Shattered Moments
By Rurouni Star

A comment on the quote – it doesn't quite fit. Not quite. But it stuck in my head as I was writing the chapter, so I finally caved and put it in. Also, FYI, there is a rather large bombshell in this one, if you know how to read it correctly. Which, I'm certain at least a few of you will.

In the meantime – you're now going to wonder where alcohol enters into all of this. (smile)

Chapter 20 – The Yule Ball

"Drunkenness is nothing but voluntary madness."
-Seneca

"Are you coming, Hermione?"

Standing just behind the door, Hermione contemplated doing that. The idea of running to her bed and hiding beneath the covers the rest of the night was warring with her prior plans, and beginning to win.

"Out you go," Parvati said with a push.

Hermione stumbled a little, her dress robes barely swishing through the door before it closed.

Ginny, at the bottom of the stairs, let out a loud squeal. Hermione winced, but felt her anxious excitement grow nonetheless.

"It's perfect," she gushed. "Oh, just wait, you'll knock everyone's socks off-"

"I don't know about that," Hermione interrupted nervously, making her way carefully down the stairs. She made a quick mental prayer that she wouldn't trip over her own heels at some point during the night.

Parvati rushed past her, perfectly balanced. "Ooh, I'm way late," she said. "I hope Harry's not too mad."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably against the rail as Parvati reached the portrait. "I don't think he will be," she said, just now taking in the fact that Harry was going to have a date.

Parvati's shoes clipped out the portrait, but she poked her head back in a moment later. "Viktor's waiting outside," she called to Hermione in a sing-song voice, letting out a slight giggle a moment later.

Ginny raised her eyebrows at Hermione, and made a shooing motion.

Her stomach clenched into a knot.

What if he doesn't like it, what if we clash or something, I should have prepared better-

She realized belatedly that she'd walked herself out of the commonroom and into the hall. She recognized Krum from behind, noting his sharp black and red dress robes. Going together might not be too bad, but they didn't match like Parvati had been gushing about her and Harry-

Krum turned around, and she swallowed hard. He'd always been neatly groomed, but at the moment he was looking darkly handsome in a way that just couldn't be healthy.

His face lit up, and she nearly forgot to breathe.

"Her-my-own," he said in surprise. "You are- truly-"

He seemed to forget himself, and he shook his head, murmuring something in Bulgarian that sounded fairly impressed.

Hermione felt a hot blush creep up her cheeks, and hoped it wasn't too obvious. "I- um – you too?" she managed, not certain what to make of it.

His eyes didn't leave her face as he walked over to her; he offered his arm, and she took it dazedly. His warmth seeped through to her bare arm, and she took comfort from its solidity. Despite their time together, she'd never actually touched Krum, she realized.

He was smiling at her now, that strange smile that always turned her brain to mush.

"Ah – I haff almost forgotten," he said suddenly. "You know how to dance, Her-my-own?"

She blinked, searching for her voice. It seemed to have deserted her, along with her mental functions. "Um," she said articulately.

He seemed worried about this response. "They say the champions must dance first," he told her. "But if you do not vish to-"

"Oh, no!" she said quickly. "No, I know how to dance, I'm sorry. It's no problem."

His face cleared in relief. "I did not vish to make you uncomfortable," he told her. "They told me only tonight."

Hermione made an effort to smile reassuringly. "It'll be fine," she told him. As long as we stay away from Harry, she thought to herself, remembering that he'd told her he didn't know how to dance.

She had to direct him to the Great Hall, as he'd not quite learned the layout of the castle yet, but once they reached the crowd in front of it, Krum took the lead and steered her carefully through the chatting couples.

The floor was very conspicuously empty, though the music was playing. No one wanted to dance socially if it meant going out first, it seemed.

Hermione looked around instinctively for Harry and Ron, and saw them sitting together at a table near the back. The Patil twins were looking uncomfortable as per the room's current atmosphere, while Harry and Ron were perfectly oblivious, acting as though they were merely having dinner in the Great Hall.

Well. Not her problem, tonight.

Hermione unconsciously clutched Krum's arm closer as the slightly colder air hit her arms. Apparently, the ice sculptures couldn't rely entirely on freezing charms.

"You may borrow my coat, if you vish," Krum said concernedly to her. She felt her blush return, and shook her head quickly, just as McGonagall made her way over to the center of the dance floor.

