"Severus Snape, you of all people!" Sev had just stepped into the empty Ravenclaw Common room, coming to find Hazel as she was working. It was a chilly evening, and he'd hoped to sit in front of the fire with her and a book for company. "I heard about what you said to Hermione Granger. You, of all people, the boy who wanted to shrink his nose for ages!"

"Hazel -"

"It's just mean, Sev." It had been a long day to say the least. Hazel had to deal with Peeves letting out some of the spirits she'd collected for her students. After nearly an hour of wrangling them, she'd set off to yell at Peeves, conveniently running into Filch on the way. Filch handled it from there, fuming on her behalf. And then she'd heard the gossip in the halls.

Sev had dealt with a group of second-years who managed to mix up a cloud of poison gas from an innocuous potion. He had no idea how someone could turn a healing potion into something that sent the class running for the door, forcing them to let the room air out before they could return. Or how the group could have completely melted their cauldron with whatever concoction they had managed to produce. Most likely the porcupine quills. Or the horrendous amount of wormwood they had carelessly dumped in. He had chased them out and just cleaned up the mess when one of the Prefects came to find him, saying that a couple of second-years had hurt themselves practicing charms on each other. All of it before Potter and Malfoy got into an argument in the corridor. "I wasn't thinking -"

"Clearly you weren't," she frowned. All the same, she let him sit down next to her. "Honestly, Sev, you've got to be nicer to these kids."

She didn't say anything more, going back to what she had been reading. Soon enough the scowl had fallen from her face. She was glad to see him after such a long day, even if she was mad at him. They both settled into their reading, the turning of pages and the crackling of the fire the only noise in the common room for ages. Hazel was devouring a book about the Norse magical system, and how they had managed to streamline wizard-Muggle relations years before without all of the witch hunts. Sev was leafing through a heavy tome on the ancient potions experts of the Americas, trying to decipher a good substitute for some ingredients.

When they were in school, this had been normal, one of them invading the other's common room so they could work. If the library was too packed, and it was too cold to be up in Astronomy Tower, and the Room of Requirement was filled or too far of a walk, they would take over a space in the common room. Most of the time it was Ravenclaw Tower, since it was a lot more hospitable than the dungeons.

None of the Ravenclaws seemed to mind. Anyone with a book in their hand or a quill dancing over a piece of parchment was allowed to stay. It was next to impossible to cause trouble if you were buried in homework, no matter what house you were in, so they paid no mind to the general Hogwarts rule against students from other houses being in their common room.

The Slytherins were a little more critical, but they left Hazel well enough alone after Maximillian Bustrode had done some research on her family. Purebloods all the way back to Romulus Ravenclaw. His more-famous sister would have been her great-something-aunt. That was more than enough to satisfy even the most critical of Slytherins. A Pureblood descended from any of the Founders was beyond reproach. None of them had ever thought to ask her about her thoughts on Muggles or Muggleborns. Good. Otherwise she would have been thrown out and never welcomed back.

Hazel had absentmindedly draped her hand over the side of her chair, lost in her book. At least until she felt a daring set of fingertips just barely grazing hers, the ghost of a touch reaching out for her. She smiled to herself, or so she thought. Sev had glanced over at her, watching for a reaction. He couldn't help but smile as he saw the corner of her mouth turn upwards through the curtain of hair that was starting to fall into her face. She didn't dare to fix it, to move and ruin the moment.

So there they sat for what seemed like an eternity, neither of them venturing to move. Occasionally one would risk a glance at the other. When Sev started to yawn, he turned to see that Hazel had dozed off already. He silently closed his book, heading out of the tower and back down to the dungeons, turning something over in his mind, something he didn't dare to think about too much for fear of ruining it, as he'd ruined so much before.

It seemed like the entirety of Ravenclaw Tower was still in Hogsmeade or out on the grounds, marvelling at the giant carriage that sat near the pumpkin patch or the massive ship that had popped up in the middle of the Black Lake. The entire world seemed to be lounging around that day, all homework and deadlines forgotten. It was a beautiful day for it.

Hazel and Sev were inside, still trying to warm up from walking around the perennially snow-covered village. They'd ventured down there with the students, not unusual for a couple of professors, but the students had started to talk when Snape had been spotted in Honeyduke's, dutifully following Hazel through rows of peppermint toads and delicately-balanced sugar quills. The shop was incredibly full, like always, but there was no way they would go unnoticed.

Potage's was a lot quieter. Sev stopped at the counter to talk to Potage himself while Hazel wandered the aisles of potion ingredients, staring at jars of eyes and shining new cauldrons. As he put in an order for more boomslang skin ("I don't know how we're going through it so quickly, we've hardly had the kinds of cauldron explosions that we have in the past.") she studied mountains of colorful beetles ready to be bought by the pound.

They stopped at the Three Broomsticks and managed to grab their old table before a group of Durmstrang students got to it, but with groups from three schools there, it was far too loud to stay for long. So they made their way back up to the castle, Hazel stealing Sev's cloak because she was nearly frozen to the bone. She'd forgotten how cold Hogsmeade was compared to Hogwarts, even early in the term.

After dropping off the packages from Potage's, they made their way up to Ravenclaw Tower, which was much warmer than the dungeons. As Sev sprawled on the sofa, Hazel stood by the fire wondering if she ought to check up on Moody. He'd seemed out of sorts lately. Not all that different from the man she'd once known so well, but something just seemed off about him. Maybe it was all of the Death Eater chasing. Maybe it was one too many curses. Or maybe he was just suspicious of Sev and Igor Karkaroff, since he'd always fumed about the two of them getting light sentences for what amounted to war crimes.

"Hazel?" he asked, studying the way her hair curled past her shoulders.

