The Potters and the Weasleys

by goodlife23

The Potter and the Weasley families have been enemies for over a century. But when two descendants meet at Hogwarts, will old grudges give way to new friendships? Or are some wounds too deep to heal? AU

11. Chapter 10

The Scotland sky had turned grey and dreary as December dragged on. The winds that snaked their way through the mountains and across the Black Lake penetrated the castle through the cracks in the stone façade of the castle, and the faculty had resorted to igniting hundreds of additional torches throughout the halls to keep warm. For Harry, no amount of fire could warm him as every step he took felt like being slapped with ice.

The student body was still abuzz with news that Ginny and Jean-Pierre were attending the Yule Ball together. Every time Harry overheard a student gossiping about it, he felt a stab of pain in his stomach. Even worse was seeing them together during meals, Jean-Pierre making it a point to throw his arm over Ginny's shoulder when he knew Harry could see them. Harry had started taking his meals very early, shoveling down his food so fast he barely had time to chew.

But as the days grew closer to the Yule Ball, Harry's mood seemed to sour even further. It didn't help that Hermione seemed determined to coax Harry out of his depression by tackling the issue head on. He liked Hermione very much, but the two clearly had different ways of dealing with emotions. Harry preferred to stew silently, while it appeared Hermione enjoyed talking the issue to death.

"It's really all your fault," Hermione said matter-of-factly while they studied in the library. The library had become their personal safe space. Harry didn't have to worry about Ron showing up and stealing Hermione away, for one. But at this moment, Harry wished Hermione would go off and snog Ron and leave him to study.

"How is any of this my fault?" Harry gripped his quill so tightly that the end snapped. Hermione handed him a new one from her bag.

"You should've asked her yourself, of course. You had ample time to do so."

"I thought you were clever. You know why I couldn't. I'm simply a victim of my circumstances."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you actually do want Ginny to like you, you're going to need to start taking hold of your own life and stop being so passive and whiney."

"Whiney?" Harry exclaimed in protest. "I'm not whiney and passive. Just…realistic."

"From what you've told me, you could have at least warned her off Jean-Pierre. The boy sounds positively ghastly."

"That's underselling it."

"Yet you didn't tell Ginny that." Hermione chewed the end of her own quill for a moment before setting it down. "Remind me why again?"

Harry rubbed his hand through his hair, causing it to stand up even further. "Because it's not my place. Ginny should make her own decisions."

Hermione frowned at Harry. "You really are too good and noble, you know."

"Fat load of good it's done me. Besides, given my luck, it would only make her like him more if I said she shouldn't date him."

"That's probably true."

The pair settled on an uncomfortable silence as each went back to their schoolwork, the only sound coming from the scratching of quill on parchment as Hermione took diligent notes. Eventually, she decided to come up for some air.

"Have you talked to Luna at all since you asked her to the Ball?"

Harry briefly wondered why Hermione seemed to care so much about Harry taking Luna Lovegood to the Ball. Luna seemed to thoroughly perplex Hermione. Perhaps that's why she is so interested, Harry thought.

"Not really," he said with a shrug. "I tried to talk to her yesterday, but she was doing some weird dance in the courtyard and I thought it best not to bother her. I'll probably just meet her right before it starts."

"Hmm," Hermione grunted.

"Have you talked with Ron recently?" Harry said with a grin.

"Oh, ha bloody ha!" Hermione gave a disturbing laugh and then threw down her quill. "Honestly, that boy is so frustrating. I wonder why I'm even with him."

"Why are you with a dolt like him?"

Hermione threw her quill, hitting Harry in the nose.

"Don't call him that. Only I get that privilege. I just wish he'd be a bit more thoughtful. Is that so hard to ask?"

"Suppose not, except…"

"Except what?"

Harry hesitated. He never had given relationship advice and loathed to do anything to help Ron Weasley. But looking at Hermione's face, he found himself blurting out words, not knowing if they were the right ones to say.

"You've known Ron your whole life, so you know exactly who he is. And for whatever reason, you love that ginger-haired wanker. Even though he can be a bit thoughtless. Maybe you should not worry so much about the things he isn't and appreciate the things he is."

Hermione sat there, mouth agape. "Wow, since when did you become so insightful?"

"I'm a Triwizard champion. Part of the job description."

"I still wish he put a bit more effort into our relationship. We're too young for him to just be coasting."

"Then talk to him about it. Don't just ignore your feelings to avoid another fight."

"Isn't that the cauldron calling the kettle black, Harry?"

"Hey, I never said I was good at taking my own advice. Now can we please move on from you and Weasley's love life?"

"Gladly," Hermione said before pestering him further about the Egg, which Harry was still stuck on.

Eventually, the pair decided to call it a night and walked together back to the Gryffindor dorms. The castle was empty, with most of the students already tucked into bed. Harry and Hermione remained quiet so as not to rouse the ghosts, especially Peeves, who would take seeing two students together at night in the entirely wrong manner.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, and Hermione uttered the password, causing the door to swing open. She stepped inside ahead of Harry. Harry followed but quickly bumped into the back of Hermione, who had frozen where she stood. Harry glanced over her shoulder, and his draw dropped.

Throughout the common room were hundreds of candles floating. One could hardly move without bumping into one. Harry could hear the strings of a violin whining, though he could not see anyone playing. In fact, there was no one else in the common room save for one person.

