Book Two ― A School Divided
Chapter Forty-One ― Yule Ball
Note: This chapter has been beta-ed by user Outliner.
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Harry leisurely walked towards the door of the Hufflepuff House quarters in the kitchen corridor and waited for Susan to emerge. His choice of date was unknown to many in the castle, not because he was interested in keeping it a secret but because he didn't feel the need to publicize it. On her side, Susan also had kept the information to a minimum, meaning that their dancing partners were mostly speculation around the castle. Harry's presence there immediately birthed agitated gossip from the people who were leaving to meet with their dates, and he had to keep himself from rolling his eyes in exasperation. There was hardly a reason to be so speculative, considering his 'secret' would be outed within the next half hour.
Regardless, he remained stoically patient, glaring at the few people who sneered at his presence. He knew from Tracey that the Hufflepuffs liked him, and he had noticed Cedric mellow out a lot around him ever since the First Task. He imagined that had reflected into a better-than-average image of him within the Badgers, with whom he had many burgeoning friendships. One by one, these aforementioned new friends of his emerged from the confines of the Hufflepuff Common Room. Hannah's date came for her shortly after Harry's arrival, and he visibly tensed once Hannah greeted Harry warmly. When she wasn't paying attention, Harry sent a warning glance his way, to which the Durmstrang student responded with an understanding nod.
Justin appeared next, on his way to pick up a Ravenclaw from their year that Harry did not know very well, Lisa Turpin. Once again, Harry was reminded to become closer to the Eagles. Ernie appeared already with his date at hand, Megan Jones, and he sent a cheeky wink his way as they left.
It took a few minutes further for Susan to appear, and despite knowing he was not interested romantically in her, it was very hard not to be drawn by the girl when she did. Harry had not lied when he called her beautiful when he had invited her to be his date. In his estimation, Susan was one of those objectively beautiful people, with dark copper red hair that she kept in a long plaid down to her lower back, volatile hazel eyes which changed warmth with the same rapidity of her mood swings, and a cheerful, full-toothed smile which drew your gaze to her lips. Everyone — almost everyone, he corrected himself, thinking of Ron — was more attractive dressed up, so he had expected Susan to be quite striking, but he still took a second to reboot after seeing her in a hugging emerald green dress with transparent sleeves decorated with dark green vines, making it seem like plants were growing out of her torso at her whim. After he saw her coyly smiling at his struck reaction, he shook his head and offered his elbow, which she took with elegant ease.
"You look amazing," Harry said with sincere sentiment.
"Thank you," she said, slightly embarrassed, making her even more beautiful before her expression turned playful. "You don't look half-bad yourself."
"I look better than half-bad," Harry smirked, making Susan laugh.
"Confident, much?" She teased him with gleaming brown eyes. "But yes, you do look very dashing. I like the hippogriffs. It's quite the statement," she pointed out knowingly. Harry recalled that the girl was raised by the Director of the DMLE and was in line to become the Head of her family. She would understand what he was doing, alluding to the Gryffindor ancestry in his blood.
"Still, I'm nowhere as good-looking as you today," Harry praised her again. "Some people around here already don't like me, Susan; are you trying to incite something?"
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Harry," Susan smiled at him, making him chuckle. She turned bubbly for a second, and her eyes went brighter with the mood shift. "I am very excited about the dance. I haven't gone dancing in a formal ball in a few years."
"Really? Madam Bones hasn't taken you to any of them?" Harry questioned curiously.
"She's a great person, but she can get overprotective," Susan said, her comportment suddenly serious and contemplative. "Though I know where she's coming from."
"You are her only family member left," Harry said gently, making Susan nod somewhat sadly. They walked in the solemn communion of two orphans before she shook the negativity off her mind and smiled warmly towards him once more.
"Well, let's not worry about that tonight," she instructed him. "It'll be fun to dance again."
"I'm excited as well," he grinned.
"Oh, am I your first?" Susan smirked, making Harry choke slightly before side-eyeing her as she laughed at him. "From someone who talks as smoothly as you do, you aren't that hard to tease, are you?"
"It's hard not to react to a pretty girl teasing you," Harry commented casually, remembering how easily Daphne could get him to flush if she wanted to.
"Harry, I really hope you find someone to pair up early in life," Susan commented, only half-joking. "You're becoming too dangerous to remain single."
"Thank you?" Harry responded, somewhat flattered and flustered at the same time.
"You're quite welcome," she chirped happily before leaning forwards to say something in his ear. "Just protect me from Greengrass, yeah?"
"She's not going to do anything, Susan," Harry defended his Slytherin friend.
"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure about that," Susan commented, gesturing with her head to where Daphne, Blaise, and Tracey talked as they presumably waited for Tracey's date in an adjacent corridor to their path. Blaise and Tracey greeted Harry and Susan openly, but Daphne's demeanor grew visibly colder, even from that distance.
"Yeah, I'll have to talk to her again," Harry breathed out, suddenly feeling less enthusiastic.
