CHAPTER FOUR: 1995

"I'm dead," Harry said miserably for the hundredth time, "Either I'm dead, or I forfeit, I'll just tell them I can't compete and to keep….whatever it is they take."

"If it's your Firebolt, you think it'll be up for grabs?" asked Ron, "It's not like the merpeople need it, and I could really use it."

"Both of you stop it," said Hermione sternly, "We still have more than a week until the Second Task, there's a whole library of spells and potions here, we'll sure to be able to find something." She tried to make her voice sound reassuring, but even she felt the day of the Task getting closer and closer. She turned back to the volume she was reading with determination, but as she turned a page, she saw her watch, and gasped as she realized she was running late.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and stuffing her books into her bag, "I've got to go! I'll meet the both of you at dinner."

"You're leaving the library before us?" asked Ron with raised eyebrows, "Pigs are flying. Where are you off to?"

Hermione tried not to look panicked, but still felt herself blush. "I need to go send a letter," she mumbled, and scurried off before he could ask more questions.

You could just tell him the truth, she told herself, You're not doing anything wrong, why do you care what he thinks?

I don't care, she replied to herself forcefully, It's just none of his business, is all. And she didn't care. She absolutely, certainly didn't care.

Hermione wound her way between the bookshelves of the library before arriving at a remote back corner, surrounded by outdated textbooks that no one ever came looking for, meaning it was unlikely anyone would randomly stumble into this secluded spot.

She tried not to let her mind run away with possibilities as to what that meant for her meeting here.

She gulped loudly when she saw Viktor sitting alone at the study table, not having noticed her because he was staring intensely down at the book he was reading. She awkwardly cleared her throat and he looked up, and he got that look in his eye that made her stomach do somersaults.

It wasn't just that Viktor was handsome (though she would admit that he was), it was that…..well, he was a boy. And he looked at her like that! That was already unprecedented for Hermione, but the fact that he wasn't just any boy, but a Triwizard Champion and Quidditch star? That he could spend time with any girl in the school, but wanted to meet with Hermione Granger, the plain, shrewish bookworm? That was unimaginable.

Hermione, Neville's right — you are a girl….

She stiffened and became determined to not remember that conversation. She wasn't going to let Ron ruin yet another nice thing. Besides, the way Viktor was looking at her now indicated that it was obvious to others that she was a girl, even if Ron had never considered it.

Not that she cared whether Ron considered it. She definitely didn't.

"Oh, Herm-own-ninny, I am glad you are here!" said Viktor excitedly (and, somehow, nervously), and quickly stood up. He walked to the other side of the table, pulled out the opposite chair, and politely gestured for her to sit down.

Hermione blushed even more, feeling like some noble lady instead of a schoolgirl with bags under her eyes from long nights of researching waterbreathing spells.

After she was seated, he sat back down across from her and gave her that same small, focused smile that made her feel like she was being x-rayed. After a few seconds of silence (uncomfortable for her, but he didn't appear so), she looked at the book he had been focused on and grasped at her favorite topic of conversation.

"What are you reading?" she asked, "You seem to find it very interesting." She reached and pulled the book a little closer, and was surprised. She had expected that he was also preparing for the Second Task, but instead it was just a Bulgarian-to-English dictionary.

"You already have a proficient grasp of English," she assured him, "And this won't help you pronounce my name," she teased. Was she flirting? Was this what flirting was? She had no frame of reference.

"I can speak vell enough to speak to strangers," said Viktor, "But I lack the vords to describe you."

"...describe me?" said Hermione softly.

"Yes," Viktor nodded, "You are…." he flipped through the pages of the dictionary and found what he was looking for. He looked back up at her piercingly.

"...Captivating," he finished.

Hermione gulped again.

"Here, I have something for you," said Viktor, and reached into his pocket, and retrieved a small, bright red box, sliding it across the table towards her. Hermione opened it, her hands shaking slightly, and she gasped as she saw a shining silver necklace, a simple fine chain and a small pendant in the shape of an owl.

"It is meant to be the symbol of Athena," said Viktor, "For a witch that loves the library. I do not know much about Valentine's Day but—"

"I love it." Hermione couldn't stop the silly smile from spreading across her face as she put on the necklace. She wasn't sure if she felt as strongly toward Viktor as he clearly felt toward her, but at the moment she didn't care, she was just enjoying finally letting herself feel "girly," and actually being appreciated for it.

….and she tried very hard to ignore the little voice in her head who wished someone else would look at her like that.

"Come on, dinner's starting," said Ron, standing up, "You can't come up with a last minute plan to avoid drowning in freezing blackness on an empty stomach."

