Thank you again for waiting so long for the next chapter. We had a lot going to but should (and yes, I know I've said this before) be able to get chapters out regularly. This time I mean it! I think…

So anyways, thanks for those of you who reviewed while we were away. Thanks to Chilaro (you're too kind!) Aayla Security (always love to hear it) Cristi Potter (thanks for sticking with us!) umichi (feel free to laugh manically…as long as you review!) Genna (sorry it was so short, I did my best to get Siriusly to write the next chapter cracks whip and it was either a short chapter, or no chapter. Glad you liked it. Yay Siriusly!) Iggy Smokes Pot (Uh…that's biologically impossible…but thank you?), Vria (new readers!). Kohikari (thanks for the list. It really helps to know what works and what doesn't—and of course I remember!) Ohyeah100 (thanks for continuing to review!) For anyone that I forgot or reviewed after I wrote this chapter, I appreciate you too. I just thought you should know. So thanks to all readers and reviewers!

That Loser

Chapter 38: Two to Tango

"GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE!" Harold Pooter awoke to a demented fetus screaming an inch from his face.

Harold immediately hit the fetus with his pillow.

"My Lord!" cried a voice.

The fetus scowled, pulling itself back up onto the bed. "No, I'm all right. I'm fine. That was a low blow Pooter. When I'm fully sized…" The fetus cackled.

Marylin Pooter woke up slowly. "Honey? Has Trevor been harassing the cat again?"

"Silence, woman!" the fetus shouted. Harold also noticed someone else standing in the corner. He looked decidedly…ratish…

The fetus grinned evilly at Harold. "So Pooter, I have you now!"

Harold was sweating profusely. "What…what do you want?"

The fetus laughed. "Ha! As if you didn't know! Laugh with me Wormtail!"

The figure in the shadow let out a girlish giggle.

Harold started laughing too. After all, it was pretty funny.

"WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT POOTER?!"

Harold stopped immediately. "I dunno. I was just trying to…blend in?"

"You have no reason to laugh. Because you see Pooter, today is not your day. Unpleasant things are going to happen to you today."

Marylin frowned. "Actually its eleven fifty nine, so technically it's still nighttime."

The fetus stopped, confused. "Oh. Well…we'll just wait one minute then."

There was an awkward silence.

12:00

"Aha! Finally, my monologue may now continue!"

Harold cowered. "Why are you here? Could this possibly be a case of mistaken identity? You thought I was someone named, oh I don't know, say Harry Potter or something, and now you're going to destroy me. Well…I'd really rather that you didn't. Tomorrow's casual day at the office, and I just got this Hawaiian shirt that I'm really excited about…"

The fetus glared. "Don't be ridiculous. Just answer the question! Are you, or are you not…"

Harold squeaked.

"…stealing cable from us?!"

Harlod blinked. "Wha…what?"

"I knew it! You're stealing cable from us! Justice…I mean evil…shall prevail!"

Harold blinked. "I…I don't think so."

Marylin shrugged. "Actually yes, we are, but it doesn't hurt you. We're just…"

Harold blinked again.

Marylin sighed. "Well I'm just sticking it to the Man!"

The fetus sighed. "Oh…that's all right then. Come along, Wormtail."

Harold frowned. "So…my shirt?"

Marylin sighed. "Just go back to bed, honey."

The dream faded into a blur…

"GOOD MORNING SUNSHINE!" Harry grunted unintelligibly at Ron, who was just a little too perky this morning.

"Whazzat?" Harry still had visions of evil fetuses and Hawaiian shirts dancing in his head.

Ron smiled knowingly at Harry.

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Guess what day it is!" Ron looked ready to explode with glee.

Harry sighed. "I dunno, Tuesday?"

"NO!" Ron looked triumphant, then deflated. " Um…well, actually yes. But what else?"

Harry shrugged, "Uh, well…it's Bingo night…"

Ron rolled his eyes. "No silly, it's our anniversary!"

"Um…I wasn't aware that we'd made any commitments…" Harry coughed nervously.

