Granger, we need to talk
CHAPTER 29
Usual disclaimers.
I do not incur any monetary benefit from this writing.
I write for my own entertainment.
(Although lately it has been a hell of a thrash.)
All recognizable character rights belong to JK Rowling and a bunch of others.
Shall we dance? Eventually
Along with most of the other Eighth Year males, Harry waited for his Yule Wizarding Ball date to appear in the Eighth's common room. He was fidgeting with the red foil-wrapped box in his hands. And frankly, he had nothing to do except review what had gone on the last two weeks. All the young men gathered were too nervous to make small talk.
The Sunday after the Cape Wrath trip had been occupied by studying in the Eighth's common room to make up for missing Friday night and Saturday. They were using the public area to lower the chance of Lord Moragaine Designate Tracey Davis from first hexing rather than yelling at them.
They did not find out for a week that Davis had been intercepted by Daphne and Bulstrode and had been kept as a virtual prisoner by the two women until she had cooled off enough to promise no jinxing, hexing or cursing of Potter-Black and his evil henchwoman.
After a day of seething glares at whichever of the Evil Couple was in sight, the righteously unhappy witch was granted an audience in the Heads of House salon Monday night.
After a fifteen-minute rant about how unfair Lord Potter-Black was in dumping his Rite of Conquest House on her with no warning, no negotiations, no time for preparations, no . .
The Lord Potter-Black kept his Lordship face impassive through the rant. Among the reasons for his imperturbability, was that a letter from Lord Davis had arrived in the morning owl post. The letter, when stripped of its stilted formality, essentially said to throw her into the deep end. She would learn to swim. And that a couple of unobvious guardians could be assigned to make sure she did not slip below the surface.
Harry did not know Lord Davis but was giving her the Lordship mostly on the recommendation of Narcissa who did know Tracey's father.
After young Davis had wound down, Harry brought to her attention that in her haste to talk to her parents and gain information on House Moragaine, she had overlooked that Lord Potter-Black, Order of Merlin Designate Granger, Madam Tonks, Madam Black and Gringotts were all available to give her information she might want.
"I fact, Miss Davis, here is a Letter of Introduction to the Gringotts House Moragaine Account Manager to treat you as my representative. The appointment is this Saturday at eleven in the morning. Do not be late."
Harry had been surprised upon inquiring at Gringotts to find that a smaller, less prestigious Ancient House only rated an Account Manager. Not a Senior Account Manager as House Potter and House Black were accorded.
Harry did not crack a smile as he handed over the scroll. "Any arrangements with the Black Sisters you will have to make for yourself. We will talk again on the twentieth, the day before Yule and the Wizengamot meeting."
Harry's casual dismissal of her caught Tracey by surprise, but training carried her through the formal leaving phrases before she left.
Turning to look at Hermione, he found she had an unfocused pensive look versus the evil look of glee he expected.
He waited almost a minute before quietly asking her what she thought about this meeting with Tracey.
It took two tries before Hermione was pulled out from wherever her mind had been.
After giving Harry a lackluster affirmative on a successful meeting, she excused herself and went off to her room.
Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO
The remainder of the week was filled with studying for their own NEWT classes and having to prepare the end of term examinations for the classes they were teaching. Harry had additional work in putting final touches on his Underground Pub project plans and getting final approvals from rushed teachers preparing their own class exams.
Harry was back to wondering why Hermione was acting distant again. Something was bothering her, and she would not talk about it to him. It was not that she ignored him or was hostile. Harry could feel another withdrawal from their usual free and easy camaraderie.
Friday evening found the pair in the Eighth's common room commiserating with each other over the end of term examinations they had given that day to their classes while getting some studying for their own exams done. When Greengrass confronted them, they both had to finally admit that she had been correct. They had been inundated with requests, and some out-right demands, for a dance or more at the Ball. Following her advice, they had prevaricated and obfuscated, leaving several disgruntled non-veteran sixth and seventh years.
With a hugely cheerful smirk she presented each of them with a filled-out dance card. In numeric order, a name had been placed beside each dance. Harry noted that he had the first two dances with Hermione, then a dance with Greengrass, Hermione again, then the next two dances were with . . urk, Luna and Ginny.
After quickly glancing at Neville, he then peeked at Hermione's card and saw she was dancing with Neville whilst Harry was twirling with his girlfriends. Harry still had moments when how his friend Neville had changed perplexed him. In spite of talking with him, Harry knew he did not understand how his friend had morphed from a shy, bumbling boy, into the brave young man who had followed him into the Ministry fifth year. He knew he had missed much from not having been part of the school resistance last year. Particularly, just what had impelled Neville into the brave, daring man who became the heart and soul of the Hogwarts rebellion.
