Chapter 8 – It's NOT My Belief That My Big Balls Should Be Held Every Night

Harry Potter had been a child of prophecy since the day he was born. He had united the three artifacts the Avatar of Death had left on this plane of existence, a test if you will to determine a mortal worthy of being her champion on Earth. The Moirae, the very Fates themselves, had used their not inconsiderable power to send him back in time and charged him with the Herculean task of righting the Tapestry of Fate. He had fought dragons, giant spiders, and basilisks; monsters that were the horrors of more than one campfire story. His Gryffindor qualities – bravery, courage, determination - had been tested in times of great peril and he had not been found wanting, and as a result the ancient artifact that was the Sword of Gryffindor had answered his call. He had dueled wizards dark beyond comprehension and spent the better part of a year searching the countryside for the pieces of the darkest soul he had ever encountered with the sole purpose of destroying said soul. At the end of that journey, he had willingly sacrificed himself so that the world might know peace. He was, for all intents and purposes, the textbook definition of a hero.

None of that mattered to him though as his feet pounded against the stone floor of one of the many hallways of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the soles of his trainers squeaking loudly as he took a corner sharply to try and maintain speed. Not wands, swords, prophecies or heroism would save him from his current dilemma. He wasn't sure if speed would either, but it was the only thing he had left to combat this particular foe. A foe he knew had already defeated him, but his stubbornness wouldn't allow him to just admit defeat and rest. No; he would fight until it was over, give his all until the task was done. He saw the doorway just up ahead and used the last of his reserves to put on a final burst of speed that had him hurtling through the passage and into the room that held his fate. Nothing would save him from it; he just had to accept it.

"Mr. Potter," said McGonagall sternly, "you're late. Take a seat and see me after class."

Not as bad as it could have been Harry thought. He took in large gulps of air as he sat down next to Hermione and pulled out his Transfiguration textbook, turning to the chapter on cross-species switching.

{-}

Hermione was waiting in the hallway as Harry walked out of the Transfiguration classroom. "How bad?"

Harry shrugged. "Not bad. No points and just one detention, Monday night. Honestly, a secondary concern."

"Secondary?" she asked as they started down the hall. "What trumped getting a detention?"

That had Harry pulling up short. McGonagall had ended class announcing it, but in the several conversations he and Hermione had had about the future-that-was he'd never mentioned the Yule Ball. It was honestly a night he wished he could scrub from his brain; 'train wreck' just didn't seem to cover it properly. But it was going to happen, for good or ill. At least this time he wouldn't be scrambling for a date at the last minute. At least, he hoped he wouldn't be. "Hermione, I need to ask you something." He took her hand and led her a short way down the hall away from the main flow of after-class traffic. "McGonagall had something else to tell me after she chewed me out," he began. "So, this Yule Ball thing that she mentioned?" At her nod he continued. "Since it's associated with the Tournament she was telling me that I had to attend, that I had to have a date, and that date and myself, along with the other champions, would be opening the Ball with a dance."

Hermione was just beginning to smile when Harry stepped back from her and crinkled his brow. "You know, now that I think about it, it's all terribly inconvenient isn't it?" Her growing smile vanished. "I mean, spending Christmas away from the Dursleys is perfectly fine with me, but other people have families that I'm sure they'd like to spend the holidays with. And we're supposed to just give them the old heave ho because of a school dance? She said the ball has been a tradition of the tournament, so why didn't they announce it earlier? How many kids are going to write home now and say 'Hey Mum and Dad, sorry I'm not going to be there to open presents or celebrate any of our other existing traditions that haven't been defunct for two centuries, but I want to see if I can get to second base with Mary Jo Anybody.'

"And speaking of that whole 'not telling you until a couple weeks before the holiday' thing, what about those of us that have never been to a dance before? I mean, how many teenagers know how to dance? Like, properly dance? Is it going to be a formal thing? Do we need to know how to waltz? They're not even offering lessons. I know that wizards are stuck somewhere around the Industrial Revolution, but we don't go to finishing school anymore; aside from 'one, two, three, one, two, three' I know diddly about the waltz. Not that I need to know the waltz, but a little practice would be nice so we don't make complete fools of ourselves."

Harry shook his finger demonstrably as he continued speaking. "They had us buy dress robes months before but didn't tell us what for? That's insane. What about people whose school list said they had to buy formal robes, but don't want to or can't go to the dance? They bought them for nothing; that's not going to make the parents who shelled out however many galleons on those robes happy. And what about Third Years who get asked by an older student? Now they have like two weeks to write home, get their parents to send them gold, and somehow get to Hogsmeade to buy an outfit. Mental.