"Not that anniversary, our Best Friends anniversary!" Ron's mold glowed giddily green. "It was six—"

"—four—"

"—four years ago that we met on the train and became best friends!"

Harry looked confused. "But wasn't that in July…?"

Ron frowned. "So?"

"Look, even though Dumbledore won't allow any calendars in the castle because he thinks they look as though they're plotting something, I'm pretty sure it's not July anymore. I mean Ron, for Merlin's sake, it's snowing outside."

Ron could not to be deterred. "Don't ask questions! Now, what'd you get me? I got you a Waffle Crisper!"

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "Um…"

"Asparagus Cooker? Occult jewelry? Lime-Away?"

"Well…I kind of…misplaced…"

Ron's eyes filled with tears. "You…you forgot again, didn't you?"

Harry squirmed. "Um. No?"

Ron sighed with relief. "Oh good. For a minute there I was worried! So, where's my present?"

"Um…in my pocket."

Ron smiled. "Great! So, let's see it then!"

Harry fumbled around inside his pockets, finally extracting a wadded gum wrapper.

Ron started to cry.

"No! Um…it's a symbol! Of our tumultuous, yet minty fresh relationship that's good to the last bubble!"

Ron sobbed. "How could you forget our sixth—"

"—fourth—"

"—fourth anniversary like that?! After all we've been through in our six—"

"—four—"

"—four years at Hogwarts together?

Harry finally snapped. "FOR MERLIN'S SAKE RON, IT'S NOT EVEN A REAL ANNIVERSARY!"

Ron looked as though he'd been slapped. "Oh yeah, sure, care about Merlin's needs why don't you!" Ron's voice took on a whiny pitch. "'For Merlin's sake, it's snowing outside.' 'For Merlin's sake, it's not even a REAL anniversary!' Merlin, Merlin, Merlin! What about my needs, huh? And what about Pete…in the wizarding world he's so left out. No one ever does anything for Pete's sake anymore!"

Harry blinked. "Uh…and why does this make you angry?"

Ron plowed on like some sort of metaphor that plows. "Well outside it may snow for Merlin, but inside, right now, it's our anniversary, and you forgot. I'LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU HARRY JA…"

Hermione entered the room, "Morning guys. How's that homework coming?"

Ron face blanked suddenly. "What was I saying? I'm sorry, whenever Hermione mentions homework I blank it out. You know, it being traumatic and all."

Harry patted Ron good-naturedly on the shoulder. "Nothing important, Ron."

Ron sighed, "Oh good. I've forgotten more haircuts that way…"

Hermione frowned. "Speaking of haircuts…Harry…your hair?"

"Harry, your messy jet-black hair…" Ron corrected. "Say it right."

Hermione sighed. "Right. Harry, isn't your messy jet-black hair shorter than it was just a minute ago?"

Harry stared in deep concentration at his forehead. "Can't tell. Why?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. It's probably nothing."

Harry's messy jet-black hair randomly got long again.

"Hermione, what are you doing?"

Hermione was trying to stand nonchalantly against the wall. "Oh, um, nothing."

"No, what are you hiding?" Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Nothing!" Hermione looked frantic.

"Wait, what's that glittering?"

"And why are you wearing sweatpants?"

"And…"

"I…I…oh all right, you caught me!" Ashamed, she turned around to show the back of her pants.

Ron screamed, dazzled by the light of Hermione's butt. "AHH!!! THE RHINDSTONES, THEY BURN!!!"

Harry shielded his eyes, his messy jet-black hair gleaming in the brilliance of Hermione's pants. "Nice pants. Wait…do they say CRESPUSCULAR?"

Hermione twitched, silently petting her pocket dictionary. "Maybe."

Harry raised an eyebrow, then giggled.

Hermione coughed.

Harry looked dejected. "Sorry."

Ron blinked a few times until his eyes uncrossed. "I can see again! Sweet vision!"

"So, Hermione, why are you wearing logoed pants?" Harry asked. "I thought you hated them."

Hermione blinked furtively. "I never said that."

"Yeah, you did."

"Prove it!" Hermione crossed her arms across her chest, satisfied.