Continued reading showed that both cards had been filled out with over two hours of dance partners. Almost all of the non-Hermione fill-ins were girls he knew from the dorm or veterans from the DA. Hermione's card was the same except the fill-ins were male.
Harry quickly read how many dances were required of him. He groaned internally as he comprehended just how sore his feet would be at the end of the night.
Having waited patiently while the Clueless Duo absorbed their cards, Daphne spoke, "Definitely worth two dances, I would say. The main difference in your cards that they do not have you dancing at the same time with a known pair of "betrothal hunters."
The smirking blonde rested her chin on her upright pointed forefinger.
She looked straight at Hermione and said, "Perhaps I sold out too cheaply. I believe I should demand a third dance."
Hermione glared right back with a deep growl. This was her Harry night and no one was going to take her place. It might be for only one night, but she was bound and determined that it would be a night she could remember for the rest of her life, no matter how cold her bed might be in the future.
Seeing the look on Granger's face and the way her hand was almost subconsciously reaching for her wand, Daphne decided to stop teasing her.
"So, I have earned my payment. My advice would be to duplicate the list and flash the duplicate quickly at anyone who is particularly bothersome and then leave. Those raised in the upper echelons of society will understand."
She then gave Hermione a raised eyebrow look. "I assume you have read `Pride and Prejudice'?" Hermione nodded sharply. "Would anyone in the book dare to presume to dance with a lady who stated that her dance card was full?"
Hermione shook her head no.
"The same will apply to those of Britannia wizarding society who will attend the Ball. That parchment is your free pass for the evening." Daphne started to turn away, then swiveled back. "And of course, do remember to check everything you eat or drink for umm . . contaminants?"
And with what had to be her trademark smirk, she was off again on her business.
Hermione watched her leave, still fingering her wand.
"She is up to something. I am going to have a long, possibly painful for her talk with her soon. In fact, soon is approaching rapidly,' she snarled.
Harry looked at her with mild surprise.
"You have done that once," he said. "I was there, remember?"
"Oh, I remember. And have you noticed she has been remarkably friendly despite the verbal spanking I delivered. No revenge threats, no hostile glares, no sniping behind my back. In fact, she has been nothing except helpful. Extraordinarily helpful, I might add."
"Tell me, Harry," she continued. "Am I paranoid if she really is plotting something?"
Harry had regarded her and shrugged. He had no answer for her, but resolved to not belittle her concerns. She had been wrong two years ago about his suspicions of Malfoy. He remembered how her dismissal had wounded him. He would not casually dismiss her misgivings.
The last week had again been mostly some end of term examinations, some more Underground Pub work and the growing excitement and distraction of the Yule Ball. The plans for the Order of Merlin awards at the Winter Solstice Wizengamot session were finalized. And Narcissa was beginning to query him about having someone on his arm for the Ministry New Year's Ball.
Classes had ended on Thursday, and on Friday a large part of the students spent the day in a huge, traditional snowball fight. (Huh? The last pre-Ball snowball fight had been four years ago. What tradition some snarked?) The nae-sayers had been thoroughly pummeled by masses of Banished show. With some snowballs included. Tradition has to start sometime.
Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO
Four years ago, the girls of Hogwarts had apparently established the `every girl will help every other girl to the best of her ability' tradition. All the Eighth-Year girls, and any veterans who asked to join them, had spent the afternoon doing `pampering'.
Pampering apparently involved a giggling group walk by every girl through the common room to the sybaritic bath at the end of the corridor. After two hours, the group strolled back to the girl's corridor in fluffy white dressing gowns that varied from floor-length full coverage to mid-thigh and barely tied.
Inevitably it was Seamus who could not resist whistling, then saying, "Merlin's sagging left sac! Can I get a couple of you birds to join me for a before ball warm-up good time?"
As best Harry could tell, he'd been hit by a Silencio, four stinging hexes and something that turned his skin and hair bright yellow and an Impedimentia jinx.
Some people froze at the sudden spellfire. Others dove for cover and others had shields up so fast Harry was proud of his friends.
The girl's wands disappeared as fast as they had appeared.
It was Luna who broke the tension when she tilted her head and looked at the sight of Seamus.
"It is well known that yellow is my absolutely most favorite colour. However, you Seamus, are going to have to learn subtly if you are trying to woo me."
That broke the tension and left everyone laughing. And left Seamus yellow.
Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO
The first visions of loveliness to appear from the girl's dormitories were Padma Patil and Lisa Turpin. Padma's silver and light blue form-fitting dress was vaguely sari like and unlike the Tri-Wizard Ball, her extensive jewelry was silver instead of gold. Her hair had been done as a braided crown with the hair not used in the crown trailing in a waist-length fall down her back.