Ron stood in the center of the room, the candlelight illuminating his face so every freckle stood out against his pale skin. He wore dress robes with a lacy white fabric at the cuffs, which Harry found rather old-fashioned. But overall, he found Ron looking far more presentable than ever before.

"Ron?" Hermione uttered, looking thoroughly confused.

"You said you wanted me to ask you to the Ball properly, right?" he replied with a smirk.

Hermione glanced back at Harry, her eyes filled with tears and the largest smile plastered on her face. He smiled back and walked past her towards the stairs. He caught Ron's eyes briefly, and the boy snarled at him. Harry couldn't blame Ron for being a little put out that his girlfriend was out late with his enemy. Which is why Harry simply shrugged and began climbing the stairs, but not before hearing the crashing of bodies against each other and the wet sounds of a disgusting snog.

With the Yule Ball now just four days away, Harry had taken to avoiding Ginny whenever possible. He deliberately sought to be paired with anyone but her during Potions and was quick to hurry back to his room immediately after dinner to avoid seeing her in the common room. Quidditch practice was the only time when Harry could not avoid Ginny, and even then, he made sure their discussions focused on Quidditch strategy and little else. All in all, things had never been more awkward between the pair. But if Ginny noticed something amiss, she never said a word to Harry.

Harry was also beginning to act rather obsessive about the Marauder's Map. Every free second, his nose was pressed into it, his eyes darting across the parchment. He knew it was bad for him, that having confirmation of the images invading his mind would only make matters worse. Yet he persisted. Thankfully, Ginny and Jean-Pierre's dots only appeared together in places like the Great Hall or library, surrounded by other dots.

Harry's sour mood bled into his classes, as well. He remained mostly silent during them, only participating when forced to by his professors. Most notably, his cold demeanor returned in a vengeance in Muggle Studies. Professor Weasley had done nothing wrong, of course. In fact, with the holidays approaching, he seemed to be in a more jovial mood than ever before, if that was possible. It all came to a head in class Wednesday afternoon.

"Now class," Professor Weasley began, "since Christmas is nearly upon us, I thought we'd spend today discussing common Muggle yuletide traditions."

With a wave of his wand, Professor Weasley conjured a festive display of Christmas fare, including a large pine tree decorated in various ornaments and silver tinsel. With another flourish, the fireplace mantle off to the side of the classroom suddenly was adorned with stockings filled with small gifts. Several students rushed over to them and began rummaging through the stockings. Professor Weasley chuckled.

"The Christmas stockings are something I picked up from a Muggleborn friend, and my children have grown particularly fond of the custom." He gave a wink at Ginny, who returned a smile, before he began explaining all the various Muggle traditions to the rapt class.

"In truth," Professor Weasley concluded, "Muggle traditions vary from family to family, much like wizarding families. Yet another example of how similar we all are. I want you all to share with me your Christmas traditions, to show that even amongst us wizards, we are different, and that's what makes us all equally special."

The students took turns regaling the rest of the class with how they celebrate the holidays. Anthony Goldstein, a Ravenclaw, was particularly interesting as he explained Chanukah and how his family celebrated over eight nights.

"So you get presents on each night?" someone asked and Anthony nodded.

"Yeah, but usually there are rather small gifts. I usually get one big one and a bunch of socks."

"Socks can be an excellent gift," added Professor Weasley. "Why, just ask Professor Dumbledore."

Confusion spread on the students' faces and Professor Weasley chuckled as he walked behind his desk, resting his hands on the back of his chair. He then looked at Harry.

"Harry, your turn. Your mum tells me you had quite the interesting ways of celebrating the holidays."

"I'll pass," he said gruffly, folding his arms across his chest.

"Oh, come now, I'm sure the class would love to hear about the French Christmas markets."

"The class? Or you?" Harry crossed his arms and sat back in his chair. The class went deathly silent.

"Excuse me?" Professor Weasley asked.

"The markets in France aren't like Diagon Alley, you know. They have these networks of portals in each shop that transport you around the globe. Neat bit of magic but not so great if you're a homesick bloke from England. Christmas holidays aren't so much fun alone in Yemen."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Harry. Moving can be tough, especially when you were so young."

"It's a good thing none of your children had to learn that lesson."

The class collectively sucked in their breath. Professor Weasley narrowed his eyes at Harry and took a deep breath of his own.

"Be that as it may, I am your professor, and you need to treat me with respect. Is that understood?"

Harry grimaced. "Yes," he said stiffly.

"Yes, Sir."

"There's no need to call me sir, Professor."

The words had escaped him before he realized what he was saying. Professor Weasley's eyes went wide.

"Detention, tonight," he said, his voice raised, knuckles white as he gripped the back of his chair.

Harry sunk back into his own seat, his face burning. He chanced a glance at Ginny. Her mouth hung open and her face was as red as his, but Harry assumed for very different reasons. He had seen Ginny mad, but now she looked positively furious.

When class ended, she didn't even loiter around with her friends as she usually did. She hurriedly grabbed her books and dashed out of the classroom. Harry was grateful to avoid an awkward exchange, but that was as lucky as he'd get the rest of the day.

Word spread quickly of his confrontation with Professor Weasley. His mum cornered him before Potions and berated him, adding an extra detention the following evening with her for good measure. Truthfully, Harry was relieved that was the extent of his punishment. Later, after his last class of the day, Harry saw his dad wandering the halls near Dumbledore's office.

"Hiya, son!" James said with a smile. "Heard you had a bit of a run-in with Arthur Weasley today."

"Yeah," Harry said. "Mum already gave me a talking. Got an extra day of detention."