Ron solemnly took out a tape recorder and pressed play. "'This is stupid!' 'Their butts are sparkling!' 'What in Merlin's name—"

Ron pointed at the tape recorder. "AHA! Merlin! You friend-stealer. I'LL GET YOU MERLIN!"

Hermione sighed, "Ron, he's dead."

Ron blinked. "So I got him?"

"Uh…no."

"Ha! I win!"

The tape player continued. "—going on around here!' 'Stupid logoed pants!' 'I hate them!'" The tape staticked to a halt. Somewhere, concealed in the static, a voice called out.

"Edmund…I know you're here…I didn't forget…Edmund…I'll find you…love…Edmun—

Ron tried to shut off the tape. "Stupid thing, picking up a radio station." He whacked it.

"Harry, it's us, your mom and dad from beyond the grave!"

Harry sighed. "Oh, give it here." He took out a hammer and demolished the tape player. "What—is—wrong—with—you?! There!" He dumped the broken bits of wiring and plastic at Ron's feet. "Fixed it."

Ron's lower lip quivered. "CURSE YOU MERLIN!"

Harry shrugged. "I blame Snape."

Angst. Angst. Angst. Eggs. Harry shoved a fork full of eggy goodness into his mouth, completely failing to take a moment to remember the baby chickens that had so thoughtfully given their lives to give him a balanced breakfast. Harry's messy jet-black hair fell into his eyes like angsty waterfall made of messy jet-black hair. His probably green eyes changed color randomly. His scar glowed with the slightly dim-witted light of moody heroics. Chew. Chew. Chew. Angst. Swallow.

Angst. Angst. Angst. Potatoes.

"Morning Harry," said Hermione, sliding onto the bench next to him.

"Mmmph," said Harry.

One look at Harry's WHAT'S THE POINT, ANYWAYS? T-shirt told her everything she needed to know. "Oh, so it's one of those days, is it?"

"Good morning world, and all that inhabit it!" Ron slid onto the bench next to Hermione, radiating cheerful sunshine and the spirit of small, easily confused, furry animals everywhere.

"Mmmph."

"Morning Ron—time to take your pill!" Hermione pulled out a pill the size of Ron's head and stuffed it in Ron's mouth.

Ron swallowed, shuddering. "Darn it, I hate The Pill."

"Yes, but you know how…excited…you get if you don't take it."

Ron, who had just dumped the sugar bowl into his mouth, was licking his sugarcoated fingers. "Can't imagine why."

"Anyways, go hide Harry's silverware for me. He's in one of his moods again."

"Mmmph."

Ron sulked. "I don't see why I have to do everything around here."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Who helps you with homework?"

"You…but—"

"Who helps you sound out difficult words?"

"You do."

"And who saves your butt every twenty seconds?"

Ron chuckled. "Well, I think that's a bit of an overstatement…"

"Uh huh. Five, four, three, two, one."

"SPIDERRRRRSSSSS!!!!"

Hermione smiled. "And so who totally owns you?"

Ron looked cross-eyed at his forehead where the words PROPERTY OF HERMIONE GRANGER were branded. "You do."

"That's what I thought you said. And besides, I hid them last time."

Harry turned his head to talk to Ron and Hermione, but decided that conversation was meaningless, so instead he dropped his head into his mashed potatoes.

"Mmmph."

"And while you're at it, Harry's fallen into his potatoes."

"How can you tell?"

"The mmmph is a little more muffled."

Ron shrugged. "Come on, Harry." He grabbed a hunk of Harry's messy jet-black hair.

Harry's face reemerged no worse for wear that a few bits of potato stuck on his chin.

"Now that that's taken care of…um…you said you had a date to the dance?" Ron squirmed uncomfortably.

Harry looked with sudden inspiration at a stick of butter. He began carving into it with a spoon. Hermione had taken his knife away.

Hermione sniffed. "I most certainly do, but it's none of your business."

"I KNEW IT! You don't have anyone!"

Hermione frowned. "Um, I think we've been over this already."

"Oh, right."

There was an awkward silence.