Lisa had a more traditional form-fitting dance robe that started as near glowing forest green, fading to white at the floor. Her dark blonde hair had become wavy and curly yet somehow the weight of its length did not flatten her hair on the top of her head which held a delicate silver tiara.
Their respective dates, Michael Corner and Ernie MacMillan, handled greeting their visions of bewitching beauty with more aplomb than Harry thought possible considering how utterly enchanting the two girls looked.
Beautiful young woman followed each other. Susan Bones in striking amber robes, Greengrass in an eye-catching white silvery confection robe that would remind everyone about the Slytherin Ice Queen. "Merlin, she is so-o-o beautiful!" Tracey was in a daringly cut satin black robe, and seeing his reaction to Daphne, seemed torn between laughing at him, or wanting to hex him into pieces.
"And who had worked on Bulstrode's makeover?" She wore an off-white robe that while classic, left no doubt her size and shape were built on muscle, not flab.
Millicent gave a sigh as she produced a handkerchief and wiped drool off of Ron's chin before they left for the Great Hall. But she was smiling.
Harry tried but knew he was gaping as Luna and Ginny came down the stairs, arms linked in the sparkling light yellow and light green dresses respectively as they walked up to a stunned Neville before quietly, yet thoroughly, kissing him deeply to inspect his tonsils for defects.
Somehow, he had known that just as for the Tri-Wizard Ball, Hermione would be the last to exit. His last coherent thought was that he was glad he had watched the other beautiful young women precede her. He would have never noticed them if she had appeared earlier. Four years ago, she had shocked him with her beauty. This time he truly thought she looked like a goddess.
Her magnificent, yet tamed hair was again piled high emphasizing her long, kissable neck. "Kissable? Where did that thought come from? And is her hair a couple of shades darker? " She did not have the tiny ringlets framing her face this time. Her eyes were huge from bronze (?) eye make-up without looking garish, and her mature cheekbones were emphasized. As his eyes managed to work their way down, he saw her lips were a dark red that went with her so-dark-red-it-was-almost-black dress robe.
He now realized why she had wanted the red and maroon highlights on his robes. They were to match the dark red that morphed on her robes as she moved.
The neck was high, her arms bare, and the dress form-fitting until her hips, yet the gathering gave it an ancient Grecian look. At her hips, the drape of the gowns' gatherings exposed half her right thigh as she walked, while trailing to the ground on her left. An ancient-looking bronze chain belt cinched the dress tightly to her defined waist before the end trailed half-way down her covered left thigh. Her knee-high, leather weaved, three-inch high solid heeled sandals were black, but exposed toes whose nails matched her lips. Dangling, linked black stone earrings and a wide alternating red and black bracelet, almost a bracer, on her right wrist finished her look off.
He now realized why she had wanted the red and maroon highlights on his robes. They were to match the dark red that morphed on her robes as she moved.
Suddenly, as she started her descent, he realized his Goddess was not an angel of Peace and Harmony. From a book on the magical history of Greece he had read during the Horcrux Hunt he suddenly knew who she was.
She was the powerful, ancient Grecian witch Enyo, Destroyer of Cities and possibly the Mother of Deimos and Phobos, Panic and Fear.
The tiny part of Harry's brain that was not locked-up in awe, was thinking how apt her dress/robe was. They had pillow talked about her plans for months. Plans plotting destruction to the PureBlood Culture bias of Britannia.
Watching her, Harry's sputtering brain was having a brief fantasy of his Destroyer Goddess stepping down from the peak of a pile of Blood Purists that wailed and lamented their fate.
And in that instant, he wanted to be with her every step of the way.
As she smirked at his astounded expression, she descended the stairs from the sleeping rooms.
Reaching Harry, she raised her black shawl-draped arms and draped them over his shoulders. With her lips an inch away from his, her breath tickling him, she gave him her best puppy dog eyes and asked, "I take it you approve?"
On his third attempt, Harry managed to gurgle a "Yes."
"Then Milord Potter-Black, let us be on our way."
And with brain-melting peck on his lips, she spun and took position on his left arm.
"I am eighteen years old. Why are there two women who keep doing this to my brain?"
Her movement shocked his brain into working again.
"One moment, Hermione." He stopped her and produced the red foil-wrapped box from a pocket. He gave it to her to be unwrapped. With great care and delicacy, Hermione removed the foil and opened the box. From it she took a pair of red-tipped white roses.
As she held them, he said, "Even a dunderhead like me can tell these will just not do."
