We'll All Fall After the Yule Ball

Chapter Nine

"I'm disappointed in you, Severus," the old wizard began, his face shrouded by the darkness of the hall. "This was a perfect opportunity to teach your students a lesson." Snape laughed darkly, thinking to himself that there was nothing he wanted more than to stop teaching students, but apparently, Dumbledore was prepared for that line of thinking. "You understand plainly why you cannot leave the school, and yet you refuse to use your position to your own advantage."

Severus' ears perked up a bit, and he scolded himself for acting like a common niffler. "Excuse me, Headmaster, but I don't quite catch your meaning..."

"These children here," Albus said, waving a long-fingered hand in the direction of Slytherin's dormitories, "are the future of our magical society, whether we are here to see the day or not." He folded his ancient hands together and placed them contemplatively against his lips, and Severus knew the wisened old alchemist was synthesizing every word he spoke. "Have you forgotten the sins of our own childhood? If we cannot change now, knowing what we do about the pressing need for it in the not-so-distant future, then we cannot expect our students to continue changing in our absence." Stepping more fully into the light, Dumbledore smiled. "After all, it wasn't long ago that you came to me to make a change of your own..."

Severus was taken aback, though he outwardly maintained his anger. "Sir, I came to you to get my revenge, and you gave me an opportunity to get back at the Dark Lord."

Dumbledore scoffed at the word 'revenge' and turned away from the Professor. "No, Severus, you are sadly mistaken."

"How so, Headmaster?" he sneered, unable to completely clamp down on his attitude. Dumbledore had a way of provoking the worst anger in Severus without actually allowing him a release for it. A familiar throb above his eyebrow began anew, and his legs started moving of their own volition. He paced back and forth, even as the ancient wizard stood still, remarkably unphased by Severus' sudden mood swing. "After he took everything from me, I swore that I would not rest until he was gone for good, and I have done everything possible to remain in a place where I could make a difference on his inevitable return. When I came to you, I knew you were the one person who would understand my mistake, and give me a chance to rectify it-"

"Ah," Dumbledore interrupted, finally turning back around to face his companion. "You see, Severus, when you came to me you were not so different from the man you are now. But you had tears in your eyes then, and not just hate in your heart! Yes, you loved that woman, and the loss you felt justifies some degree of righteous anger on her behalf, but she had made her choice to be with James long before you had the courage to tell her how you felt! For that, I'm certain you have suffered greatly, but why project your own suffering onto her son?" Dumbledore seemed genuinely curious now. "You must see the resemblance between Harry and Lily, Severus. He is nothing like his father!"

This time, Severus scoffed, clenching his wand tightly in his hand just to have some way to expel his inner turmoil. "He is everything like his father! He is as crafty and cunning as any of my Slytherins, and twice as reckless! For Merlin's sake, Albus, do you think that Draco Malfoy actually-"

"-got drunk and made a mess of himself and our trophy room?" Dumbledore laughed, walking across the room and idly checking the condition of its antiques. "I can recall an incident with his father and his mother in their seventh year involving the greenhouse and a particularly strong strain of cannabis..." Unknowingly repeating Snape's actions upon entering the room earlier, Dumbledore spared Tom Riddle's trophy a short, but indeed noticeable, frown. "As they say, the apple does not fall far from the tree." The Potions' master prepared to defend his student, despite the fact that Draco had most assuredly brought it on himself, but the Headmaster continued before he could get a word in. "No, Severus, I do not think he is responsible for this destruction, and that is the only reason that I have allowed him to leave without assigning detentions that would last until next Christmas. However, that does not mean that your own reprehensible behavior should go without punishment."

Severus bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from whining like the children he whole-heartedly abhorred. "What, pray tell, do you plan to do with me then, Headmaster? Shall I write lines?" His tight-lipped frown turned into a false smile. "Perhaps you will have me clean out cauldrons with my bare hands? Or should I return to my office to grade essays while intoxicated teenagers run rampant throughout the school?"

Albus shook his head, considering his next move. He could allow his Professor to sink back into his dungeons, or he could really try to initiate change in Snape. Dumbledore was silent for a moment, calculating the potential merit of the Slytherin Head of House becoming the man he always could have been. He realized that, if there was to be a kinder, gentler Severus Snape, it was up to him to provoke that change of heart, but sometimes he wondered if it was worth the effort. He was getting older, he admitted, but he doubted he would have tried as hard in his youth anyway. He did feel that everyone deserved a second chance, but he also knew that Severus had been given dozens, if not hundreds, of opportunities to improve his behavior toward his students. It was enough to make one sick to his stomach...