"There's nothing to do right now, Harry," Susan smiled sympathetically. "For what it's worth, you'd make a great couple," she then grimaced slightly. "I slightly regret going with an emerald green dress."
"Why?" Harry inquired.
"I took this dress to match your eyes," Susan explained unabashedly, somewhat surprising the boy. "Now that I think about it, it feels like I'm mocking her, which I'm not."
"Daphne gets combative sometimes," Harry explained a bit tiredly. "But she won't do anything, I promise," he then looked at the girl speculatively. "Is it okay that I feel honored you've picked your dress with me in mind?"
"You ought to be," Susan raised her brows slightly before smirking in his direction. "But look at you, making Greengrass jealous. She looked gorgeous in that dress."
"She did, didn't she?" Harry said, unwittingly a bit dreamily, as the memory of the girl in the shimmering silver dress at which he could only glimpse for a fraction of a second invaded his mind.
"I don't think we're going to have to wait a lot longer for you to pair up, then," Susan gushed out happily, but turning a bit concerned as Harry's mood grew somber.
"There are complications," he summed up, and she showed her understanding with a subtle nod.
"I understand the politics," Susan answered back quietly, making Harry hum. Susan's family was on Cygnus's side recently, even if Amelia's conversion had happened with people being none the wiser. "But you do know that there's another problem for you, right?"
"Yes," Harry replied.
"Have you made your choice?" Susan demanded, and after Harry answered her with a glance, she cautioned him. "Then don't string her along. Cut her loose."
"I know," Harry murmured. "It's hard."
"Don't give me that," Susan warned him, her eyes dark and angry. "It's hard? How do you think Hermione feels?"
"I know," Harry replied shamefacedly.
"Then do something about it," Susan ordered him, her mood slowly shifting back to normal. She continued with a sigh. "You're a nice guy, Harry. Being a jackass isn't your style."
"I'll talk to her," Harry promised. "To both hers."
"Good," Susan nodded, and then assumed a happier posture again. "Let's go, then. I want to dance."
Harry smiled in appreciation of her enthusiasm and they walked towards the Great Hall. The other champions arrived at much the same time, with Cedric talking affectionately with Cho and Fleur and Krum pairing off together.
"I didn't know champions could pair with one another," Harry said, raising an eyebrow at the pair.
"No one said we can't," Krum summed up gruffly.
"Indeed," Fleur agreed elegantly. "And he will not slobber all over me. Unlike some," she finished distastefully.
"And she is not dancing with me for fame," Krum shrugged. "Win-win."
"Fair enough," Harry accepted, doing his best to not look at Fleur too much. He didn't trust his mind to resist the girl at that distance, and though he and Susan were not a couple, he could tell she was happy his attention was on her and not the Veela.
"I'm just happy we get to dance," Cho said from where she stood near Cedric.
"Me too," Susan agreed effusively.
The two girls began to talk among themselves as the champions formed an impromptu group of their own.
"Have you heard anything about the Second Task?" Cedric asked somewhat anxiously.
"Ever since rumor of change started, no," Krum replied.
"It's not a rumor," Harry interjected.
"You know somezing," Fleur narrowed her eyes at him, and the others turned to the youngest champion.
"I do," he nodded affirmingly. "A son of one of the organizers told me that they were changing the task. Apparently, the dragons were not communicated to new management when they took over."
"Zey forgot to tell zem about dragons?" Fleur asked aghast.
"I doubt they were forgetful," Cedric intervened.
"But what is the purpose of 'iding somezing that would come to light anyway?" She asked, still beyond comprehension.
"Cowards aren't exactly the most intelligent of people, Fleur," Harry shrugged. "This case's no different. If he had talked about the dragons beforehand, maybe we wouldn't have been nearly roasted to death."
"You might have been," Krum said superiorly. "But I wasn't."
"You're also third," Harry replied with a predatory smile. He might not be proud of what he'd done, but he was proud of the first-place finish.
"Yes," Krum conceded tersely. "I heard you were very impressive."
"We survived a dragon; that is impressive on its own," Cedric spoke up, trying to calm down nerves. "No need to compete."
"Quite right," Fleur said, with blazing blue eyes. "But it was an insane request for the First Task."
"I think we can all agree on that," Harry sighed and messed his hair slightly. "Hopefully things get better for the next tasks."
"But they do have to announce the changes soon, or we'd have no time to prepare," Cedric added. "Shouldn't we try to crack the egg, just in case?"
"I already cracked it," Krum informed them. When the group looked at him curiously, he seemed reluctant to part with the information, but he eventually stole a glance in Fleur's direction and replied stiffly. "It's a mermaid egg. You dip in water."
"I am not a siren," Fleur answered back heatedly.
"But you sing," Krum replied defensively. Fleur did not seem happy with the explanation but didn't complain either.
"Well, we have that to fall back on if necessary," Cedric said, breathing in relief. "Better than nothing."
"For nothing else, it'll be fun to see what sort of madness they had planned," Harry deadpanned. "Surely, very few things could outdo a dragon."
"It was unclear," Krum started slowly. "Something about lake and mermaid, so I thought lake outside might be involved."
