Chapter 25

DANCING

Out on the floor, Harry was glad to find the music an energetic, bouncy number that didn't require handholding. Dancing at Hermione was rather fun. Soon everyone from their table joined them—except Dobby and Winky who might have feared getting knocked about. Surveying the crowd, he saw Natalie shimmying with Derek. A few yards away, less lively than the other couples, Neville once again escorted Ginny. She sent Harry a sheepish grin, then expertly sidestepped her partner's misplaced foot.

After four tunes, the tempo slowed, and Hermione stopped dead as a rock. With a strained smile, she said, "I'm beat. Let's sit."

As she led him back, Harry noticed the remaining dancers edging toward each other. Ginny didn't flinch when Neville placed his hands on her waist. Gratefully, Harry retook his chair a comfortable foot from Hermione. Angelina and Ron had already returned, but neither greeted them. Both were staring at the High Table.

Twisting, Harry saw the reason for their astonishment. Professor Snape was pulling Professor Daine to her feet. And she was smiling.

"You don't think—" Harry began.

"I don't think. I see," Ron answered.

Thankfully, no one from the other houses had come back to witness the Gryffindors' amazement as Snape swept an arm around Professor Daine's delicate waist and cupped a hand on her shoulder.

"Isn't that sweet," Winky cooed.

"You mean gross," Ron muttered.

Dobby looked askance at him.

"Oh, come on," Hermione said. "It's just a dance. He's obligated to ask her at least once. And she has to be polite."

"Look's a bit more than polite to me." Angelina shook her head. "Ariel Daine. Who'd have guessed?"

Harry felt a sudden chill. Turning, he saw that the Gryffindor ghost had joined them.

"Well," Nearly Headless Nick said dryly. "If she's Ariel, he must be Caliban."

"Cali-who?" Ron asked, unable to pull his perplexed gaze from the dancing professors.

Nick threw up his hands, causing his head to wobble precariously on his barely attached neck. "Caliban. The bad spirit in The Tempest. Shakespeare, my good man. Don't you know anything?"

Ron shrugged. "Are you talking Muggle—uh—magically challenged stuff?"

Hermione's appreciative smile at Ron's use of the respectful term dissolved in a gasp as Nick's head began to spin. When it had gone as far as it could on his half-inch of neck, it began spinning back the other way. Grimacing, Harry stuck out his hand. Nick had just enough substance for human touch to slow him.

"Thank you," Nick said when once again his head faced front. Then he resumed his stern look. "I've told Albus the Hogwarts curriculum is too narrow. Oh, wherefore the universal gentleman of years gone by?"

"I read Shakespeare's plays," Hermione offered. "All of them. When I was ten."

"Of course." Nick sighed. "You would have."

Vigorously rubbing his still frozen hand, Harry dredged up a memory of sitting in a corner of the Dursley's living room while Aunt Petunia exposed the family to Culture via the BBC. "I saw half of A Midsummer Night's Dream once."

Nick looked outraged. "Half! Half!"

"My aunt decided Titania's gown was too revealing. She turned the telly off."

"Titania!" Winky squealed. My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother was lady-in-waiting to Queen Titania."

"And my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather knew Ariel," Dobby added. "But she couldn't have been as wonderful as our Professor Ariel."

"She's the kindest—" Winky gushed.

"The most charming, the most sensitive—" Dobby continued.

"The most unique sorceress in the world. Such a match for Professor Severus! He's the most sagacious—"

"The most gifted, the most inspired sorcerer. "

Leaning their heads together in a bliss of elfin appreciation, the pair finished in unison, "They're the most perfect couple ever."

Ron put a hand to his mouth. "I think I'm going to be ill."

Nick raised an eyebrow. "Oh, surely they're not a couple."

Angelina laughed. "You've been a ghost too long, my friend. Can't you see how she's glowing at him?"

Out on the dance floor, Professor Daine pressed so close to Professor Snape that his black robes swirled around her iridescent ones.

"I see it and I can't believe it," Ron muttered.

