Hermione awoke on Boxing Day feeling exceptionally relaxed. So the ball hadn't gone exactly as she expected. Ron had been a disappointment, and Viktor had turned out to be an ordinary bloke—but he had the makings of a good friend—but Harry had been wonderful, saying and doing exactly what she needed when she needed it.

Because of the nature of Harry's life, she spent a good deal of her time worrying over and supporting him—but last night, their roles had been reversed and she felt closer to him than ever.

She was pulling her hair back, grateful that it had gone back to normal, when her door burst open and a blur of red hair streaked in and hopped on her bed.

"Finally, you're awake!" Ginny cried, pulling Crookshanks into her arms. She looked like she wanted to explode.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, sitting next to her on the bed, folding her legs under her lap.

"Michael Corner asked me out!" Ginny exclaimed. "And it's all thanks to you!"

"What'd I do?" Hermione asked, confused. She hadn't even talked to Michael Corner last night. "Was that why he came over?"

Ginny leaned in closer. "Well, we'd chatted a bit earlier in the night when we were both getting gillywaters—nothing serious, just a bit of a laugh," she said. "But then I guess he saw me hexing Ron and thought it was hilarious, so he came over and asked me to dance, and then we ran into each other in the entrance hall when the ball was over, and he asked me to go to the next Hogsmeade weekend together!"

Hermione took in the look on Ginny's face—her bright eyes, wide smile. She looked sincerely happy.

"Why didn't you tell me this last night?" Hermione demanded.

Ginny looked at her like she was mental. "In front of my brothers?"

"Fair point… So you like him?" Hermione asked. Ginny had always carried a torch for Harry, and Hermione had never seen her talk about another boy this way.

"I think so," Ginny said, smiling shyly.

"And what about… Harry?"

Ginny frowned, seeming to contemplate that. "Well, he's never shown any interest, has he? And it's quite nice when a boy you fancy actually fancies you back," she said.

And then she threw herself down on Hermione's pillow, a silly grin on her face. "I don't know Michael well, but… you know when you have that moment when you meet someone for the first time and there's just this zing that goes through you?"

Hermione frowned. No, she'd never just met someone and felt that zing. If only she and Ginny had had this conversation before she said yes to Viktor.

Still, she was glad she went. She did think he could be a good friend, and it had been a learning experience, her first date—one she'd only repeat with more careful consideration.

"How did things go with Viktor last night?" Ginny asked, peering closer at her.

"Fine," Hermione shrugged. "No zings though."

"That's too bad," Ginny said, a disappointed look on her face. She was absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks, who was preening at the attention, but Hermione couldn't help but worry about something else—how to tell Viktor that exactly.

After he had found her and Harry dancing—and Hermione had felt a flash of guilt because she was having a better time dancing with Harry than her actual date—she had freaked out a bit at the thought of dancing alone with Viktor again. She knew he felt something a little more than friendship—he had told her he fancied her when he asked her to the ball—and she wasn't quite sure how to handle it, having never been in this situation before, so she'd dragged Viktor and Harry over to the comfort and safety of her friends instead.

She knew Viktor had still had a good time—he seemed to be particularly interested in Bill's job at Gringott's and he was definitely laughing when Katie Bell tried to get him to dance a jig with her—but they didn't have much time alone together after that.

Still, she owed him the conversation, didn't she?

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.

"How do you tell someone that you just want to be friends?" Hermione asked.

Ginny pondered that for a while, a look of great concentration on her face, but at the end of the day, she was a 13-year-old girl who'd had two crushes and no boyfriends in her entire life. "I think we need reinforcements," she declared.

And that's how Hermione and Ginny ended up in the Great Hall for breakfast, with Ginny strategically choosing seats next to Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Hermione looked around nervously—she didn't really want anyone to overhear their conversation. Thankfully, the Yule Ball had tired everyone out and there were very few students at breakfast.

"You two are up early," Alicia said, greeting them, and passing the sausages to Hermione.