Hermione picked at her fingernails. "So…"

Ron scratched his ear. "Okay. I've got nothing."

"I guess I'm just so used to having Harry around to make the whole probably-a-couple thing not so…weird." Hermione sighed.

Ron nodded. "Exactly! Without him, our little golden trio is just a rusty duo. And no one cares about that."

Awkward silence.

"So…" Ron shuffled awkwardly. "You said you had a date to the d—"

"Don't start."

"Right. Sorry."

Harry got up to walk over to Hermione, but collapsed when he realized that walking is meaningless.

"Yes, what is it, Harry?"

Harry handed her a stick of butter with a spoon still stuck handle-first into its mutilated dairy surface.

Hermione coughed. "Oh, how nice. A poem. For me?"

"Mmmph."

"Let's see here. It's called Why Bother? An original poem by Harry Potter."

Ron snorted. "What kind of title is tha—"

Hermione elbowed him in the ribs. "Be supportive!"

"Is this right?" Ron grabbed onto Dumbledore's elbow and led him across the room. "Don't worry old man, we're almost to your table."

Dumbledore mumbled blearily. "Oh goodie. Will there be pineapples?"

"Probably. Probably."

Hermione rolled her eyes and read the poem.

Why Bother? An original poem by Harry Potter
There is not tomorrow because

I die. You die. We all die.

Eventually.

We are all dust in the wind

Which will be blown away

Forever.

No one understands my pain

And I will be sent to counseling

Probably.

But it doesn't matter because

I die. You die. We all die.

Eventually.

But there's no use worrying about it…there's nothing you can do anyways…

Hermione coughed. "Wow. Um. That was…"

"HILARIOUS!" Ron slapped Harry on the back. Harry promptly fell into the pudding. "Good one, Harry!"

"…depressing," finished Hermione. "Ron? I think it's time for an intervention."

Ron jumped up and down gleefully. "Ooh! Do I get to hold the funnel this time?"

What exactly Ron's funnel would be used for we will never know because, at that very moment, Fleur and the Beauxbatons girls fluttered by.

Ron elbowed Harry, still facedown in pudding. "Harry, look! Girls!"

Harry immediately came out of his angsty stupor. "CHO?!"

Ron sighed. "Just look at them. You know how I love it when they walk. Breathe. Digest food. It's like poetry in motion, but with less butter. You know what I mean?"

Harry nodded. "Not a clue."

"Nice to have you back, Harry," said Hermione.

Harry thoughtfully peeled eggs off of his face. "So can I have my knife back now? I've got some sausages here and—"

"No."

"Fair enough."

The newly reassembled, non-awkward, non-rusty golden trio walked out of the Great Hall hand in hand.

Dumbledore coughed. "So…no pineapples, then?"

"Dance Lesson number two: The Tango!" Professor McGonagall slapped a pointer against a chalkboard filled with little diagrams of people dancing and footprints with little dotted tails and circles and lines and cheeses, and all sorts of confusing information. She didn't seem to realize that half her diagrams had been erased. Dancing Denny and Waltzing Wendy now had moustaches and were wrestling, and the board was covered with scrawled graffiti.

Buy your logoed pants while they're hot. Now with new logoes! Now featuring: Fashion Victim! Sparkly! Squishy! Morbid! Cute! Pretty! Easy! Lemming! Brat! Hot! Cool! Mildly Lukewarm! Harry Potter Fan Club! Frog Choir! Boy-Who-Lived! Boy-Who-Died! (the funeral special)

And now, in honor of the upcoming Yule Ball and The Triwizard Tournament: Cedric Cares About Sanitation! MURK! Fleur Makes My Knees Wobbly! Harry Mops Up The Competition!

Lavender, do you like me? Check yes or no.

Waltzing Wendy Makes My Knees Wobbly!

Buy dress robes cheap. Ask for The Scalper.

Moody's Quiz Answers: ACBDDACC, Constant Vigilence, Because the Dark Lord tells us to, True: Dumbledore must die, False: Professor Moody is not a fairy princess

MURK, I LOVE YOU! I'LL WAIT FOR YOU!