"And. And. And: I mean, look at Neville as an example. He's grown like two or three inches since the school year started. And Lavender's," Harry's eyes got wide as he was about to reveal to his girlfriend that he'd noticed how much another woman's bust had increased in three months. She already looked agitated, but he soldiered on. Well, babbled on would probably be a better description.

"Plus, you know, you have to find a date, and make plans, and don't couples normally, like, color coordinate or something? Like, your robes were this kind of purplish blue and the robes Mrs. Weasley bought me were bottle green. Those don't exactly go together, do they? I mean, I guess I could use a Color Changing Charm to make mine black; I suppose that would work –"

"Harry," Hermione tried interrupting. He kept going.

"But that would be terribly embarrassing if they changed back halfway through the Ball."

"Harry."

"My luck someone would hit them with a Finite Incantatem and there I'd be looking like a dunderhead."

"Harry!"

He blinked. "Yes?"

"I think you missed an important step in the process."

"Huh?"

"Why would the color of our robes not matching matter?"

"Ummmmm . . . because I was going to ask you to be my date to this thing?"

"Well are you going to get to that some time today or should I go to lunch and then start on my homework until you're done venting your spleen?"

Harry cringed, realizing he'd started monologuing and lost the plot. "Yep, messed that right up, didn't I?"

"You can still pull it out of the fire, but I'd suggest you get to it," she said with a small smirk.

Harry returned the look before taking both of her hands in hers. "Hermione Jean, would you do me the indescribable honor of being my date to the Yule Ball on Christmas evening?"

Hermione put on a quizzical look as she stared off toward the ceiling. "I'll have to check my planner to make sure I'm available. And of course I have to see if there are any more worthy suitors interested in having me on their arm."

"Oi!"

"And check if it's alright with Mum and Dad. We have traditions, you know."

"Hermione?"

"Can I get back to you, say this weekend?"

"Hermione, you're killing me here."

"You sure you wouldn't rather go with Lavender? It would seem she has some rather impressive . . . attributes that you wouldn't mind dancing with."

"Knew I was going to get in trouble for that."

"Or you could go with Luna? She's a Third Year, so if she wants to go she'll need a date."

"Oh no, I've been to a fancy party with Luna. Once is enough."

"Wait, you took Luna on a date last time around but not me?"

"Oh b. . . orscht," he caught himself. Harry got down on his knees. "Please just say yes so I can forget how much I almost dropped the ball, and how stupid a me that will now never exist was."

Hermione laughed. "Of course I'll go with you, Harry." She picked him up, gave him a quick kiss, and looped her arm through his as they made their way toward the Great Hall for lunch. She looked around briefly before whispering to him. "Who did you go with to this thing the last time? Was that the party you took Luna to?"

"Nope. That was in Sixth Year."

"Then whom?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That bad, huh?"

"The only way I could have been a worse date was if I'd gotten drunk and thrown up on her."

"That's . . . vivid." She wrapped her other arm around their already joined ones. "What about me?"

"Oh I really don't want to talk about that."

"Why? Was he handsome? Did he sweep me off my feet? Did I end up with a boy—"

Harry stopped their walk and stopped Hermione's questions by the simple act of taking her head in his hands and kissing her to within an inch of her life. When they finally came up for air a minute later she was silent as she licked her lips. "It doesn't matter who either of us went with before. It's never going to happen. I'm not letting you out of my sight that entire evening. I know that you're a knowledge sponge, but can you live with this being one piece of information you don't know?" She nodded sheepishly. "Good. Now, let's go to lunch and watch the mayhem of teenagers trying to ask each other to a dance. From what I recall it's amazingly entertaining when it's not you."

{-}

Living without that one piece of information lasted exactly two days, five hours, and fifty-seven minutes, and turned out not to be entertaining at all.

Harry had just finished a letter to Sirius and Remus and was walking out of the Common Room intent on getting to the Owlery before dinner when he saw Hermione coming back from the Library. He smiled, only to crinkle his brow in consternation at seeing the way she was practically stomping her way down the hall. She walked right up to him and poked him in the chest. "You. Me. Room. Now."

"A little feisty this evening, Mistress?"

"Not in the mood Harry. Walk." Without waiting for a reply she turned and proceeded to once again storm along the corridor. Harry, now curious and more than a little afraid that he'd done something to upset Hermione, followed in her wake.