"That's a good guess," Cedric nodded after taking a second to think about it. "I'm pretty sure there are merpeople in the Black Lake."
"I'm 'appy the task was canceled then,'' Fleur stated, uncharacteristically shaken up about it. When Krum made a questioning grumble, she explained. "Veela are not good with water, and especially not good with merpeople."
"Doing a Task in a potentially dangerous scenario with one of the contestants would be just like the Ministry," Harry snorted.
"Not the entire Ministry is bad," Cedric said defensively. Harry remembered that his father worked there, and was a Wizengamot member as well.
"Well, yeah, but that doesn't mean they don't do these massive fuck-ups from time to time," he pointed out before looking at Viktor. "Do I need to remind you of the Quidditch World Cup Final?"
Krum snorted roughly. "Don't even tell me. Huge mess," he shook his head disapprovingly.
"Or Sirius Black breaking out of prison," Cedric added, looking at Harry somewhat piteously. Mention of his godfather in the same breath as the disaster that was the World Cup made Harry stiffen automatically, which both men present took as a sign of Harry's fear of the man. Fleur, however, eyed Harry's reaction strangely, and her suspicions only grew when she matched gazes with Harry briefly.
Before the Veela could inquire further, McGonagall emerged from inside the Great Hall.
"The champions will wait here as the rest of the students are allowed into the hall in procession," she instructed them swiftly before occupying herself with other matters. A few minutes after that, the students were trickling into the Great Hall, and after everyone had entered, they all heard the announcement beckoning the champions inside.
The Great Hall was beautifully decorated, in a much classier manner than the slightly gaudy décor favored by Dumbledore in other Christmasses. Instead of the large House tables that normally ran the length of the room, smaller round ones were positioned unevenly across the entirety of the large hall, each decorated with white and blue bouquets and a pair of pale, small orbiting orbs which served as candles. Luminous pixies that flew in complex formations completed the illumination of the Great Hall, giving it a wintery feel complimented by small weeping evergreens hung from the portraits above them.
The couple which drew the most attention was Fleur and Krum, both objects of much envy and who had to flee from scores of fans. Harry and Susan were not that much further behind them, however, with many people giving Harry heated looks both as a matter of principle and for taking Susan Bones to the ball, and an equal amount of people sending envious looks to his partner. Cho and Cedric were also well admired, making their procession to the center of the room one of those affairs which halted everything around it.
Upon seeing that the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons Champions had paired off with one another, Dumbledore calmly dismissed two chairs from the main table to which they were soon directed. Every Champion, Headmaster, and judge had been assigned a seat, as well as one seat which Dumbledore refused to dismiss for some reason. Harry was careful to sit down as far as possible from Dumbledore, who presided over the table in its dead center, forcing him into sitting near one of the corners by Roman Smith.
"Heiress Bones," he greeted her first, with a forward tilt of the head, as the Bones seat was hereditary. "Heir Potter," he repeated the gesture in a slightly less effusive manner.
"Lord Smith," both of them echoed, greeting the man accordingly. He smiled minutely at their manners.
"It is good to see the future leaders of our country being so polite," he commented agreeably, but with a hint of aristocratic snobbery that was likely unintended.
"It's just common courtesy," Susan grinned politely back, to which the man hummed happily. Dumbledore watched the exchange quietly before turning to the room at large and smiled welcomingly.
"Please, take a seat," he instructed everyone, prompting everyone to sit down so only his tall, slender frame remained. "Welcome to the Yule Ball! I'm sure that all of you are more than eager to get on with your dancing and feasting, so I'll keep the message short. I see many couples have formed between the schools," he cheered in a jolly manner before turning slightly mischievous. "I am hopeful you keep yourself to the most wholesome versions of international cooperation."
"Albus!" McGonagall exclaimed, horrified, while the students either flushed, shifted uncomfortably, or giggled.
"Oh, quite rightly," Dumbledore acknowledged, completely unabashedly. "Regardless, this is an event meant to celebrate our champions and their achievements, as well as a reminder to you all that the purpose of these games is to create a cooperative environment. Make friends! Talk with people you normally wouldn't! Enjoy the flexibility of youth while you can. With that said, please enjoy the night."
After he finished his speech, hundreds of menus appeared in front of every seat, including those at the main table. Harry took the opportunity to scour the room for his friends. The Hufflepuffs had predictably sat together, and they sent small waves towards him and Susan before turning their attention and conversation inwards. Hermione and Neville were sitting with one-half of the Gryffindors from their year, with Dean and Ginny. Hermione kept stealing glances towards Harry, who pretended not to notice, though he did remark on how different Hermione looked whenever she dressed up. Much like on that date they shared in London, Hermione showed quite an eye for fashion and appearance whenever she put her mind to it, which was not surprising to Harry, on reflection. She excelled at everything once she focused on it.
The most concerning person was Daphne, who studiously avoided looking at the main table, though she made it look only natural, as though it was beneath her notice. Someone who might not know her would never see any difference to her normal behavior, but Harry could, and the people on the table with her, including Blaise, Tracey, and her date, a Slytherin boy he didn't recognize by name, certainly could too, from how it seemed tenser than the rest of the tables, who were full of animated conversation and polite flirting.