"Now, to demonstrate, I'm going to need a volunteer to dance the Tango with me," McGonagall searched the crowd for signs of weakness. Ron was cringing under the withering gaze of Midgen.

Ron quivered. "Huge. Large. Solid. EVIL."

McGonagall smiled. "Ronald, thank you for volunteering!"

She pulled him up onto the main dancing floor, in front of everyone. Harry gave a supporting thumbs up, his messy jet-black hair slightly shorter than usual. Hermione cringed. Fred and George exploded in laughter, their matching sweater vests quivering in Irish glee.

Fred elbowed Neville in the ribs. "Hey, this is going to be good, e—whoa! Neville! When did you get so freakishly huge?!"

Neville shrugged, towering above the other students. "I dunno. One day I was looking people straight in the knees, and the next I'm hitting my head on low-flying birds."

A seagull smacked into Neville's head out of nowhere. "See!"

The Weasleys, never picky eaters, regarded the bird with a calculated glance. Fred sighed. "Well all right George, but only if I get a wing."

"Awesome! Seagull tonight, Ron! Mum will be so pleased."

Meanwhile, McGonagall started the zesty tango music, while Ron looked desperately for some means of escape. Even his mold had deserted him.

McGonagall nodded. "Lovely. Now…Ronald? Ronald? Excuse me moldless boy, I'm looking for Ronald. About this tall? Gangly? Molding slightly around the ears? An aura of general loserness?"

Ron blinked. "I am Ronald."

McGonagall laughed. "Oh, of course. I like what you've done…or rather, um, not done…with your mold."

"I mean, I'm not Ron! I'm his moldless cousin, Don Weasels!"

"Fine, fine. Now Ronald, square your feet. Yes, just like that. Chin up. Good. Now put your hand on my waist."

Ron paled. "WHERE?!"

McGonagall sighed. "On my waist."

Ron blushed. "Professor, I think there are laws against that sort of thing…"

"Honestly, Ronald. If you can't be mature about this, I'll get someone else."

Ron laughed loudly, nervously. "HA HA HA! I AM SO IMMATURE! HA HA HA!"

"Nice try, Ronald. Just do it."

Ron gulped, and hesitantly placed his hand on her waist. Suddenly he looked shocked, then giddy. "Professor McGonagall…Minerva…I never realized…"

McGonagall sighed. "Just dance, Ronald."

He giggled. "You're pretty."

"And one two three and—"

"You smell good."

"—two three and…yes…very good—"

"I knew you liked me! Aha!"

"Ronald?"

"I wrote a song for you! Listen: Tango Tango Tango! It rhymes with Mango Mango Mango!"

"Ronald?"

"Um…Fandango Fandango Fandango!"

"Ronald!"

"Yes, my sweet Minerva?"

"The song's over…you can let go now."

Ron blinked, letting go. "Oh. Um…sorry."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. "Yes, well, class is dismissed. For next time: The Cha-Cha! By the way, nice improvement on your Salsa, Parvati. It's delicious. And Neville's Foxtrot…well…see me afterwards, Neville."

As the rest of the class filed out, Harry, Hermione, and Ron hung back.

Ron gazed wistfully at Professor McGonagall.

Harry intruded insensitively, "Ron, what's wrong with you?" His hair hung suspiciously low over his eyes.

"His messy jet-black hair," Ron pointed out.

Hermione punched him on the shoulder. "No, that's the narration you moron! You can't correct the narration!"

"Oh. Sorry."

"Right. So, what exactly was all that?"

"What, you mean the hair or…?"

Hermione coughed. "You know, all that…Mango business…"

Ron laughed nervously. "Oh, uh, ha ha ha! You actually believed me!"

Hermione sighed. "Oh good. For a second there, I thought you actually—well, never mind. Coming, Ronald?"

Ron nodded as Harry and Hermione exited the classroom. "In a minute."