Albus frowned heavily, recalling the tuna fish he had consumed earlier in the evening, along with three glasses of Chardonnay that hadn't quite sit right on top of the fish.

A short, particularly nasty fart leaked from beneath Dumbledore's robes, but he did little to acknowledge it, continuing to berate his non-plussed subordinate. "It is true that many of our students have been acting foolish," he admitted, "but is it so wrong to allow them a chance to enjoy themselves, knowing that their adult years may very well be stolen from them? War does not allow children the time to grow. I learned that myself a century ago, Severus, and it is a lesson that, at times, I have forgotten." The great wizard remembered Harry, who he had last seen chasing Hermione down the hallway leading away from the trophy room. He smiled. "Teenagers running rampant they may be, but it won't be long before these same teens have to make decisions that determine the outcomes of their lives. And so, I have allowed them this night, hoping to encourage interaction between the other schools as well as the students from our own Hoggy-Woggy-Hogwarts."

"But why, Headmaster?" Snape spoke up, having been carefully watching Dumbledore. His nostrils flared, his anger coming to a boil once again. "What do you hope to gain from letting children be children? You should be buckling down on these neanderthals, teaching them to respect themselves as well as their superiors!"

"Is everything black and white with you, Snape?"

It was a testament to Dumbledore's kindness that Snape, one of the most callous men of his generation, was actually hurt by the use of only his last name.

"Sir?" he asked, not entirely leaving the quiver out of his voice.

"You are not their superior, Severus, you are their teacher! Why are the grade requirements so stringent in your NEWT-level classes? Because you hope to weed out anyone who is not so dedicated that they spend a vast majority of their time outside of class reading their Potions' book..."

"Which-"

"Which you picked out, and is written in language not unlike Pacific Mermish! Anyone who achieves an Exceeds Expectations in your OWL course should be an able apothecarist within a year!"

Snape nearly laughed, now certain the Headmaster was going senile. "Have you sat in on one of my classes this semester? Neville Longbottom single-handedly destroyed a month's worth of Russian's Dragon Tails in half a class period!"

"One bad apple does not spoil the barrel. Furthermore, your method of teaching assumes that all of your students are bad before they even dice a root!"

"Four years that boy has been in my class, and he's yet to make an Outstanding on one potion! Even Potter, for all of his cheek, gets one right every once in a while."

It was true. Harry had finished his last few Potions' admirably, as if he was trying to impress someone. Unfortunately, Snape would never be impressed by a Potter, and the boy had coupled with Granger for those class periods, so Severus blamed all of Harry's success on the bushy-haired brunette. He sneered, a little sickened to think of a budding romance between the two. The poor boy probably had a crush on the bucked-toothed nightmare. A strange smell permeated the room, odorous enough that Snape found himself calculating what exactly it was. His first thought was deviled eggs and catfish, but he was distracted by Dumbledore's voice.

"You don't give him enough credit, but I won't waste my time convincing you of his natural aptitude for magic; it's obvious enough to anyone without bias. However, I do wish that you would take some of the time you spend punishing good students and use it to curb your Slytherin's reckless, sociopathic behavior!"

Snape chuckled darkly. "As you wish, Headmaster..."

Dumbledore shook his head, relatively certain he had just wasted his time, though he at least nipped the persecution of his two favorite Gryffindors in the bud. He turned and eased his way out of the room he had been barring Severus from leaving just minutes earlier, shaking his head. A little annoyed with the Professor he had attempted to cultivate like a tulip, he had no qualms about breaking wind. "I want you to sit here and think about what you've done for some time, Severus." With a wave of his ancient hand, the same ward appeared behind him, and he raced down the hall, humming a merry tune that just barely alleviated the noise from Snape's wild, and angry shouts. The Headmaster's stomach went into further convulsions as he laughed, but he also realized the potential risk to his own well-being, and decided that it would be best to leave the premises as quickly as possible and find a bathroom.

Fortunately for the Head of Slytherin house, he knew a charm that produced a pleasant smell, and he did not have to deal with an old man's flatulence for too long. He didn't bother breaking the ward, preferring the silence of the trophy room. It was probably for the best that he didn't run through the hallways trying to track down Dumbledore and get his revenge, though he could think of a few, particularly enjoyable ways to do it. He idly wondered if Dumbledore could sustain a long fart if his anal cavity was breached by a walking stick. The thought was enough to put him in a good mood (or at least, what sufficed for one in Severus' opinion) and he relaxed a bit as he left the trophy room.