Harry watched Susan order and did the same, blinking a bit back in shock when his food arrived instantaneously.
"That's handy," he murmured.
"House-elves in Hogwarts do great work," Susan casually added, cutting down on her fish elegantly. Her high-brow manners made him remember he also had expectations to uphold, and he adjusted his posture, something that did not escape her notice, nor that of Lord Smith, who nodded appreciatively.
"I wonder if Dobby is helping," Harry commented.
"Dobby?"
"A house-elf that I befriended during the Chamber of Secrets incident," he explained.
"It's good of you to befriend one of them," Susan praised, smiling honestly before her demeanor turned serious. "A lot of house-elves are mistreated, demeaned, or ignored."
"Dobby was horribly mistreated," Harry expanded seriously. "He used to be with the Malfoy family, but he was freed two years ago."
"The Malfoy family mistreating its house-elves?" Susan snorted, for the first time not appearing to be a future Lady but just a teenager. She continued sarcastically. "Truly, a shocker."
"Does your family have any house-elves?" Harry asked curiously. He noticed that Susan immediately got a bit uncomfortable. "You don't have to answer," he added quickly, slightly confused by her reaction.
"No, it's not that," she tried to explain, but did not find the words.
"What Heiress Bones is trying to convey is that there is something of an unspoken debate among some families or even within them as to the validity of employing house-elves," Lord Smith intervened politely. "One debate in which she and her aunt are very prominent figures against their use."
Susan smiled thankfully in the man's direction and turned to Harry. "My family's elves were killed in the raid that killed my parents," she said sadly. Harry patted her hand comfortingly and she grinned slightly before continuing in a more neutral tone. "After that, Auntie decided she didn't want to employ them, even when the Wizengamot Offices gifted our family two new elves after the war to help us rebuild."
"I remember the ensuing row," Smith chuckled amusedly. "Your aunt gained quite the reputation after denying the elves. When the denial was denied, which was quite preposterous, she freed them in the middle of the following session to make a point. Quite rightly, too."
"You also don't use elves?" Harry inquired.
"No, my family does not use them," he said proudly, before turning slightly disappointed. "Though my son does not share my beliefs on the matter."
"It's a complicated issue," Susan told Harry. "A lot of people don't like using them, actually, but most of the Wizengamot does."
"The debate is an interesting one, but surely not one for this occasion," Roman intervened, before looking at the two youngsters more directly. "Though I doubt you hadn't had the chance before, Heiress Bones, but I'd be more than willing to introduce both of you to some of the key figures and literature on the debate."
From the way that Roman's eye gleamed when he looked at Harry, he could tell there was more to that invitation than it appeared, then he remembered that Smith was Cygnus's number two man. Susan also came to that realization, and they both accepted eagerly.
"You can call me Miss Bones, Lord Smith, and I'm sure Harry wouldn't mind the less formal title either," Susan pointed out, to which Harry nodded.
"Call me Mister Smith, then," the older man smiled in acceptance. They made some more polite conversation until Smith's attention was caught by the other side of the table.
"I'm sorry to have sat by the very end of the table," Harry smiled apologetically to his date. "There's not a lot of people you can talk to, is there?"
"You're plenty interesting enough, Harry," Susan reassured him. "Plus, I think we get to dance now," she pointed out.
As soon as she was finished with that sentence, Dumbledore rose, and conversation halted.
"Now that everyone is watered and fed, let's get to the dance," he proclaimed happily. "Everyone, please get up and allow us to remove the tables from the center of the floor. There will be refreshments and some snacks for those who are still wishing for some more nourishment throughout the evening, so do not despair for your dinners."
People obliged his request, and one by one the tables were moved to the corners of the Great Hall, forming an outer ring that denoted the boundaries of the dance floor. At once, a band emerged and settled on one of the sides of the Great Hall, and small snowflake-like confetti began to shower down on them all from the ceiling.
"Now, let us please witness the first dance from all of the Champions!"
Harry took Susan's hand and led her to the floor, with Krum doing the same for Fleur, and Cedric doing the same with Cho. A waltz started, and Harry focused on trying to follow the exact steps that Daphne had taught him. But Susan was smaller than Daphne, so he felt robotic and awkward holding her so closely until the redhead smiled amusedly and whispered.
"Relax, Harry. I can tell you're not going to step on my foot, so just relax."
Once he adhered to her suggestion, though it did take a while, he felt more comfortable, and the steps felt more natural. The twists came with difficulty, but he didn't have to consciously tell his foot to go forwards or backward, and Susan began to subtly lead him on, not taking charge of the dance but indicating with her body where he had to take her. Whenever she did a spin, she did so with energy and vivaciousness, sending her green dress in dervishian twirls, laughing all the while. When they got back into the traditional box step, her eyes were twinkling, and she kept grinning.
"You're having fun," he commented warmly.