James shook his head. "Thought I taught you better than that, Harry. You need to be more subtle about slagging off a professor." He gave Harry a cheeky grin.

"You're not angry?"

"Of what? Giving that dunderhead some backtalk? Weasley should be glad you're even in his class. Frankly, the man could use a bit of humbling from time to time."

Harry shook his head at the irony of his dad's statement. Truthfully, he could not share his dad's blasé attitude about his behavior in Muggle Studies. He felt awful as soon as the words slipped from his mouth. For all his faults, Arthur Weasley was a kind man and good teacher, who had always treated Harry better than he deserved. And for his efforts, Harry had thrown it all back in his face.

And for what reason? Harry asked himself, though he knew the answer. He had been in a terrible mood all week. Every time he saw her, it felt like being stabbed in the chest. Especially when she saw her with him. Harry wondered if Ginny would start inviting Jean-Pierre to their Wednesday meetups. Surely, the French boy would not approve of her sneaking off every Wednesday to meet him.

It was then that Harry remembered his detention was likely to run up against his meetings with Ginny. Ironically, he was actually grateful for detention with Professor Weasley. Harry surmised he could avoid the potentially awkward encounter with Ginny and Jean-Pierre at least for one Wednesday evening. He just needed Professor Weasley to keep him long in detention. Hopefully, he was still testy from their interaction earlier in the day.

After dinner, Harry went directly to the Muggle Studies classroom and waited for Professor Weasley to arrive. When he did just minutes after Harry had taken a seat, he wore an affable expression.

"Ah, Harry," he began, "twice in one day, I see."

"What would you have me do, sir?" Harry asked. "Lines? Scrub the board the Muggle way?"

Professor Weasley shook his head as he shuffled some papers on his desk. "None of that tonight.

Harry furrowed his brow and tried to assess the wizard in front of him "So what am I doing for punishment?"

"Tell me about your holidays in France," Professor Weasley sat back in his chair, the wood creaking under the weight.

"That's not much of a punishment…sir."

"I think we both, perhaps, lost ourselves today, Harry. I know I let my temper get the best of me, and I should have realized this was a sensitive subject for you."

Harry shifted in his seat, but Professor Weasley continued. "Whether I'm to blame for your family's departure or not, the fact remains that you were forced to uproot your whole life over our family tiff. And that was never fair to you."

Harry couldn't help but roll his eyes. "I appreciate the words, Professor, but that's all it is, isn't it? Doesn't change the fact that we had to leave. My family fought in the war, not yours, and yet we're the ones punished. No, it was never fair to us."

"That's not the whole— Professor Weasley began before stopping himself. He stood from his desk and walked around it, coming to a stop just in front of Harry. "Your family is not the only ones who suffered as a result of this feud."

"That has nothing to do with me," he said, voice low.

"Now, Harry, I'd like to know exactly how this feud has affected your Christmas holidays."

Harry stared at the older man, noticing for the first time the wisps of red hair that sparsely covered his scalp, the creases in his forehead and the many smile lines of man who had heard too many jokes in his life. Harry realized that it was tough to hate Arthur Weasley as a person. It was tough to even dislike him that much. He could easily open up to Professor Weasley, gain a better understanding of him, perhaps even come to respect the man.

But hating him because he was a Weasley was easier. It took nothing of him. It did not require Harry to question his own loyalty to his family. It was so much easier to take all the anger Harry felt in the world and transfer it to him. Anger at his parents for bringing him to Hogwarts, anger at Charlie Weasley for forcing his family out of England to begin with, anger at everyone at school for treating him like a dungbomb for so long, anger at that stupid git who got to be with her.

And there it was. In that moment, Harry realized where the anger truly laid. Not at his parents, not at Charlie Weasley or Jean-Pierre, certainly not at Professor Weasley. Not even at her. Never at her. No, Harry himself was to blame. And every moment with her was a reminder of how much he didn't deserve her.

All this time, Harry told himself he could not be with Ginny because he was a Potter and she was a Weasley. There could never be more than a hidden friendship. But that was a lie. It had always been a lie. The truth digging deep into his brain was that Harry did not deserve Ginny because he let others dictate his life. He couldn't be with her because of what his father and siblings would say. What Ron and Molly would say. Every stolen glance and shared smile was unearned. And now all it brought was pain.

"Harry?" Professor Weasley's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Are you going to share?"

"I don't think I can," he said, his voice low. "Can I please do some lines? I'll stay an extra hour."

Professor Weasley gave a tight smile. "Alright, Harry. Why don't you just sit here and work on your assignments for your classes. I'll let you know when it's time to leave."

Harry gave a weak smile at the older man for the first time that evening, an understanding passing between them.

"Sorry for my behavior today, Professor," Harry said. "I know you want this feud to go away, and maybe I'm beginning to see it the same. It's just hard to escape the bad blood."

"I don't expect miracles overnight, Harry. Just small steps in the right direction." The pair spent the rest of the time together in silence. Finally, the bell chimed, and Professor Weasley glanced at his watch. "Let's say we call it a bit early tonight. I imagine there are far better things for you to do this evening than spend more time with me."

He gave Harry a smile and ushered him out of the classroom.

Harry wandered the halls for some time, digesting Professor Weasley's words. Harry was lost in deep thought and did not realize where he was walking until he saw her. Ginny was seated in front of the Room of Requirement entrance, reading a book. Her hair was plaited and hanging over her shoulder, her robes cascading down around her. She looked up and saw Harry. She smiled, as if on reflex, but then her face quickly contorted into a scowl. Ginny rose off the floor and marched over to where Harry had come to a stop.

