Well, all I can do is apologize. It totally wanted to post this chapter two weeks ago. I got about halfway through writing this chapter and hit the hat trick 1. Writers block 2. A large influx of work 3. Family health issues. Either way, better late than never. Thank you so much for all of the wonderful reviews. Unfortunately I'm rewarding that with a horrible filler chapter. Oh well, needed to move the plot along somehow. I hope that the next chapter will come quicker.

Ciao ciao!

O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O

It was quiet and peaceful in the Gryffindor fourth year's boy bathroom. Inversely the girl's bathroom was a riotous mess of makeup, hair products, cloth and yelling. That's why Hermione was quite happy to be getting ready in the boys bathroom. That morning Hermione had been complaining about the mess that started in her dorm from the moment someone's alarm went off at 8:00 am. She had no idea why someone would need nearly nine hours to get ready for a ball. Even she was getting dressed up and doing special products in her hair, but she wasn't going to need more than four hours.

"Why don't you use our bathroom?" Harry asked, looking up from his book 'Great Potioneers and the Horrible Ways They Died'. "All they guys are out having a game of football to pass the time until the ball so it is empty up there."

With a bounce in her step Hermione went on her way to get ready. She decided to take some extra time to take a bath instead of a shower. After she was washed, patted down and lotioned up she went to work trying to tame her hair.

"Dammit!" She cursed, struggling to part her hair to apply the potions.

"Hermione? You okay in there?" Harry asked, rapping on the door with his knuckles. He had been on his bed the last fifteen minutes worrying over the stream of curses that were coming steadily from the bathroom.

"I can't get this potion in my hair!" Hermione nearly screamed.

"Are you dressed? Because I can come in and try to help you out." Harry offered.

Which is how Harry ended up spending his morning playing junior hair dresser. He helped apply the potion, drying it with his wand wishing that he could use a muggle hair dryer. He followed Hermione's direction as he twisted the now-straight strands into a complicated partial up-do that he had to restart four times. It was fun, laughing and joking with Hermione as he played with her hair. He bemoaned with her beauty standards and makeup, silently happy that he never had to deal with anything like that.

"My fingers are cramped." He moaned, flexing them as he looked at his completed work. Admittedly it looked very nice. Still it was strange to see Hermione dolled up. Hermione had found a nice balance between too little and too much for makeup, citing that her mother loved playing dress up and had wanted to go into cosmetology before becoming a dentist

"So you can hold onto a broom in the freezing cold for two hours and your hands are fine but forty minutes in my hair is too much?" Hermione chuckled, looking at him from the mirror.

"My broom doesn't fight me as much as your hair did!" A makeup pad flew across the room and struck him lightly in the face, leaving a splotch of makeup on his cheek. "No fair!"

"Why no fair?" Hermione smirked.

"Because if I throw something at you it will ruin everything and you might kill me. And I probably wouldn't get any sympathy from anybody." He pouted, crossing his arms and staring at the defenseless pad.

"Damn right."

Two hours later and it was nearly time for the ball. Harry felt his heart sink at each passing minute pulling him closer to the edge of doom. When he told Hermione as such she just said he was being over dramatic.

"Why don't you just skip it then?" Hermione asked from between the pages of a book that probably weighed as much as she did.

"I can't," The pout came out again. "As a champion I have to attend every official event of the tournament. Not participate but at least show up. Apparently some dipshit headmaster wrote the Yule ball in as an official event. Something about the games being more than a festival of mayhem and violence for the lesser intelligent to feast upon. Either way, I have to show up for some of it."

"Well that sucks." Hermione said in a flat tone.

"Thanks for your sympathy." He groused. Still there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Oh I'm sure it will all be fine. Have dinner, chat with people, listen to the music and leave the moment that you can. You are being forced to go to a ball, not being strung up in the dungeon for torture."

"Ugh."

"Well you can sit here and bemoan your fate. I'm going to put on my dress and look for Krum. I'll see you in a bit." She was off, leaving Harry alone in the empty common room to mutter and curse to himself.

O~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~O

Turns out an hour of two of angry mutters, mean insults that no one will hear and a healthy dose of complaining about the injustice of the world is good for the soul. Harry found this out as he made his way down to the Great Hall feeling much better after his private rant session.

"Mr. Potter!" McGonagall barked. She was standing in front of the large doors with the other Champions. The rest of the student had already been ushered inside, the students too young we lead back to their dorms.

"Good evening professor." There was a slight hop in his step as he reached the bottom of the stairs. He took a moment to look at the other champions. Hermione looked stunning next to Krum, though he wasn't surprised since he had seen her outfit before. Fleur looked magical like she always did but her date ruined the effect by drooling with a star-struck look on his face. Cedric and Cho looked beautiful las well, though the effect may have been better if they weren't standing next to a veela and a celebrity.

"Where is your date, Mr. Potter?"

"I don't have one."

"I told you that you must." McGonagall scowled, looking nowhere near as frightening as Snape did.

"And I decided that I did not want to ask anybody." Harry tried to explain in a calm voice, crossing his arms resolutely.

"This is a matter of honor Mr. Potter. I will not allow you to disrespect this institution. You will remain here while I find someone to dance the first dance with you."

Harry was just about to throw a tantrum when he saw a little glimmer. Over in the corner with her large camera and lurid green quill was Rita Skeeter. Harry could just about make out her wicked smirk past her poised pen. In an instant the balloon of rage that filled him deflated into something manageable. He opened his mouth to speak before a voice saved.