"Hmm?"

"Are you still cold?"

"A bit, why?"

"Come here." She obeyed, coming over to lay down beside him on the sofa. Something had been weighing on him all day. Well, longer than that, if he was to tell the truth. But that day had nearly confirmed it. He was quiet for a moment, paying attention to how steady her breath was as she rested against him. He was suddenly conscious of every breath he took, of the slight scent of lavender and Butterbeer that lingered on her skin, remnants of the day they'd had out in Hogsmeade. He took her hand, ostensibly trying to warm it with his own. "We're not just friends, are we?" he finally wondered aloud.

"No, I suppose not," she laughed, intertwining their fingers. "If that's alright with you, I mean. I've been meaning to ask for a while now, about how you felt about it and if you'd want to..."

"Yes. Er, yeah. That would be nice." He was immensely glad that she couldn't see him properly from where she lay. He could feel his face burning as he kept talking. "If you want to... to go on like this, of course."

"Yeah, good. Nothing has to change if you don't want it to. We can just umm -" she paused as he began to run a hand through her hair, "see where things go."

"That sounds good to me."

The first task of the Triwizard Tournament took place on a late November afternoon. Since they'd gotten back to school, things had been busy. But now the excitement in the air was infectious. So as the students filed into the stands, the professors climbed up one of the towers and took seats in their normal Quidditch box. The Quidditch pitch had been converted to a rocky terrain and was ringed with a group of people who looked like they had spent much of their careers in and out of the burn ward at St. Mungo's.

Dumbledore and the other judges were assembled in their own box, so everyone had a little more room to spread out. Not that anyone moved from their normal Quidditch seats. "What do you think this one is going to be?" Hazel asked as Sev sat down next to her. They'd been speculating for a little while, but from the looks of it, it had to be an animal. And a big one at that.

Their questions were answered as a group of witches and wizards on brooms flew in a massive crate. The sides of the crate were dropped, revealing a fully-grown dragon, curled around a golden egg. "Dragons?" She turned to look at Sev, who was staring at the Swedish Short-Snout. "They've got to get past a dragon?"

"Apparently so," he said, pulling a pair of binoculars from his pocket. "Here. We'll have to share, but… This should be interesting, to say the least."

Cedric Diggory went first. He transfigured a rock into a dog, trying to distract the dragon. It took the bait, lunging after the dog while Cedric lunged for the golden egg. The dragon whipped around, a jet of flames searing him as Cedric held the egg up in triumph. It took several stunning spells, but the dragon was subdued, the crowd still roaring.

By the time the field had been cleared, the crowd was buzzing with nervous energy, everyone speculating about what kind of dragon they were going to bring out next. Back when Professor Kettleburn had taught them Care of Magical Creatures, they'd seen a couple of baby dragons before they were shipped off to sanctuaries in Wales or Romania. There they learned that there were only two species of dragon left in Great Britain - the Hebridean Black and the, "Common Welsh Green," Hazel marvelled, watching closely as the dragon was taken out of its crate. "I wonder who's facing it. They're a lot less aggressive than Hebridean Blacks, though. I wonder why they went Welsh instead."

Fleur Delacour, the Beauxbatons champion, walked out onto the rocky field. Sev handed Hazel the binoculars so she could get a better view, both of them watching closely. Fleur walked slowly around the dragon until she got a good look at the eggs it had curled itself around. She raised her wand, the dragon almost immediately laying its head down. "I think she put it to sleep," Hazel narrated. "Oh, okay, she's close. Ouch!" The dragon snored, letting out a jet of flames that set Fleur's skirt alight.

Without pause, she extinguished the flames, grabbed the egg, and, in a final second of lost composure, sprinted as far away from the dragon as she could. The crowd started to cheer, the Stunners cheering for her too. She'd made their lives a lot easier. All they had to do now was levitate the dragon and her eggs back into its crate.

The next dragon was a brilliant red and gold, and when it snarled, flames shot from its mouth in perfect spheres. "A Chinese Fireball," marveled Madam Hooch, who had taken the seat next to Hazel. Though she had no need for binoculars, she'd brought a pair anyway. She eventually handed them to Hazel, who had passed Sev's back to him. "Krum should have an interesting time with this one."

Sure enough, she had spotted Krum in the waiting area. He walked out, Hazel leaning over to tell her that, "He doesn't look so good. More worried than normal."

"He always looks like that. Even when he was just playing Durmstrang Quidditch."

Krum managed to blind the Chinese Fireball with a Conjunctivitis Curse, but it stumbled around trying to chase the sound of his footsteps and ended up stepping on half of its real eggs in the process. He would surely lose points for it, but everyone cheered him on anyway. No one thought defeating a dragon was a small task.

"Do you think he'll be able to do it?" Hazel whispered as the two of them watched him walk up to an angry Hungarian Horntail.

"He'd better." Despite all of his negativity towards Harry, Sev was genuinely concerned that a fourteen year-old was in the Triwizard Tournament.

It was a very long, tense moment as Harry summoned his broom, but the real action began as soon as he started to fly. The dragon very narrowly missed him, Hazel grabbing Sev's hand in fright. She didn't let go of him until Harry had secured the golden egg, and only just to applaud. No one noticed the two of them, of course, since they were all concentrating on the scores the judges were holding up.

Soon enough Sev would find himself fighting his own dragon. Dumbledore announced the Yule Ball, set for Christmas night, at dinner a few days later. The castle was once again buzzing, this time not about dragons, but with gossip about who was taking who. Hazel entertained it for a couple of minutes in the beginning of each of her classes, but Sev wouldn't hear any of it. Every time he heard someone mention the ball, it just reminded him of the task that lay ahead.