"If I may," she called, tapping her wand on an ice swan. "Ahem!"

The room went silent, not needing much encouragement at all.

"That's better," McGonagall said. "Now then. In the spirit of the Yule holidays, I would like to extend a very warm welcome to our guests on behalf of Hogwarts. It has been a pleasure having you, and it is encouraging to see so many of you mixing with those from other schools." Her eyes seemed to be picking out the champions pre-emptively, so that Hermione was not surprised at her next comment. "The Yule Ball traditionally starts with a dance by the Champions and their escorts. So, if I may have the four champions and their dates on the floor…"

Hermione swallowed as Krum began to walk out, feeling slightly queasy at the sudden attention everyone was giving her (was it really so incredible that she might be going to the ball with him?). She felt overly conscious of her awkward steps in the heels, trying not to so clearly envision herself tripping and taking the rest of the champions with her.

Krum let her arm go once they reached the far side of the floor, but quickly took her hand and shoulder blade. His frame was strong, if a little clumsy. She felt her nervousness ebb slightly as she realized she would be able to follow him.

He smiled reassuringly at her, and she felt herself smile back.

"The music, then…" McGonagall said behind her, tapping her wand again, this time at the orchestra.

They wouldn't make us dance Viennese Waltz, Hermione thought suddenly, wildly. No, they couldn't possibly expect that of us-

Viennese Waltz was a hard dance. She was utterly certain she wouldn't be able to do it. Just as utterly certain as she was they would play one, just because she was so frightened of it.

The music that soon started, though, was not a Viennese Waltz, to her relief. It was a Waltz, but a very normal one. Anyone could do a box step, and they'd certainly kept that in mind.

Krum took a first, hesitant step on time, and Hermione went with him, rotating a little bit. He paused for a hesitation, as though starting easy for her. She appreciated the gesture, though it seemed unnecessary. She felt herself relax into his lead, and the following box step went just as easily. Soon, he gained confidence, and they started sweeping down the floor in alternating half boxes.

"You follow very vell," he told her with some amount of surprise.

Hermione's smile widened. "I'm glad," she told him. "I haven't actually practiced with a person before."

This did surprise him. "I cannot tell," he said, and she felt he was being honest. It made her glow with a greater pride than anything she'd heard about her dress robes.

Soon, they were passing up both Cedric and Harry, though Roger Davies seemed at least competent and Fleur was back leading him expertly. Other couples began filing onto the floor, and Krum started to maneuver her between them.

Nonetheless, someone else soon bumped into her. She turned her head to apologize – and paused, momentarily taken aback.

"Sorry about- Hermione?"

George's eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

"Er – hello, George," Hermione said, before she slipped through a gap in the crowd and lost sight of him again.

Inexplicably, she found herself straining to find him the rest of the song. Who had he come with, anyway? Hadn't he been missing a date when she'd talked to him?

She didn't see him again during the dance, but she did catch sight of Harry, who was now doing an almost passable job of a box step. Parvati didn't seem to know the difference, and looked positively ecstatic to be doing anything resembling a real dance at all.

Well done, Harry, she mentally congratulated him.

The song ended on a sweet, drawn-out note, and Krum brought them to a halt. "Vould you like a drink?" he asked her, looking once more dazed. A pang of guilt went off in her stomach.

"Um, if they have punch, I suppose," she said.

He nodded, and escorted her from the floor before making his way toward the fountain.

Hermione moved to sit down, but was thwarted by a sudden grab at her arm. Long fingers dug into her skin, pulling her back toward the floor.

She knew even before the hand grabbed her shoulder blade that she was not going to much enjoy this dance. The whiff of expensive cologne and the flash of pale white skin told her as much.

"Granger," Malfoy said, turning her about and leading her strongly into a more advanced move. "I wasn't aware you'd learned to dance."

It wasn't a compliment – more of a stiff conversational move.

"What are you playing at?" she hissed, eyes darting around to check for Harry or Ron. If either of them saw her dancing with Malfoy, of all people, there would be an ugly confrontation in the middle of the floor.

"I wouldn't worry about your friends," Malfoy said blithely, catching on to her worry. "They're concentrating on dancing or drinking, I'd expect." He talked easily while he led – obviously, he'd been expertly taught. Nothing less from a Malfoy.

"And your friends?" she asked, with narrowed eyes.