They reached the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy and Hermione paced back and forth to activate the magic of the Room. A plain wooden door appeared that she threw open before entering, Harry right behind her. He turned to close the door and when he turned back she had both hands on her hips and her Five Alarm 'How could you do that?' look on. "Viktor Krum, Harry? Really? You didn't tell me I went to the Ball with Viktor Krum?"

Harry was so taken aback by the statement and her actions that his brain shut down. "What? How'd you find that out?"

"I asked Professor Trelawney."

Harry blinked. "Really?"

"Of course not, you doofus." Hermione rolled her eyes as her voice was somewhere between exasperated and volcanic. "He just walked up to me in the Library and asked me."

"Oh, right," Harry answered as he scratched the back of his head. "I didn't really think about that. I mean, there wasn't anything to make that not happen; he probably wouldn't know we were together."

"Yeah. And I had to knock him back in the middle of one of the busiest rooms in the castle. It was mortifying, probably more for him than me but still."

Harry's was still in shock from Hermione's discovery and as a result wasn't thinking straight. "You knocked him back?"

"Are you serious right now?!" she almost shrieked, before closing her eyes tightly and taking a deep breath. "Harry, of course I did." Her eyes opened. "It was barely two weeks ago that we sat in this very room and I let slip a very important word. I know we agreed to discuss it later, but you at least remember that, yes?" Harry could only nod, afraid to open his mouth now. "So, let's review," she said as she stalked (there was no other word to describe it) towards him. She started counting on her fingers. "I'm already your girlfriend." Harry stepped backward as Hermione stepped forward, not sure he wanted to be within slapping range of her at the moment. Hermione just kept approaching and counting off items.

"I've already admitted that I'm in . . . that word . . . with you." Step forward by Hermione. Step backward by Harry.

"I've already agreed to go to the Ball with you." Advance. Retreat.

"We've already admitted to each other that we are the most important people in each other's lives." Stride. Backpedal.

"So what could possibly be going through your head to make you think I would abandon all of that, and you, to go to the Ball with someone I don't even know?"

Harry's back hit the wall of the room; there was no place left to run, literally or figuratively. "I don't know."

"And why were you so afraid to tell me who it was?"

"I don't know."

Hermione put both of her hands on his chest and scrunched his robes tightly in her fists. "Do better than that, Potter."

Harry took a deep breath and just started talking. "Well, I mean, I knew you guys went together the last time and had a really good night. And you spent a decent amount of time together after, all the way up until they left at the end of the school year. I'm not exactly sure how deep or . . . physical it got, but you two had . . . a thing. Even three years later it was a thing. We were all at this wedding and he was asking about you, and you were . . . flustered in his presence." He gently pried Hermione's hands from his robes and began walking around the room, many of his thoughts years and miles away.

The words Thandie had said to him right before he was sent back echoed in his mind. 'Be honest, and speak from the heart.' "I don't have a better reason than fear," he finally admitted.

"Fear, Harry?"

He nodded; not at her but just to the world. "I'm terrified of losing you."

Hermione stared at him dumbfounded as he unburdened his soul.

"I've almost lost you so many times. The troll. The basilisk. Transformed Remus. Dementors. Dolohov. Bellatrix. And while losing you to Krum or to Ron might not have been potentially deadly like those others, I know now that my heart would have been just as broken in the end. I would have been just as broken." He turned to her, and she saw his tears. "Somewhere inside I guess I still think that will happen. Happy endings have been in kind of short supply in my life. I lost my parents. My childhood. Sirius. Now I've all but lost Ron and probably most of the Weasleys with him, the only family I've ever really had. I even lost a war and my life. I understand I've been given a chance to right some of that, but it means nothing without you. You're the reason I came back. You're the reason I'm here, still fighting this fight." He started walking toward her.

"Harry –"

"I don't care how long it's been or how young we are. I love you. I know it in my bones. I know it in my soul." He stopped in front of her. "I love you Hermione."

She burrowed herself into his waiting arms, saying the only thing that needed saying. "I love you too, Harry."

{-}

On a tapestry on a wall in a place few mortals have ever trod, a sky blue thread lashed itself to the bright orange one next to it, their individual strands now nearly imperceptibly separate from the whole as they braided themselves tightly together.

A thin woman in a tight dark blue minidress smiled as she watched the two threads weave together. "Atta boy."

{-}

As Harry, Hermione, and Luna were sitting together at breakfast on Sunday talking about how to spend their day, a barn owl descended from above with a parcel strapped to its leg. The bird alit lightly in front of Harry and gave a typical screech of greeting. "Hey there, big man. Whatcha got for me?" he asked as he pulled the package from its leg and gave the owl a ham rind. He looked at the outer wrappings and saw Sirius's handwriting before immediately putting it in his robes to open later. Given its shape Harry was pretty sure what it was, but he wanted to be safely ensconced in the Room of Requirement before opening it, doubting he'd be able to resist using it at the first opportunity.

