Hi guys, thanks for all the support thus far! We hope you've been able to keep up with the OC's well enough. Things will start changing vastly in storyline soon, so look out for it!

Lightning

Chapter 13

"Put your hand on my waist, Mr Weasley."

There was a surprised squeak.

"Your what?"

A pointed look.

"My. Waist."

The entire Gryffindor house laughed at the scandalized look on Ron's face in contrast to the stern, expectant one of their head of house. Ron gulped and did as he was told, albeit hesitantly, only to have MacGonagall secure the appendage on her hip by placing her hand tightly over his. She released her hand to talk to the students. Ron's hand slipped. She brought it back up.

"Now, for the boys, always place your left hand on your partner's wai-"

Ron's hand slipped. She brought it back up.

"Waist. And your right hand should grasp your partner's left hand. Not too tightly mind you." Ron's hand dropped again. She pulled it back up and held it there this time.

The Gryffindors of all years were unabashedly chortling in laughter by this point, but MacGonagall either failed to notice or didn't care. This was something all of them had to go through at one point of their lives, and it was better now than never.

"Girls, place your right hand on your partner's shoulder like so –Ron stiffened upon contact- and your left hand in theirs. Ready?"

Ron closed his eyes and nodded in resignation. Why oh why did these things tend to happen to him? Now he was surely a public embarrassment to not only his peers but Lavender. He opened his eyes to peer over MacGonagall's shoulder to see the pretty brunette smiling enthusiastically at him, batting her eyelashes. He was so ready to get this demonstration over with and put on a real show for her.

In the background, Filtch and Mrs. Norris started up the music and the crowd watched as the odd pair moved surprisingly gracefully across the dancefloor.

"1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. Turn… repeat."

Harry was impressed by his friend's almost natural flair for the art of dance and he couldn't help but feel even more insecure and unconfident. How on earth could he pull his balls together and ask Cho to be his date, if he couldn't even think of impressing her with his terrible dancing. Alright, epic confession: Harry Potter does not dance.

The demonstration ended and MacGonagall ordered her students to pair up. Ron had literally flung himself away from the older witch and made a beeline towards the beaming and blushing Lavender. Hermione was kind enough to give Neville a chance who looked more than eager to prove that he could do this. Heck, even the Weasley twins had partners (probably their dates). Harry sighed and found his gaze meeting that of the shy, hopeful ones of Ron's little sister.

It was no secret that Ginny had a die-hard crush on him for reasons unknown, but it was unfortunate he didn't have any romantic feelings for the sweet girl. Now, if only Cho would like him the same way; perhaps working up the courage to ask her wouldn't be so bad that way. Harry sighed, stepped up to his younger partner, holding her gently as if she would break.

He could do this.

He couldn't do this.

Lucas buried his head in his hands and groaned in frustration, banging his head against the cover of Joan's self-help book. It took him forever to just get through one short chapter and at the rate he was going, he'd be close to Professor Sprout's age by the time he was done.

Love is patient; love is kind.

Speaking of said professor, the Hufflepuff head was busy organizing the female students and the boys from Durmstrang. Since, to put things frankly, there wasn't enough females to go around, the Hufflepuff boys had to sit it out for a while until the students from Durmstrang were done with dance practice. The Ravenclaw house was experiencing the same problem as them with the Beauxbaton girls, with their male students falling short of supply.

To receive love, one has to first give love.

Finding out Hufflepuff now had Durmstrang officially under its care, was bad enough – too many enemies, too many unpleasant memories. But, being in the same room with Victor Krum continuously, was worse. Every now and then, Lucas could feel hard and cold eyes bore at the back of his head, right through him and made him feel thoroughly uncomfortable and irritated. Why did he have the feeling the bulky guy didn't want him around, Lucas had no clue. All he knew was, Victor didn't like him and he didn't have any bloody reason to hold hands and run off into the sunset with him either.

Love is selfless; love is trusting. Not even the eyes of jealousy can lay it to ruin.

The Durmstrang boys were done and when Lucas made his way to the dancefloor, he and Victor passed each other, roughly bumping shoulders. The tension was thick and there was definitely static between their gazes. As Victor stared Lucas down, he gave him a fierce glare that Lucas eagerly returned, before eye contact broke altogether in favour of Lucas facing his current dance partner.

Courage is not bravado. Courage is strength of the heart.

Leanne stared up at Lucas in sheer awe and fear at the same time, her slightly puffy cheeks colouring a slight red, making her an adorable catch if Lucas did say so himself. He remembered this girl being close to Katie Bell or something, a fellow Gryffindor Hermione mentioned from time to time, as well as the popular Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang. Looking at her closely, Leanne did seem to resemble Cho in certain aspects, like her feminity and appearance, such as their hair, face and eyes.

Love looks not with the eyes; and therefore is winged cupid painted blind.

Doing what he was supposed to, Lucas pulled Leanne close, making the young witch squeak in surprise and embarrassment. Alarmed, Lucas stepped back a bit to give her some room. Perhaps he had been too forward?

"S-Sorry," Leanne stammered as she took his hand. "I've never done this before."