"I love dancing," she explained, smiling widely. "There's nothing like it."
"Well, let's have some fun, then, shall we?" He smirked, and she laughed happily. Their steps became more erratic, less fluid than Fleur's effortless grace, less precise than Krum's militaristic efficiency, less charming than Cedric's practiced ease, and less acrobatic than Cho's quick steps, but they were the couple having the most fun. Harry had the makings of a great dancer, with quick reflexes, a disciplined cadence and a love of freedom deep within him, and he would become an excellent dancer with time. That first waltz was sloppy and not particularly elegant but executed with such open joy and fearlessness that it became endearing. For those who cared about such things, the display did show a truer side to Harry than his performance against the dragon ever could. And for those who didn't, it looked like two friends having fun.
Harry wasn't sure for how long they danced before they took their first break, but the band was still playing more formal songs for a long time after that. He was only aware that the music would eventually shift because Susan had whispered in his ear that the band was a famous pop group in the Wizarding World.
"Dancing with loads of people around is less fun," he commented idly as they walked to get some refreshments. Despite the oppressive cold outside, the large concentration of people and the physical toil of dancing made him feel warm, and he greatly appreciated the relief of a sip of cold punch.
"There's less room to move about, but it's fun," Susan answered, and her eyes were as light as she was joyful. "You dance well for a first-timer!"
"I resent that qualifier," Harry deadpanned, and Susan laughed amusedly.
"Right, a few years from now, I'll have another dance with you, and I'll judge you more harshly then. Deal?" She asked with a teasing smile.
"Deal," he smirked before he turned and looked at the troves of dancing, swaying, and sulking teenagers in front of him. "Man, this is much more fun than I thought."
"You need to go to a dance party in the summer," Susan suggested, stretching out her arms.
"Those are a thing?" Harry arched an eyebrow.
"Well, yeah," she shrugged. "People like to dance, don't they? Do you think wizards would be any different?"
"Not really, I'm just surprised it's the first I'm hearing about them," he replied.
"You need to be sixteen to enter, so we don't talk a lot about it, but it's not uncommon for people to host small dancing parties just for friends," Susan pointed out before looking over at the crowd, searching for someone. Then she nodded towards the frankly amazingly mobile Hannah Abbott, who was making the Durmstrang boy sweat with how quickly she moved. "Hannah is the best dancer I know, and every year she invites a bunch of us to a casual dance party in her house. Her mother wanted to take us to a Muggle disco once, but her father took one look at our clothing and vetoed it."
"Neville seems to know what he's doing," Harry pointed out to where his friend was happily spinning with Hermione. Just as he said that he inadvertently stepped on his friend's foot, and both Susan and Harry flinched, even as Hermione laughed it off.
"He's clearly happy..." Susan trailed off, analyzing his movements attentively for a few seconds before speaking. "I think that he gets overexcited at times and misses the mark. When he's calm, he's a good dancer."
Before Harry could continue the conversation, Fleur and Krum approached them, also taking a breather. After a brief half a minute of polite, empty conversation, Fleur turned to the Hogwarts duo and suggested.
"Let's switch partners for one dance, non?" Krum accepted the idea with a nod, and Susan immediately grabbed the hand the Bulgarian offered. Harry, decidedly less effusive about dancing with Fleur, took a few seconds to offer his hand. "I see you are trying to ensure someone is not jealous," Fleur spoke quietly, with her impossibly blue eyes shining in amusement at his distress.
"Also failing miserably," he grumbled moodily, making the Veela laugh. Harry couldn't see Daphne from where he stood, but he saw that Hermione immediately tensed when she saw him with Fleur and missed a step in the dance. Other people, seeing him walking with the French champion in hand, glared daggers in his direction.
"Well, such is the price of dancing with tremendous beauty," she claimed nonchalantly. Harry glared at her, and she smirked at his frustration. "But I do 'ave a question for you."
"I don't see why you couldn't wait until after the dance to ask it," he complained, noticing how much harder it was to concentrate on the stages of even a simple box step with that much physical contact between him and Fleur. The only thing stopping him from being overly mechanical in his dancing was how easily Fleur glided through the dance. It was hard to dance poorly with such a good partner.
"I'm not big on waiting, 'arry Potter," Fleur explained, with no remorse. "And I wanted to know, so 'ere we are."
"Yes, here we are," he spoke, doing his best to look at the girl in the eye. Through a lot of effort, something the older girl noticed by how her eyebrows arched upwards, he managed to keep his composure even at that close distance.
"I am impressed," she admitted. "Most people your age 'ave a less control than you. It's part of why Viktor was such an excellent partner."
Harry closed his eyes in frustration at how the way she said partner accentuated her accent, and he remembered what Tracey had told him about Fleur back at the beginning of her stay in the school — her appearance already made concentration exceedingly difficult, but it was her voice which truly unnerved him. His entire body was slowly tensing at the increasing levels of focus required to keep control over his body. After his lashing out in the First Task, he was much warier of not being fully in command of his mental capacities.
"What do you want?" He uttered between gritted teeth.