As soon as all three had their fill the girls headed off to the Library to get back to revising for end of term exams. Harry excused himself, saying he'd catch up later, before scurrying up the stairs to the Seventh Floor and entering the Room, configured as a study lounge. Once the door closed he ripped the wrappings from the package, discovering exactly what he thought he would; a relatively plain 8 centimeter by 12 centimeter mirror. He flopped down into a comfortable armchair before raising the mirror to his face and excitedly calling "Sirius Black."

The image on the mirror didn't change for a few moments before there was a brief foggy swirl and the summoned animagus appeared. "Hey there, Harry. How's things?"

Harry sublimated the bile that rose in this throat as The Bill showed Sirius's last moments in the previous timeline. The jet of red light. The look of surprise on his face. His almost peaceful passage into the Veil, taking yet another father away from Harry. He swallowed hard; Sirius didn't seem to notice. "They're fine, Sirius, but I'm more interested in this thing. Where'd you find it?" Sometimes Harry hated having to ask questions he already knew the answer to, but in front of everyone except Hermione he had to keep up appearances.

"Oh, we made them back when we were still in school. Dead useful when your dad and me were in different detentions, or needed to be in two different places to pull off a prank." Sirius's smile was wide as he was no doubt reminiscing. "I figured I'd send you one of them as a kind of early Christmas present since you'll be in the castle over the holidays."

"I'm sure Hedwig will be disappointed with the lack of business. I'll have to make sure to go flying with her to make sure she doesn't get depressed. I sent her off with a letter to you and Remus yesterday, but this is so much easier. Thanks, Sirius, this is awesome. Not as awesome as a Firebolt, mind you, but still awesome," Harry teased, earning a very mature Sirius sticking his tongue out at his godson. The thought of the Firebolt, however, suddenly had Harry's mind traveling down a different road. "Hey, random question."

"Random answer," Sirius replied.

"I know you said when you bought my Firebolt you gave them my name but told them to take the gold from your vault. How does that work?"

Sirius chuckled. "Oh, yeah, that. I lied."

"What?"

Sirius shrugged. "I lied. I figured you'd flip if I told you I walked into Gringotts in a heavy cloak with the hood pulled up and a transfiguration on my hair while every Dementor in Britain was hunting for me just so I could walk out with a giant bag of gold to buy you a stupidly expensive broom. So I made that part up to keep you from flaying me alive. I mean, honestly; I said that a bloody cat took the order to the Owl Office to be sent off. How the hell would that have worked? And what about the goblins; did you really think a race of beings who put 'For those who take, but do not earn, must pay most dearly in their turn' in big ass letters on the front doors of the building just felt like fucking with you in trochaic pentameter?"

"Iambic tetrameter."

"Bless you." Both men laughed. "Anyway. Gringotts won't let a Knut out of a vault without a key except in exceedingly rare, and always previously agreed upon, circumstances. Luckily, they don't ask you who you are, only if you have a key. If you want more security, like needing an authorized goblin to open the door or something like that you have to request it, and of course pay extra. Most don't bother, especially Purebloods. They hate the idea that they need a goblin's 'permission' to access their own money."

"That seems rather insecure, doesn't it?"

"Not if you think like a goblin. They're contracted to keep whatever is put in a vault safe until whoever has the key takes it out. As far as they're concerned, if you have the key to a vault it's yours; you could walk in and say your name was Richard the Lionheart, they wouldn't give a shit as long as you had the key that opened the vault you said you wanted to get into. They don't care if wizards steal from other wizards, and they'd just argue that you should have kept a better eye on your vault key. It's only if you try to get into a vault you don't have a key or authorization to that they get all stabby. I had my key, so they let me into my vault."

"So that's how I was able to give Mrs. Weasley my key and have her buy my school things?"

"Right in one."

"But how did you have your key? Wouldn't they have taken it from you when you went to Azkaban?"

"They did. But they keep all that stuff in a building on the island; I just snuck in and grabbed it on my way out. There wasn't much else to grab; my clothes had been torn to shreds in the explosion and they snapped my wand, but I figured I'd need money at some point so decided it was worth the risk. Dead easy, too; they don't even guard the stuff. I guess they don't see a point."