He stared at McGonagall yelling as Neville Foxtrotted on her toes. "Minerva, my dove! Our secret love will one day bloom into a rose/and I think you're great and I like your nose/You make me feel like a pansy metaphor and…um…something that rhymes with rose…"

Somewhere on the Hogwarts grounds…

Viktor Krum walked about the Hogwarts property stretching and waving his arms around like a madman. This would have been a bit odd, but a group of loyal Murk fans were following his every step, so that made it all right.

Krum and his procession passed the tree by which Harry and Hermione had been studying all day. Well, Hermione had been studying anyways. Harry was mostly doodling pictures of Cho and deciding what he wanted to say in his speech when he was elected King of the Yule Ball. There was supposed to be a crown and mops involved. Harry was very excited.

Hermione, an Arithmancy book open on her lap, scowled at the procession. "Look at the way they fawn over him! It's contemptible."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, sure. Very combustible."

"Contemptible."

"Computable."

"Contemptible."

"Whatever."

Hermione pointed. "Oh look, one of them has a banner!" One of the Krum fans was holding a pink banner embroidered sloppily with hears.

"MURK! I'M SORRY FOR MY UNFAITHFULNESS! I PROMISE MINERVA MEANS NOTHING TO ME! IT'S YOU THAT I LOVE! SURE MINERVA IS BEAUTIFUL, GRACEFUL, AND HAS A WAIST, BUT SHE COULD NEVER COMPARE TO YOU! MURK? WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER ME?!"

Hermione blinked. "Ron, what are you doing?"

The pink banner suddenly dropped out of sight.

"Um…I'm not Ron." said a high squeaky voice.

Hermione stood, hands on hips. "You're not fooling anyone, you know."

"Yes I am! Wait…oh sugar!"

Hermione nodded curtly. "That's what I thought. Come along, Ron. You've got to get ready for the Yule Ball tonight." She grabbed Ron's arm and pulled him away from the fan entourage.

"Murk! I'll wait for you!"

Ron adjusted his tie in the mirror. Because of the lack of details from the author, you might think that the mirror, tie, and Ron in question were located by a tree somewhere on the Hogwarts grounds. However, you would be wrong in this assumption because Ron was in fact in his room at about eight o' clock that night, getting ready for the Yule Ball.

"Okay Harry, what do you think?" Ron posed.

Harry coughed. "I see that you burned off all the lace."

Ron beamed proudly. "With a blowtorch."

"Tried to dye it brown…"

"…Made the pudding myself."

"Melted away the collar…"

"…who knew acid worked on polyester?"

"Viciously ravaged the rickrack…"

Ron stopped. "I resent that. I used safety scissors!"

Harry looked Ron up and down a second time. "Well, when you put it all together it's not so much four little tragedies, as one big fashion disaster."

Ron blushed. "I try. And what about you? I like your blue…green…blue…gre…no wait, still blue…okay, now they're green…robes. They match your eyes."

"So are we ready?"

Ron nodded. "I think so. Oh wait, I almost forgot!" Ron plucked a small bouquet on a pin from his trunk. "My mum says that when you go to the Yule Ball you've got to have a corset to give to your date."

Harry gasped. "But I don't have a corset to give to Parvati! What will I do?"

Ron shook his head sympathetically. "Oh, too bad. Ah well. Have fun explaining to Parvati. I've got things all smoothed over with Padma. With this corset, I seal my social fate!"

Harry's eyes took on a fevered gleam. "Must. Find. Corset."

Somewhere on the third floor...

Filch scratched his head, puzzled. "I was almost sure I left my corset here…"

"Meow," said Mrs. Norris.

"It's a manly corset! It defines my figure." Filch screamed.

"Meow."

"Well there's no need to take that tone."

"Meow."

"WHAT ARE YOU INSINUATING?!"

Harry giggled as he ran towards the dance, corset in hand. He couldn't fail now! Harry randomly opened a door; darkness cloaked the room inside. Heavy breathing ruffled Harry's messy jet-black hair.

"Wait…this isn't the elevator."

There was a growl.

"Nice Fluffy…good doggie! No! NOO! NOT THE CORSET!"

Harry emerged several minutes later to the Great Hall. His hair was slightly disheveled, but that was normal, so no one noticed. He was also holding a shredded corset, but since this was Potter, no one noticed.