"You're hilarious, Ron," Harry grunted passively as he gathered his belongings and started following him out of the library. As they were entering the entrance hall, Harry's mood was starting to improve a bit from the smells wafting out of the Great Hall, but then came crashing down again and his stomach lurched as he saw Cedric and Cho walking hand-in-hand past them, not paying anyone else any mind as they laughed cheerfully at something Cedric had said. Cho held up her other hand to admire a thin gold bracelet on her wrist. It seemed to be a Valentine's Day gift Cedric had given her.

Harry suddenly lost his whole appetite. He no longer had any interest in talking with Ron or being quizzed by Hermione, and the loud noises and crowd of the Great Hall suddenly seemed suffocating.

"You go ahead without me," he told Ron, "I've got to use the bathroom." He turned back the way they came before Ron could respond.

He ducked into the nearest bathroom he found, figuring it was as good a place as any to sulk. He walked slowly up to the mirror and scowled grumpily at his reflection.

Comb your hair! Uncle Vernon's voice shouted up from the depths of Harry's memory. His hand moved automatically to try once again in vain flatten the mess on top of his head. He just knew that Cho would be going out with him right now if he had hair more like Cedric's, which seemed to just naturally always look like he had just walked out of a salon.

Harry's eyes moved down from his hair and he continued to frown at the rest of himself. Over three years since Harry started having access to as much food as he wanted, but he was still skinny (not at all like Cedric's muscular build). After all the lessons, all the Quidditch matches, all the "heroic" brushes with death, he would always be the boy shoved into a cupboard so that people wouldn't have to look at him.

All the fame in the world couldn't make girls like him. Really like him, for him. Parvati had seemed happy when he had asked her to the ball, but had basically spent the night showing him off like a prize, then had given up on him when he didn't play the part she wanted. It was the same thing with Ginny all over again, everyone wants the Boy Who Lived, but why would anyone want Harry?

His stomach growled loudly to interrupt his brooding, and he reluctantly admitted to himself that he had to get back to dinner. This wasn't making him feel any better, maybe Ron's method of eating through his moods was the proper approach.

Ginny suddenly wasn't interested in eating dinner with her friends. She threw her book bag down onto the very end of the Gryffindor table and plopped down on the bench all by herself.

She had been in such a great mood before she saw Harry looking like a kicked dog when he saw Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory practically draped over each other. She had been Harry-Watching long enough to recognize burning jealousy when she saw it, especially since she had seen it in the mirror so many times.

He's going with Cho Chang. I asked her to go with me just now, and she told me.

Ginny had never felt so hopeless or worthless as she had after hearing Harry say those words. For two years, she had been deluding herself into thinking that if she was just able to talk to him, let him get to know the real her, then he would start to "notice" her.

And she had been making progress. She still blushed around him, but she wasn't rendered speechless. When he had stayed at the Burrow for the Quidditch World Cup, it really felt like they were growing closer.

But then the Yule Ball was announced, and since he was a champion, Harry had no choice but to find a girl to go with him. She could tell he was terribly nervous of the idea of asking someone, but did he ask the girl that he knew would say yes? Of course not, he had run after Cho Chang!

Cho Bloody Chang, who Ginny was fairly certain Harry had never once actually spoken to. So, as it turned out, that wasn't a requirement for Harry to fancy a girl. He hadn't ignored Ginny because they hadn't talked enough, no, there was only one explanation: Ginny simply wasn't pretty enough. And Harry, as it turned out, was just another shallow, hormonal boy who only cared about looks.

Ginny felt hot, angry tears stinging her eyes and buried her face into her arms on the table, trying to hide her freckled face and long Weasley nose, and tried her hardest to hate Harry Potter.

Someone loudly clearing their throat behind her made her jump. She looked up, quickly wiping her eyes of her tears, and turned to see a boy smiling at her confidently.

"Oh. Hey Michael," said Ginny, clearing her voice, "what's up?"

"Well," Michael shrugged, still smiling, "it's Valentine's Day, so I figured I had to say hi to the prettiest girl in our year."

Ginny remained silent for several seconds. She turned her head to see if any other girls were nearby. When she turned back, he was still looking at her.

"You….you think I'm pretty?" Ginny said softly.

Michael let out a loud bark of laughter. "Are you serious? I can't be the first person to tell you that."

"There's not exactly a long line…." she muttered bitterly.

"Here," Michael pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to her. She felt herself blush as she took the handmade valentine card, and found herself smiling when she saw a charmingly terrible short poem written on it (though Ginny wasn't going to throw stones in that glass house).

Ginny had had fun dancing and talking with Michael at the Yule Ball after Neville had to leave, but she had assumed he was just making the best of a bad situation, since he hadn't managed to get a date of his own. Ginny had been completely ignored by the boy she fancied and was only there as her date's second choice, so she never considered a boy would actually want to dance with her.