"You have some nerve, Potter," she said, jabbing her finger in his chest. "Talking to my dad like that. Who do you think you are?"

Harry had made his decision well before he happened upon Ginny, but staring at her righteous fury, he suddenly found his conviction faltering. Taking a deep breath before the plunge, Harry stood taller and squared his shoulders.

"We should talk," he said.

Ginny hesitated a moment before jabbing her finger deeper into his chest. "You can start by answering my question."

"Your dad shouldn't have stuck his nose in my business in front of everyone."

Whatever explanation Ginny was expecting, it was not that judging by the stunned look on her face.

"Look," Harry continued, "I thought we could put our family histories behind us. But it's just getting too difficult."

"What are you saying?" Ginny said, her voice breaking slightly. Her finger was still pressed against his chest, but the pressure lessened.

"I guess I'm saying that maybe we shouldn't hang out anymore. Stop these meetings for a while."

"You don't mean that."

Harry looked away towards a stone gargoyle, wishing he could trade places with it. "I do."

Ginny finally dropped her hand from Harry's chest. "Why?" she asked. Harry looked at Ginny and saw her eyes were shining.

"It's too hard, isn't it? Risking so much, keeping this a secret from everyone. And for what reason? When we graduate eventually, I'll probably go back to France and you'll stay here."

Ginny remained silent and Harry continued. "Where does the secrecy even end? We're both going to be in our fifties, sneaking away from our families to meet at Honeydukes? Face it, Ginny. This always had an expiration date. Today with your dad made me realize that date was today. He's a Weasley and I can't forget that. I'm sure you feel the same about my dad. So I think it's just easier that we go back to how it was in the beginning. We don't need to be mean to each other, of course, but maybe we should just avoid each other as much as possible."

Harry knew he was rambling, but he felt not talking would be infinitely less comfortable for both of them. When he finally finished, he expected Ginny to yell at him. Which is why her response surprised him so much.

"If you don't want to be friends anymore, just say so. Don't waste my time with your half-arsed excuses. I have better places to be."

And with that, she shouldered passed Harry, knocking him off balance. As Ginny was about to round the corner, she stopped and turned to Harry.

"I imagine we might see more of each other after we leave school. I mean, my date to the Ball is French. Au revoir, Potter," she said before disappearing.

At long last, the Yule Ball came like a fog moving along the English countryside. Harry deliberately slept in, attempting to make the day feel as short as possible. He spent most of the morning and early afternoon with Neville in the greenhouses, helping him soil a Mimbus Mimbletonia. But finally, he could put things off no longer and trudged back to his room to wash up and change into his dress robes.

After changing into the black robes with green trim that his Mum owl-ordered for him, Harry descended the stairs to find the whole lot of boys fourth year and above milling about in the common room, looking as uncomfortable as he felt. None of the girls had yet come down the stairs, and Harry heard Ron grumbling to Dean that they'd be waiting until the Ball was nearly over before the girls would be ready.

He knew Ginny would be down shortly, as well, and Harry suddenly felt very claustrophobic in the common room.

"I'll meet you at the Great Hall," he said to Neville, who was tugging at the collar at his neck.

"Where are you going?"

"Figured I'd meet Luna outside the Ravenclaw dorms."

Neville frowned but waved him off. As he exited the common room, the Fat Lady eyed Harry up and down.

"She's a lucky witch," she said heavily.

"Er, right, thanks," Harry muttered back, and he sped off towards the Ravenclaw common room.

When he arrived, he saw several wizards loitering outside, all from different houses, including a few from Durmstrang. Harry took his place among the group.

Eventually, the witches emerged and paired off with their respective dates. Soon Harry was alone. A few wizards and witches came out a bit later and snickered when they saw Harry.

"You're in for a treat, Potter," one witch nastily called out. "I'd beg off with an illness if I were you."

Harry ignored the witch and continued to wait patiently for Luna to come out. When she finally did, Harry couldn't help but smile.

Luna was wearing the most colorful robes Harry had ever seen. The arms were teal with a pink lace adorning the cuffs. The body was a bright pink that shimmered when Luna swayed. But the bottom of the robes, which extended from her waist down to the floor, were simply magical. To Harry, it felt like he was seeing every color of the rainbow all at once. The colors blended seamlessly into one another. The hem of the robes was made of a thick golden material. Luna also wore rather garish-looking radishes for earrings. Overall, even someone as inept in matters of fashion as Harry could tell the ensemble clashed terribly. Yet Harry simply marveled at the outfit and Luna for having the confidence to wear it.

"You look really nice," he found himself saying, and Luna beamed at him.

"Thank you, Harry," Luna responded. "You look extra handsome tonight. The robes do wonders for your eyes."

Harry turned red and he worried for a moment that Luna no longer considered this a platonic date.

"We really should be going if we don't want to be late," she continued. "I think the girls will want to see as much of you as possible, and I heard there might be a vampire attending."

Or maybe not. Harry visibly relaxed, and together they walked down to the Great Hall. Witches and wizards milled about outside the Great Hall, many waiting for their dates to arrive. Harry saw Hilda, the Durmstrang champion, holding court in a circle of fellow students. She wore maroon robes with a simple yet elegant crystal necklace that blinded Harry when she turned to face him. Hilda nodded and he returned the gesture.