Hermione thanked her, but Ginny was clearly on a mission. She looked both Angelina and Alicia in the eyes, a serious expression on her face, and said, "Hermione needs to know how to tell a bloke you just want to be friends."

Alicia and Angelina looked at Hermione speculatively, an interested gleam in their eyes.

"Do you actually want to be friends with him or is it just a brush off?" Alicia asked at the same time Angelina queried, "Which one is it?"

Hermione was befuddled on both counts. "Of course I actually want to be friends," she replied, a bit scandalized. "And what do you mean, which one is it? I only had one date last night!"

Angelina shrugged, raising one eyebrow at Hermione. "You and Harry looked pretty cozy last night," she said. "Fred thought Harry was trying it on a bit."

Hermione gaped at her, sparing a quick glance at Ginny, who didn't look nearly as perturbed as she thought she'd be. Michael Corner must be one seriously good dancer, because even a week ago, Ginny Weasley would never have been so calm at the idea of Harry flirting with anyone—even if the thought of him fancying Hermione was ridiculous.

"Fred likes to stir up trouble," Hermione retorted. "Harry and I are friends. And he likes…someone else." Personally, she thought Harry's crush on Cho was a bit obvious, given that he turned red every time he saw her, but Hermione wasn't about to confirm it to the world.

Angelina looked like she was about to argue back, so Hermione added, "And, considering Fred's idea of cozy was to snog you in the middle of the dance floor, I don't know what he thinks is so scandalous about a bit of dancing."

Alicia laughed openly, but Ginny gave Hermione a look that seemed to say Hermione had been a bit rude. Realizing she might have insulted Angelina, Hermione added, "No offense."

But Angelina grinned at her. "None taken," she laughed. "That snog was 10 points from Gryffindor well worth it."

Ginny's entire demeanor changed. "You only got 10 for snogging?" she said indignantly. "Then why'd I get 20?"

"For what?" Alicia asked.

"Hexing Ron."

"Gryffindor lost 20 points for that?"

Ginny snorted, clearly annoyed. "McGonagall said that I wasn't representing Gryffindor well. But Lee said that what I did was impulsive, reckless and showed great loyalty to a friend, so I was actually representing Gryffindor perfectly."

That would be Lee Jordan's interpretation of events, Hermione thought.

"Well said," Alicia cheered, grinning, before turning to Hermione, a more serious expression on her face. "As long as you're honest with him, it should be fine. If he gets weird or possessive or tries to turn it around on you, then he's not worth being friends with anyway."

"She's right," Angelina nodded. "Just rip the Band-Aid off. The longer you let it go, the worse it'll get. He'll have time to romanticize things. Better to nip it in the bud so he can adjust to reality."

"Thanks," Hermione said, and by the end of breakfast she felt a lot better about things.

As she and Ginny walked up the staircase back to Gryffindor Tower, they passed Seamus and Dean—who waved happily at them—and Ron, who wouldn't look either of them in the eye.

Ginny grimaced after they were gone. "I suppose I should be nice to him for a while," she said. "He deserved what he got, mind you, but—"

"But you embarrassed him in front of the entire school?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Well, he shouldn't have gone around being a git!" Ginny retorted. "Mum would've sent him a howler if she knew the way he'd been behaving."

"As much as I appreciate you sticking up for me last night, I don't want to get between you and your brother," Hermione said. "You don't have to hex him for me anymore."

"I hex him all the time," Ginny said dismissively. "Fred and George, too. It's just the sort of relationship we have."

She eyed Hermione carefully. "Just please don't tell me you're going to pretend like nothing happened with Ron," she said. "I love my brother, but I don't care how much he fancies you, he has no right treating you like dirt."

Hermione sighed. Ginny was constantly telling her that Ron fancied her—but she never bought into the "If a boy pulls your pigtails, he likes you" nonsense. And besides, the only times Hermione could ever remember Ron being even a little bit impressed by her was when she hit Malfoy and stormed out of Professor Trelawney's class. And sure, she'd been flattered in the moment, but when she had time to analyze it later, nothing about that sat right with her. Both of those acts had been decidedly unlike her—why would she like a boy who valued her for the things she wasn't and not the things she was?