He pushed her through an underarm turn, and she stumbled a little as someone nearly collided with her.

When Malfoy caught her again, she found herself in a rather more tight position, owing to the growing crowd. It was not something she relished.

"It's almost acceptable to be around you, with him as your escort," Malfoy said in her ear. "But other than that, you look uncomfortable enough to make it a bad gesture on my part."

Hermione tried to pull away, but he was much stronger than he looked – his hand on her shoulder blade held her in place.

"Just what I was talking about," he said with a cold smile.

"So what do you want," she asked him, trying to keep the disgust from her features.

"Other than a partner who knows how to dance?" he asked casually. "I thought I would tell you to stop your little head trips. Or at least not talk about them."

He spun her in place – something she'd definitely never done before – and she felt her throat tighten. "What do you mean?" she asked, thinking of the timeturner, warm against her chest under two layers of cloth. She had wanted so badly to take it off and leave it behind, for just one night, but a paranoia had begun to take her that she might miss something important without it.

"The visions, Granger," he said suddenly, sounding less friendly now. "You won't have them anymore, do you hear me?"

He was talking about what she'd seen in Divination, then. That made more sense – but it didn't make her feel any better about what he was saying.

"What do you know?" she asked, feeling her stomach tighten.

He leaned in farther, his breath tickling her ear, and she shrank a bit.

"Something is going on," he said. "Certain people are getting antsy. I've been asked more than once about you, in little casual ways."

Hermione swallowed hard. "What- what did you say?" she asked.

And then – so close his lips might have touched her ear – "It was a joke, Granger. You understand me?"

She didn't understand, for a moment. It occurred to her that all of this really was his way of making her uncomfortable. But no – he was too serious for that.

"Clarify," she gritted out, working harder to pull away.

"Your prediction," he hissed impatiently. "It was an elaborate joke on the old bat. I heard Potter and Weasley laughing about it in the hall, and you had better make sure that someone asking them will hear the same thing."

Hermione froze, and Malfoy let out a curse as he stumbled over her.

He grabbed her again, less closely, and she realized a moment later that he was actually trying to finish out the song. Blankly, she obliged him, going through a complex series of steps she probably wouldn't have been able to if she were paying attention.

The song ended, and he gave her one last scathing look before pushing off into the crowd.

She stepped off of the floor and caught sight of Krum, looking somewhat lost.

"Um – Viktor!" she called, the name feeling foreign in her mouth. "Over here!"

He saw her and walked over, carrying two goblets of what looked like fruit punch.

"Someone caught me for a dance," she explained quickly. "I'm sorry."

He handed her a goblet with another quick smile. "It is good – you vould attract much attention tonight."

She sat down at the table, setting the punch down and tucking her legs together in front of her chair. She cleared her throat nervously. "So, ah – what are you planning to do, once you get out of school?" It surprised her vaguely that she hadn't asked this before, but then, most of their conversation had been on books and philosophy so far.

Krum seemed to mull this over a while, sipping at the punch. "I vill be vith the Quidditch for a long time, I think. It is a good career."

Hermione made an 'o' with her mouth, surprised she hadn't thought of this. "I'm sorry, I keep forgetting you play," she said with an embarrassed laugh.

He shook his head. "No, it is a good question. After, I vould like to travel. I haff always been interested in Egypt and the artifacts they find there."

Hermione put a hand to her mouth. "Oh!" she said. "Oh! Ron's brother Bill has worked as a curse breaker over there, I'm sure he'd love to show you around!"

Krum seemed instantly intrigued by this. "Ron is- he is the red haired friend?"

She nodded. "His brother Charlie was working with the dragons, too. Do you remember him at all?"

Krum made a sound of affirmation instantly. "He is the one to muzzle the Fireball," he recalled. "Very quick on his feet. I vas thinking he vould have played Quidditch in school."

Hermione beamed. "I'm fairly sure he did, actually. Here, why don't I introduce you to Ron-" She took a short swallow of her punch to make certain she wouldn't spill it as she walked, then rose from her seat. Krum offered her his arm again, but she noticed that he was now looking deep in thought, mulling over possibilities as she knew she sometimes did.

Harry and Ron, as it happened, were deep in conversation about that sports move Krum had done at the Cup (started with a 'W', if she recalled). Parvati and Padma were nowhere to be seen. They had probably grown just as bored with it as Hermione often did.

