AN: When I wrote this last night, I really thought I'd read it over today and not be happy with it at all, but as it turns out, I didn't really have to tweak it much. Enjoy, loves. Check the blog for photos. [[ spicysugar368 (dot) tumblr (dot) com ]]

Chapter 10

The Yuletide Ball

It had been a week, and Harry was still having trouble believing that the arrest Ron had made a week ago was Draco Bleeding Malfoy, in the flesh. Looking back now, it seemed so obvious that Draco Malfoy would be the name that "D.M." would have stood for… but, after all, hindsight was 20/20…

Hermione'd had a fit, he remembered, realizing she was going to have to charm and send a letter to Narcissa Malfoy in the flesh, but she'd done it like a pro and nailed it just like the others. She'd had a bit of a hyperactive conniption when she realized that Ronald Bilius Weasley, her fiancé, was the one responsible for bringing the man all three of them loathed into the hands of the Ministry. Whether she was absolutely thrilled or in a panicked relief that Ron was alive after the ordeal, Harry wasn't sure, but he knew she had to be extremely proud of him.

Hell, Harry was even proud. Ron was out there knocking out the bad guys like it was a cakewalk.

But at the moment, Harry had far more pressing matters to address…

Like his godforsaken, always messy, never-to-be-tamed hair…

"There's just no helping it," he sighed to his mirror, who had been issuing vocal encouragements for the entire half-hour duration that Harry had been attempting to do something even remotely stylish with his hair.

"Well, sir," replied his mirror, "I'm sure the lady will be quite delighted no matter what your hair looks like."

Harry nearly laughed. "Right, because the very person she wants on her arm tonight is me…"

"Friends can appreciate good looks, too," the mirror sang. "You look dashing."

Harry grumbled and fussed with his tie. Since his Yule Ball days at Hogwarts he had bought much nicer and classier dress robes. These were a sleek black with a satin strip running down each side – much like what you'd see on Muggle tuxedo pants. He'd spent the extra cash to get the sort that he could charm the satin strip to change to whatever color he needed – tonight, red. He'd had to go out and buy a special red vest and tie for the occasion, however. Hermione had told him that it was absolutely imperative that they "match." He didn't see the need since they were going as friends, but, Hermione reminded him, he was escorting her as her date for the evening, and, therefore, his attire should match hers. She'd told him nothing beyond "red" and had approved the color when he'd showed them to her – so her outfit, whatever it may be, clearly involved red in some way, but that's all he knew.

He was a little frustrated because he knew he'd never be wearing this particular vest and tie ever again, because Ginny certainly never wore red to any formal function – or any function at all – ever, because of her hair. She constantly complained that it "clashed."

Shaking his head at the ways of women and officially giving up on his hair, he stepped out of his bathroom and checked his watch. 6:40. He was due to pick Hermione up at her flat in five minutes. He chuckled a little at the notion of picking a lady up when all one had to do was apparate to one place, then jointly apparate to another place… seemed almost pointless, but still chivalrous, and for an affair as pompous as this one, therefore necessary.

He took a deep breath, stretched his arms, and for the first time acknowledged his nerves regarding the evening. The passionate kiss he and Hermione had shared a week previously was still hot on his mind – much to his dismay – and he had no idea how he'd be able to act properly around her tonight when he was sure she'd look quite pretty and be attached to his arm all night. He felt her Christmas present nervously in the pocket of his robes. He sure hoped she liked it…

He checked his watch again. Three more minutes…

Fuck it, Hermione was always early anyway…

Hermione was late.

For the first time in her living memory, she was running late.

And she was absolutely panicking.

It was nearly 6:45 and she hadn't even gotten her jewelry on yet because her blessed hair had taken far more time to magic up than she'd expected… She'd been going for a French Twist, but that hadn't ended up working quite right, so she'd had to curl each piece around her wand and put it up in this intricate up-do sort of thing that she wasn't sure looked good at all, but it would simply have to do… and there'd been a few strands of hair she just didn't know what to do with, so she'd curled them and let them hang down and frame her face. She supposed it looked all right… that was the fashion now, wasn't it?

Jewelry, jewelry, jewelry, where had she put it… Oh Merlin, was that a knock at the door?

Harry was here… and she wasn't ready… Shit!

"Uh, it's open!" she called, waving her wand in the general direction of the door to unlock it. She heard it open and Harry's voice.

"Hermione?"

"Sorry, sorry, I'll be out in just a minute!" Oh, Jesus, the jewelry was right there on the vanity exactly where she'd left it, perched on it's own little washcloth… She was losing her mind… With fumbling fingers she slipped the pearl studs into her ears and gently clasped the string of pearls around her neck. The set had been a gift from her parents for her 21st birthday – because every lady, her mother insisted, had to have a set of good pearls. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath in, then opened her eyes to survey herself in the mirror.