His robes barely even billowed behind him so slow was his progression toward the dungeons. Lost in a reverie, he did not recognize the female presence in the hallway until he had already surpassed her, and it took a few attempts by his associate before he turned and acknowledged the woman.

He sneered when he saw who it was. Batty Professor Trelawney blinked at him from behind her humungous glasses. He couldn't shake the strange feeling that overcame him, and he was reminded of the night she had divined the prophecy. He always felt weird around the woman, as she had indirectly led to the murder of his childhood friend and pushed him further down the tenuous route he had taken since coming to Dumbledore all those years ago. Deciding to be his typical rude self, he nearly snarled at his fellow Professor, snapping, "What do you want? What brings you so far from your tower, Sybil?" Before she could answer, he continued his cutting remarks. "Let me hazard a guess. You've run out of sherry again and you've come to pilfer my Potions' ingredients for a quick buzz."

"How ever did you divine the truth, Severus?" she snarked back, surprising him enough that he unconsciously stopped frowning for a moment. "Was it the empty bottle in my hand," she said, waving the container, which retained only a tiny sliver of alcohol, "or was it the fact I had my other hand on the doorknob to your storeroom?"

She slung the door upon at the end of her statement and entered the vast closet without another word. Severus followed her inside, determined to give at least as good as he got. The fact that it was the barmiest Professor at Hogwarts goading him into a reaction was not entirely lost on Snape. "I had assumed someone with your penchant for predicting the future would realize how quickly I'd react to important ingredients being stolen-"

"Important ingredients?" she laughed, turning to face Snape once again. He noticed that the bags under her eyes were sunken in slightly, a sure sign of sleeplessness, and, after a moment, his own eyes looked down to find her hand placed strangely on his forearm. "Sherry barely makes me tipsy now." This was most assuredly a lie, as she certainly looked and smelled drunk, and Severus had enough experience in that area of expertise to know when someone was past the limit. "I know you keep all the good stuff in your office, Sevvy," she whispered. His bushy eyebrows flew up to his hairline. If he didn't know any better, he would think that Trelawney was flirting with him.

Despite himself, he felt a blush running up his neck and he straightened his robes slightly. "I have no idea what you're talking about..." He struggled to think, his thoughts suddenly lethargic, and so he was entirely unprepared when Sybil stepped forward, grabbed him by the robes, and shoved him up against the nearest row of shelves.

He felt her rather thin stomach press against his own, and a small, often-ignored voice in the back of his mind explained in detail how large her chest seemed up close. She was wearing a purple, V-necked sweater that presented a rather enticing view, though he had never had reason to look before now. She ran a finger down his palm, her hot breath falling on his neck. "Would you like me to read you your future?"

"That... won't be necessary," he said, trying to move out of the woman's surprisingly strong grasp. She ignored him, pressing a brief kiss against his mouth, which expressed his terror quite plainly, though Trelawney didn't seem to notice. Her own mouth stretched open now, and from within came a voice that did not sound like the odd, whimsical drawl that she usually spoke with.

"When brave young men and women fight,

Divided by their own regrets,

No sleight of hand will hide the dice,

When shallow pride falls on their heads,

But in the warming, morning light,

The youth renewed by truth forget,

The things that go bump in the night

Like snakes inside your beds..."

She finished her rather muted prophecy by laughing, and Snape was forced to wonder if she was making it all up as she went or if this was yet another unfortunately true prophecy. Either way, the hand latching onto his waist wasn't taking no for an answer, and Trelawney pressed fervent kisses against his neck before he could formulate a response. Mumbling, the Seer whispered, "Who says I can't remember what I predict?"

Severus found himself longing for the Ogden's Finest in his office, knowing that what was about to take place would be significantly easier if he was pissed. Noting a particular mushroom hidden in a neighboring cabinet, he quickly consumed it under the guise of pulling off his shirt. Very soon, Trelawney's guttural moans echoed down the hallway, and even the few adults patrolling the immediate area shuffled away as quickly as possible.

No one had the balls to confront whoever had made that God awful noise.