"No worries. I'm no expert myself."

The two of them danced slow and patiently, Leanne worried she'd step on Lucas' foot and Lucas's mind on other things. He tried to imagine the girl's bushy black hair as bushy brown, her cheeks thinning out to a sharper jaw, and her eyes to be less-rounded and more shapely in length. Lucas held his partner gently, treating her as he would Hermione.

He looked up to see Victor Krum giving him a victorious smirk and it was getting to him terribly.

"Hey, any idea why he seems to perpetually reserve his nasty looks for me?"

Leanne glanced up at the well-built Bulgarian when they turned.

"Katie told me that you like Granger. He is just jealous, especially since his date likes you back."

Lucas stopped suddenly to stare at Leanne with wide, disbelieving eyes. Okay then, Joan wasn't lying when she said the whole school, because apparently everyone knew. But the news of Victor and Hermione going to the ball together, affected him way more.

So that was what Hermione meant back at the tailor's – he blew it. Her wordings had been strange, almost as if she was hoping him to ask her despite Victor having done it before him. Was she hoping to be his date instead of Victor's? If so, why didn't she say so in the first place?!

Lucas' head swam. He really, really didn't understand girls.

Lucas eyes found the form of Cedric not too far from them. Ever since the tournament started, he had wondered how the Hufflepuff senior managed to cope. His face-off with the dragon back in round one was clean, swift and skilled, his spell-work well-versed and astounding. And since Cedric was the first one in his house to treat him with respect, he couldn't help but ask the next question.

"Well, since you know so much, any idea who Cedric's going to the dance with?"

Leanne pulled away to stare at him is shock.

"You mean you didn't know?! Cho of course!"

This was a complete waste of time.

Well, to Draco Malfoy anyway.

That bloody cookey senile old man of a headmaster obviously lost it, if previous cases failed to justify that enough. What sort of trival class was this? He didn't require dance practice; he was a Malfoy and Malfoys were brought up with the knowledge of social etiquette, dance, mastery of various languages, and the list went on. He was above such appalling standards.

He could be working on his potions assignment, or catching up on his studies to finally beat that insufferable Granger of a Mudblood, but nooooo – he had to be here in dance class, dancing with Pansy Parkinson no less!

"Oh Drakey ~ Isn't this fun? You and me, hand in hand… How romantic!"

'BLAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH…'

He hoped it didn't show on his face.

And that Blaise was nothing short of a bastard. A selfish, arsehole of a bastard that practically refused to come for dance practice because he never comes for balls to begin with and could get away with it because his reputation was so bad anyway. Draco on the other hand, did not have this luxury, for he was the son and only heir to the noble Malfoy name and whatever he did, jolly well reflected well in his father's eyes.

The previous stunt he pulled with Blaise and that Hufflepuff had gotten him into monumental trouble with his father, his punishment yet determined by said man, but no way in hell was he looking forward to it. He prayed fevertly that the man will let it slip, but that was wishful thinking on its own. However, he didn't fully regret it though. Joan needed his help and he'd be damned if he walked out on the girl when she needed him most.

Draco blushed at the thought of the strange yet sexy Slytherin. He knew she was a good friend, but sometimes he often found his mind wandering on the possibility of something more. The two of them would be perfect for each other, the prince and princess of Slytherin and Hogwarts, in each other's arms, dancing together til morning come. He will kiss her, smolder her with love and affection, and she will be his.

Alas, there were just some things in the way of that perfect vision: bothersome Potter, a random God of Lies, and now THIS.

"Drakey? Yoohoo ~ Aww… are you shy to be around me?" Pansy nuzzled into his chest. "It's okay. I love you too and everyone knows, so there's nothing to be worried about!"

For the love of Salazar, kill him now.

A cruel chuckle reverberated within her and Joan eye twitched for the third time that hour. She put her quill down and slammed her textbook shut.

"You know, I can't exactly concentrate when you're going about laughing at my friends' misfortune…"

Why not? Their troubles please me. What fun it is to revel in the trivial worries of Midgardian teenagers.

"Then leave me and continue watching them for all I care! This assignment won't write itself!" Joan snapped, her patience in the other entity wearing thin.

There was a pause, before she felt as if a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders as Loki's spirit left her body. She breathed a sigh of content and relief. It was definitely no joke to maintain another life form in one body, much less put up with their incessant poking and prodding. Technically, the god of mischief was still very much bonded to her like she was to him, as were his magic, which would explain why he could only cast spells if she as his host, allowed him to, or if she failed to keep him at bay. And it was thoroughly draining to oppress Loki, which would also explain her negligence in class previously. It was far less bothersome to "let him out" than keep him in, and the god proved to be far less of a threat than expected, since Lucas had read the runes earlier, reinforcing the contract set upon him to obey his master's wishes.

Joan stared at the tall mirror opposite her, where the reflection of Loki stared back. The raven haired man was wearing yet another outfit, this one being a pair of black pants, black tunic and a fancy dark green and black form-fitting coat that went until the back of his knees. A pair of black leather boots finished off the smart look and Joan had to admit, she was very impressed with his sense of fashion.