But the feeling in her stomach she was now getting from the way Michael was looking at her….she had to say it felt good. Was this what girls like Cho Chang and Parvati and that Beauxbatons girl felt like all the time?

"Thank you, Michael, it's beautiful," said Ginny, smiling widely now.

Michael let out a long exhale and visibly relaxed, apparently having been more nervous than he had first appeared. "I'm glad you like it. Well, I'll let you eat, I'll talk to you later!"

Yes, I think we will talk later, thought Ginny with satisfaction. She turned back to her food, her appetite having returned with a fury, and hummed happily at this new revelation that maybe not all boys were blind idiots.

"You better eat something, mate, brooding works up an appetite," said Ron cheekily to Harry as he sat down at the table. Ron's own plate was already piled high.

Harry just grunted and he seemed even grumpier than he had been in the library. Ron couldn't figure why, it's not like his situation got more dire on the way to the Great Hall.

"Where do you figure Hermione is?" Ron asked, trying to not let Harry sit in silence, "She left before us and she's still not here."

He looked around, and still didn't see a head of bushy hair. He suddenly frowned. "Hey….you don't think she's with — nevermind," he stopped. He didn't want to think about it. And he certainly didn't want Harry to know how much he didn't want to think about it.

They lapsed into silence for a few seconds, with Harry glumly shoveling food into his mouth, when Parvati Patil walked down the table behind him, arm-in-arm with the Beauxbatons boy she had danced with at the Yule Ball. As they were passing him, Parvati looked at Harry sideways and suddenly erupted into laughter as if her companion had said something hilarious, but he just seemed surprised and confused by her outburst.

Ron dipped his head to snigger into his plate. When Parvati was gone, he punched Harry in the arm.

"Looks like she's trying to teach you a lesson, mate."

Harry just shrugged again. "I guess I deserve it. I could have at least tried to be a decent date. I had sort of made up my mind to be miserable all night before it even started."

"Eh, I don't think you two crazy kids ever had a shot," said Ron with mock sadness, "I mean, she wanted you to dance. She loved dancing. And you looked like a helpless flobberworm while you were out there."

There was a beat, then Harry started chuckling softly. Ron was pleased that the Weasley method of mocking someone to cheer them up always worked.

"Yeah, could you imagine me trying to keep up with her all night?" asked Harry, smiling and laughing harder now. "I bet even if I had actually gone to the ball with….someone else, I still wouldn't have wanted to dance. The disaster with Parvati just let all the girls in the school know: Harry Potter does not dance."

"Well, then I'm afraid there's no hope for you, dear boy," said Ron, patting Harry on the shoulder, "The gold, the fame, the Quidditch skills, none of it will matter if girls know that on the dance floor you look like you've got a skrewt up your—"

Ron cut himself off as he finally saw Hermione making her way toward them, and stood up so quickly that he banged his legs on the table. He cursed as he sat back down.

As Hermione joined them, Ron noticed a glint of silver hanging from her neck. She noticed him frowning and where he was looking and quickly hid whatever it was in her shirt.

"Really long letter, was it?" asked Ron, failing to keep the accusing tone out of his voice.

She ignored him. "What were you two laughing at?" she attempted to change the subject. Ron bit his tongue and obliged her.

"We were just talking about how Harry will never have a girlfriend because he can't dance. But you're a girl. So, as a girl, you would know that better than us. You know, 'cause you're a girl."

Smooth, Weasley.

But he couldn't stop stuff like that from vomiting out his mouth, since the fact that Hermione was, in fact, a girl had been beating like a drum in his head for months. It was practically all he could think about.

Yes, Hermione was a girl. The girl who he spent most of his days with. Who made him laugh when she was trying to be serious. Who was always pushing him to be a better version of himself. The only girl who hadn't taken the mickey out of him for his horrid dress robes.

And the girl who, Ron had realized with horror, was breathtakingly pretty.

That realization had hit him at the Yule Ball like a ton of bricks. He had tried to convince himself that it was just the makeover, and she would just be his friend Hermione the next day, but he had found her even more beautiful with her usual bushy hair and ink-stained school uniform. All day, as he had seen couples….coupling for Valentine's Day, he couldn't stop thinking about all the cheesy things that wouldn't be so cheesy if he did them with Hermione.

But, of course, he hadn't been the first person to notice how amazing she was. Now that she knew her worth, that she was captivating enough to catch the attention of a bloke like Viktor Krum, why would she ever debase herself by seeing Ronald Weasley as anything but a friend?

Hermione was frowning suspiciously at his ramble. "Well….in that case, as the expert, I can tell you that there's no universal rule, every girl is different. For instance, I wouldn't really care if a boy could dance or not….but Ron may have a point," she said sympathetically to Harry, "it may be good to keep your options open by getting some lessons, since most girls aren't like me."

You could say that again, thought Ron.