Ron was the first to recover from Hermione's stunning spell, and as a lingering effect of the firewhiskey, he retched upon awakening. Fortunately, Katie didn't see him make a mess of his robes, and he was able to adequately remove the vomit before she stirred. "What the heck just happened?" she asked, rolling over onto her stomach. Ron's eyes shifted from the floor onto Katie's arse, which was slowly rising into the air as she scrambled to her feet. Once she was facing him, however, he turned his attention to making some sense of their situation.

"I'm not sure, but I think Hermione knocked us both out," he said, looking around the otherwise empty corridor. He used a spell to pick up the armor that Harry had knocked over earlier, placing it carefully back where it had been ensconced before giving Katie an encouraging smile. "That's nothing compared to what she's going to do to Harry though!"

She frowned, but her eyes at least seemed mirthful. "No less than he deserves," she muttered, wiping a bit of dust from her robes. "Of all people, I never thought Hermione would be caught kissing behind a suit of armor! One day, I knew someone was gonna grab Harry and shove him in a broom closet, but Granger's a prude! You know?" Katie narrowed her eyes at Ron, who seemed to waffle under her scrutiny. "Harry must have lied to her to get that far. Ooh, that sly dog..."

Ron thought that she was being a bit harsh on his friend, who, by all accounts, seemed to be getting ganged up on by every good looking girl in the school tonight and was probably suffering for all of it with Hermione. He didn't envy the Boy Who Lived for once. Fortunately for him, he did not voice his concerns, and merely nodded agreeably. "Yeah," he smirked slightly, actually enjoying the opportunity to throw his friends under the bus for a change with no repercussions, "I guess Hermione doesn't know it all after all!"

Katie giggled, slapping him on the shoulder. "I never thought she did. If she'd take her nose out of a book every once in a while, maybe she'd realize how big of a prat her best friend's turning out to be!"

Ron opened his mouth to say something, ready to defend himself, but he didn't need to. "Not you," Katie assured him, her hand mysteriously finding its way back to his bicep. "You're not prat like him. Honestly, I don't know how you can stand it sometimes..." she trailed off, looking away from him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, not really sure what she was talking about. Did she mean to say that he shouldn't spend so much time with his best friends? He knew that seemed a little rude, but he couldn't exactly fault her for harboring a grudge. Hermione had just stunned her, running off with the boy Katie liked, so there was bound to be bad blood between them, if no one else. It didn't really have anything to do with him, and he preferred it that way, but he wasn't going to allow her to say anything too mean-

"Look," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not going to say anything bad about your friends, Ron, but... how many times have they pulled you into their hair-brained schemes? Dark Lord this and Dark Lord that. It's all nonsense!" Ron had never actually seen Voldemort in person, but he had certainly been close enough to realize something evil was there. However, her next words ripped all thoughts of Harry, Hermione and Voldemort from his mind. "Maybe you should hang out with some of the older students some time?" She looked suspiciously hopeful, and Ron began to actually get his hopes up himself. "I've got a friend in fifth year that would really go for you!"

Just that quickly, Ron's hopes deflated.

"Well," he admitted, trying not to look petulant, "Fred and George don't really like their kid brother being around all the time, and I don't know Angelina and Alicia like you do... y'know, since I'm not on the team or anything."

"Oh, pish posh," she laughed. "Quidditch isn't even going on right now, and by the time next year rolls around you'll be a shoo-in for keeper anyway. That's the position you like, right?"

He was honestly surprised she remembered, as he couldn't recall her ever being around him when he practiced. "How'd you know that?" he asked, a little amazed that Katie knew anything about him, much less that he loved playing Keeper.

"Fred said something about it once," she said, offhandedly. "We were talking about candidates to replace Wood. Angelina recommended McClaggen, that git who always hits on the sixth years, but your brother said you were much better. Oh," she said, nudging him with her bare shoulder. "He also said that you weren't as big of a git as Cormac," she smirked, "but I wasn't sure about that until tonight."

He laughed, nudging her back. He was enjoying himself, and even if Katie wasn't interested in him, he was out of the dorms after hours with a pretty girl, which was much better than being cooped up in the tower with McGonagall babysitting at the door. "Hey!" he said, having finally realized how late it was. "It's way past curfew, and I don't know - well, honestly, I don't care what happened to Harry or Hermione. What do you think we should do?"

Katie looked at him quizzically, a gleam of mischief in her brown eyes. "What do you think we should do?"