Hair in place… check. Jewelry on… check. Makeup done… check. Just some light shimmering cream colored eye shadow all over her lid and up to her brow bone, a volumizing mascara, a light pink blush, and lips that were the same shade of red as her dress.

Speaking of her dress… she allowed herself a private moment of delight. She'd found it by a miracle, on a clearance rack in a designer store… how it had ever made it to the clearance rack she had no idea, because it was simply stunning, and it was the only one there, and in her size… like it was just waiting for her. It had a simple sweetheart neck… strapless and backless. It was a deep shade of crimson red, hugged her waist tightly, and flowed elegantly in an A-line shape all the way to the floor. She'd only had to pay 30 galleons for it and it had been a 150 galleon gown…

Taking another deep breath and thanking her lucky stars, she stepped gingerly out of the bathroom and into the matching red heels that she (mercifully) had already had in her closet and hadn't had to purchase for the evening.

She was ready.

Finally.

Harry hadn't sat down in the cozy living room because he had a feeling if he made himself comfortable, he'd be at risk for not attending the damned ball at all. Instead, he took to examining his fingernails, straightening and re-straightening his tie, and shifting his weight from foot to foot, all while leaning against Hermione's front door, which directly faced the hallway that lead to the bedrooms. Because he had been staring in a downward direction and generally not paying attention, he had, therefore, been a little startled when he heard Hermione's voice.

"Well?" she asked quietly.

Harry quickly looked up, hadn't having realized she was there…

And was immediately struck speechless.

He thought she'd look pretty this evening. But he'd been wrong.

She was absolutely stunning.

Her dress was strapless and showed just enough of her beautiful breasts to jog his memory… it hugged her tightly all the way down, and Harry had to swallow down a gasp.

He also had to desperately control a rapidly growing bulge beneath his robes, and he prayed she didn't notice.

"Well…?" she prodded again.

"I… I… you… Hermione, you're absolutely beautiful… stunningly, wonderfully beautiful…"

Stuttering over your words, Harry. What a gentleman…

But he definitely saw her blush. She most certainly, without a doubt, blushed at his compliment, botched though it may have been.

"You really think so?" she asked, smiling.

"I really know so…" he said, taking a step towards her.

She beamed. "Thank you…" She took a step towards him to match him. "You look quite handsome."

He couldn't help it, he grinned. "Thanks."

She looked so perfectly beautiful that he was almost scared to touch her.

"Shall we?" he offered, holding out his arm to her.

"Certainly," she replied, taking hold of his arm. And in a moment, they had disappeared from Hermione's flat and outside the side of the magnificent Trinity House. They were greeted by a Ministry official in nicer dress robes even than Harry's, who directed them to the second floor into the Quarterdeck for the receiving line, from whence they would go into the Library where hors-d'oeuvres would be served until 8:00, at which point everyone would be dismissed down the grand staircase and into the entrance hall – magically enlarged, he assured them – for dinner.

"Just take hold of this and you'll go straight up to the Quarterdeck," the official said, handing them a quill. No sooner had both of them taken it in their hands than they had appeared at the beginning of the Quarterdeck corridor. At the end, Hermione could see through the open double doors that Ministry guests were already mingling in the library. First, though, they had to go through the receiving line…

They went down the line, greeting each head of the major departments – Simon included – before each of them shook hands with the Minister himself (he gave Harry a particularly firm handshake) and then disappeared into the Library. Immediately they were surrounded by exquisite classical music, which Harry noticed was coming from the balcony of the room, which housed what appeared to be a full chamber orchestra.

He was already overwhelmed. People still hadn't gotten over his fame, his various triumphs over Voldemort, his general good standing with the wizarding community… he was being greeted on all sides and poor Hermione was merely being forced along, occasionally being recognized by a few of Harry's admirer's but on the whole had to remain mostly silent.

Eventually, after Harry and Hermione had each had two glasses of champage offered them by various patrons and had had to turn down what felt like dozens more, they were approached by the Minister himself.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Potter, such a pleasure and an honor to have you here!"

"Oh, Minister Boulstridge!" Harry said, shaking his hand, somewhat surprised. "It's my pleasure, sir."

"That's a good chap!" the Minister boomed, clapping him on the back. "Now, listen, I have a favor to ask of you."

Hermione tuned in and listened intently.

"You see, Mr. Potter, every year, we ask one couple to have the first dance of the evening. Usually it's a couple who's done the Ministry a lot of favors, someone who's made a significant achievement, something of that sort."