"Tell me, do all gods look this attractive, or is it just you?"

Loki gave the girl a look of mild surprise, not expecting such a flirtatious statement.

"… Thank you. I shall take that as a compliment."

He stared at her expectantly, hands clasped in front of his body. A frown marred his handsome features, his eyebrow occasionally twitching in irritation, but apart from that, made no move of mischief. It was unnerving to see the older male so obedient, so inclined to her commands that it left Joan feeling a little guilty (a little only since he had tried to forcefully take over her body and harm her friends). Loki had tried earlier to leave her side and carry out some mischief, but the runes had burned a warning through his skin, causing him to cry out in agony and Joan to panic and fuss over him until the pain stopped. Now, Loki was reduced to asking permission, obeying his host and their commands, unless he could find a loophole in any.

It was terrible, the sight of a once powerful being reduced to a servant of a young 14-year-old girl. The humiliation was obvious and Joan could feel it run through Loki's veins in torrents. So, in order to help retain the god's dignity, Joan gave him as much freedom as she could permit depending on the circumstances.

She waved him off.

"Go on, go on. Just behave and remember: look, don't touch."

Loki frowned. Despite all he did earlier in the day, his master could still treat him with such respect and kindness. The idea was strange and didn't sit well with the god of mischief, who made it a point in his whole life to trust no one, deceive everyone, and remain at least five steps ahead of anyone. He was suspicious, but he wasn't gong to question the girl's generosity.

Joan watched as Loki walked out of the mirror and she returned to her books. Minutes passed before the man returned in the mirror, a sour and confused expression on his face. Joan would have laughed at that if not for the fact that it was directed at her. She returned her gaze back to her work and continued writing.

"Someone looks like he just swallowed a toad…"

"They have ceased in their lessons."

Joan quirked an eyebrow and looked out the window at the darkening sky. It had stopped snowing.

"Well, yeah. It's close to dinnertime, lessons are over for the day, and I'm still not done with this bloody assignment! What? No one to laugh at anymore?"

Yes, she was cranky and no, Loki wasn't helping.

The god continued to stare at her, a strange expression on his face that made Joan shift slightly in her seat. The look in his green eyes was so intense, it made the young witch nervous.

"W-What?"

"… The boy with the glasses. He was at the owlery with this 'Cho' female and conversing about this ball of Yule. What strange practice is this?"

Joan stiffened and lowered her gaze dejectedly, her hair shadowing her face as her lip trembled. She let out a soft sigh as she composd herself. Really, she should have known…

"It's called 'asking someone you like to be your date'. Don't you have something similar in Asgard? Or do gods do things differently?"

"… Date? I am afraid I do not understand you humans and your reference of time with a significant other."

Joan nearly smacked herself. Good lord, how should she explain this?

When Loki cocked his head curiosly and continued to stare at her, Joan abandoned her work and proceeded to educate her companion in Midgardian terminology.

"A 'date' is an event or activity where two people who posses romantic feelings for each other, go on. This period spent in each other's company, can involve various intimate activities from an innocent walk in the park to… bedding each other."

'God that was awkward,' she thought.

"A 'date' can also refer to the person involved in the relationship. For example, by saying 'This is my date', one is practically saying 'This is the person I like, have interest in, or care for'."

Loki rubbed his chin as he hummed in contemplation, absorbing this new information. Humans truly were complicated and peculiar creatures.

"Then what of you, young master? Do you have a 'date'?"

Joan sighed. No way was she going to get her work done at this rate.

"No."

"Whyever not?"

"Because no one's asked me."

"Then why not ask them?"

Another sigh.

"… Loki, just-… just drop it, ok? I got work to do."

Just then, Joan felt Loki's presence re-enter her body and take control of her right hand. Alarmed, she started to panic at first, fearful that the god was trying to execute a forceful takeover of her body again, but confusion settled in when all she saw was her hand scribbling speedily across the parchment. She was pretty sure she still had control of her body and mind, all except her right hand that is.

'Wha-what?'

It is not as if you do not know this. You do. I am simply drawing forth the knowledge from your memory and hastening the process. You intrigue me. We have much to discuss.

15 minutes later, the 5-metre long parchment found its way atop Professor MacGonagall's table, while back in the classroom, Loki and Joan continued their discussion. She had almost forgotten that the god could assume a physical form if he willed and it felt better to actually be speaking face to face with someone rather than in her head. It was a pleasant exchange, void of any malice or contempt or schemings and Joan found herself actually enjoying the older male's company.

Joan taught him as much as she could about Midgardian terminology and answered all of Loki's questions to the best of her abilities. But as usual, the trickster managed to catch her off guard once again with one of his seemingly innocent questions.

"How is it that you do not have a date? I find this truth difficult to accept."

Joan laughed at his indignant statement.

"It's not that hard to believe, Loki," she offered him a small smile. "How is it you think I should have a date, then?"

She waited patiently for an answer, but when the silent god failed to dignify that with a response, she decided to change the subject.