"Well, we could hurry back and maybe we won't lose too many points for being out after curfew." Ron thought for a moment and sighed. "Actually, you'd probably be better off if you went back by yourself. When she catches me, I'm going to get detention for the rest of the year! Maybe she won't take that many points. She might take us out of the running for the House Cup!"

He was beginning to sound a bit panicked, but Katie laughed it off. "Oh, well. We've lost plenty of times before, so it's not really that big of a deal. Now, the Quidditch cup on the other hand... that's a big deal!" She cracked up before she could finish, and Ron even smiled, despite the fact he was getting worried about the impending wrath of their Head of House. "We Gryffindors do not go down without a hell of a fight!"

He could appreciate her bravery, particularly when she was brave enough to reveal this much skin. "You like Quidditch that much, huh?" Ron said, trying to hold eye contact with the girl, and having marginal success. Harry had told him girls liked that, and since he had obviously been hitting it off with the opposite sex, even unintentionally, Ron decided it would be fruitful to follow in his friend's footsteps. Katie nodded, and she began telling Ron about her first game, and how excited she had been to be a second year playing on a House team.

"You should have seen me, Ron. Hooch throws the Quaffle into the air, and I just stood there like a moron as Holloway grabbed it for Hufflepuff and ran it straight down the pitch. Wood was screaming at me to move, and next thing I know, I'm being pulled off the grass by George. It was his first game too, and he was laughing his arse off. A bludger had knocked me slam off my broom!"

She punctuated her statement by punching Ron in the back of his shoulder. The redhead chuckled accordingly, but inwardly he was trying not to pout. Katie obviously packed a heck of a punch.

"I had a knot the size of a grapefruit on my forehead, but the next time Hooch started us off I was ready. I blew past Holloway and snatched the quaffle, and I threw a perfect arching pass to Angelina, and the rest... as they say... is history." Ron laughed at her words, as she had imitated ghostly Professor Binns. "It felt pretty cool to be the youngest player on the team for a while. Of course, Harry ruined that when he made the team as an ickle firstie, but he is damned good in the air, so it's not like I can begrudge him that. Everything else, however," she chuckled. "I definitely begrudge."

"I understand," Ron said. "I think it was pretty rotten what he did to you, y'know. It doesn't really seem like Harry though," he admitted, despite the fact that Katie frowned. "He's never even kissed a girl before tonight." She turned her head, looking at him strangely.

"Really? Not even a peck on the lips?"

He scoffed, a smile on his face. "Not even a peck on the cheek, Katie."

She hummed in response, her long fingernails coming to rest against her lips. "That's strange. Parvati was talking before the ball and I heard her say Harry was a really good kisser. It's part of the reason I was in such a hurry to come between them; she made it sound like they were becoming really close. 'Course I'm a fool for even bothering..."

Ron was surprised at Katie's revelation. "You mean Parvati said they had been dating?"

"Yeah," Katie admitted, chuckling. "She said that they had been dating since the end of third year, because he asked her on the train ride home! She said he was too scared of being embarrassed if she said no and that, of course, she just had to say yes!"

Ron couldn't resist shaking his head ruefully. "Hate to break it to you, Katie, but Harry's never had a girlfriend before and he only asked Parvati out on a date because he had to. He was too scared to even have a conversation with a girl-"

"Like you?" Katie giggled, swatting him lightly. "Don't try to convince me you're some ladies man, Ron. I like you better when you tell the truth."

Ron's ego grew exponentially. "I'll try to remember that," he said, for lack of anything better to say. It came out surprisingly smooth, so he considered himself lucky to have retained his cool. Katie was looking amazing in the moonlight provided by the Hogwarts halls, and as they walked aimlessly, mindlessly navigating the halls, he realized that this was probably the most awesome night of his life.

"So, you wanna make out?"

His preoccupied mind that he didn't hear Katie until she had repeated herself. Even then, he didn't think he heard her correctly.

"Make out?" he said, trying to avoid screeching like a boy caught in puberty. Then he realized he was a boy who had just gone through puberty, and he blanched. "Are you... sure?"

"What? Am I not attractive enough for your tastes?" She posed at the edge of a window. He couldn't resist the soft moan he emitted, and Katie laughed at the hungry look he made.

"Of course you are, Katie! You're definitely one of the hottest girls at Hogwarts-"

He knew he shouldn't have been quite so truthful, and he clamped his lips shut immediately, already aware how quickly and how powerfully Katie could punch when she was angry. However, rather than get angry, Katie looked even more interested in a kissing contest. "I told you I liked you when you tell the truth. Come here," she said, stepping a bit closer to him.