Producing his wand, he changed the color of the roses to dark red and used a sticking charm to place them on the right shoulder of her dress.
Looking deep into her eyes, he nodded and produced his left arm again.
Harry and Hermione arrived at the doors to the Great Hall a fashionable ten minutes late. They stopped for photographs being taken by Dennis Creevey.
As they entered the Great Hall, both of them looked around at the new décor. Gone were the long house tables. Icy stalagmites and stalactites grew from the floor and the cloudy white indistinct ceiling. A dozen or so evergreen trees that looked a bit taller than them were sprinkled around. Except for the dance floor and the orchestra area, the trees and the floor both seemed to be covered in fresh-fallen snow, yet the snow was not cold on their feet, or soaking their shoes, or the wetting bottom of the girl's long robes.
More than a score of round, eight-person tables with white table clothes and white chairs completed the room.
"Not as fancy as it was for the Tri-Wizard Ball, is it?" Harry muttered softly over the sound of the background music.
"No, this is just a school dance. Not an attempt to show-off to the other premier magic schools," was her quiet reply.
Taking his Gryffindor courage in both hands, he looked for Neville and lead Hermione over to the table occupied by him his girlfriends and interestingly, Ron and Millicent.
He and Hermione greeted the other five and sat down. They were no sooner seated at the pristine table when the Millicent started the evenings first pick-on-the-men cycle. She mentioned how she was developing an appetite and would Ron please get her a plate of hors d'oeuvres.
Luna immediately picked up on the theme while Ginny reinforced her by outrageously batting her eyelashes at Neville. Harry could see how the flow was going and stood up before Hermione's evil smirk became a faux pitiful plea.
Suddenly, Harry noticed the now standing Neville was wearing his evil smirk. ("What is this? Everyone smirk and pick on Harry night?")
"Lord Potter-Black. Since it appears that you know everything about my girlfriend," he said, indicating Luna to a wincing Harry. "You must know she is now feeling thirsty. Perhaps you will be kind enough to bring us a round of butterbeers?"
Hermione and Ginny quickly caught on to Neville's ploy. Apparently, this was the first official payback for snatching Luna from his bed. Both girls did terrible imitations of simpering fan girls with a near-simultaneous "Aww, would you please, Lord Potter-Black?"
Harry heard the giggles and snickers that broke out behind him as he wended his way to the beverage bar where a Hogwarts house elf as handing out pitchers of pumpkin juice, water, and bottles of butterbeer and short, squat glasses that had the Hogwarts crest on the side.
Placing the glasses upside down on the butterbeer bottles and conjuring a carrying tray, Harry headed back to the table and after passing around the bottles he sat and joined in the rush to eat something before the dancing started. Most everyone was hungry, particularly the girls, as dinner that evening had been sandwiches in the house common rooms and none of them had wanted to leave the prep rooms or take any chance of staining a gown before meeting their escort.
Finger sandwiches, crisps, cakes, pie and biscuits were all avidly consumed.
The group spent a half hour making school small talk and commenting sotto voce on some of the tackier clothing ensembles on display while fueling hungry teenage bodies for the strenuous dancing ahead.
The quiet background music was interrupted by the Orchestra leader announcing that Headmistress McGonagall was going to say a few words.
The stern-faced Scots woman then proceeded to remind the attendees that this was a cultural event, and proper decorum was expected at all times.
Harry very quietly voiced that, "Since we were not working at impressing those foreign schools, she must have felt she did not have to threaten us with dire consequences if there was any tomfoolery this time around."
The boys snickered, the girls either ignored him or looked scandalized. Hermione leaned in close and whispered, "Stealing my lines about this Ball, Harry?"
Harry had the grace to blush at that last jibe.
Barely five minutes later, the leader of the wizarding orchestra stepped forward and proclaimed the first dance.
"May I please have the Head Girl and Head Boy on the floor to start the first dance," he announced.
Verbena Fencroft and John McGeough met on the dance floor, held each other in the approved fashion, and stepped into dancing gracefully on the second measure.
After about thirty seconds, the leader again proclaimed, "Next, may we have Heads of Eighth Year house, Lord Harry Potter-Black, and Miss Hermione Granger."
Looking at each other in surprise, as they had not been told this would happen, the pair none the less rose and Harry escorted her onto the dance floor. Fighting himself not to get flustered or embarrassed by the attention they were drawing, Harry surprised himself by looking into Hermione's eyes and became instantly lost in them. He was so distracted he missed several measures of the music before a gentle prompt had him elegantly proceeding to glide her around the floor.