"I know what everyone in Hogwarts is saying – that Harry and I are an item or something like that. There's no point in hiding it from you, because you practically live in my mind and know the truth anyway, so I'm just going to come out and say, yes, I like him… and probably a lot more than he feels for me."

Loki didn't fail to notice the disappointment and sadness in Joan's eyes. He almost regretted mentioning about this 'Cho' person. Alright, no he didn't. He always seized an opportunity to cause trouble or stir up ill feelings, and his master was no exception. But the fact that one simple boy could make his master feel this way, to actually give up where he, god of mischief, failed to accomplish, caused a deep jealousy to stir in his heart.

"And how do you know this?" Loki bit out. Thankfully, Joan failed to notice the resentment in his voice.

"Harry has always liked Cho, Loki. Always. I'm just second-best."

And as soon as Joan said those words, something in Loki clicked. Somehow, he could relate to her – her frustration, pain and insecurity. It was just like how father and all of Asgard viewed and loved his brother over him: second place and a last resort. Perhaps this girl and him did have something in common.

"Do you dance?"

Joan gave Loki yet another strange look. What was with all these random questions?

"No… I never tried."

"Why?"

She shrugged nonchalantly.

"Just waiting for the right partner, I guess?"

Loki said nothing to that and the silence resumed. Just when Joan was about to pack up, Loki suddenly rose to stand before her, offering his hand, expression blank.

"The Yule ball is tomorrow night. I will not have you embarrass me, God of Mischief and Prince of Asgard, with your pitiable skills or lack thereof, in the art of dance. Come."

Joan didn't know whether to feel insulted or pleased with Loki's apparent concern and offer to teach her how to dance. She stared at the pale, waiting hand suspiciously, almost daring it to gather and hurl a dark ball of energy at her face any minute, but nothing of the sort happened. With a resignated sigh, she took it, lacing their fingers together as he pulled her to her feet.

There was no room for awkwardness, because Loki had immediately brought the young witch close, trapping her in his firm yet gentle hold. Joan gasped and squeaked in shock, her face steadily growing red as she was pressed flush against the god's broad chest. She only reached until Loki's torso and since she was practically considered a child to this male, she couldn't help but feel small and powerless in his embrace.

Joan couldn't prevent the soft noises that escaped her throat when Loki's left hand caressed down the length of her right arm to wrap around her waist. Hesitantly, she placed her right hand on his shoulder and when she was ready, they began swaying and moving to a silent rhythm and beat. Their bodies were so close, neither needed to look down at their feet to anticipate which direction the other was going to take them. Instead, they kept their gazes locked, each of them falling victim to the other's mezmerising pools of red and green.

The look Loki was giving her was strangely gentle and Joan smiled, breaking eye contact to press her face against his chest. She sighed in content. She had no idea what spell Loki placed on her, but he was really warm and she felt so safe, so protected, like no harm would ever come to her as long as he was around.

Soon, they parted and Loki smirked at his master's flushed face when he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed the back of her palm.

"And that, my young master, followed by my request, is how I would ask a maiden."

With that, Loki retreated into Joan's mind and continued with his reading, making the girl feel suddenly, very alone and oddly unsatisfied.

Harry stalked into the Great Hall, not exactly in a foul mood, but definitely radiating auras of negativity and depression. Cho had rejected him in the owlery yesterday and the truth stung. Moreover, she was going with someone else – he wasn't sure who for that matter, but he was too dejected to bother.

Harry groaned when he sat down at the Gryffindor table, burying his head in his hands. All around, everyone seemed to be totally elated about tonight's ball, chatting about their dates, their outfits, as well as the how fun and romantic it was going to be. Well, not for Harry and probably Lucas as well. The boy who lived chanced a glance at the Hufflepuff table to see said boy in the exact same position and state as him. A selfish part of him felt relieved that he wasn't the only one without a date/rejected by the girl of their dreams.

Next to him Hermione was reading as usual, leaving Harry be as she understood her friend needed his space when he got like that. Only his close friends knew what happened yesterday and respected his privacy. He couldn't say the same for Ron, however, who was busy making out with Lavender opposite him, the two oblivious to the uneasy and disturbed glares of their housemates.

Harry played with his cereal, not really in the mood for anything joyous really. Christmas was just around the corner, and he didn't feel no spirit of giving whatsoever.

"Hey, Harry, would you take a look at Malfoy? Poor guy. Funny sight though. The git had it coming," Fred leaned over to whisper in Harry's ear as he nodded in the direction of said blonde who was busy occupying himself by creating as much space between him and Pansy.

The dark haired girl was persistent though, cooing after him with puckered lips and out-stretched hands, while Malfoy simply looked mortified. Harry laughed at his rival's predicament, perhaps a tad too evilly. So what if he was feeling particularly cynical today? Who. Bloody. Cared?

'Certainly not Cho,' Harry found himself thinking bitterly.

He shook his head and decided to concentrate on something else. He found his gaze travelling towards the front of the hall where the professors sat, more specifically at Professor Snape who was in deep conversation with his daughter. Snape had an expression on his face that was a cross between worry and displeasure as he checked his little girl, placing a hand on her forehead, looking her hands over, and turning her around. He then said something else that got the raven haired girl pouting and hitting the man playfully. Snape stuck out his finger in warning and she rolled her eyes in good humor, before her eyes found that of Harry's.