"Oh, am I finally 'aving an effect on you?" She questioned bemusedly.
"For someone who dislikes being reduced to just a Veela, you sure do take a perverse pleasure in your effect on other people," he smiled angrily. The anger made it easier for him to remain composed, though it did invite some unwanted effects. Fleur tensed at the claim and seemed to get angry herself before she recollected her neutrality.
"I like seeing strong people bend," she spoke with steel in her voice, though she continued in a softer, more appeasing tone. "But I apologize for teasing you."
Harry noticed she hadn't apologized for her effect on him. Being unsure whether or not she had any control over her allure, he simply nodded in acceptance. A few twirls later, she began prodding on what she wanted to know.
"So, Sirius Black," she raised an eyebrow questioningly when he tensed for a second, cursing his lack of discipline. "I sense a story."
"Not exactly a brilliant deduction," he countered.
"I sense a story you're not willing to tell me," she expanded on her previous statement.
"Again, not groundbreaking," he spoke, repeating the same slightly condescending tone.
"When that Slytherin girl, Tracey Davis, came to me speaking on how Severus Snape 'ad attacked you and some important 'eiress to something or other, I was quite useful," Fleur argued, staring him down firmly. "Why not again?"
"You just want secretive information," Harry affirmed skeptically.
"I don't deny it," Fleur shrugged mid-dance, which was truly impressive. "But my 'elp is valuable."
"So are my secrets," Harry smiled blandly. As he finished speaking, the music ended. "It was a pleasure to dance with you, Miss Delacour."
"Likewise," Fleur said primly, not truly frustrated about not getting the information out of Harry, but still scheming.
Before he got to dance with Susan again, Cedric proposed they also change partners, and his dance with Cho was awkward and stilted in its entirety. He didn't need to ask for Tracey to snoop around to figure out that the Ravenclaw was not very keen on him, though the reason why remained a mystery. Likely it had to do with the dragon, as was true for most people who did not like him these days.
He was relieved when the music was over, and so was she. They parted ways without speaking one word to one another, and Harry was rejoiced to meet Susan again. He was about to ask her for a dance when a slow song began to play and they locked eyes, simultaneously laughing at their hesitancy.
"Let's not," Susan eventually decreed, to which he grinned and nodded.
"We can talk and go back when the music is more animated," he proposed, and she was about to agree when her eyes widened at seeing something happening behind Harry. He turned to see Hermione looking at him with fiery chocolate eyes.
"Dance with me," she more ordered than proposed, and he saw that the Gryffindors were cheering Hermione on, except for Ron at one table, and Ginny and Neville on the other. Caught off guard, Harry didn't say anything for a couple of seconds, allowing for his friend to catch him by the hand and pull him into the dance floor with her.
"Hermione, we have an agreement," he whispered sharply to her.
"No, you made a declaration, and I'm countering it," Hermione responded. "If you get to dance with Delacour, I get to dance with you, and if Greengrass doesn't like it, she's very well within her right to dance with you too."
"You know that's not possible," he countered.
"If she doesn't want to deal with the consequences, that's not my problem," Hermione shrugged, and then her eyes gleamed and she smiled. "Now, I want to dance."
Harry obliged, though he felt uncomfortable during the dance, always sneaking glances at the people around, trying to locate Daphne. He didn't find her, only Tracey, sending venomous looks his way. 'She left,' she mouthed, crossing her arms and glaring daggers at him the entire time. Before Harry could respond, Tracey too left the Great Hall, going after her friend. He closed his eyes in resignation and moodily swayed to the slow dance, Hermione completely lost to his turmoil, smiling against his chest. When the song ended, she pecked him in the cheek and went back to her group, her face completely red, her pupils dilated, and the people cheering and celebrating her boldness. Harry sent one apologetic look to Susan, who nodded understandingly, and he left.
In the middle of that bit of drama that Harry had been keenly trying to avoid, one figure who had been watching him with growing dread went unnoticed. Dumbledore had swiftly made an excuse to leave the Great Hall for a few minutes and was now throwing a handful of floo powder into the fireplace, hoping to talk with one of his favored old students that now held a position of authority in Gringotts — for a human, of course — which he had helped arrange.
"Professor Dumbledore?" The man questioned curiously. "It's unlike you to call at such a late hour. Is everything alright?"
"Oh, everything is perfectly fine, Hector," Dumbledore chuckled benevolently, hiding his tension expertly. "I see that the goblins are making you work on Christmas once again?"
"You know how they are," Hector sighed despondently. "My family is sadly used to it at this point. So, what can I do for you, Professor?"
"I wanted to inquire on the spending status of a particular vault," Dumbledore stated politely.
"Of course I can tell you that, but why didn't you contact your bank manager?" The man asked confusedly.
"Because the vault in question is not my own, Hector," Dumbledore spoke softly, appeasing the heavy implications of the request behind an agreeable veneer. Of course, it did not conceal it in its entirety, but it did soften the blow.
"Albus, you know as well as I do that this is a highly illegal request," Hector replied tersely. "It's not like you to ask for such things."