They didn't notice her until she was just about upon them.

"Hermione!" Harry said in surprise, nearly falling off his seat. "You – well. Hey."

Ron was looking at her with a strange mixture of emotions on his face. Something like admiration, and maybe regret. Perhaps he was thinking better of the way he'd belittled the possibility of her date.

"Um," she said sheepishly. "I thought I'd introduce everyone, but I suppose you've all met already."

Krum let go of her arm to bow courteously, which clearly astonished both of them. Hermione sometimes had the sneaking suspicion they didn't even know how to shake hands, let alone be officially courteous.

"I haff met you two, at the table," Krum recalled. "It is good to talk again."

Hermione tried not to laugh at Ron's sudden awe-struck look. After all, she couldn't really talk, with her Lockhart hero-worship…

"Viktor said he's interested in Egyptian artifacts," Hermione told Ron. "I thought you might know more, what with Bill and your trip there…"

"You haff been to the ruins?" Krum asked with clear interest in his voice.

Ron blinked a moment, before nodding hurriedly. "Er – yeah. Family went there, summer before last."

Krum pulled up a chair for Hermione, then sat down himself. "The mummies, they are still living, some?"

"Yeah," Ron said quickly. "There're warnings all around, not to use magic – they get attracted to it, and Bill told me some wizards turn up dead…"

Predictably, the conversation continued excitedly from here – and while Hermione started out quite interested in it, as she was in every eccentric bit of knowledge, her attention began to wane later on. She began to sip extensively at her punch, which necessitated that she replenish its contents a few times. But even with these short breaks to stretch her legs, she eventually found herself blinking back to reality at odd intervals.

"…so they tried to lock Percy in a tomb, but mum found out and let him out – you wouldn't believe it, but he was perfectly fine, not even scared. I reckon he didn't actually know there could've been one in there with him…"

Even this seemed inadequate to jolt her back to interest. Hermione's eyes wandered about the room, and she blinked as she realized it was slightly blurry.

"I hope this doesn't mean I'm going to need glasses," she sighed to herself, blinking hard a few times to clear things up.

"Hermione?" a voice asked, and while she wasn't entirely certain, she thought it might have been George. "Hey, I didn't get a chance to-" he broke off, and she turned to look at him, feeling a little hazy.

"You… you didn't… drink that, did you?" George asked her in a strangely pitched voice.

Hermione looked down at her cup. It was empty.

"Well," she said. "What do you think?"

George said nothing, but his face had drained itself of color.

"Ugh," Harry said across from her. "I think I had a little too much myself, actually. I'm feeling somewhat sick."

Ron and Krum took no notice of their exchange, deeply engaged in conversation about scarab art.

"I feel fine," Hermione said to Harry. "Well, not fine, per se, but-"

Harry interrupted her by leaping to his feet, looking quite distressed of a sudden. He ran for the doors of the Great Hall, and George groaned.

"Told him it was a bad idea…" he muttered.

Hermione looked at him suspiciously. "Told who – what, exactly?" She had the feeling she ought to know what he was talking about, but her head was acting fuzzy, and her thoughts were moving slowly, as though through molasses.

George looked over at Krum once before slipping an arm around her shoulders and hoisting her up. "It's late anyway, Hermione, you ought to get to bed."

She blinked, swaying a little. Why on earth was she suddenly off balance? She'd been waltzing not three hours prior…

"I'm really sorry, by the way," he sighed, dragging her out the doors. "I don't know why I didn't think you might drink some."

Hermione felt her knees give way abruptly. George seemed somewhat prepared for this, as he caught the rest of her weight against himself.

"Must be the heels," Hermione muttered. "I knew they'd trip me up. Let me- let me take them off-" She pulled away, and found herself abruptly sitting on the floor. Shrugging, she worked clumsily at the straps of the shoes, frowning as her fingers slipped haphazardly about.

George knelt down next to her and started to work on them for her, undoing the clasps and slipping them off. Hermione wiggled her toes experimentally and found herself unaccountably fascinated by the action.

"Here now," George said, "Up we go."

He pulled her up under the arms, her shoes in his other hand. She stumbled up, beginning to suspect that it was not the heels after all.

The corridor was now mostly dark, and she felt her bare feet trip over themselves without light. George's arm pulled her closer to him, and for some reason she couldn't really fathom, it seemed entirely natural that she should lean into him and stop walking.