They never lost eye contact during that first dance. They were deaf to the leader as he called the prefects and their dates onto the floor by descending year, only peripherally noting the floor was getting busy enough they now had to occasionally dodge another not as accomplished couple.
The first waltz ended, but the duo stayed on the floor and immediately commenced moving as the second waltz started.
As it ended, they formally walked off the dance floor towards their table only to be waylaid by Daphne as they arrived. Harry knew that this was coming and it had seemed to be a reasonable way out of Hermione and his problem a week ago, but at this moment he was bitterly cursing anything that took him out of contact with his goddess.
"I believe I am penciled in for the next dance, Lord Potter-Black," purred the icily regal blonde. The flash of perturbation in Hermione's eyes vanished as quickly as it appeared.
"Yes, Heiress Greengrass, you are," Harry purred back hoping to unsettle her a bit. A lifted eyebrow flamed that snowballs' chance in Hel.
Shoving down his own emotions, he graciously air-kissed her extended hand and led her to the dance floor. It was only a few moments before the music commenced and Harry found that Daphne Greengrass indeed could dance as well, it seemed, as she could perform anything else she did. From the seamless way she followed Harry's conventional leads to not flubbing when a perversely cross Harry, started to make his moves more complicated.
As the dance ended, and the couple stopped, Daphne gave a surprised Harry a slightly longer than necessary hug.
As she stepped back, she smiled at him and said," Thank you Lord Potter-Black. I believe that was the most fun I have had dancing since my gigolo Dance Master before fourth year."
Harry became thoughtful as he escorted Greengrass back to the table where she promptly sat in the unclaimed chair.
"I have had this beautiful creature sleeping in a bed with me with no more than a thin piece of cloth between us and not been as worked up as I am now. Hermione's going to kill me."
Hermione did not kill him, but she was somewhat stiff and did not make eye contact with him during the next, their third dance.
The dances with Luna and Ginny were anti-climactic in comparison. Although Luna in her own inimitable, matter of fact tone, noted that anyone foolish enough to provoke a goddess of destruction probably deserved what they received. At this point in their friendship, Harry took any declaration by Luna calmly. He had no idea how she did it, but she was always right.
Ginny asserted that she "had forgiven Harry for what he had done to her future sister wife with his rashness," but doing something like that again and she would show him a new variation on her Bat Bogie spell. She called it the Bat Spermies spell. "You know, it makes bats come out of your . . "
It took Harry a moment to catch on, but the shock stopped him cold in the middle of the dance floor staring wide-eyed in shock into her eyes. Harry reeling mind noted that Ginny, unlike Hermione and Daphne, apparently had to raise both eyebrows while making sure he would never ever do whatever again.
"How come I never noticed that when she was my girlfriend?"
Harry gallantly stayed on his feet with Hermione, Susan, and Millicent and Hermione again for the next four dances. As the dance card showed Hermione next before the orchestra took a break, he begged her to walk into the enchanted gardens with him. He explained he wanted to get one of the benches to sit upon to rest his feet in peace and quiet before being besieged by other students during the break.
Harry sighed as he flopped onto a carved wooden slat bench in the garden outside the doors.
"I've been told that doing a lot of dancing in heels is hard on a girl's feet," stated Harry in a low voice. "I think almost a solid hour of dancing could be considered hard work. Would you like to share a footrest?"
At her affirmative, Harry conjured a red baize cushioned rectangular footrest and they both gratefully propped their feet upon it. The position of her propped-up legs revealed more thigh to Harry. He blushed and tried to look collected. Hermione just let a little smile grow upon her lips.
The garden had been left natural except the snow had been removed from the courtyard and path pavements. Warming charms did not completely dispel the cold December Scotland air, but the cool was refreshing to the nearly sweating pair.
Harry was sitting quietly, but his brain was whirling at high speed. He knew Hermione's dress was a message that hopefully only he would get. The Destroyer was asking for a commitment. Yet, Harry was betting that this was beyond their usual `best friends forever' line.
He had been wrestling for months over his feelings for her. His last "Snuggle Witch" time with Greengrass had brought forth his memories of loss and pain when his Hermione was hurt and injured. He suppressed these memories because not only were they painful to his brain, they made his chest hurt in ways he did not know how to deal with.
Last night, as his mind whirled around, he deliberately remembered all the great moments his friendship with Hermione Granger had brought him.
First-year. "Friendship and bravery and . . ." "Wonder if she was going to say love?"
Second-year was when she gave him his first-ever hug after being freed from her petrification.
Third-year. "Thank Merlin, she was there to make the plans that freed Sirius. I think that was when it became so commonplace, we didn't realize that saving each other's lives many times was not done by most kids."
Fourth-year. "Without her, I would not have survived the dragon."