"I am aware," Dumbledore sighed despairingly. "And I would not ask you to break the law if it was not important. You see, I fear that one of my orphaned students may have been defrauded by a distant relative or a guardian," he explained. "You do not have to tell me any details, merely if there is any spending ongoing on that account."
"Bloody hell, Professor," Hector breathed out, staying silent for a few seconds. Then he spoke in hushed tones. "I'm doing this because it's you, but please don't ask things like this again."
"Of course not," Dumbledore immediately agreed.
"Who is the student?" The man asked on the other side of the connection, the sound of him rustling papers already beginning.
"Harry Potter." The sound of the papers stopped abruptly, and Dumbledore could imagine the aghast expression on the other side of the Floo connection. Gringotts use a special sort of Floo which allowed their tellers to communicate with the people in the fireplace without having to commit themselves solely to the conversation, which was terribly convenient. Much like a Muggle telephone, Dumbledore wondered idly and made a mental note to see if he couldn't replicate it one of these days.
"Yeah, I can see why you'd be worried," Hector eventually spoke in a mortified tone. "Is the Boy-Who-Lived being scammed?"
"I'm afraid it's a possibility," Dumbledore spoke mournfully. "Which is why I need this information."
"Of course," Hector responded, the sound of rustling papers starting with renewed vigor. When he spoke next, it was with no small amount of relief. "Ah, the Potter vault has seen no outgoing expenses!" The man claimed, and Dumbledore's stomach churned.
"That is excellent news," the Headmaster said, mimicking relief. "I will leave you to your duty, then, Hector. I wish you and yours a very merry Christmas."
"Likewise!" Hector chirped happily and then broke the connection.
Dumbledore sunk into his seat and absorbed no small measure of fear. He had seen Harry's social posturing and more importantly, the robes the boy wore. Those were expertly designed and tailored made for him, full of references to the Potter family heritage, to say nothing of that mysterious dagger which the boy carried tied around his belt. Those had to be expensive, but if no money was spent from the Potter vault, it had to have been a gift. One from his secret benefactor.
Further confirmation was hardly necessary, but it further showed the depths to which this mysterious person had dragged Harry. But the more and more Harry revealed knowledge he shouldn't have known, the smaller and smaller Dumbledore's list of potential culprits got, and the smaller and smaller his natural inclination towards stability held him back from action. He tallied the facts he had discovered from the ball and the First Task and went through his potential culprits, one by one.
It was someone with access to material on the Dark Arts who could conceivably discover a connection between Parseltongue and increased power from spells. It was also someone with a wide array of magical knowledge, which was taught in an unsafe manner, focusing on destructive magic. It was someone for whom anger management was a non-issue, giving Harry's lack of success in that area, suggesting someone who was emotionally unstable themselves. It was more than probable that said person held a grudge against himself and was trying to pry Harry away from his influence, but also someone who did not show, at least at first glance, loyalty to Tom Riddle. Someone with knowledge of social customs, close knowledge of the Potter heritage, and deep pockets, to bankroll Harry's expensive clothes and dagger.
At the end of the list, one name stood far likelier than all others, and one who he had recently angered enough that all of the recent problems with Harry could be interpreted as retaliation.
"Sirius Black," he whispered, his eyes growing colder and harder. He would have to find a way to permanently separate the boy and his godfather now that Sirius's actions were pushing the boy further away from the correct path. The time for observation had passed.
Unbeknownst to Dumbledore's steely resolve, Harry sprinted to his bed, where he had kept the Marauder's Map and the Cloak of Invisibility, for once not having either object at hand. To his surprise, Daphne was in the Slytherin Dungeons, not in the Room of Requirement, where she wouldn't have shown anywhere. He picked up the magical notebook he had which held a connection to the blonde and hoping that she had it in hand, began to write.
Please meet me in the Room of Requirement, alone.
A few seconds later, her handwriting—tremulous but still elegant—came back.
I don't want to talk with you, Potter.
Harry's heart sunk, but he insisted.
Please, it's important. I have something to say to you.
Daphne did not answer for several minutes. Harry still began walking to the Room of Requirement, having in mind the goal to ask for a door right to the Slytherin Dungeons if necessary. But eventually, Daphne's name began to drift from the Dungeons at a rapid rate, her enraged steps almost audible for him through the Marauder's Map. He reached the Room of Requirement and wished for a place he had in mind. Barely a minute later, an incensed Daphne, furious but with nothing but coolness in her blue eyes, burst through the door, having taken several shortcuts to reach the seventh floor at almost impossible speed.
"What do you want, Po—Potter?" Daphne's fury had shifted into confusion once she took stock of the room in which they were, a replica of the Great Hall, with a magic box playing a slow waltz to the side, where the band would be. Harry was wringing his hands nervously in the center of the room, and he couldn't help but drink Daphne in, appreciating the silver dress that did so much to contrast with her blonde hair, which was relaxedly styled to frame her face perfectly. Even in anger and hurt, her posture was at ease and elegant, and even the whirlwind of emotions, most of them negative, could not take away the spark in her eyes that drew him in.