"Hermione?" he asked, sounding surprised and a little worried.

He wasn't cold, like Malfoy. He wasn't even uncomfortably admiring, like Krum. He was warm, and familiar, and she found she really just wanted to sit down where they were and enjoy the feeling of his arm around her shoulders.

"Come on, Hermione," he said. "We need to get you in bed."

She sighed tiredly, and decided she didn't want to go all that way to get to bed. Instead, she leaned in closer, setting her head just below his chin…

This. This was where she'd wanted to be, all along.

"H-hey," he said, his voice vibrating in her bones. "What are- Hermione-"

"Tired," she murmured, her eyes fluttering against her will. This changed when she realized that there was no protesting voice with a reason as to why she shouldn't go to sleep right here.

Indeed. That sounded like an incredibly good idea.

She congratulated herself as her mind drifted off, warm and happy.

"Hermione. Hermione, don't-"

"Hermione."

She smiled weakly against him, his arm close around her. It had been such a horrible, horrible day, and there were so many more to come, but for now… it was over, for now. She was warm, and safe.

"If nothing else," she said in a trembling voice. "I'm glad you're still here."

The arm around her tightened.

She felt herself surface back to consciousness at some slight change – the warmth – but George –

Hermione winced, trying to sort out her brain. Everything had somehow mixed together inside, and it was suddenly hard to tell where she'd been and where she was.

There was something firm, but cushioned beneath her. She turned her head with a little sound, her eyes opening to slits. There were flickering lights in front of her eyes – fire?

A shape was moving in front of it, and she felt warm cotton descend on her, tucked a little here and there. She pulled it closer to herself, feeling somewhat cold at the sudden departure of her heat.

"You'll get better, Hermione. I'll take care of you, so- so don't worry, all right?"

A hand brushed away her hair – it had come loose from its careful bun. It had been up, though? Why?

The Ball. She'd been at the Ball, not… where?

Where…

Something horrible had happened. But she had been at the Ball, and somehow, she knew everyone there was fine. How could something horrible have happened and not happened at once?

"Why would I worry about myself, of all things?"

Her heart plummeted, confused and frightened and somehow overwhelmed with a staggering grief.

Something escaped her, between a laugh and a sob, and the hand at her forehead paused.

"Hermione?"

She moved her hand to take his, pulling it to her chest to fill the empty space there, just about where her heart ought to be.

His other hand moved to her shoulder, to pat her reassuringly. She swallowed, shaking, trying to pull the dream from her head. It wasn't real. It couldn't be. Because if it was real, it meant she'd failed, and she couldn't fail.

"Ah…" George was muttering. "You're that kind of drunk."

She latched onto his voice, bringing herself more fully awake. There was a sickening feeling inside that if she fell asleep, she would dream again, and it wouldn't be pleasant in the least.

"George?" she asked. "Please d-don't leave. I can't think. It's all muddled up, and I c-can't think."

He stiffened for a moment at her voice, but relaxed himself almost immediately after. "I'm not leaving," he said. "But you should get to sleep. You'll only feel worse if you don't get enough."

She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. "I can't go to sleep like this," she said. "I won't wake up."

It was a horrible thought, and somehow certain in her mind. It was even worse for the thought that came after – that everything she'd done until now would be for nothing if she died.

There's no second time around, she thought suddenly, her fingers tightening on George's hand. I can't – I can't do it wrong.

"That's the alcohol talking," he told her with a sigh. "Believe me, you'll wake up."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, it's not- you don't-"

"I really am sorry," he said, sounding genuinely regretful. "We spiked the punch, Hermione. I don't know how much you drank, but… well, enough, it looks like."

"I don't want anyone to die," she told him in a choked voice. "George…"

His hand stopped on her shoulder. "Why would anyone die?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said, feeling the panic in her heart turn to shivers. "I don't know, I don't know, I don't know-"

"Why did he have to – he shouldn't have gone before me, it doesn't work like that-"

"Shh – Hermione, go to sleep, you'll feel better, I swear." He was sounding guilty and somewhat frightened now, his fingers brushing reassuringly through her hair.

"I know. I know."

"Don't die, George," she whispered. "Not you too."

He pulled his hand from her grip, but quickly engulfed her in a tight hug.

"I'm not going anywhere, Hermione," he promised.