Harry then saw Jean-Pierre laughing with several other Beauxbaton boys. Harry begrudgingly admitted that Jean-Pierre looked rather dashing in his sky blue dress robes and golden sash. Harry casually scanned the rest of the hall for Ginny but before he could find her, a bell rang out and the doors to the Great Hall opened.

Professor McGonagall stood at the entrance wearing a robe of tartan. Despite the festive atmosphere, she still stood completely rigid and wore a tight smile.

"Students, your attention now," she said loudly. "If you could please make your way into the Great Hall and find your seats, the Yule Ball shall commence momentarily."

The students began to file into the Great Hall. Harry motioned for Luna to follow him in, but she put her hand on his arm.

"Not yet," she said while standing rooted to her spot.

"McGonagall said we could go," Harry began walking in.

"Potter!" McGonagall called out and Harry turned to her. "And just where do you think you're going?"

"Inside, like you said."

"Last I checked, you are a Triwizard Champion." McGonagall glared at Harry, but he still did not understand. "And as Triwizard Champion, it is your duty to open the festivities with the first dance."

Harry's eyes went wide. "Come again?" He struggled to get the words out.

"Just like your father. Never paid attention, either. Now if you would please join the other champions to the side while the rest of the students take their places."

Luna yanked Harry over to where Hilda stood with her date, a rather short but pretty girl from Slytherin.

"You knew about this?" he whispered to Luna.

"Of course," she said. "Oh, I do hope they play A Dance with Centaurs. It's Daddy's favorite."

Harry glanced back, expecting to see Jean-Pierre, but he was not with him and the others. Instead he was over by the bottom of the staircase.

And next to him stood Ginny.

Harry had never seen a lovelier image. Ginny's vibrant red hair was tied in an updo, with tendrils cascading down the sides of her face, ending just at her jaw. Her robes were a dark blue save for the slightest hint of pink running along the hem of the robe.

Harry stared as Jean-Pierre leaned down and whispered something in Ginny's ear, causing her to smirk. He then took a small flower and placed it in her hair. This made Harry want to rip the git from limb to limb. Jean-Pierre linked his arm with Ginny's, and the pair made their way over to where Harry stood.

"Hello, Harry," he drawled. "I believe you are acquainted with my date, Ginny."

"Right," Harry ground out. He looked at Ginny. She stared right back at him, almost with an indifferent look on her face. It was then that Luna stepped forward and gave a slight curtsey.

"I'm Luna," she said with a smile. "Harry forgot to introduce me, but he's rather distracted."

Harry blushed. "Sorry, right. This is Luna. My date."

Jean-Pierre eyed her up and down, stopping when he saw her radish earrings. He could barely suppress his laughter and had to look away. "Your date is quite…interesting, Harry. An appropriate choice."

Harry went for his wand, but Luna clasped his hand in hers. "I'm so excited to get to dance. We rarely have such opportunities at Hogwarts, right Ginny?"

"I'll say," she responded. "I think the last time anyone danced in Hogwarts, Nearly Headless Nick still had his head. I love your robes, by the way. How'd you make them shimmer like that?"

The two friends fell into an easy conversation while Jean-Pierre kept his annoying grin plastered on his face, thoroughly enjoying Harry's discomfort.

Another bell chimed and Professor McGonagall again reemerged from the Great Hall. She lined up the champions and their dates, with Harry at the end with Luna. Jean-Pierre and Ginny stood in front of them.

"When I give you the signal, you may enter the Hall. Be sure to go directly to the center of the dance floor. No dilly dallying!"

As the couples waited patiently for their cue, Ginny turned around and glanced at Harry. The two met eyes briefly before Ginny turned back around.

"Don't worry," Luna whispered in his ear as he patted his forearm. "That wasn't nearly as awkward as you thought it was."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, and he felt himself more at ease as the loud booming voice of Professor Dumbledore began announcing the champions.

"From the esteemed Durmstrang Academy, may I present Hilda Ericson!"

Hilda and her date disappeared into the Great Hall. Harry could hear a large cheer erupt from inside. Jean-Pierre escorted Ginny closer to the entrance, and Harry and Luna followed suit.

"Next," Dumbledore's voice bellowed, "from the illustrious Beauxbaton Academy, may I present Jean-Pierre Montague!"

Jean-Pierre stood tall and confident as he strode arm in arm with Ginny. The crowd cheered, especially the girls. Soon it was just Harry and Luna left to enter.

"Don't be nervous, Harry," Luna said calmly. "I'm sure this night will turn out as you hoped."

Harry glanced into the Great Hall where Jean-Pierre gave Ginny a twirl at the center of the dance floor before stopping her in his arms and kissing her cheek to the delight of the audience.

"Fat chance," he muttered.

"And finally," said Dumbledore, "from our own Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, I am pleased to present Harry Potter!"

Harry and Luna entered the Great Hall to a mix of cheers and snickers. Harry knew they were laughing at his date, and he felt righteous indignation on Luna's behalf. But when he looked at her, he saw Luna utterly elated as she took in the Great Hall before her. The jeers and laughter were drowned out by the cascade of snow sprinkling down on the students, the massive snow-white Christmas dreams stationed along the walls and the ice sculptures of Christmas merriment that sat at each table.

Harry, too, became distracted by the wonder in front of him. Together, he and Luna made their way to the center of the dance floor where the other champions waited, along with Harry's parents and the rest of the faculty and Ministry dignitaries. Dumbledore soon took his place in the center.