Joan's breath hitched at the sight of brilliant green, instantly reminded of her exchange with the god of lies.

'Loki's eyes are greener…' she found herself thinking, and mortified by her thoughts, she quickly took her leave and made her way out of the Great Hall.

She walked past Harry, her delightful scent wafting through his nostrils and the boy knew it was better late than never. He rose and followed her.

"Hey, Joan, wait!"

Harry continued waving his hand over Ron's eyes, but still failed to receive a response from the red head, who had been in the same wide-eyed state for the past five minutes. Next to him, Lavender looked overly concerned as she tugged at her date's arm desperately.

"Ron-ron! Oh, Ron-ron! Speak to me!"

"V-V-V-V…"

Well, at least they were getting somewhere.

In front of them, Hermione rolled her eyes in complete exasperation. Goodness, could Ron try not to embarrass her and himself in front of her date? She turned to smile apologetically at the handsome, stoic boy's face.

"I'm so sorry, Victor. Ron's just… a really huge fan," she turned to shoot Ron a pointed stare, gritting her teeth. "Isn't that right, Ron?"

"V-V-V-V-"

"Hah! Looks like the Weasel's finally run out of something intelligent to say. Then again, intelligence is completely lost on him!"

Harry, Hermione and Lavender whipped around sharply to glare at none other than Draco Malfoy who had just descended the flight of stairs with Pansy in hand. The blonde and his date would have looked stunning this evening if not for the sneers plastered on their faces. Ever since breakfast this morning, Malfoy had gone back to his usual obnoxious self and resumed his daily routine of putting down Potter and his friends. The Slytherin prince had only tolerated them because of a particular someone, and that particular someone had managed to indirectly break the blonde's heart, unknowingly, but good enough to make things go back to the way they were.

Harry managed a smirk.

"Bugger off, Malfoy! You're just sore that Joan agreed to be my date, not yours!"

Talk about rubbing salt to a wound. Draco was fuming and it took much restraint on the blonde's part to not scream and tackle the cocky Gryffindor to the ground. He turned his nose up and huffed.

"Hardly."

"Urgh! Drakey, look! There's Potter's bitch now!" Pansy whined, pointing up at the flight of stairs.

Harry and Draco's breaths caught in their throats as both of them simultaneously swallowed, their hearts beating a rhythm against their chests at the arousing sight before them. At the top of the stairs stood Joan Snape in probably the most daring of gowns tonight – a tight-fitting black tube dress that hugged her slender frame elegantly, with a high slit up the side of her left leg, and two large holes that cut at the sides of her waist, exposing the smooth skin there. She had on black nail polish, dark green and black makeup, and had cut her hair into a short China doll style that framed her face cutely.

Harry and Draco's eyes trailed down from her face, slender neck, past the graceful dip of her collarbone, down her waist and the slender exposed leg that just barely peeked out. Really, the dress didn't leave much to the imagination.

Joan's eyes sparkled in glee when her gaze found Harry's.

"Harry!" she breathed and descended the steps as quickly as her dress allowed it and flung her arms around the startled boy's shoulders.

"I didn't think you'd ask me… thank you."

Harry hugged her back albeit awkwardly. His fingers itched to touch, but he had to remain a gentleman, at least when it was absolutely necessary like when they danced.

"Ok, break it up you two," Hermione chided, winking at Harry discretely and mouthing the words 'good luck'.

Harry was about to make a teasing comment back at her and Victor, when MacGonagall interrupted the group and began ushering them into the Great Hall. All champions and their dates were to have the first dance to officially open the Yule ball, so Ron, Lavender, Draco and Pansy had to leave.

Once in the Great Hall, Ron finally seemed to snap out of it.

"Victor Krum! Sign my chest!"

Lavender sighed melodramatically.

"Oh, Ron-ron… you just missed him."

Back outside the Great Hall, the champions were all getting lined up. The first pair was Fleur and Roger Davies, followed by Victor and Hermione, Cedric and Cho, and finally Harry and Joan. The boy who lived kept his eyes fixed at the back of Cho's head longingly and seeing the pretty Ravenclaw's hand in Cedric's stung more. He should have known someone like him stood no chance against the dashing and charming prefect.

He gasped when he felt slim and delicate digits link with his, the person's hold reassuring and full of gentle warmth. He turned to look at the smiling face of his date, the Slytherin who could probably rival Cho in terms of looks. Joan's eyes held so much love that all thoughts of Cho completely left Harry's mind, so much so that he actually did something he never thought he'd dare to do to a girl. Making sure that no one was looking, Harry cupped Joan's face with his free hand, leaned in and placed a chaste kiss at her temple. He could distinctly hear her sigh in content, but before he could say anything, the doors to the Great Hall opened and the jitters immediately took over.

Joan did her best to reassure her date that he would be fine, while looking over her shoulder back up the flight of the main stairs. She frowned. The ball was starting. Where in the name of Salazar Slytherin was Lucas?!