"I want to dance with you," he said simply, taking a few steps towards her, offering her his hand.
"What are you talking about?" Daphne asked, frozen to her spot. Suddenly, her face shifted in comprehension, and she seemed to grow angry again, her cheeks slightly tinged with red. "Are you trying to make up for something, Potter?"
"No," he answered coolly, closing the distance even further. Daphne, despite her anger, was reacting to his demeanor, and he saw her pupils dilate slightly. "I want to dance with you because I want to dance with you."
"What are you saying?" She demanded strongly, her face unwaveringly confident despite her internal agitation.
"Hermione pushed me to that dance," when Daphne's body tensed at the statement and she seemed ready to bark something, he raised his hand to interrupt the incoming tirade. "It's true. I didn't want that dance, and I didn't want to dance with Fleur either. I didn't want to slow dance with Susan either. I want to dance with you."
Daphne didn't respond, choosing to wordlessly stare at the boy, who was now merely a foot away.
"I didn't want to go to the Yule Ball with anyone but you," he explained calmly. Daphne opened her mouth slightly reflexively, and he was drawn to her lips. For once, the unflappably self-controlled Daphne Greengrass, who only bowed down to anger out of all of her emotions, flushed in excitement as she recognized the flash that burst in his eyes at the sight of her mouth so close to his.
"Do you know what you're saying, Harry?" She whispered pleadingly to him. "Do you understand?"
"I do," he said calmly.
"Do you?" She asked back. "Don't play with me, Harry. This is serious," she warned him, bordering on despair and disbelief.
"I know what I'm doing," he reassured her, his heart beating faster and faster in his chest, the music becoming a distant memory, a suggestion he promptly ignored.
"Do you know what you want? What you have to do for what you want?" She insisted, pointing to the door. "What happened today won't happen anymore. Do you understand?"
Instead of answering, Harry closed the gap between them completely, and Daphne held her breath, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable, wide-eyed, and startled at his closeness, though her hands looped around his back, stopping him from changing his mind.
"Daphne, I know," he insisted, smiling fondly at the smaller girl, who pressed herself even further into his chest, hiding her face. After a few seconds of tightly clinging to him, she raised her head, her eyes smiling and happy but her expression otherwise dead serious.
"I love you," she whispered reverently, with almost religious fervor. Harry was struck by the words, and she smiled widely at his reaction. "You are an irresponsible, reckless, overly confident, cocky, snarky, arrogant, angry little bastard—"
"Say what you really think of me," Harry pretended to grumble, but still couldn't keep the awe out of his voice from the revelation that someone loved him — it was the first time someone had sincerely said the words to him, and he felt like he could take on ten dragons at that moment. Daphne laughed happily, with such levity and delight that it seemed like the girl he had first met less than a year ago was no more, completely lost to the sands of time, replaced by someone made out of song, warmth, summer, and joy, almost floating above the ground, grinning foolishly and with abandon.
"But I love you," she finished, beaming a beautiful pearly white smile, the picture of innocent adoration, with no reservations or fear. A flash of something appeared in her eyes, and though she lost none of her boundless happiness, it was a clear reminder that the girl in front of him was very much still Daphne Greengrass. "I love you, and you're mine."
Her hug tightened around him; she didn't want to let him go. "Say it," she whispered.
"Say what?" Harry asked, slightly worried.
"You don't have to say that you love me," she smiled gently, her eyes losing that sharp flash and transmitting nothing but understanding. "I imagine that the feeling is complicated for you," she finished kindly, and Harry's heart skipped a beat, his mouth growing drier. The sharpness returned, and she leaned even closer to his face. "But I want you to say that you're mine and no one else's."
"I'm yours," he finally admitted what he had privately known for a while now, and instantly Daphne seemed to be made of light, from how much her eyes shined blissfully, twinking away like sapphires. She raised herself on her toes and planted a featherlight kiss on his lips. Unlike the previous kisses that the girl had stolen from him, even the one she had given him just outside this room, in the corridor, this was deeply emotional, with no carnal consideration or concern whatsoever. Just a demonstration of her love, made physical in the simplest and most tender way imaginable, lasting nothing more than just a couple of seconds. It made Harry's brain almost melt away, and he would not be able to deny that those few seconds hadn't spawned at least two decades.
"Say it again," she asked.
"I'm yours," he repeated, and she would smile widely and kiss him for longer, still with that same impossibly loving gentleness.
"Say it again," she asked.
"I'm yours," he breathed out, and she started to kiss him for longer still, ten seconds, twenty, then thirty, or a minute, exchanging featherlight kisses with deeper, more feeling kisses, the loving light in her eyes conflicting with a sultrier one.
Finally, she put both her hands on his chest, let her head rest against his shoulder blade, and he pulled her closer to him, basking in her floral smell—which vaguely brought him to the image of strolling across a vast garden under the moonlight of the dream he had with the Red Woman—and her almost indescribable softness. They started to gently sway by the sound of the music, this close dancing interrupted only by their kisses for many hours.