"The Yule Ball shall officially commence with the first dance from our champions." He turned to the champions and their partners. "If you would kindly take your escort's hand, we can begin."

Harry turned to Luna and stuck his hand out. She clasped it with hers and brought her other hand to Harry's shoulder. He looked around to see Jean-Pierre's hand on Ginny's waist and scowled. But he mimicked the French boy and placed his other hand on Luna's side.

The soft tickle of the piano was soon emanating throughout the hall, soon accompanied by a full orchestra. Harry took that as his cue and began to lead Luna around the dance floor. He tried to ignore the sniggers from the other students as Luna's radish earrings flew wildly around her head. Soon Dumbledore and Madam Maxime had joined, twirling each other around the dance floor. Harry's parents also joined, James dipping Lily dramatically. Harry couldn't help but notice Snape off to the side, sneering while he gazed intently at Harry's parents.

The dance floor soon filled up so much that Harry kept bumping into people and stepped on Luna's toes several ties. Though she did not react, Harry still felt bad and insisted he was not such a bad dancer.

"Perhaps I'm the wrong partner?" she asked warmly.

"No, I think I'm the wrong partner for you," he responded before his eyes found Neville sitting at a nearby table.

Eventually the music died down and the students all found their seats. Harry and Luna sat at the champions' table, with Hilda and her date to his left, Dumbledore, Madam Maxime and Snape to his right, and Ginny and Jean-Pierre directly across. Harry groaned at his poor luck as he was forced to witness Jean-Pierre cozy up to Ginny, whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Harry couldn't stomach seeing Ginny return his affections and averted his eyes to the rest of the Great Hall.

The tables seemed to go on for miles, all adorned with a silver linen and fine china. Harry saw Hermione sitting at a nearby table with Ron, who was too busy chatting with Dean and Seamus to notice how bored Hermione looked.

"How have you been finding your classes at Hogwarts, Harry?" a voice interrupted his thoughts and Harry turned to see Dumbledore looking at him intently.

"Er, they're fine, I suppose. Not too different than Beuaxbaton."

"'Arry was one of our best students," Madam Maxime chimed in with a warm smile. "I'm sure he's acclimated himself quite well here."

This earned a snort from Ginny, and all heads turned in her direction. Harry's eyes narrowed.

"Got something to say?" he asked with an edge to his voice.

"Just find it funny to think you were a good student at one point," she retorted, and Jean-Pierre smiled.

"I had many classes with him," he added, "and I think he coasted on his name."

An awkward silence fell over the table as Harry turned bright red, his hand instinctively reaching for his wand, even with his Headmaster only a few feet away.

"Harry is a fine wizard," Luna added in defense. "He was chosen as a champion, after all."

"Well reasoned," Dumbledore said. "And from what Professor Potter says, you have a mind for Potions." Dumbledore glanced at Snape, who merely glowered.

"Certainly, such skill came from his mother's side," he said coolly.

"I suppose being a git is a skill he got from his dad," Ginny said under her breath, but loud enough for the table to hear. Snape failed to hide his grin.

"Thanks for the kind words, Headmaster," Harry said, pretending he didn't hear Ginny's comment. "Considering how difficult Potions can be and all. I mean, it's not like being good in the easier subjects, like, say, Muggle Studies." He paused to stare directly at Ginny, goading her to respond. But she merely stared back, lips pressed together.

"Alas," Dumbledore said to no one in particular, "some rivalries cannot soften with time. But enough of that, let's tuck in."

With the snap of his fingers, a great feast appeared on Harry's plate. All the other guests at the table looked on in wonder while Dumbledore had a cheeky grin. Grateful for any distraction, he focused intently on his food as conversation flowed more freely around him. Occasionally, he would chance a glance in Ginny's direction, only to frown when Jean-Pierre wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Harry's stomach tightened with every stroke of his thumb on her arm.

When the last of the food was cleared from the table, Dumbledore stood and offered his hand to Madam Maxime, who graciously accepted.

"This is a ball," he said, "so I think some dancing is in order, no?"

Harry watched as the other couples mimicked Dumbledore, with Jean-Pierre and Hilda extending hands to their dates. Ginny smiled and accepted, and the two followed Hilda and her Ravenclaw partner onto the dancefloor, leaving Harry, Luna and Snape.

"Did you want to dance?" Harry asked Luna, not sure of what he wanted her response to be. Personally, he was in no mood to have any fun tonight.

"It does look like fun," Luna responded, "but I don't think you would enjoy dancing with me."

"Sure, I would!"

Luna smiled and patted Harry's cheek.

"No, you wouldn't. But that's quite alright. We can have fun sitting here and staring at the other couples dancing."

Harry felt rather low at that moment. But then he peered over Luna's shoulder to see Neville sitting alone at his table, looking rather forlorn.

"I'm really sorry for being such a shit date, Luna, but maybe this night won't be a total loss." He nodded towards Neville. "I think he would really enjoy dancing with you."

Luna gave Neville a once-over. "Yes, I agree dancing with me would lift his spirits. You don't mind?"

"Course not. At least one of us should have a good time at this bloody ball."

"You're very kind, Harry. Much kinder than the French boy. Though you both are equally good-looking."

"Er, thanks, I think."

Luna gave Harry a kiss on the cheek and skipped over to where Neville sat. She leaned down and whispered something in his ear and Neville gave a big smile. He grabbed Luna's hand and together they made their way to the center of the dance floor, Neville receiving several pats on the back as they wound their way through the crowd.