Fifth-year. "She told me it was a trap, and then followed me into it trying to save me again."
Sixth-year. "What happened to us?"
The Horcrux Hunt. "Damn Dumbledore. She stayed, Ron did not. She stuck with me. She believed in me. She believed in me!"
Harry returned to the outside world to find Hermione peering at him.
Harry peered back at her. He was re-running his earlier thoughts of their many pillow talks. It only struck him now that as soon as either of them found another to date, those talks would have to end.
"Replace her with Greengrass? She was beautiful, informed and smart as Hermione," raced through his head. "But she has not been through what we have. Greengrass doesn't have the instant memories of all we've shared."
Harry realized that Hermione was starting to worry her lower lip with her teeth. He reached up and gently stopped her.
"You will ruin your lovely, luscious lipstick if you keep that up," he said.
She started to reply, then shook her head carefully and grabbed his left hand in a tight but not quite painful grip and returned her glistening eyes to the courtyard.
It was not five minutes later when virtually all their classmates descended and the girls dragged a reluctant Hermione off to the women's loo for "female time."
The young men congregated together and started by congratulating each other on how pretty, wonderful, looking good or stunning their dates were.
Harry had two young girls with too tight robes, and too much make-up, who absolutely insisted that he have a dance with them. One of them left after Harry vehemently insisted his dance card was full, and actually had to pull it out to show the second that he was not lying.
"Brutal, eh?" came the comment from Neville as he stepped up alongside Harry.
"Have you had to put up with this dragon dung?" Harry replied.
"Nope. Not since that incident in the unused classroom weeks ago. Anybody not in the DA, or an Eighth year, is terrified of crossing them," he ended with an evil smirk.
"You're really proud of them, aren't you?" Harry said.
"Very," Neville spoke through a huge grin.
"In love with both of them?"
"Very."
The flock of young women had been gone for twenty minutes and Harry was starting to get antsy.
"Where is she?" he thought just as the large group spilled back into the Great Hall.
Hermione and Greengrass headed for Harry together. Greengrass was sauntering, her PureBlood mask firmly in place. Hermione was staring at him as she walked towards him.
Harry could not read her expression. That surprised him. He thought he knew her so well that he always could tell what she was thinking.
They arrived just as the band started to sit for the second session. Feeling uneasy, as though things were occurring that he did not know about, he extended his hand and led Hermione onto the dance floor.
Harry relaxed a bit as the Hermione in his arms seemed to have returned to his date of the first two waltzes. She was responsive, light in his arms and looked him in the eyes when not watching around the floor.
The Dance ended all too soon and Harry had to escort her back to the table. There, some seventh year Hufflepuff tried not to look as though the glare Harry sent him was bothering him, as he eagerly claimed the next dance with Hermione.
Harry knew he was to dance next with Padma and he looked over to where he had seen her earlier. Ahh, there she was. In a few seconds he was at her table and with a respectful nod to her date, he proceeded to bow in front of his seated sleek-haired beautiful classmate. Hermione had stressed being polite when requesting a dance. Especially since Michael and Padma were both in on the dance card conspiracy.
"Fair Miss Patil. May I have the honour of this dance?" he inquired.
In the snootiest PureBlood tones he could have imagined, she replied, "One moment please as I check my card."
Reaching into her robe, she withdrew a . . nothing? Harry watched as she then seemed to examine an invisible card, then tucked nothing back into her robe.
She then stood, extended her hand to a now confused Harry and stated, "Why Lord Potter-Black, it seems your name is next on my dance card."
With that, she lightly grasped his hand and towed him out to dance.
Harry was just recovering as he assumed the dance position, then was startled again at the mirth shining in her eyes as she was trying to keep her snickering silent.
He snorted, then grinned and suddenly swept her into an exuberant waltz.
It was minutes later as now sweating pair of grinning loons exited the dance floor. Leaving Padma with a bow, Harry headed for his table and his next dance, which was with Millicent.
Dancing with Mils was oddly soothing after his vigorous Padma dance. She was having trouble relaxing. She knew all the right steps, but had been trained so diligently in not making a wrong move in settings like this, that it kept her stiff.
The dance with Padma had suddenly put Harry in one of his rare playful moods. And Merlin answered his unthought plea.
As Harry sought out Hermione for his next dance, the orchestra leader loudly announced the next dance would be Belvertian's Third Viennese Waltz.
The devilish grin that lit Harry's face as he turned to Hermione.
"Fair Enyo," he started so quietly only she could hear him.
Normally he continued, "Belle of the Ball. May I have this dance?"