Neville huffed and panted, throwing his dorm room open. He took a minute to catch his breath, before flinging himself at his side of the room and rummaged through his possessions. The five champions had just opened the ceremony a few minutes ago, and it was now the time for everyone else to dance and make merry. Also, the Weird Sisters were playing and he definitely didn't want to miss that.

For the third time that evening, Neville cursed himself for forgetting to bring the golden hair clip he got for Ginny, down. He had planned to present it to her before they started dancing, and thanks to his terrible memory, he had left his date waiting for him, alone on the dance floor, instead.

"WHERE ARE YOU?!"

He was about to flip a table when he noticed a thick book sitting innocently on said table, with the hair clip in question, placed next to it. Neville pocketed the glittering trinket first, before reaching over to look the book over curiosly. It was an encyclopedia about all things plants, but judging by its special print and him having never seen it before in the library, it was probably advanced material for Herbology studies. And being a herbology enthusiast, Neville couldn't resist opening it.

A piece of parchment greeted him and Neville put the book down in favour of reading the short letter. His eyes widened in pleasant surprise.

Longbottom,

My deepest apologies during class those days ago.

Had I known about your parents, I wouldn't have asked you about the curses.

This book is part of my collection and I thought you might enjoy it. Sprout says you've a knack for Herbology.

Regards,

Moody.

Neville folded the parchment and placed it back inside the book, before taking his leave. As he ran back to the Great Hall, his footsteps felt lighter. Maybe Professor Moody wasn't so bad after all.

"YOU. SUCK. YOU AND YOUR LIIIIEEEEEEEEESSSS."

Lucas cracked his eyes open and looked bemusedly at the attractive teen at the entrance of his room. On normal circumstances, he would have gawked and possibly pass out from a nose bleed at what the girl was wearing, but since she had unmistakenably woken him up from his nap, Lucas wasn't feeling too particularly himself.

He sat up on his bed and stretched, showing off his impressive muscles that caused Joan to sputter for a while, but quickly resumed her shouting.

"You promised! You said you asked her! Y U NO TELL ME THE TRUTH?!"

Now was probably the wrong time to laugh.

Even when he really wanted to.

"No, I believe you just assumed all on your own that I was going to the ball with Hermione. I said no such thing."

"But-but the book! THE BOOK!"

Lucas sighed and motioned for his friend to come over, which she did, albeit moodily. He filled her in on what happened back at the tailor's, about how badly he screwed up and that Victor was out for his blood if he so tried his luck with Hermione again. Although Lucas wasn't the type to give up so easily, he strangely couldn't will himself to change and go down to the Great Hall and give the obnoxious Bulgarian a piece of his mind. The fact that Hermione would be there, with Victor Krum, and still upset with him, was enough to turn him off.

"Look, Joan, Hermione doesn't want anything to do with me. She's with Victor. I don't wanna ruin her night, okay?"

He was starting to feel steadily unnerved by the Slytherin's wide grin. Joan puffed her chest out proudly and pumped a fist into the air, striking a dramatic pose. Lucas sweat dropped.

"You POOR, STUPID, SOCIALLY-AWKWARD boy-"

"Hey, you shut up for just a-"

"Do not fear the Krum, for he is just as POOR, STUPID, AND SOCIALLY-AWKWARD as you, if not worse!"

"Now you stop right-"

"Just go there, own him, show him who's boss, and sweep Hermione off her feet," she was right up in Lucas' upset face, grinning wider than ever before.

"SHE WILL LIKE THAT VERY MUCH, YES."

Lucas struggled for words; anything to stop this deranged girl's deluded advice.

"Er… but didn't the book say that violence is not the key to a woman's heart?"

"… VERY GOOD. YOU HAVE OBVIOUSLY READ THE BOOK."

Joan relaxed and with a wave of her wand, brought Lucas' dress robes out of the package to lay it before him on the bed. She offered him a kind smile and punched his arm playfully in encouragement.

"So, what are you waiting for, prince charming? Cinderella ain't got the whole night, you know."

Hermione giggled when Victor lifted her up into the air in a twirl, before lowering her to resume their dance. She donned the very gown Joan got her for her present and did up her normally bushy hair into a messy yet elegant bun. Earlier, she had received various compliments and jealous stares for her sudden transformation and for once in her life, she relished in it. Tonight was her night and nothing was going to ruin it for her. Not Ron (his obsession was unhealthy), not Malfoy, not Pansy (the number one jealous female), not some god of mischief (she prayed that Joan had him under control), and definitely not Lucas.

She pondered over her relationship with said Hufflepuff and was confused as to when it went in a downwards spiral out of control. It seemed that no matter what Lucas did or said, managed to infuriate her, pull at her strings and pressed at her buttons. No one other than that boy had the ability to evoke such onslaught of emotions from her, not just negative but… positive too.