Harry nodded, a plan forming in his head. But first things first. "So, Mister Padfoot, just how big or small can you make these mirrors?"

{-}

With the benefits of hindsight, maturity, and a simply stunning Hermione at his side all night, the Yule Ball wasn't nearly as bad as he remembered. Yes he still had to deal with Fleur's badmouthing the castle. Yes he still had to deal with the stick lodged firmly up Percy's keister. And unlike last time, this go-round he had to deal with getting varying degrees of stink eye from Krum and Ron, the latter of whom was once again bedecked in dress robes that probably went out of style with the advent of steam power. All of that got cancelled out during the first dance, though; the simple rocking spin on the dance floor with his date in his arms more than made up for the aloofness, self-aggrandizement, and slight jealous hostility he'd had to endure through dinner.

Even with the additional years he'd experienced he still wasn't at all familiar with the Weird Sisters's repertoire of songs, not that he was exceedingly familiar with any musician or band, magical or Muggle. The only times he'd heard the wizarding wireless besides the Potterwatch broadcasts during their 'exile' was when Molly had listened to it, and she was more of a Celestina Warbeck kind of person than one who would listen to the currently being performed 'Do the Hippogriff.' Hermione's periwinkle-bedecked body sultrily shimmying against him as Myron Wagtail (what was it with wizard names?) crooned 'Shake your booty like a boggart in pain,' however, made sure that he was walking out of there that night with at least one piece of their merch.

Like all good things, though, the event had to come to an end eventually. As he and Hermione slowly swayed to the last song of the night Harry allowed himself to be caught up in the lyrics, the moment, and the beautiful young woman in his arms.

And don't be afraid

Afraid of bein' hurt

No, don't let this magic die

Ooh, the answer's there

Yeah, just look in her eyes

And Harry did just that. He gazed into the eyes of the most important person in the world to him, and she looked back at him with a contented smile on here face. "Thank you for being my date tonight, Hermione."

"Thank you for not crushing my feet as we danced, Harry," she responded (mostly) jokingly.

"You know, I'm trying to have a moment here."

"Hasn't all night been a series of moments?"

"Sure. But now it's about to end, and I'm not really sure I want it to."

Hermione shrugged. "Moments are just that, Harry. Moments. They're fleeting. Transient. Except in our hearts and in our minds; there we can replay them over and over as often as we'd like. And that's not such a bad thing; it gives us the opportunity to make more and even better moments. I'm looking forward to having many, many more moments with you."

Harry smiled before cupping her cheek in his hand and leaning down to kiss this incredible woman deeply as the final words of the song echoed in the hall.

And don't believe that magic can die

No, no, no, this magic can't die

So dance your final dance

'Cause this is your final chance

And Harry took advantage of that final chance to have this one last moment. For tonight, at least; like the beauty in his arms, he was looking forward to all the moments they had yet to share.

A/N: Chapter title is (mostly) from the AC/DC song "Big Balls."

Can you tell I have some issues with how the Yule Ball was presented to the students?

In the story Banking on Her by Robst, Ron gets drunk and pukes on Marietta at the Yule Ball. Harry's line about how that could have made his Yule Ball worse is a reference to that fic.

For those of you who think Hermione's response might be a bit excessive, first remember that she has occasions where she reacts . . . extremely . . . to things (attacking canaries, anyone?). Put yourself in those shoes. Then imagine 15-year-old you finding out that in an alternate timeline you had a relationship with Cristiano Ronaldo right when his career was starting. Would you freak out? I'd freak out.

Can you also tell I have some issues with how Gringotts works? In Book 1 Harry needs his key but the vault the Stone is in doesn't have a keyhole; it just needs Griphook to touch it. And just a letter from Dumbledore is enough to get it opened. In PoA Sirius says he sent Harry's name with his vault number and everything was fine. In GoF and OOTP Molly says that she'll do Harry's shopping if he gives her the book list, and we know from CoS that the Weasleys have dick in the bank and wouldn't be able to cover Harry's things. I decided that Gringotts operated like the bank in The DaVinci Code, where the key (and the account number in the book) was all you needed to get into a vault under normal circumstances. The "added security" thing Sirius mentions is just to get around how they get into the Stone's vault in SS and the Lestrange vault in DH; for Vault 713 Dumbledore didn't want anyone to be able to get into without his say-so and in this version of canon the Lestrange vault was locked in that manner after Bellatrix found Hermione had the Sword and wigged out.

Info on the Weird Sisters was pulled from the Harry Potter Fandom Wiki site.

Be safe. And, as always, thank you for your follows, favorites, views, and reviews.