"Harry! Um…Harry?" Parvati was standing by Ron and Padma.

Harry, gasping for breath, held out his gift. "I brought you a corset!"

Parvati raised an eyebrow with attitude. "Excuse me?"

Ron laughed nervously. "Funny thing, that. Guess what, it's actually called a corsage. Isn't that funny? Laugh with me, Harry! Ha ha ha…Harry, you're not laughing…"

"Ron…"

"Before you kill me, can I go profess my love to Murk really quick?"

Harry was staring at the staircase with his mouth open. "No, Ron. Look!"

Ron was sweating. "So you're going to push me down the staircase? Fair enough, fair enough. Maybe Murk will visit my grave…"

"No Ron! Look at what's on the staircase!" Harry pointed.

Ron looked bewildered. "Dust?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "No, a mop of course!"

Ron squinted in concentration. "What, you mean behind that hot girl that looks kind of like…HERMIONE?!"

"No, I mean over there by the janitor. Unless you were talking about the janitor of course, because I don't like to judge…"

Ron's mouth hung open. "No, look! Hermione!"

Harry, a little slow on intake, finally spotted Hermione coming down the stairs. "Whoa."

Hermione had somehow managed to bully her fro into a pleasing shape. She was wearing a pink dress with ribbons and not carrying a textbook of any kind. Except for So You Forgot How To Breathe?, but that was absolutely necessary and she had made an effort to glue some sequins to the cover for the occasion.

Hermione stopped in front of Harry and Ron. "Um, hi Harry. Ronald."

Ron's mouth was still open.

Hermione looked embarrassed. "That's a great dress robe, Harry. It matches your eyes."

Harry nodded. "So I've heard."

"But…what's with the corset?"

He sighed. "Long story."

Hermione blinked. "Well…why are you still holding it?"

"I dunno, after all we've been through together…I guess I've just gotten a little attached."

"Sure."

Ron's mouth was still open.

"So, Ronald, your dress robe looks…unique. Nice touch with the pudding. It's very you."

Ron squeaked.

"Right. So," Viktor Krum walked up to Hermione and bowed. Hermione took his arm and walked onto the dance floor. "I'll see you later then. It was nice to see you, Harry. And Ronald."

"WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH HERMIONE?!" Ron shouted after her.

Harry frowned. "Ron, stop harassing Hermione."

Ron was foaming slightly at the mouth. "Stop harassing her?! Let's just list all the things that are wrong with this situation: One, Hermione's date is my one true love, Murk. Two, while she's got Murk I'm stuck with Padma—"

"—Hey!"

"—Three, Murk ignored my many proposals, but totally dumped me for Hermione. And last, but most definitely not least, WHY DIDN'T HERMIONE EVER TELL ME THAT SHE WAS A GIRL?"

Harry shrugged. "Well, she did. You just weren't listening." Harry's eyes got watery. "You see Ron, all you had to do was look past the beaver teeth and study manuals to see the totally hot, yet lonely girl inside that was waiting for you to make a move."

"But I didn't know about…the hair…and the dress…and the Hermione….and the Murk. Oh, if I had known about the Murk I would have asked her to the dance for sure!" Ron looked frantic.

"Do you think that's why she didn't tell you?" Harry nodded knowingly.

Ron snorted. "Oh, come on Harry. She's smart, but she's not inside my head!" He gasped. "Or is she?"

Padma threw up her hands in surrender. "Whatever Ron. I'm going to go get some punch. Oh, Harry, McGonagall wants to tell you something." Padma stalked off.

"MISTER POTTER, GET YOUR DATE AND GET ON THE DANCE FLOOR!"

Harry jumped. "What? Huh? Where's the fire?!"

"FIRE!" Johnson popped out of the holly.

McGonagall sighed. "Put the hydrant down Potter, there is no fire. I must have told you that each of the champions and their dates must open the Yule Ball with a dance!"

Parvati squealed. "It's a dream come true! The lights! The fans! Hollywood, here I come!"

Harry blinked. "No. You failed to mention that little detail."