Watching the pair twirl effortlessly around the packed dance floor, Harry realized they were floating an inch above it. Stripped of his sneer, Professor Snape gazed down into Professor Daine's face with the unguarded look Harry had seen in the wizard photo. Her lips parted, as if being near Snape left her breathless.

The same embarrassment washed over Harry that had made him slam his album shut. "Come on, guys. Let's go outside. The fireworks should be starting any minute. They say Dedalus Diggle's shooting stars aren't to be missed." He glanced at Hermione. "You game?"

Hermione put her mouth to Angelina's ear and whispered, "Please bring Ron before his eyes pop out of his head."

Angelina chuckled and poked a playful fist at Ron's cheek. "Come along, sport, or I'm going to tell George you've become a peeping Tom."

The courtyard outside was already teeming. Nick sailed up for a better view. "A stage is set up, all strung with holly. Some of the staff are there—Argus, Minerva, Rubeus. Maxime is with him. And there's Dedalus. Albus better make haste. Dedalus likes to begin with a bang." The ghost circled, searching. "Ah, there he is! Coming up behind you."

"Merry Christmas!" the headmaster called out.

Harry turned. "Seasons greetings!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

Everyone within hearing distance joined in, shaking hands and patting backs all around. Harry moved aside so the headmaster and the three staff members accompanying him could reach the stage.

When Madame Pomfrey passed, she broke into a smile. "Harry Potter! Just the boy I wanted to see. Did you know that your mother used to work in the hospital?"

"Yes. I'd heard that." He stepped closer to catch her words above the buzzing mob.

"When I first saw her name, it didn't connect, but it nagged the back of my mind. Checking student records, I saw it: Potter, Harry. Mother: Lily Evans."

Harry hunched his shoulders, feeling his usual mixture of longing and regret at hearing his mother's name.

Madame Pomfrey gave his cheek a comforting tweak. "I found something of hers—lost behind a cabinet. I think you'll like it. I'm leaving for a few days, but if you come by after breakfast tomorrow, I can give it to you."

Harry's heart leapt. Something of my mother's! Then his shoulders sagged. "Tomorrow morning, I can't. I'm—I'm busy."

"Too bad." Madame Pomfrey cocked her head. "When I return, then. It'll be like a Christmas present from her." She waved cheerily and bustled to catch up with Dumbledore.

"Harry!" Hermione looked baffled. "What could you possibly have to do tomorrow that's more important than getting hold of something of your mother's?"

Harry sighed. "Besides saying good-bye to you, Ron, and everyone? Detention."

"Detention!" exclaimed Ron, butting in. "What in the world did you do to earn that on our first day of freedom?"

Harry moistened his lips, determined to look nonchalant—as if he knew exactly what rule he'd broken. "Oh, just PDA."

Ron gaped. "PDA?" Then he roared. "PDA! You poor so-and-so. Who caught you?"

Harry ground his teeth. Then he mumbled, "Snape."

"S-s-s-nape!" Ron convulsed as if his sides would split. "That's pri-i-iceless."

People around them turned to gawk. Glaring at his friend, Harry decided PDA must mean Positively Deranged Attitude. Alongside him, Dobby and Winky twittered uncontrollably, though Harry thought they looked as confused as he was. Drawn by her brother's hysterics, Ginny led Neville through the partygoers toward them. When Ron stuttered, "P-D-A-A-A!" Neville looked embarrassed, and Ginny's smile dropped clean from her face. She clutched her escort's elbow and urged him toward the stage.

Glancing sidelong at Hermione, Harry saw her suck in her cheeks as if to keep from cracking up, too. Unable to stand it, he leaned close. "End my misery. What's PDA?"

A squeak escaped Hermione's clamped lips. Then she mastered herself and put her mouth to his ear. "Public Display of Affection. Honestly, it's in the school handbook."

Harry hung his head. He'd been nicked for kissing Cho. Why hadn't he guessed? One of the finest moments of his life, and all he'd done was amuse his friends—and Snape. If we'd sneaked into a closet, that wouldn't have been public.

As if things weren't embarrassing enough, a lazy, affected voice spoke up behind him. "Well, well, well. If it isn't Potter and his covey of cackling clowns."

"Draco," Hermione breathed. "Ignore him."

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