Harry had a bad feeling he knew where this was going.

"Absolutely, sir," he said, encouraging him on.

"Well this year, m'boy, I'd be just delighted if you and your partner – Miss Granger – would take the honor of the first dance. You are, after all, of significant importance to the wizarding world as it stands today!"

Hermione, after recovering from the shock that the Minister even knew her name, had to deal with the shock that she and Harry had just been given an honor they absolutely could not, under any circumstances, refuse.

"Well, Minister, I…" Harry began, but Hermione cut him off.

"Minister, we would be absolutely honored. Thank you for such a wonderful privilege."

"Stellar!" he said, and shook both their hands. "I'll send my assistant over to collect you, she'll tell you what to do."

And he disappeared into the crowd.

"What the bloody hell did you say 'yes' for?" Harry hissed.

"Do you really think you can say 'no' to the Minister of Magic!" Hermione hissed back. "That offer is something not given lightly and it is an extremely high honor that you simply do not refuse! It's like being invited to the captain's table on a cruise!"

Harry stared at her blankly.

"Oh, nevermind," she mumbled. "Just understand that's a really important invitation extended by the minister just before dinner to one lucky couple..."

Harry knew she was right but it didn't make him any happier about it. He'd had to learn how to dance in fourth year but he didn't know if he actually remembered any of it…

"Ah, Mr. Potter and Miss Granger!" came a trilling voice. Hermione looked to her right to see, she could only presume, the secretary to the Minister approaching them.

"Lovely to meet you both," she said, shaking both their hands. "I'm Angela Pruitt, senior undersecretary to the Minister."

"Pleasure," Harry said, while Hermione said "So nice to meet you."

"If you two will just follow me, I'll lead you over here to the Pepys room…"

Harry couldn't even begin to describe how relieved he was to be in the – quite vacant – Pepys room. He had a feeling Hermione felt the same. It was connected to the library and they could here the chatter and banter of the guests through the double doors connecting the rooms, but Angela had closed them.

"So, how are you both this evening?" Angela beamed. Hermione wondered if the woman ever frowned.

"Lovely," Hermione answered.

"Just wonderful!" Angela replied. "Now, the guests will be dismissed downstairs for dinner in ten minutes. The dancing doesn't officially start until all the plates have been cleared, but it's the job of you two to technically 'open the dance floor,' so to speak."

"Right," Harry said. He feared he sounded terribly uneducated.

"Once everyone is in their seats, you will be announced, and Mr. Potter, you will lead Ms. Granger down the grand staircase into the entrance hall and begin your dance. Do you have any requests for a particular song?"

Harry had the sudden urge to request a particularly wild song by the Weird Sisters, just to see Angela's reaction, but decided against it.

"A waltz, perhaps?" Hermione supplied. "Harry and I both have taken waltz lessons."

Nevermind that they were seven bloody years ago… Harry found himself thinking.

"I can let you have a practice run, if you like," Angela offered. "I have a few recorded tracks I can play so you two can warm up."

"That sounds perfect," Hermione breathed, relieved. Harry didn't think fifteen minutes of "practice" would help him much, but it was better than nothing.

"Here, let's start off with something slow," Angela said, and waved her wand. A slow, easy waltz began playing, and Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

"Remember how to waltz?" Hermione asked uneasily.

"Vaguely…" Harry answered.

"Right…" Hermione said. They came together, her right hand in his left, her left hand on his right shoulder, and his right hand on her waist. "So, for you, it's forward, over together, and for me, it's back, over, together…" she explained, guiding their feet as she said each one.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to extend a most warm welcome to all of you on this lovely Christmas Eve," came the Minister's voice. All the guests were seated… except Harry and Hermione, who were waiting just out of sight at the top of the grand staircase.

"I hope everyone has had a most enjoyable time so far!" the Minister continued. "Dinner will be served momentarily, and after that our dance floor will be officially opened, but before that occurs we, of course, have to have our honored first dance!"

Harry and Hermione heard mild applause.

"I am exceptionally pleased to introduce to you tonight as our first dance couple, the lovely Hermione Jean Granger, escorted by none other than Harry James Potter!" the Minister concluded, and this was followed by raucous applause.

"That's your cue," Angela whispered with a smile, and waved her wand to start the introductory chords of the music. They'd opted for a mild waltz… not too slow, but not so fast that they'd get tired out or lose coordination.

Hermione took a deep breath and looked up at Harry.

"Ready?"

"No, but looks like I don't have a choice," he replied, but he was smiling.