She was angry at him. Angry that he was so confident of himself, angry that he thought he was so darn good at everything, angry that he was so rough and had temper problems, angry that she managed to get him to change but he had forgotten, angry that he got popular when she was left in the dark, angry that he looked at other girls now instead of only her, and angry that he wasn't her date to the ball…

Hermione was angry at many things, but she knew that the person she was really angry with, was herself. She knew she was stubborn and had too much pride to admit her feelings; and now that she thought about it, all of this hurt, pain and complications could have been avoided if she just told Lucas why she had been so angry at him after his chess game with Ron, in the first place.

It all went back to that petty jealousy. And it was stupid.

"Herrmione, are you alright?" Victor interrupted her thoughts. She smiled at him.

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry for spacing out, Victor… There's a lot on my mind ever since the tournament started."

Victor spun her around and brought her close.

"You don't have to worry about me, Hermione. I will get through this tournament without a scratch and bring honor and glory to Durmstrang."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Honestly, men could be so full of themselves! Did it kill them to stop and think for a second that the world did not just revolve around them?

"Erm, excuse me."

Victor felt a tap on his shoulder and he turned around to fix the new comer with a heated glare. Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. Speak of the devil, it was Lucas, dressed to kill and with clumps of swooning fangirls behind him. However, he didn't pay them any heed, concentrating on the task at hand: being the nice guy.

"What do you want, punk?"

Lucas held his hands up in defense.

"Hey, relax, Krum. I don't want any problems. All I'm asking is if…" he trailed off hopefully to peek at Hermione who blushed in understanding. "If I could dance with Hermione. Just one dance is all I'm asking for, and you can have her the whole night."

Victor growled possessively and forced himself between the two to glare resentfully down and the younger boy.

"No. And you have three seconds to get out of here before I pound some sense into you."

Lucas frowned and refused to back down.

"I think Hermione has the right to decide what she wants. Have you considered that before deciding for her, Krum?"

Hermione screamed and suddenly, a fist swung his way and knocked Lucas clear off his feet to land on his side on the floor. He groaned and massaged his cheek, snapping his jaw back to place. That wasn't so bad; he had endured far worse, but he knew he was probably digging his grave now.

A crowd started to gather around them, choruses of 'Fight! Fight Fight!' carrying around the hall. Lucas rose to his feet to regard his rival. Damn, he thought he could come out clean from this. Hermione was busy tugging on Victor's sleeve, desperately begging the bigger boy to stop it and not hurt her friend, but he ignored her and moved forward to grab the collar of Lucas' dress robes. He hurled him up, Lucas' feet barely touching the ground.

"You want Hermione? Then let's see who's worthy of her praise."

"I won't fight you, Krum," Lucas said in warning, oppressing his anger, clenching and unclenching his hands. "Hermione is not a prize to be won! The decision is hers to make and it doesn't involve you or me!"

Something in Hermione's eyes shone, the weight of Lucas' words touching a special part in her heart. There was something different about Lucas tonight. He was exhibiting a different kind of courage - a courage that encompassed chivalry and maturity.

And it was all for her.

Something in Victor snapped and he drew his fist back as Lucas shut his eyes. Just when he thought the Bulgarian was going to beat the living daylights out of him, Karkaroff pushed his way through the crowd and grabbed his student roughly by the shoulder, barked at him in furious disappointment for embarrassing him and all of Durmstrang, before ordering him out of the Great Hall.

As soon as the doors boomed shut, the Weird Sisters resumed their playing and everything returned to normal. Ignoring the whispers and cheeky looks from the rest of the students, Hermione flew to Lucas' side and proceeded to fuss over him, close to tears after witnessing what had happened, the guilt eating at her.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…" she mumbled over and over again as she held Lucas' cheek tenderly, her mind in so much panic that she forget she could heal him with a wave of her wand and a quickly uttered spell.

Lucas grunted.

"No, don't," he placed his hand over hers and stared deep into her chestnut eyes.

Hermione's breath caught at the intensity of his silvery stare, his eyes enough to convey the message his lips so longed to say. They held so much love, so much care, concern and sincerity that Hermione's knees started to grow weak. Lucas quickly pulled her close and wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned their foreheads against each other. He chuckled.

"So, does that mean I get one dance with you?"

"No," she wrapped her hands around his neck and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

"You have me the whole night."

By this point, Lucas' face was a bright red and he was thankful that the lighting of the Great Hall grew dim when a slow song came on. As the couple swayed slowly to the beat, Lucas chanced a glance in the distance of a smirking Harry and Joan who gave him a thumbsup. He shot a smile back, before laying his head atop Hermione, breathing in her calming and lovely scent that was Hermione; his Hermione.

He cleared his throat.

"Erm, Hermione?"

A smile.

"Yes, Lucas?"

"I'm sorry, for everything. I don't even know where to start. It's just… you have a way of making me lose control, in both a good and bad way. I care a lot about what you think of me, and when you get upset or angry, it hurts me a lot more than Trelawney's classes."

Hermione giggled and to Lucas, it was the most beautiful sound in the world. He swallowed. It was now or never.

"Hermione, what I really want to say is…" He stopped dancing. "I… I…"

Hermione cocked her head to the side. Harry and Joan crossed their fingers. And Lucas squeezed his eyes shut.