"Hermione!" Ginny repeated, "please tell me you're not just going to pretend nothing happened."

"No," Hermione said coolly. "No, he was obviously trying to hurt me last night—and I don't know if it was about me, or Viktor or Harry, but I don't care."

She was tired of having a friend who made her cry. And she was done trying to get him and Harry to be friends again. If Ron wanted back into their lives, he was the one who had to do something about it.

"Have you figured out which prefect to ask for the password?" Neville asked, as he, Hermione and Harry were lounging in the common room later that day.

"I completely forgot to tell you!" Harry said, sitting up and leaning forward. "I've got the password."

"How?" they both asked eagerly.

"Cedric," Harry replied. "He wanted to return the favor for telling him about the dragons."

"Harry, this is great!" Hermione enthused. "When should we go?"

"You want to come?"

"Well, someone has to stand watch while you're underwater listening to the clue," she rationalized. "Even if you go really late at night, a prefect or a teacher could come by."

And in the end they decided that just Harry and Hermione should go. Two people could fit under the cloak with the egg better than three, and if someone did come by, Hermione was better at both spells and lying to help Harry out.

They waited until the last Gryffindor finally went up to bed, which was very late indeed considering it was still Christmas break, and then snuck down to the fifth floor, Hermione holding the egg while Harry checked the map.

Finally, they reached Boris the Bewildered and stepped into one of the most beautiful rooms Hermione had ever seen: white marble, jeweled fixtures, a soft-lit candle chandelier.

She was looking around in awe, completely enchanted, when Harry glanced at her, grinning.

"You're going to be in here next year," he said. "Well, the girls' one anyway."

"You think?"

Harry made a face like that was the dumbest question he'd ever heard. "McGonagall's had you down for Head Girl since we were first years."

She blushed, busying herself with turning on taps on the giant swimming pool. Harry joined her, and they turned it into a game to see who could find the most extravagant taps. She preferred the one that shot out silver bubbles in the shape of stars.

When it was full, Harry turned to her.

"Er," he said, blushing, "maybe you should—"

"Oh, right!" Hermione yelped, turning around. She heard Harry undressing and looked fixedly at the map. There was no one around.

Finally, she heard a splash and Harry called out, "I'm in!"

Hermione turned back. Harry's pajamas were tossed on the side of the pool, his glasses and a towel beside them. She knew he was still wearing his pants, but all she could see was his head sticking up amongst a swirl of pink, blue and green bubbles, gazing in her general direction, but not at her.

She squinted at him. "Can you see anything?"

"Um, not really, no," he said sheepishly. "I think I can make out your hair."

"It's a pretty big target," she said dryly, picking up the egg and walking it over to the edge.

He grabbed it from her, then took a deep breath and ducked. Hermione checked the map again—still good.

And then she heard a distinct gurgling sound coming from the pool—it was definitely a song, but she couldn't decipher it.

Harry's head popped back up, his wet hair in his eyes and he recited it for her, returning below every so often to catch the next verse:

Come seek us where our voices sound,

We cannot sing above the ground,

And while you're searching ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss,

An hour long you'll have to look,

And to recover what we took,

But past an hour—the prospect's black

Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.

Harry popped up again, flicking the bubbles from his eyes.

"So, I've got to go find merpeople, right?" he said. "That's got to be the first two lines."

"Right," Hermione said. "So the task must take place in the lake."

"There are merpeople in the lake?" Harry asked.

She shot him an incredulous look that she knew he couldn't see. "One day, you will read Hogwarts, A History."

Harry grinned at her annoyance, and Hermione couldn't help but grin back.

"And then the rest of it sounds pretty straightforward," she said. "The judges are going to take some object you value and you'll have an hour to retrieve it from the merpeople."