He did not wait for an answer. Grabbing her hand, he led her rapidly out onto the floor. They had to squeeze through the mass of people leaving the floor. Finally, there were only two other couples left with them.
"Now I want you, Wondrous Enyo to imagine you have just left the ministry. In your wake, you have left nothing but smoking wreckage and a wailing Wizengamot."
"Show me," he whispered in her ear. "Just how big a smile would you have?"
And just like that, Hermione's face blossomed into a huge smile just as the waltz started.
What followed made Harry's blood sing. Using all the dance floor available, the pair twirled and whirled exuberantly. He did not just elevate her via both hands on her waist, Harry practically threw Hermione airborne several times. And each time she landed gracefully, practically daring him to catch up with her again.
They put on a show that would be unmatched for years and became a tale to be added to the near legend of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger at Hogwarts.
Oooooo vvvvvv oooooO
The rest of the evening passed in a barely remembered blur of dancing with many beautiful young women for Harry. Reality caught up to him when later he found his arms filled with a curvy blonde, his nose almost buried in her hair smelling of mint and apple blossoms.
It was late and the orchestra was not really playing dance music. They were playing sway music. Harry appreciated that. His feet were sore and had swelled so his shoes were killing him.
Propriety would claim that the couple was far too close together. Harry thought, "Screw propriety. However, if Hermione is watching, she is going to peel my skin off slowly. Or hex Greengrass until her hair falls out."
Daphne moved away just a little and raised her head.
"Since this is your third date with Granger, do not leave her hanging."
Harry stopped swaying abruptly and stared down into those lovely blue eyes.
After a moment's thought, he replied. "There are times, my lovely ex-Slytherin, when you talk inscrutably. And your assumption that I know just what twisty games your mind is working on, becomes maddening."
His look at her hardened. "Now, can you speak plainly, or do I get unhappy with you?"
He saw her eyes widen as his tone registered.
As she stared back at him, he could almost see several explanations whip through her mind. And he saw the small flinch as she bent to his will.
She spoke softly, "It is an unwritten part of the girl code that if a boy takes you out on three dates, and seems to have no intention of asking you to be his girlfriend, then it is time to look very closely at the relationship to tell if it has any chance of working."
"Eight years Harry. It has been eight years of you two edging around the big question"
The deep breath she took distracted him as it pushed her chest into him.
Daphne continued on, "Both of you are abused souls, yet you trust each other implicitly. You are both terrified of `ruining your friendship'. Yet that friendship is so strong, I believe only death will break it."
"So, MiLord Potter-Black, in my considered opinion, it is time to get your head out of your arse and make her your girlfriend. In fact, again in my considered opinion, what you should do is propose to her, put a ring on her left hand and go looking for your Happy Ever After."
Harry said nothing. He just stared at her like a poleaxed steer.
"Damn it," she thought. "When he starts thinking of Hermione in that way, doesn't he have any other default action besides his brain shutting down? For Morgana's sake, I've seen what she does with his hands when she thinks he's asleep!"
Daphne decided to ignore his stare and lower her head to his shoulder again before Harry realized she was getting upset with him.
Meanwhile, Harry automatically started swaying again. His mind was so concentrated on his relationship, ("Being best friends was not a relationship? Wasn't it?") that it took him over two minutes to for his brain to notice that the girl smell in his nose was now mint and vanilla.
Somehow Greengrass and Hermione had switched on him and he had not noticed the change of woman in his arms.
"Oh, Merlin. I am such a bad boyfriend! Wait, boyfriend?"
That last thought jerked Harry to an abrupt stop. The rude stop made Hermione lift her head up to look at Harry to see what had happened.
Harry was looking at Hermione with his mouth open and his eyes were huge and horrified.
Suddenly Harry felt his mouth being pushed closed. Hermione snapped her fingers under his nose until Harry actually focused on her.
"These are the last two dances," she said. "And I am going to enjoy them. So, turn your mind off and start swaying Harry. Otherwise, you will find out I CAN use a wandless "Stinging Hex."
With that, she lowered her head back beside his neck.
Harry decided to follow Hermione's advice and spent the next two dances (?) just feeling and enjoying her slim body pressed close to him. When the inevitable problem began to arise, he tried putting some distance between their bodies. Hermione would have none of that and literally grabbed him just at his waist and yanked him back into close contact. The muffled growl that rumbled out from below his chin dissuaded him from trying that again.
The music faded away, followed by some platitudes by the leader. Harry did not care and was instead watching Hermione closely from the corner of his eye as he escorted her back to their table.
He rather vaguely noticed that table mates had left some time ago and they were among the last students still in the Great Hall. Again, he did not care.
Greengrass had rattled him severely.
