she..."
"The potions she's on makes it difficult for her to focus," the healer answered, smiling sadly.
Harry knew, the moment she saw this tortured soul smile, he wouldn't be able to stay away, he couldn't not help. After a hushed conversation with Healer Abbott, that involved admonishing her for her blatant manipulation, Harry parted with the rest of his basilisk money for her treatment.
"Wendy, I would like your help with something," Harry said to the girl as he returned to her side.
"Okay."
"There will be a Yule Ball in Hogwarts in Christmas. There will be wonderful food, music and dancing. I want to go but no one would go with me," Harry explained. "It would be my honour if you'd be my date and dancing partner."
The girl smiled brightly for a moment before her smile vanished. "But daddy says I can't go to Hogwarts."
Harry's lips curved upward into a mischievous smile. "Oh, I think we can convince him to make an exception. What do you say?"
"Okay. But I don't know have a dress or dancing shoes."
"Don't you worry about those, sweetheart. I can take care of those for the honour of your escort."
Harry knew he would remember the sick girl's bright smile and happy tears to his dying day.
"You are a good boy, Harry," Poppy said right before they disapparated out of the admittance room.
After dry heaving on the wet ground for a minute, Harry answered, "So you punish me, is that it?"
"Oh, that was for calling me ugly," the matron answered, grinning like a loon.
"I was high as a kite, woman. You shouldn't take anything I say when I'm on potions seriously," Harry said and started on the path to the castle.
"That sounds like a convenient excuse."
"No offence, but you are thrice my age, Poppy."
"You young people don't appreciate the value of experience," the healer said before they both laughed at the ridiculousness of their conversation. "Jokes aside, what you did for that girl was wonderful. She won't get many chances to act like a child before she..." she trailed off.
"She'll have all the chances she needs if I have anything to say about it," Harry disagreed. "There is a saying I like; where there is a will, there is a way. I'll see to it she lives a full life even if it costs me my vaults."
"Well, I've seen you do incredible things before," she said, as supportive as she can under the circumstances. "Though you usually end up under my care after those incredible things."
Harry grinned unrepentantly. "There's no place I'd rather be." He sped up as they reached the castle doors. "Thank you for taking the time to take me, Madam Pomfrey."
"You are welcome, Harry," Pomfrey answered, though Harry missed the small smile on her lips.
Harry threw himself on the seat next to Ron who was playing chess with poor Neville and closed his eyes to rest after an emotionally tiring day.
"So, how was your trip?" Ron asked, his eyes not leaving the board.
"Good. Healer Abbott is a cool lady," Harry answered, his eyes closed, reliving the day and memorising the joy on Wendy's face.
"Cool."
He felt a familiar weight settle in next to him and knew who it was with no need to open his eyes. "I met the most delightful girl," he said in a distracted tone, not sure why he felt the need to share.
He could feel Hermione's eyes on him and the snap of Ron's neck as he whirled to look at him. "Oh, who is this delightful girl?"
"Wendy. Met her in the hospital."
"That's an odd place to meet a girl. Was she visiting someone?" the girl next to him asked in an odd tone.
"No. Healer Abbott wanted to introduce me to her. Felt like someone I should meet, she said."
"Did she now? And are you going to see this Wendy again?"
"Yeah. She agreed to be my date for the ball. Thought it was a better idea than going with someone I didn't know, seeing as I didn't have a date anymore."
"Good for you," commented Hermione, her voice a little choked up.
"Yeah. Cost me the rest of my basilisk money."
"What? What do you mean it cost you money?"
"Well, the boss lady was reluctant to allow her to come but when I offered incentives, she came around pretty quickly." He had to open his eyes when the brown-haired girl slapped his shoulder and left in a huff. "What's her problem?"
Ron snorted but Neville answered. "Well, it sounded like you hired a... you know," the shy boy said. Seeing neither of them 'knew' he whispered, "A prostitute."
"Why would you think..." Harry started in a loud voice but then trailed off. "Oh. Well, no, she's not a prostitute. She's sick. I agreed to foot the bill for a more comprehensive treatment and research for her. Abbott agreed that letting her have fun this once wouldn't do any harm as long as Poppy would keep an eye on her."
Ron snickered while Neville looked surprised. "Mate, you have to tell Hermione before she blows a gasket."
The green-eyed wizard shrugged. "I don't know why I should. She should know better than to think I would hire an escort." He grinned. "Besides, imagine her face when she sees the 'prostitute' is a nine-year-old girl."
"Oh, boy, do I want to see that!"