"All right then…" she whispered, and they took their steps down the magnificent curved staircase. Her arm was linked with Harry's, as was protocol, and when their full bodies came into view, all the guests cheered.

Hermione couldn't believe how many people were there. Three hundred, five hundred, seven hundred… she wasn't sure. Before she knew it they were on the dance floor in the very center of all those people. Harry gently twirled her until she was facing him and they got into position. She took a deep breath, counted the beat, and once Harry led her into the rhythm of the music, she relaxed and looked up into his eyes.

And that would be her undoing.

As soon as her chocolate brown eyes met his emerald green ones, she knew there would be no looking away. It was like the ocean greeting the sand… you simply couldn't part them.

He smiled down at her knowingly as he led her in the waltz. No one there could have guessed that just fifteen minutes previously they'd been struggling over each other's feet in the room upstairs… their movements flowed together like water, smooth as glass… he led her beautifully and she followed perfectly.

A rise came in the music and suddenly Hermione was spinning outward as he thrust her into a spin. She came back into his arms beaming and he smiled wider.

"Having fun?" he whispered.

"Of course," she replied.

Hermione wouldn't have known they were surrounded by hundreds of people. It was just she and Harry, alone on this massive dance floor, spinning and twirling together like they were one… She never wanted it to end, it was so perfect, so wonderful, such an innocent feeling…

Yet, she thought, as she came back from another spin, so passionate… so deep… she could look into those green eyes forever…

"Almost done," Harry whispered. Hermione almost whined in disappointment. She let herself get lost in those last few moments, spinning and twirling all alone on that dance floor with Harry…

She heard the music slow and felt herself going backward… Harry was leaning her into a deep dip at the close of the song. She arched her back and let herself fall, trusting him to hold her as he leaned over her and held the pose until the music fully stopped.

And then… the applause began.

Harry was beaming as he brought her back into a standing position. He brought her close to him and she laid her head against his chest.

"You were wonderful, Miss Granger," he whispered.

"So were you, Mr. Potter." She paused. "We should bow…"

"Right," he whispered back, and he released her. With her right hand clasped in his left, he bowed and she curtsied to the audience, and Hermione was on such a high that she thought she might never come down from it.

"I don't think I've ever seen a first dance so beautifully executed!" said the Minister, walking up to them. "Truly beautiful job, just wonderful, both of you," he continued, shaking their hands. "You may sit, and you will be served dinner first."

He showed them to a table right next to the dance floor that had two empty chairs with name cards stating their names by them.

"Absolutely wonderful display of dancing," one of the older ladies cooed. "How long have you two been together?"

Hermione started a little in surprise. "Oh, well, um, we… actually, we're just friends…"

The older lady laughed out loud. "Oh, sure, dear. You keep telling yourself that. No couple with that much chemistry is 'just friends.' You mark my words!"

Hermione shared a nervous glance with Harry, but their food was placed in front of them just then, and they were both far too hungry to worry about the woman's tactlessness.

At eleven thirty that night, they both appeared back in Hermione's flat.

"Thank God that's over," Hermione muttered.

"You're telling me," Harry agreed. "Those old witches at dinner were driving me batty."

"I could have hit that one woman…" Hermione grumbled.

"But how about that first dance, huh?" Harry asked, smiling at her.

She smiled back, she couldn't help it. "It was quite magical. I'm so happy I got to share that with you."

"Me, too," Harry replied. He checked his watch. "I know it's not quite Christmas yet, but… I wanted to give you your present tonight," he finished quietly.

"Oh, Harry, no, wait till tomorrow…" she said, but her heart rate naturally quickened with anticipation.

"No, I want you to have it now," Harry insisted. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a long black velvet box and handed it to her. She took it gently, staring at it, then looking back up at Harry.

"Harry… what…"

"Just open it."

She furrowed her brow, then looked down at the box, bit her lip, and slowly lifted the lid.

Inside was the sapphire and diamond bracelet she'd been coveting in the jewelry store that day when they'd gone shopping together.

She gasped.

"Harry! Oh, Harry, I… I don't know what to say… I… you shouldn't have done this… it's just… oh my goodness what can I say…"

"'Thank you' might be a good place to start," Harry supplied with a smile.

"I… oh, Harry, thank you… I just… I don't even know how to thank you for this…"

Harry gently took the box from her hands and set it on the nearby dining room table, then took Hermione in his arms.

He couldn't take it any more. She was so beautiful, so perfect, so brilliantly wonderful… he couldn't hold back anymore. He wanted her. All of her. Tonight.

"Harry…" she whispered.

"You said you didn't know how to thank me," Harry said quietly. "How about this…" he whispered. And without another word, he leaned down and captured her lips in his.