"Yes, very straightforward," Harry agreed sarcastically. "I'm sure merpeople are very accommodating."

"Well, we can figure out how to handle them second," she said. "First, we have to figure out how you'll breathe underwater."

Harry nodded, but then his face settled into panic. Hermione frowned, taking in his bobbing form—he'd been in this pool for a while now and she'd yet to see him do more than bob over to her.

"Harry," she said, feeling the anxiety rising in her, "do you know how to swim?"

"Yes," he said defensively before adding, "I mean, not well… The Dursleys didn't exactly take me on their beach vacations…"

"Do you know well enough to swim in a lake for up to an hour?" She thought perhaps she sounded a bit hysterical.

Harry turned red. Hermione was very glad he couldn't see her panicked face.

"Right," she said, nodding, trying to make her voice sound normal. "We'll just have to teach you to swim."

"There must be a spell for that," Harry muttered.

Hermione perked up. There must. If there was a spell for getting gum out of keyholes, there had to be a spell for something as simple as swimming.

"Right," she said, feeling invigorated. "Now we know what to research: how to swim, how to breathe underwater, and how to fight merpeople."

Harry gave her a look that clearly said that he didn't think that was an easy list at all.

"What else is in the lake?" he asked.

"Just the giant squid—and he's harmless; he saved Dennis Creevey from drowning last September—and grindylows, which you're an expert at," she told him.

"Alright," he said, looking more relieved at that. "So I can get out now?"

"Yes," Hermione said, taking the closed egg from him. He moved to the ladder and before she could turn around fully to give him his privacy, she caught sight of his upper body. And then she felt her heart in her throat.

She faced the wall, feeling utterly awful. It wasn't usually noticeable since he was always wearing Dudley's castoffs or thicker clothes meant for Scottish winters, but he was thin. Oh, he wasn't skeletal or anything—but he was thinner than he should be after four months of Hogwarts eating.

She'd promised herself that she'd do something about it, but between the tasks, and the ball, and her classes, and helping Neville through classes and S.P.E.W.—well, she hadn't done much of anything, had she?

He was not going back to that house, she fumed.

Harry and Hermione were at breakfast the next morning, books scattered all around them. Hermione had brought down anything she owned or had borrowed from the library that she thought could be useful—it was quite a lot—and they had camped out in their own little section of the table. After breakfast, they would go to the library, but she had wanted to get a head start.

Neville couldn't join them today—he was spending the day helping Professor McGonagall organize and inventory the storage room full of matchsticks and pincushions and other inanimate objects she used in Transfiguration for extra credit that he sorely needed—but Hermione thought she and Harry could still make good headway.

But it was no use. Despite the fact that they needed to find a way for Harry to breathe underwater for an hour—and swim and fight merpeople—Hermione couldn't help mulling over the Dursley problem.

Fred and George had said that Mr. Weasley told Professor Dumbledore about the Dursleys, but he obviously hadn't done anything with the information. And while normally she'd go straight to Professor McGonagall—who surely wouldn't approve of the Dursleys—Hermione didn't know if she'd do anything against the headmaster's wishes.

Sirius was the obvious choice, being Harry's actual guardian and all—but he was also a fugitive and didn't exactly have a lot of room to maneuver. Telling him something that would upset him when he had no way of helping Harry right now seemed cruel. And Professor Lupin was in the same boat as the Weasleys—he didn't have any rights over Harry; plus, he was so grateful to Dumbledore for letting a werewolf attend Hogwarts, he just might defer to the headmaster.

Short of asking her parents to drive to Surrey the day they arrived home and picking him up herself, she didn't know if anyone was in the position to help.

Actually, she thought, as she sipped her tea, that wasn't a half-bad idea. Most wizards were so ignorant of muggle life it would probably take anyone ages to realize he was gone.

And, if her parents didn't want a houseguest for the entire summer, Neville had volunteered his home. Hermione didn't know his gran at all but every story Neville told about her made it seem like she was a formidable witch who didn't bow down to anyone.