"Third date. Third date! What in Hades am I supposed to do now? Will she start considering some of those Intent gifts if I don't Gryffindor up? If she says yes, that would be great. If she says no, how am I going to continue?"
And that was the great awakening for Harry Potter.
He had crystallized all his thoughts. Without her, what was he? He was stupid is what he was. What Bellatrix had done had been awful, but she had kept fighting and he had kept fighting to get to her. When he thought she had died under Dolohov's curse, he had been immediately gutted. THAT is what life without Hermione Granger would be like.
"She has turned down everyone else as a romantic interest. Maybe she will take me."
While Harry had been buried in his thoughts, their steps had carried them up to the third floor. With increasing dread Harry's steps carried him closer to their suite. As Hermione gave the password to their guardian painting, Harry's sense of doom increased.
It was only a dozen steps from the door to the couch but in that distance, Harry managed to both break out in a rolling sweat, and become so light-headed he feared passing out.
They both turned towards each other. Neither was managing to look the other in the eye.
Hermione did not look up as she started to speak. "Harry, I had a wonde . . .,"
Harry stopped whatever she was going to say by closing the distance between them. As she looked up, he stared into her eyes, then he slowly brought his lips towards hers. He did not have to bend his neck as in her heels she matched his height.
He kept his eyes open as he moved closer and closer to her lips. Hermione's eyes were intently focusing on his lips. He was intently focusing upon if she did not want this, what would be the sign?
Harry closed his eyes as he tilted his head for his lips to meet hers. He was hoping his snogging with Ginny two years ago was going to help as he slowly moved his lips over hers.
Her lips stayed unresponsive under his. As the seeming lack of enthusiasm registered, Harry started to pull away. His lessening the pressure must have acted as a prod to Hermione as suddenly she opened her mouth and forced her tongue past his lips into his teeth.
Harry was so surprised he reflexively opened his mouth to let her tongue clash with his.
Harry's brain may have been stunned but it still noted that his lovely Hermione's arms had both gone around his neck, then up into his hair and were holding him firmly against her mouth.
Their tongues dueled, advancing and retreating until the need for breath made continuing impossible.
Harry did not want to stop the kiss, but the sheer intensity that flowed between them as they had both poured their feelings into the other demanded a break.
Touching foreheads, Harry peered at Hermione's still closed eyes. His nerve endings were hypersensitive. He could feel her hands running through his hair, her boobs pressing into his chest as she panted, his manhood straining into her belly.
He was about to back-off a bit when she dropped one of her hands to his back and molded him to her. Without opening her eyes, she tilted her head and kissed him fervently as once again their tongues thrust and parried.
Harry's head was threatening to explode as sensations never felt before coursed through him. Ginny's kisses had been like strawberries and cream. Nice and they made him feel good.
Kissing Hermione was like slugging down a half-glass of Firewhiskey mixed with a Pepper-Up potion.
Like any intoxicating drink, the intensity of their sensations kept climbing. Hands were starting to roam. Harry started with running his hands up and down her back. Then lower as he rubbed and kneaded her arse. As his hands worked their way up again, they came around to her sides with his thumbs grazing the side of her breasts on their way to be buried in her hair.
Hermione was unconsciously mimicking his moves.
The haze of lust and hormones that was descending on Harry Potter was rudely checked when he buried his hands in Hermione's exquisitely coiffured hair. Several sharp pains lanced from his fingers as they rammed into some of the many sharp hairpins holding Hermione's hair up.
With a gasp of pain, Harry jerked his hands down, away from what was hurting him.
Unfortunately, his move yanked on Hermione's now tangled hair, causing her to lunge forward in an instinctive move to get away from whatever was causing pain on the back of her head.
Backpedaling Harry, further impelled by a lunging Hermione, stumbled into an armchair. As his knees caught the front edge of the chair, the falling entangled pair plowed into the back of the chair with enough force to flip it over.
"Augh! What's happe . . ."
Darkness.
A/N:
Yeah, I know it's over two weeks. Three to four weeks is beginning to look like the new normal.
I tried hard to keep the Ball's point of view from Harry only. Harder to write.
This is by far the longest chapter yet. 7.5K words. I try to keep them shorter but this chapter seemed to have no logical breakpoint as written. So, this was 1.5 chapters written long, and the point is, took 1.5 the time to write.
Interestingly, I am finding myself heavily reviewing notes and re-reading chapters in my effort to not drop early plot threads or something I planned to explain "Later".
Time-consuming work. Already fumbled the Quidditch hoop placement near disaster, mass PTSD, Potter Manor Ball and . . . Sigh
If you think I've missed picking up a former thread that interested you, drop me a note.