Warning, we are coming up on the last chapters I have pre-written, so updates will probably be slower from now on. Thank you for continuing to read and comment!

Chapter 21: Of Asking and Answering

Towards the end of their Transfiguration lesson, Chrys and Parvati were collecting the guinea fowl they had been transforming into guinea pigs.

"Mine still has feathers," Neville said miserably as Chrys grabbed it.

"Yeah, well, Dean's still had talons," Chrys told him, glad she was wearing her dragon hide gloves. She placed Neville's guinea pig into the cage Parvati was holding. "I think that's the last one…" She looked around the room. She snorted as she saw Harry and Ron play sword fighting with a pair of Fred and George's fake wands, which had turned into a rubber fish and a tin parrot, respectfully. "Yeah."

"Good," Parvati grunted. "This is getting heavy."

"Let me help you." They carried it together to the front of the room and placed it on Professor McGonagall's desk.

"Thank you, Miss Potter and Miss Patil." She nodded at them. "Now, if you would please return to your seats, I have an announcement to make before the end of class." They sat down. "So, soon there will be—"

"Ha!" Ron said exclaimed as he stabbed Harry's fish with his parrot's beak.

"Potter! Weasley!" Professor McGonagall said sharply. "Will you pay attention!" Harry and Ron jumped and looked up at her. "Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age…" She glared at them as Harry's fish head fell off. "…I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching—"

"The what?" Chrys whispered to Hermione, who shushed her.

"A traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests," Professor McGonagall continued. "Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above—although you may invite a younger student if you wish—" Lavender giggled. Parvati elbowed her warningly, though she was clearly struggling not to laugh as well. For some reason, they both looked back at Harry. "Dress robes will be worn—" Ron groaned. Professor McGonagall ignored him this time. "And the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at Midnight in the Great Hall. Now then…" She looked around at them. "The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to—er—let our hair down." She sniffed disapprovingly. Lavender started giggling again, hiding her mouth behind her hand. Chrys looked up at Professor McGonagall's hair, which was, as always, pulled back in a tight bun. "But that does not mean that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if any Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way." The bell rang. The students got to their feet, packing up their bags. "Mr. Potter—a word, if you please."

Harry hung back as Ron quickly snuck out with Chrys and Hermione.

"What do you think she wanted to speak to him for?" Ron wondered, swinging his tin parrot thoughtfully.

"Oh, put that away," Hermione said irritably. Ron shrugged and stuffed it into his bag. "And Professor McGonagall probably wanted to speak to Harry about opening the dance."

"What?" Chrys said as Ron looked at Hermione confusedly.

"Opening the dance," Hermione repeated slowly. "It's tradition for the champions to have the first dance."

She was right. "I've been specifically ordered by Professor McGonagall to find someone to go to the dance with," Harry groaned.

"Oh come on," Ron said. "You beat a Horntail, asking a girl to a dance should be a cinch."

"Think I'd go another round with the Horntail," he muttered. Chrys patted him on the back.

During Care of Magical Creatures, Harry took a break from groaning about the Ball in order to ask Hagrid how his interview with Skeeter had gone.

"She din' seem very int'rested in magical creatures, ter tell yeh the truth," he said. He looked around to make sure the other students were busy with preparing food for the skrewts and then leaned in closer. "She jus' wanted me ter talk about you, Harry. Well, I told her we'd been friends since I went ter fetch yeh from the Dursleys…" Chrys smiled slightly. "'Never had to tell them off in four years?' she said. 'Never played up in lessons, have they?' I told him no, an' she didn' seem happy at all. Yeh'd think she wanted me to say yeh were horrible."

"Course she did. She can't keep writing about what a tragic little hero, I am, it'll get boring." Harry threw his chopped dragon liver into the mixing bowl with a little too much force. It splattered the front of Hermione's robes. She glared at him. "Whoops… sorry, Hermione." Hagrid handed her a large handkerchief.

"She wants a new angle, Hagrid," Ron figured. "You were supposed to say Harry's a mad delinquent!"

"But he's not!" Hagrid said, surprised.

"She should've interviewed Snape," Harry said grimly. "He'd give her the goods on me any day. Potter has been crossing lines ever since he arrived at this school…" Chrys, Ron, and Hermione laughed at his impression of Snape's deep whining voice.

"He said that, did he?" Hagrid smiled slightly. "Well, yeh might've bent a few rules, Harry, bu' yeh're all righ' really, aren' you?"

Harry grinned. "Cheers, Hagrid."

"Hold on, Hermione, you've got a bit of…" Ron reached over and pulled a piece of dragon liver out of her hair.

"Gross…" Her nose wrinkled. "Really, Harry. It's not sanitary."

"I did apologize…"

"What if we had been in Potions? Imagine how Professor Snape would react to you handling ingredients like that."

"Well, we're not in potions, are we?" Harry pointed out.

Ron looked at them thoughtfully.

"You coming to this ball thing on Christmas Day, Hagrid?" He asked.

"Though' I might look in on it, yeah…" Hagrid glanced up the hill at the Beauxbatons carriage. "Should be a good do, I reckon. You'll be openin' the dancin', won' yeh, Harry? Who're you takin'?"

Harry blushed. "No one, yet."

Over the next week several girls asked him. The first he was so surprised by that he automatically said no. Then on their way back from Herbology, an extremely tall and muscular prefect ambushed him. Harry said no as politely as possible.

He shuddered. "I thought she'd knock me out if I refused…"

Hermione patted his arm, her lips twitching. Then she saw her watch.

"Oh no! I wanted to get to Arithmancy early—I've got a question for Professor Vector about the homework… I'll see you later!" She waved as she ran up to the castle.

"She was quite good-looking," Ron said, after he'd stopped laughing.