I should sell tickets. Gather round! Gather round! For ten sickles, I will shock Miss Hermione 'know-it-all' Granger!
"Harry, I think you should have started with that," Neville said, shaking his head and smiling.
"Oh, that reminds me; Healer Abbott said she wants to use the money to open a research department. At first, they will start with three separate research programmes. One is to find a cure for children who had been exposed to dark magic in their mother's womb. Children like Wendy. Abbott says they rarely live past their second birthday, their body can't handle it. The second is to research the ways of cleansing and healing bone marrows. The third is for trauma patients, those with mental troubles. Like your parents, Neville. She says they don't expect to find a cure in the short-term but she's hopeful for a solution in the long run."
Neville's eyes were wide as saucers when Harry finished, though he didn't speak. He sat there and processed in silence.
Ron, on the other hand, was looking Harry oddly. "How did Neville saying you should have started by telling the delightful girl is a sick nine-year-old remind you THAT? I don't see the connection."
Harry's shrug was uncaring.
"Merlin, what goes on in that brain of yours?"
"What can I say?" Harry said with a cocky grin. "Harry Potter's mind works in mysterious ways."
Ron shook his head and turned his attention back to the chessboard even though his opponent was catatonic. He called a move and yelled, "Checkmate!"
His opponent didn't answer.
Ron glared at Harry. "You couldn't have waited five more minutes to tell him, could you? It's no fun to beat someone if they don't feel bad about losing."
"Sorry, mate."
Ron just grumbled and flipped his king at Harry as if it was a finger, the king waving his fist at Harry in anger. "Tell him, Jeff."
"Jeff?"
Ron nodded, grinning. "Yeah, King Joffrey. I named all my pieces. The castles are Jon and Ariel. The horses are-"
"Yeah, I don't really care. Though I'm having a hard time believing I'm friends with such a moron."
"Fuck you, Potter."
"Merlin, no," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'm not into boys but if I were, I'd do much better than your sorry arse."
"As if I would give you the time of day," Ron said, lifting his nose as if he smelled something rotting.
"Why, what's wrong with me?"
"Well, for one, you are a runt. And I'd want my men meaty, not skin and bones like you."
"Oh, tell us what else you like in a man, Ron," Seamus yelled from a few seats away.
Ron reddened as Dean pretended to puke. "Merlin, I don't feel safe in my dorm room anymore."
Harry shook his head sadly. "You think you know someone..."
"Hey! I'm not gay! I was just saying..."
"Saying what, Ron?" asked Parvati, her face showing faux-anger. "I thought you asked me to the ball because you liked me. Never would've said yes if I had known you asked me because no boy would go with you."
"I'm not... I don't... Tell them, Harry."
"Hey, now!" Harry told them. "Just because Ron is batting for the other team, it gives you no right to gang up on him like this. We should support his decision, not belittle him for it."
As Ron blushed further and further, the rest of the common room couldn't hold in their laughter anymore.
"Oh, man. That was awesome," Harry croaked, wiping his tears on his sleeve. "I needed the laugh."
Ron, calmer now that he recognised they weren't serious, groused, "You guys are the worst."
"You should have seen your face. I've seen no one go that shade of red before."
"What's going on?" asked Hermione, sitting next to Harry once again.
"Oh, Ron was just telling us what he looks for in a boy," Harry answered before Ron could open his mouth.
"I wasn't..." he started but trailed off as everyone turned to him. "Okay, I was but you are taking it out of context."
Harry snickered as Dean joined in again, "Do you even know what context means?"
"Of course- I- Harry is taking a prostitute to the ball!" he yelled when he couldn't find a suitable answer.
The silence of the common room this time was in shock, everyone looking from Ron to Harry to Hermione to Ron again.
Harry cocked an eyebrow in askew; Ron shrugged. "I'm not taking a prostitute to the ball."
"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "Because to do that, he'd have to pay her or her 'manager' for the date. Oh, wait."
"Just what kind of prostitute would charge almost eight thousand galleons?" Harry asked hypothetically.
"You are paying eight thousand for a date?" Lavender asked, not understanding the underlying message. "Damn, Potter, I'd go with you for a hundred."
Harry grimaced. "Sorry, Brown, I don't pay for women."
"But what about this 'Wendy'?" Hermione asked with air quotes.
Harry glared at the brown-eyed, brown-haired girl. "For a fun date with her, I'd give every knut I have," he answered, his voice a breeze from the arctics. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I want a nice long shower."
Hermione said nothing as Harry stood and climbed the stairs.
Oh, Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood again.