"I like you. I like you a lot and…"

"And?"

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"And I was wondering if… if…"

"If?"

"If you would… if you would…" he blushed furiously.

"If you would be my girlfriend."

"… Finally!"

"Wha-?!"

It happened just like that and Lucas' eyes bulged from he shock of a pair of soft, sweet lips against his, smoldering him in an eager, desperate kiss. Hermione had practically leaped at him and he stumbled back, arms wrapped around her waist to keep both of them from falling over. And before he knew it, he was kissing back, if not more passionately than he ever imagined. Wolf whistles and cat calls sounded, but the pair were literally, too into each other to bother. All that existed tonight was this, them and the future.

In the distance, Joan sighed in content. She always did love a happy ending. Besides, the two were so obvious it was about damn time anyway. She felt familiar fingers lace between hers and looked down to smile at her hand in Harry's. Tonight couldn't be more perfect.

However, the moment ended when Harry spotted a dark-cloaked stranger at the far end of the room slink into a corner and then out through the doors of the hall. There was just something about the man that unsettled Harry, and for some strange reason he was compelled to follow him and find out his identity. It was like an overpowering sense of déjà vu – he knew this man, and yet he didn't.

"Sorry," was all he said, before he withdrew his hand and made a mad dash out of the hall, leaving Joan confused and alone to her thoughts.

The raven-haired girl looked around, disoriented. Around her, everyone was dancing, and by everyone she meant the professors too. Even Hagrid seemed to be having a ball of a time with Madame Maxime. Another slow song striked up and Joan decided to take her leave before she could further embarrass herself that her date actually left her and without a reason to boot!

She turned, only to stop in her tracks at what or rather, who she saw standing before her. No one could mistaken the slicked back midnight hair, black and dark green robes, tall well-built figure, and alluring green eyes of the Asgardian prince. Had he been exploring the castle? No wonder she didn't feel the need to oppress him within her.

"L-Loki? What in Salazar are you doing here?!" she hissed, eyes darting about left and right in panic and taking in all the curious and interested stares of the surrounding on-lookers.

Whispers of 'Who's that?', 'He's bloody hot' and 'Is he a new professor? Because if he is, I would love him to teach me how to behave' transpired around the room in little pockets. From the smirk on Loki's face, she could tell the god was indulging in the attention he was receiving. Joan snarled. Why, oh, why, was she cursed to look after the all-annoying-one?

She marched up to him and jabbed a finger in his chest. He quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

"Go back in my head. Sit. Stay. Good boy."

Loki laughed and Joan grew desperate.

"Loki, please!" she begged. "The professors can see you!"

Chancing a glance up at the front where the professors were all dancing, Loki grabbed Joan's wrist and tugged her to a particularly crowded area on the dance floor, away from the professors and aurrounded by other students. He smirked down at her.

"Better?"

Joan looked floored.

"No!"

Loki chuckled and caressed his master's face in mock fondness, causing a pleasant shiver down Joan's spine. His eyes darkened in desire as he took in the state of her clothing, raking hungrily over her body. Without so much of a warning, he laced their fingers together, wrapped his other arm around her waist, and pressed her flush against him like he did yesterday. But this time, due to the design of her dress, Joan could feel her god so much more, with his hand grasping the skin of her waist, the contact and warmth sending a thrill through her veins.

"Come now, child. You say no, but your body says yes," He leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"Let's dance."

With a snap of the god's fingers, the music changed into one that was more upbeat and in the fogginess of her mind, Joan distinctively heard the familiar rhythm and beat of 'Americano'. She quirked and eyebrow in question when Loki started to dance around her, coaxing her to join him and after observing his moves, she did.

The whole thing felt like a dance-off and coupling all the same, their fluid movements and seductive twists and grinds succeeding in drawing the attention of the other students instead of remaining inconspicuous. However, neither of them seemed to care, enjoying themselves way too much.

It had been years since he danced and even longer when he felt so carefree.

Loki grinned when he and his young partner met up midway once again to entangle themselves in each other's embrance. Wrapping one leg around his waist and her hands around his neck, Joan lowered her upper body in a fluid dip with Loki's hand supporting her thigh and back, before she was back up and dancing again. The fever grew passionate and hot and by now, a crowd had gathered around the pair as well as any other couple who dared challenge them.

As Joan and Loki moved, they noticed Lucas and Hermione dancing nearby who offered them twin looks of bewilderment. Joan just shrugged and laughed when Loki lifted her up and spun them around. Not knowing what else to say or do, Lucas and Hermione shrugged and followed the pair's example, enjoying the moment and not judging. Lucas leaned down to plant a quick kiss on Hermione's nose, chuckling softly when his now-girlfriend pouted before capturing his lips in another playful kiss.

Now it felt like Christmas.

Everyone was entitled to their happiness tonight, everyone except a jealous blonde Slytherin as he eyed the master and her servant from the side. He bit his lip and stalked away, ignoring the confused and hurt cries of his date. And as 'Americano' drew to a close in the background, right before the eyes of Hogwarts, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, Loki pulled Joan in for deep, passionate kiss.