Maybe it was better to just do that and not involve the school at all—after all, sometimes it was better to ask forgiveness, not permission.

"What are you thinking?" Harry asked.

She looked up, blushing, not wanting to admit to him what she had been planning. He'd looked so lost the last time she had brought up the Dursleys.

And then she eyed his dish, which was nowhere near as full as it could be. She could feel the frown settle on her face—this wouldn't do at all. She grabbed the serving spoon, and started scooping eggs onto his plate.

When she'd scooped enough eggs to feed several Harrys, he looked at her, bewildered. "What are you doing?"

"Swimming takes a lot of energy, Harry. You need to carbo load," she told him. She cringed inwardly—in her agitation, she had slipped into her know-it-all voice.

He looked at her like she was mental. "This is protein."

She looked around the table, feeling a bit wild eyed, and handed him a stack of toast.

He eyed her warily. "Thanks," he said, taking the stack and putting it on his plate.

Okay fine, perhaps she was being a bit mental.

But it still made her feel better as he took a bite of toast; she felt herself relax, concentrating on her books. Now, maybe they could get somewhere on this whole breathing thing.

But after a half hour of neither of them finding anything, they decided to adjourn to the library.

They spent hours up there—only taking a quick break for lunch—but nothing they thought of worked. Not human transfiguration—they wouldn't learn that until sixth year—nor could she find any kind of charm or enchantment that would be any use.

Late in the afternoon, while she was reading 101 Unusual Underwater Spells—which told her how to do just about anything underwater except breathe—Harry nudged her and pointed to the library door. She turned and saw Viktor.

She took a deep breath. She just had to take Alicia and Angelina's advice.

"I'll be right back," she said to Harry, before heading over to the table where Viktor had just dropped his things.

"Hi," he said. "I vasn't sure if I should come over. If Harry is vorking on the second task…"

"He is," Hermione said. "But you can still come say hi whenever you like. All of my friends like you."

Viktor smiled. "Yes, the ball vas vonderful, vasn't it?" he said. "Durmstrang is not like that. The staff there fosters competition too much for real friendships like yours. It can be a bit lonely… but Hogwarts is not like that at all."

Hermione saw her opening. "No," she said, before forging ahead. "But I think we could be great friends Viktor. I'd really like that." She looked at him earnestly, willing him to understand, to agree.

Viktor frowned a bit, and then glanced over at Harry again.

"Is it…" He trailed off, and Hermione followed his gaze.

"Honestly, Harry and I have always just been friends," she said. "I don't fancy anyone. But I do think you're interesting and smart and nice, and I would really like to be friends."

She looked down, hesitating, not sure if she should say this, but Hermione Granger wasn't exactly known for her tact. "And given what you've told me about Durmstrang, how unfriendly it is there, and how different you feel from the other students because your schooling is constantly being interrupted by your quidditch schedule, maybe a good friend is what you need right now," she added.

Viktor looked at her contemplatively, and she held her breath, waiting for his response. Angelina and Alicia had said if he responded badly, he wasn't worth her time. And as right as they were about that, she hoped she hadn't been so wrong about Viktor's character.

A small smile crept across his face. "Maybe you're right," he said warmly.

Hermione grinned. That hadn't been so bad after all.

By the time she and Harry returned to the common room, though, she was feeling defeated. After hours more searching for an answer to the mysteries of the second task, they were no closer to a solution. As they slumped on a couch, Hermione turned to Harry. "We've still got almost two months before the task," she said. "We'll find something."

He nodded at her, but when Neville returned to the common room a half hour later, he found them still sitting on the couch looking utterly dejected.

"What's wrong?" he asked, a fearful look on his face. They hadn't even had a chance to tell him about the egg yet. While they'd had no issue getting back to Gryffindor Tower—absolutely no one had been up and about in the castle, which was a rarity—Neville had fallen asleep waiting for Harry to return to their dorm.