"Deputy Headmistress, is there a problem?" Snape strode over. He was decked out in his normal black. On closer inspection the robes were lightly embroidered with a delicate silver design. They were some type of flowers. Harry thought they looked like lilies but he could not be certain.

"Mr. Potter is refusing to participate in the dance. If he does not it would be shameful to the school." McGonagall huffed.

"I must disagree with you Minerva. It seems to me a blessing that Potter does not wish to stomp his way across the dance floor. I hardly think that Potter not participating in the dance would be any worse than the embarrassment that we will all feel as he attempt to be graceful and fails miserably." Snape sneered. Harry wanted to glare at him for the insult, but that would be counterproductive because the man was taking his side.

"Mr. Potter is plenty graceful." McGonagall held herself high as she attempted to defend her student against the insult.

"Perhaps in the air he might have a modicum of talent. On the ground he is worse than a baby centaur trying to run across a frozen lake. I would also remind you that it may look bad forcing a minor to participate in a public performance against their will without the permission of a legal guardian." He swept away, snapping his robes around himself. McGonagall stood with a look that said that she had just sucked in the wrong end of a stink wart toad. She took a moment to glance at Harry, who in turn stared her down.

"Very well. It seems you have won this time Mr. Potter." Harry tried no to look too pleased, nodding in acknowledgement to the thumbs up Hermione had given him.

With a booming voice Dumbledore announced the entry of the Champions and Harry and the other pairs were herded into the winter wonderland that was the great hall. They stood and allowed the applause before they ended up at the Head table. Harry unfortunately ended up seated between Ludo and, oddly enough, Percy Weasley. He was later informed after ordering his dinner of steak and asparagus that Crouch could not come for some vague unanswered reason and Percy was taking his place.

Dinner was a horrifyingly boring affair. Percy seemed dead set on bringing people into his conversation about the standardization of ink used in official documents. Just as Harry thought that he had managed to escape possibly the most boring thing that he had heard Percy had moved on to the topic of the regulation of animal feed for magical silk worms. Despite the ear bleeding drone of the boring Weasley's ministry work, it was infinitely better than attempting to listen to Ludo. Apparently the man had the unerring ability to remember every match of every game he had ever gone to. And he seemed dead set on describing each one in detail. Incidentally the game he started with was Hoolap. The magical equivalent to cricket with games lasting weeks at a time. Apparently one of the main goals of the game was to stare at the other team and mentally try to will them into giving up the match.

Hermione sat a few seats down from him, looking quite happy. She was steadfast at ignoring the glares sent to her by the female population eating dinner below. Instead she was pointing at thing and trying to pronounce the German word that Krum told her it was. Apparently the quidditch star was a polyglot and Hermione was determined to learn a language that wasn't a Latin based romance language. So Harry sat between his two annoyances and silently worked through his dinner. He listened to the drone of conversation around him as he worked through his pudding without a word. Finally, the plates were cleared away and the Headmaster announced it was time for the champions dance.

Harry was so happy that he did not have to dance. Despite all the insistence that the other schools were well bred and refined, the pairs on the dance floor looked just like teens pretending to be adults. The only person who looked truly graceful was Fleur. Given her heritage she could have done the Macarena on the dance floor and still look graceful. I wasn't long before the crowd got twitchy with boredom so the Headmaster led Professor McGoangall onto the floor as an open invitation for everyone else to join in. Even Snape was out on the floor, though by the way he was glaring at Dumbledore it wasn't really his choice to be there.

The snack table became Harrys spot. He kept a watchful eye on the clock as he munched his way through a few eclairs. The dancing portion of the night was supposed to last three hours, so at one hour and thirty one minutes Harry was going to bolt out those doors like his arse was on fire. For the time being he stood by his post, only moving when he needed to. Incidentally he only needed to when the lurid green of Rita Skeeter got close. As much as he loathed her she was still allowed at all tournament events. So whenever she got within ten yards of him he bolted, playing a game of cat and mouse that made him feel ridiculous.

Five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one. With a jaunty wave to the reporter he slipped out of the ballroom and into the safety of the corridor. He decided to take a wander, not quite ready to head back to the common room. He walked up to a frosted over window, wiping the glass to watch the snow falling out side.

"Beautiful night, isn't it?" A fluty voice made him start. A young blonde girl with large eyes was standing next to him, looking out the window. "Finnel Fairies just absolutely love full moons."

"Um. Yeah." Harry said, not quite sure how to answer that. He had never heard of Finnel fairies before, but he was also ready to admit there was a lot he didn't know.

"You are Harry Potter." The girl swung her gaze to pierce him. It didn't sound like a question.

"Uh, yes I am. Not to meet you. . . I didn't get your name."

"My name is Luna Lovegood." She said in her breathy light tone. "If you are looking for something I would recommend the North courtyard."

"What would I be looking for?"

"Peace."

"And I will find it in the North courtyard?" Harry questioned. He kind of felt like he wasn't having the same conversation as she was.

"Perhaps. Though it is quiet there and the roses are the favorite of the Finnel fairies." She looked up at the moon. "Any friendships made in the snow under the full moon will certainly be blessed." With that she left Harry at his window by himself. He took a minute to review the conversation in his head. With a shrug he headed off to the North courtyard. In a way the Luna girl was right. The north courtyard was out of the way and smaller than the other ones. Less likely to have couples making out in the bushes.

The cold air that hit him was refreshing. Wandering along the path Harry took in the glittering scene as snow coated the trees. A row a bright red roses stood out along the pathway that were under warming protection charms that kept them perpetually blooming. The sharp air ruffled through his hair, making him sigh with pleasure.

"Hello Potter."