McGonagall shrugged. "Oh. Well, now you know. So get out there."

Harry called after her. "No, you don't understand! I can't…dance."

Parvati's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

Harry squirmed awkwardly. "Well…I get all nervous and I just sort of…collapse. It's a neurological thingy. Probably."

Parvati shrugged. "Whatever, let's go."

As Parvati dragged him onto the dance floor by his dress robes, Harry wondered what he had ever done to deserve his woeful life. All he had ever done was enjoy the company of his mops while everything happened to him. Well, he was tired of it! No longer would everything happen to Harry! Harry would happen to everything!

"I'm ready to Tango!" Harry shouted.

Parvati jammed her stiletto heel into Harry's foot. "No, you idiot, it's a waltz!"

Harry started to sweat. "But we didn't get to Waltzes, we only got to Tangos!"

"Just dance!"

Harry clomped awkwardly around the floor. Parvati curtsied, giggling girlishly. Harry copied her.

"No, don't curtsy! Bow!"

"Oh, right. Um..."

"Too late! Just…just watch what everyone else is doing!"

Harry stood there, watching Parvati do something complicated with her feet. And then she was spinning, and everyone else was spinning too. Except for Harry of course, who was just standing there stupidly. Harry thought that this was probably a very bad thing.

"Lift me up!" Parvati hissed.

Harry paled. "Merlin, why?"

"I don't know, just do it!"

Harry struggled. "I…I can't! My heroic arms are too weak!"

Parvati rolled her eyes. "Fine, then I'll lead!" She hoisted Harry above her head with one hand.

They proceeded to do several complicated dance moves. Parvati informed him of their names as they danced. They all sounded hard, and started with capital letters that, in Harry's experience, meant that whatever followed would be complicated and probably something Harry would fail miserably at. And then there was a lot of Chasseing and Sashaying and general running around very fast for no apparent reason.

"Um, Parvati?"

"What? You're doing fine. Just let me lead and get my picture taken."

"No, we've got a problem."

Parvati sighed. "What is it now?"

"My legs just collapsed."

"No! I'm not going to let you steal my spotlight! My dream!" So Parvati dragged Harry around the dance floor. It wasn't so bad, really. Actually, he felt a little bit like a mop. And from this position, he could see all the other champions. There was Cedric and Cho doing their little jungle dance. Curse your Scandinavian charms, Cedric! And there was Fleur dancing with…well…Harry didn't really know who her partner was because he was eclipsed by Fleur's beauty. Not that it really mattered anyways. After all, this was Fleur. And there was Krum and Hermione.

"Oh Viktor, this is just enchanting," said Hermione as she did some sort of intricate dance move that involved twisting herself into the shape of a pretzel while completing a double handspring.

"Mmmuh." Krum mumbled and waddled his duck feet.

"Yes. Isn't this a wonderful dance?"

"Mmmmhmmm."

"Oh, yes? I…I think so too. And the Great Hall! Doesn't it look wonderful?"

"Mmmmeh."

"And isn't Cho's dress divine?"

"Mmm…wait…" Krum's eyes slowly uncrossed and he stopped waddling. "Vat am I duink khere…unt who are oo…Vy…?"

Hermione quickly plucked a small potion bottle out of her handbag and emptied the contents into Krum's mouth. The bottle had little hearts on it and was producing pink smoke.

"You were saying, Viktor?"

"Mmmmuh?"

"Good." Hermione took out her book and removed the outer cover, revealing the title Love Potions Made Easy. "Aha! I did it! I don't need any breathing manuals! All I need is lov…ooovvv…oooooo."

While Hermione's face turned blue, Harry stared at a small bug with glasses and blonde hair that resembled Rita Skeeter climbing across the dance floor. That was odd. Why would a bug need glasses?

Finally, the dance finished.

"Oh good." Harry sighed. "We're done. Let's go get some punch!"

Parvati raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I don't think so. You think I made myself look this good for nothing? We're going to dance the whole night, even if it kills you."

Parvati dragged Harry back out onto the center of the dance floor.

"But what about the punch?"

Oddly