Harry smiled at the pair; his spirits momentarily lifted. But then his eyes found Ginny dancing way too close to Jean-Pierre and his surly mood returned with a vengeance. He briefly saw Ron with a similar sour face as he watched the two before Hermione diverted Ron's attention back to her.

Harry realized that he now shared the table with Severus Snape, who looked as miserable as he did. Harry noticed Snape's attention again focused on his parents, oddly enough. His face looked a mix of anger and sadness. Brief images assaulted Harry of himself in Snape's seat. There the two sat in their misery, acting more like petulant children than adults.

Harry suddenly felt incredibly claustrophobic, rising swiftly from his seat and snaking his way through the crowded dance floor. He tugged at his neck collar as he made his way out of the Great Hall and into the courtyard, the winter air whipping against his cheeks. The noise from the ball was now a faint muffle. Harry brushed snow off a nearby bench and cast a warming charm before taking a seat.

It seemed his efforts to avoid Ginny and renew their open hostilities had been a complete failure. Trading barbs across the dinner table did little to tamper the pain in his heart. The Christmas holidays would be a welcome distraction, but Harry knew it would be temporary. Soon he'd be right back at school, forced to see Ginny fall deeper and deeper in love with his nemesis. Perhaps he could devote himself fully to winning the Triwizard Tournament and at least hold that over Jean-Pierre's smug head.

Harry sat in the courtyard for some time, his fingers, ears and nose beginning to turn pink as the temperature dipped. He was about to head back inside to wish Luna a good night before retiring to his dorm room when voices caught his attention.

"It's bloody freezing out here!" The voice of Ginny could be heard from across the courtyard. Harry quickly stood up and darted behind a nearby tree.

"Allow me to warm you," the smarmy voice of Jean-Pierre answered. Harry inched his head out in time to see Jean-Pierre come up behind Ginny and envelop her, placing his hands on her bare shoulders.

Ginny shook him off and turned to face him. "I'm good, thanks. Maybe we should head back in. I saw Luna and Neville dancing. They looked so cute together."

Jean-Pierre rolled his eyes. "Why would you want to hang out with those two? Why not spend some time alone with me out here? We can dance under the stars."

Ginny narrowed her eyes. "We could do that inside too. And be warm."

"Perhaps you are right. It iz too cold out here. Why not move this to my room?" He wiggled his eyebrows.

"I'll pass, thanks." Ginny started back inside but Jean-Pierre grabbed her elbow.

"You have been cold all night," he complained. "Normally you are such a, what's the word…firecracker. But tonight, you are as icy as this dreadful country."

"Maybe it's not the country but the company making me so frosty."

Jean-Pierre ignored her words. "I know how to warm you up." He grinned, leaning in to kiss her. Ginny ducked under his arms.

"And I know a better way, which involves being inside where it's actually warm."

"Do not be like that. It iz the Yule Ball. I am the Champion and you are my l'amour. Let us express just how special tonight iz in my room."

Harry could barely stomach any more, yet oddly could not tear himself away from their discussion.

"Why don't you express how special tonight is in your room alone. I'm sure you're the champion of that."

Harry couldn't stop himself from snorting, and both Ginny and Jean-Pierre turned in his direction. Ginny's eyes went wide, and her mouth was agape, but it soon turned into a scowl.

"Enjoying the show, Potter?" she sneered.

Harry stepped out from behind the tree. "I wasn't—" he began, but he truly had no excuse.

"Get lost, Potter," Jean-Pierre barked. "Go find your freakshow of a date."

Harry immediately closed the distance between him and Jean-Pierre. He and Ginny simultaneously pulled out their wands and pointed it at the French boy. Ginny pressed the tip of her wand under his chin.

"What did you say?" she asked, venom in her voice.

Jean-Pierre threw up his hands and slowly backed away. Harry and Ginny followed.

"You both are crazy," he said before looking at Ginny. "It iz your loss. I will find a girl more appreciative of being with a Champion."

"Don't hold your breath," Ginny shouted as Jean-Pierre ran off back inside, leaving Harry and Ginny standing in the cold winter night.

"What were you doing here?" Ginny finally asked after what felt to Harry like an eternity of silence.

"What do you care?" he responded, failing to keep the bite out of his voice.

"No reason. Just curious why someone who wants nothing to do with me was spying on me is all."

"I wasn't-I just came out for some air."

"So you just wanted to freeze your bits off? It had nothing to do with me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Weasley."

"You know what?" Ginny exclaimed, stamping her foot in the snow. "I don't care. Go on keep playing whatever game it is you think you're playing. I couldn't care less."

She turned on her heels and began marching off, the crunch of her feet on the snow echoing through the courtyard. But just as Ginny was about to disappear back into the castle, she stopped and stood still. Harry could see her shoulders rise and fall and a plum of vapor rising up above her head.

She turned and marched back to Harry, stopping a wand-length away from him.

"Before I officially never talk to you again except to hex you, answer me one question."

Harry nodded.

"Why did you never say anything about Jean-Pierre?"

Harry opened his mouth to respond but found the words would not come out. Truthfully, he didn't know the best way to answer. He hadn't exactly been honest with Ginny these past weeks and wasn't sure he even knew himself the true reason. In the end he decided the easiest course was to play dumb.

"I don't know what you mean."

"Don't give me that shit," Ginny said with an edge to her voice. "This whole time you were pretending not to know much about him, but we both know that's a load of bollocks."