Ron smiled hesitantly. He stuttered, "I'm n-not sure this is the best idea," but, seeing that Katie was leaning forward with her eyes closed, he obliged her by closing the distance between them. Just as their lips touched, the two Gryffindors sprung apart, both sets of eyes flying toward the source of the noise they had just heard. At first, Katie mistakenly thought it was Ms. Norris on her trail, but Ron's reaction told it all.

Looking at the Deputy Headmistress, who had just transformed from a cat back into a strict Professor, Katie realized that she should have taken Ron up on his offer to let her go back by herself. Now that they had been caught kissing in the hall, she knew that a potentially very nasty Howler from the Bell household was going to be the least of her worries. It didn't take a crystal ball to see that many, many detentions were in her near future.

"Bell," the old witch said, somehow containing her temper. "Weasley," she added, on the verge of spitting. "Care to take a walk?"

"Yes, ma'am," they said in tandem, both of them hanging their heads. As they walked, they never noticed a light on in the closest classroom and they never heard the raised voice coming from within.

Hermione Granger had never been so angry in her entire life. A distant voice, somewhat reminscent of her stern mother, did not hesitate to remind her that she was not yet sixteen, and should not be worrying about romance at her age,but Hermione couldn't be bothered to care at the moment. Her teenage heart had been crushed, snapped and shattered, and despite her rather exquisite intellect, she couldn't pinpoint what exactly had her so troubled.

She knew she should be cross with Harry, because, quite simply put, he deserved every bit of it. He had begged her to be his date, reneging almost immediately, before dragging her along to his party anyway, and she had reluctantly complied because, though she couldn't quite admit it to herself at the time, she had really enjoyed their first kiss. She had not revealed that to Harry, however, as she had just come to the realization herself and wasn't in any rush to ruin their friendship by freaking out over one kiss. "Which is exactly what I'm doing," she scolded herself.

It wasn't often that she disagreed with herself. Hermione was a determined individual, and coming to Hogwarts as a Muggleborn student had only strengthened her resolve, and a multitude of studies had reinforced that particular character trait over time. However, she couldn't ignore the hot summer nights she had spent at home with countless romance novels, indulging her pre-adolescent curiosity. Her mother had not been pleased to see her daughter loafing about the house, and perhaps for that reason, she had taken to reading the fluffy novels in plain sight, rebelling against her over-bearing and judgmental mother.

Still, the words held within the stories often invoked thoughts of finding a potential love interest of her own. She knew she was still very young, and for that reason she honestly didn't have any aspirations to settle down early, but it had become apparent over the last two years that she was extremely close to Ron and Harry. She had thought that nothing would change their relationship. She had thought that they would never see her as anything more than their best friend.

She had been wrong.

Harry wasn't quite trembling as he awaited Hermione's rant, but he was certainly worried. He knew that he should 'man up' and take the verbal beating, so he had decided to meekly follow his friend to the nearest classroom. He wondered, not for the first time, if the Dursleys were the reason he usually took punishment on the chin. He was used to being in trouble, and over the years, he had learned to just get on with it. Usually, he could close himself off, knowing that he had done nothing to deserve their ire and that they would stop bothering him the instant they had something more interesting to do.

However, this was not Number Four, Privet Drive, and he wasn't dealing with Petuna, Vernon and Dudley. He actually cared about the scandalized young woman in front of him, and if he could turn back the hours and Reparo the damage he'd done to their relationship, well... he wouldn't be just sitting there, looking and feeling useless. Harry was a man of action, and Hermione's sudden silence felt like a punishment in and of itself; the inevitable argument was delayed purposely, as Hermione knew her friend would be getting anxious, and that he hated being anxious.

Harry had thought the night would end on a high note. He had also been wrong.

"You're my best friend," he blurted, surprising Hermione. He continued rapidly, on the verge of panicking. "I hope you know that I would never intentionally try to hurt you, and that I regret anything I said or did that... hurt you," he trailed off, looking forlorn to Hermione's narrowed eyes. "I asked you to the party because I thought we could have a great time together, and I ignored you to attend to all the plans I made. I'm stupid," he said, waving his head. "I know that now, but it's too late to change it. I tried to woo every girl in the school tonight, and I ended up destroying the only real relationship I had..."

Hermione bit her lip, but she turned away to hide her indecision. "If you think for one moment that apologizing is going to help your case, then you've got another thing coming!"