"She was about a foot taller than me," Harry said, his eyes wide. "Imagine what I'd like trying to dance with her." Chrys shrugged.

"I can't see why it matters. It's not like you know how to dance in the first place."

Harry groaned. "Thanks, Chrys, that makes me feel loads better."

"No problem."

"Ah, hold on…" Ron was attempting to stuff his entire cloak into his bag. "No good." He shook his head. "I'll just run and throw it upstairs—meet you in class." Harry and Chrys started up the stairs towards Divination.

"Besides…" Harry said quietly. "I doubt any of them would've asked me if I wasn't Harry Potter or a Triwizard Champion."

"Well you are, both of those," she reminded him. He sighed. "Are you going to ask anyone? What about Cho Chang?"

He flushed. "C-Cho? I dunno… I'd like to, but… I don't know, she travels with this whole pack of girls, and she's a year older than me, and very pretty, and a very good Quidditch player, and just… all around very popular…" He ran his hand through his hair, staring off into the distance. Then he looked back at Chrys. "What about you? Anyone you'd like to ask?"

Now she flushed. "Well, there is this one person… but he's older too, and fairly popular, so he's probably already going with someone…" Chrys shook herself. "Anyway, we've got a more immediate problem. Snape's exam is tomorrow."

"Evil, he is," Ron said that night. "Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying."

"What is the antidote to Malaria?" Hermione asked in crisp voice.

"Penicillin," Chrys said. Hermione frowned at her over the top of her potions notes.

"The wizarding antidote, Chrys—and it's Ron's turn!"

"It is?" Ron blinked. "Well, I've got no idea." He picked up another Exploding Snaps card, and gingerly added it to the tower he and Chrys were building. Whenever one of them got a question wrong, they had to add another card. With every card added, it had a higher chance of exploding.

"The correct answer is: Ashwinder eggs." Hermione sighed. "You're not exactly straining yourself, Ron."

"It's Christmas, Hermione," Harry said. He was snuggled into an armchair by the fire, watching the players in his Quidditch book zip through the photos.

Hermione squinted at him. "I'd have thought you'd be doing something constructive, Harry, even if you don't want to learn your antidotes!"

Harry turned the page. "Like what?"

"That egg!" Hermione hissed.

"Come on, Hermione, I've got till February the twenty-forth," he reminded her.

"But it might take weeks to work it out! You're going to look a real idiot if everyone else knows what the next task is and you don't!"

"Leave him alone, Hermione," Ron said defensively. "He's earned a bit of a break."

"And besides," Chrys said, pushing her glasses up her nose. "All us Potters look like geniuses." Ron snorted.

"Okay, genius," Hermione said. "Chrys—what is the main ingredient in the Antidote to Common Poisons?"

"Ooh." Chrys grinned. "I know this one! A bezoar."

Hermione nodded. "Correct. Ron, what can the Wideye Potion be used as an antidote for?"

"Er… droopy eyes?" Ron tried. Chrys laughed. "Okay, so… apparently not." He put another card on the tower. It exploded, singeing his eyebrows. Chrys laughed again.

"Nice look, Ron…" Fred said as he and George sat down at the table with them. "Go well with your dress robes, that will." Ron scowled, feeling his eyebrows.

"Ron, can we borrow Pigwidegon?" George asked.

"No, he's off delivering a letter. Why?"

"Because George wants to invite him to the ball," Fred said sarcastically.

"Because we want to send a letter, you stupid great prat," George grumbled.

"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" Ron asked curious.

"Nose out, or I'll burn that for you too," Fred said, raising his wand.

"Leave off him," Chrys said. "Whatever's got you on edge, it's not his fault… probably." Fred frowned. "I'll lend you Hedwig, if you like."

"Thanks." George smiled.

"Just don't get fresh with her," Chrys warned them. "She's as prideful as a hippogriff."

Harry nodded. "We'll keep that in mind." Fred studied Chrys thoughtfully. "So… you lot got dates for the ball yet?" Chrys froze.

"Nope," Ron said.

"Well, you'd better hurry up, mate, or all the good ones will be gone," Fred said. Hermione frowned. Chrys raised an eyebrow at him.

"Good ones?"

"Who're you going with, then?" Ron asked Fred.

"Good point…" Fred tilted his head. Chrys wondered if he could hear her heart thudding in her chest. Then he turned and called across the room, "Oi! Angelina!"

Chrys' heart sank.

Angelina turned from her conversation with Alicia.

"What?" She called back.

Fred grinned. "Want to come to the ball with me?"

Angelina looked him over for a moment. "All right, then." She turned back to talk to Alicia, smiling a bit.

"There you go," Fred said to Ron. "Piece of cake." He got to his feet, yawning. "Thanks for the owl, Chrys." George stared at him. "Come on—"

"Wait!" Chrys stood up. They stared at her. "Er…" Her face was hot. She would very much like to hide under the table. "George—are you going with anyone yet?"

Ron's jaw dropped, his fingers frozen on his eyebrows. Harry dropped his book.

"No…" George glanced at Fred, and then turned back to Chrys, smirking. "You?"

"No…"

There was a long pause.

"Well, that's just ridiculous," George said lightly. "Whatever shall we do?"

His casual tone was a relief. She smiled. "I've got a crazy idea."

He smiled back. "My favorite kind."

"We could go together."

George clapped his hands together. "Excellent problem solving skills, Chrysanthemum. I'll see you there." He walked off, waving at her over his shoulder. Fred glanced at him, then at Chrys, and raced off to follow him.

"Well, not exactly a piece of cake," Chrys thought as she sat down. "But manageable, I suppose…" Harry, Ron, and Hermione were staring at her. "You know what, I think I've had enough studying—I'm going to bed—goodnight!" She hurried away.