"How did you find out?" he asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"That ponce wouldn't shut up about you. How terrible you are at Quidditch, how he beat you at some Transfiguration test your fourth year. Honestly, I think Jean-Pierre has some sort of weird crush on you."

"Can't blame him on that one." Harry immediately winced. Now was no time to be cheeky.

"Clearly, his brains were addled. But that's not the point."

"Well then get to already," Harry huffed.

"The point," Ginny said rather pointedly, "is that we were friends and you lied to me. And I want to know why."

"Friends? Friends don't need to meet in secret."

"Which you agreed to!" Ginny interjected.

"Face it, our entire friendship was based on a lie. You were always a Weasley and I'm a Potter. So who cares if I didn't tell you how I really felt about that git?"

"You're the only git I see right now," Ginny said, hands placed firmly on her hips.

The two stared at each other, brown eyes boring into green. Snow had begun to accumulate on Harry's head, flakes dropping down onto his lashes.

"Tell me why," Ginny repeated in a low voice.

"Damnit, Ginny!' Harry shouted, stepping close enough where the snow from his hair now fluttered down onto her shoulders. "What do you want from me?"

"Tell. Me. Why."

"I don't know, alright?" His voice shook, a mound of snow falling off the nearby gazebo roof. Harry's eyes bored into Ginny's, imploring her not to push further. Harry never felt so vulnerable, his feelings bubbling just under the surface, ready to explode at the merest nudge from Ginny. And when she met his gaze with equal intensity, the flames reflected in her eyes flaring wildly, Harry broke.

"I guess I didn't want to make the decision for you. We're always talking about how our families try to make choices for us, you know. Live their lives. I suppose I didn't want you to look at me like that."

"Like what?" she whispered.

"Like someone trying to protect you all the time. So I shut my mouth. Even if it meant—" Harry stopped himself.

"Even if it meant what?" Harry only just noticed that Ginny had gotten closer, so that her cold breath crashed against his face.

"Nothing. Forget it."

"So that's what all this was, was it? Just you being noble once again? That's why, even though it's arse backwards, we can't even be friends in secret anymore."

Harry hesitated a moment before responding. "Right. That's what it was always about."

Then, Ginny did something Harry did not expect. She laughed. Loudly, as though she couldn't keep it in. Harry grew increasingly angry as Ginny doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

"Mind telling me what you're having a laugh about?"

"Nothing," she breathed out between belly laughs. "It's just…Potters are known for their bravery, right? On the front lines against Voldemort…. while us Weasleys are supposed to be cowards!" Ginny bent over now, struggling to catch her breath between the fits of laughter.

"That's right," Harry said, chin tilted high.

"And yet here you are," Ginny continued, "no one around but me and you still can't be honest. Some hero you are!" Ginny finally stopped laughing.

"You're mental, you know that. I told you the truth!"

"Oh, I'm sure that's the truth you've been telling yourself. But we both know it's not all the truth."

Harry had had enough of Ginny's taunting. He angrily shouldered past her and headed towards the warmth of the castle.

"Running away? So brave of you. You know, he might be a complete git, but at least Jean-Pierre has the bollocks to go after what he wants."

Harry stopped in his tracks. Turning around, he glared at Ginny. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" she challenged back. "You talk about doing what you want, not simply following the path your dad set out for you. But when you have that chance, you're as useless as a Cleansweep in the rain. You know when I started to think you were more than just a bloody Potter, someone I might actually like? When you tried out for Quidditch. I never saw a Seeker like you. It's like you didn't even think, just acted on instinct. Most blokes would be scared to death of pulling off a feint like that, but you saw the snitch and just took what you wanted. No hesitation. So I thought, 'now there's a boy that might be worth it.' And then there was the time when I pissed you off something righteous enough for you to enter the bloody Tri-wizard tournament! The dumbest and bravest thing I ever saw, until you fought that dragon, of course."

Ginny then got right into Harry's face and shoved her finger in the middle of his chest with a force so hard for her diminutive size that it surprised Harry off balance, forcing him to stumble backwards.

"Where is that Harry? Because all I've seen since then is a coward. And I don't have time for cowards who spend all their time worrying about what other people might think and don't just go for what they want. So I'm done, Harry. I'm done waiting for you to get your head out of your arse and figure out exactly what you want. Good bye!

Ginny turned and stomped away, her hair whipping wildly behind her.

Harry stood rooted to his spot. Did a Weasley just call me a coward? Harry grew angry at the insinuation. How dare she call me a coward? Wasn't she just as big of one for agreeing to keep their friendship secret in the first place?

Harry grew so angry he did not realize his feet began to move. He did not notice the crunch of the snow beneath his feet or the blistering cold wind smashing like pin pricks on his face.

She wants a hothead, he thought. I'll give her a hothead.

Harry picked up his pace and caught up to Ginny as she stepped onto the stone corridor just in front of the entrance back into the castle. He grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. She stared at him wide-eyed, but Harry sensed the slightest hint of a challenge behind her eyes.

He was prepared to tell her off. Call her a hypocrite. Shout every insult he could think of. She was a Weasley, after all, someone he grew up detesting, someone who had no right to call him a coward.

But in that moment, as he stared down at her, noticing the way her nostrils flared out slightly and how her freckles seemed more pronounced across her cheeks when touched by the light of the torches, all sense of thought and reason escaped Harry. He could not think, only act. The words escaped his lips before his mind could stop him.

"How's this for being brave?" he uttered deeply before pressing his lips against hers.