He shook his head, looking down. Just as quickly, he turned his head, trying to catch his best friend's eye. "Look at me, Hermione," he said. When she didn't make any move to face him, he sighed. "Please," he begged, "at least let me tell my side of the story."

"Go on," she offered, still facing the opposite wall. Her eyes scanned the open room, trying to focus on the broken desks and chairs instead of her broken heart.

"I'll admit I had a really good time with Parvati at the ball. I wanted so bad to please everyone leading up to it that I kind of lost sight of the prick I was becoming." Harry walked across the room, his anxiety once again spurring him into motion. "It was so much fun being the center of attention that I actually forgot for a minute..."

Hermione noticed his pause and didn't allow him the opportunity to take a break. "Forgot what?"

"Everything! I forgot that I hate being the center of attention! I forgot that I loathe everyone's stares! For a few hours, I was just a kid having fun, and for that reason... I know I wouldn't take back everything I've done tonight. Not kissing Parvati on the dance floor, not Katie sabotaging the night more than once, not the walk I took with Fleur and certainly not the time I spent with you." He took a deep breath. "I didn't realize it when I asked you to the ball as friends, Hermione, but..."

Again, Hermione wouldn't let him hesitate. "Yes?" she encouraged, hanging on his every word despite herself.

"I really don't want to be friends, Hermione. Not anymore," he said, truthfully. Hermione was initially floored that Harry didn't want her friendship, but then she realized what he was trying to say. "I want to take you to Hogsmeade, and sit in Madame Puttifoots, or the Three Broomsticks, or wherever you want to go! I want to hold hands and buy chocolates and books, and when Rita Skeeter writes another article telling the world who I'm dating," he said, pausing to look Hermione in the eyes, "I want to be able to really say it's you."

Hermione wasn't the type to over-react. She preferred to think things through logically before flying off the handle. She was also terrible when it came to dealing with her emotions. "Bullshit, Harry!" she shrieked, finally losing control. "Don't play head games with me. You think I didn't hear you tell Ron about looking girls in the eyes? I'm not going to fall for it," she promised, walking away from him. "Not this time, and not any other time! You aren't worth the trouble!"

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. When she reached the doorway, he yelled, "Hermione, wait!"

"No! It is after curfew," she announced, "and I am going to bed!" He moved to join her and she snapped, "Don't you dare follow me!"

Hermione opened the classroom door and, without looking back, she slammed it shut, rattling its frame. Harry couldn't move, stunned by Hermione's vehement declaration that he wasn't worthy of her affections. He stood stock still, seemingly drained of all strength and unwilling to leave without his best friend.

For her part, Hermione nearly ran sobbing down the halls, and she shouted the password, "Abstinence," at the disgruntled Fat Lady when she returned to the common room. McGonagall was nowhere to be found, and the few students brave enough to still be mingling were not brave enough to stop Hermione Granger's furious stride. She stomped up the stairs to the dormitories, and ignored Lavender's whispered questions, crawling in bed without even removing her dress first.

Harry didn't leave the classroom for a long time. The best night of his life was over, and he couldn't help wishing he could take it all back. His two best friends probably hated him, not to mention Katie and Parvati, who would be out to kill him for the forseeable future. While the rest of the school might actually ease up on him, he'd be more lonely and outcast than ever, and everyone was leaving the following day.

Checking a discarded clock in the corner, he realized that nearly an hour had past since he entered the room, and he finally decided to trek his way back to Gryffindor and get some rest. He was so distracted by his thoughts that he nearly ran over a petite blonde stationed strangely close to the classroom door.

"I'm sorry!" he assured her, moving to help her up from the ground. She blew his concerns off with a smile, focusing somewhere above his head rather on his face. "Uh, I'm not sure we've met before," he trailed off.

"We haven't," she told him. "Did you know that there's mistletoe above your head?" He looked up and, sure enough, she had been right. "I'm Luna," she greeted.

She pressed her lips against his before he could say anything, and then skipped away just as swiftly. Bewildered, and not entirely sure he wasn't sleep-deprived, he ruefully dragged himself toward the common room. The Fat Lady, still stinging from Hermione's comments, cursed at Harry when he gave the wrong password. Once he finally got past the portrait, who was nearly as intoxicated as Draco had been earlier, he wearily sat on the couch, rubbing his temples.

"Party's over," he declared, though he was alone. "Happy Christmas, Harry."


-end of Chapter Nine-