"The task's impossible," Harry said, and then he told Neville about the prefects' bathroom, the song, and all the research they had done about finding a way to breathe underwater.

When Harry finished, he looked as miserable as Hermione felt, but Neville was staring at them with a mixture of excitement and eagerness.

"Neville," Harry asked carefully, clearly trying to contain his growing hope at Neville's reaction. "What do you know?"

"Gillyweed," he beamed.

Harry and Hermione looked at him blankly.

"Gillyweed," he repeated. "It's a magical plant that's usually found in the Mediterranean. It's in that book Professor Moody gave me, but I already knew all about it. Gran makes me take some anytime I want to swim in our lake. She thinks I'd drown otherwise."

"What does it do?" Hermione asked.

"It gives you gills and fins. And not only can you breathe underwater, but you can swim as well as a fish, too," Neville said excitedly, a hint of pride in his voice at having been the one to find the solution.

Hermione felt all of her emotions stirring underneath the surface: excitement that they had a solution; relief that Harry wasn't going to survive a dragon just to drown in a lake because the Dursleys were too cheap and negligent to send him to swim lessons; happiness for Neville that he was so pleased with himself; and, if she had to admit it, a bit of disbelief that they had spent all day searching and Neville just… knew the answer.

"Where can I get gillyweed?" Harry asked.

"Well, Professor Sprout doesn't keep it in any of her greenhouses," Neville said. "Snape probably has some in his office—you need it for some advanced potions—but… it's Snape, so I doubt he'd lend you any. But we can pick some up from the apothecary next Hogsmeade weekend. And if they don't have it, I can just write Gran. We grow it in our greenhouse."

Harry grinned at Neville. "This is brilliant, Neville!"

Hermione nodded vigorously. "Amazing," she enthused.

And Neville, not used to being called brilliant or amazing, beamed proudly.

Hermione turned to Harry. "Now we just have to figure out how to fight merpeople," she said. "And we can definitely find some jinxes and hexes for that."

"The song said you'd have to fight merpeople?" Neville asked, confused.

"Technically, no," Hermione explained. "Just that they've taken something of Harry's and he has to retrieve it."

"So we figured I'd have to fight them somehow—to get it back," Harry finished.

But Neville was frowning, clearly thinking about something, trying to work it through in his head.

"Neville, what is it?" Hermione asked.

"Well, I'm no expert on merpeople, but you know how muggles have all of those children's stories—like Grimms' fairy tales and Aesop's fables? We learned about them in Muggle Studies," Neville said.

"They teach fairy tales in Muggle Studies but not the difference between a nightgown and a suit?" Harry asked in disbelief.

Hermione looked at him and answered dismissively, "It's not a very good class." There was a reason she had dropped it after only one year.

"Well, wizards have fairy tales, too," Neville continued. "The tales of Beedle the Bard and others. Anyway, there's a bunch that revolve around mermaids: Jack Wickleby the Pirate Wizard, The Mermaid and the Mongoose, Secrets of the Lost Lagoon. The common theme in all of them is that merpeople protect hidden treasures, and only allow the worthy to claim it. Someone who's gone on a quest."

"So," Hermione said slowly, "you think the merpeople won't try to attack Harry? Only someone else—someone less worthy?"

"Right," Neville said. "Or if he tried to take one of the other champions' treasure—they probably wouldn't like that."

He looked between the two of them, trying to read their faces, before stammering, "It's probably a dumb idea."

Hermione hated the look on his face—he had just been so excited, so proud of knowing the answer about the gillyweed—but he was completely back in his shell now, having lost all confidence in himself.

And the worst part was, his idea was a good one. There had been tons of times things had seemed obvious to kids who grew up in the wizarding world, but were completely foreign to her and Harry. This could easily be one of those times. She glanced at Harry and could see that he thought the same thing.

"No, I think we should definitely look into it," Hermione said in a way that left no room for debate, giving Neville what she hoped was an encouraging smile.

"Agreed," Harry said, nodding, and Neville grinned.