Chapter 18: Amygdala and Adrenaline

(Trigger warning: this scene has brief mentions of sexual violence.)

Mad Eye Moody leaned against the teacher's desk and folded his arms, grumbling, "Well, bright young students, I'm here because I lost a Triwizard tournament bet, and you're the lucky recipients of my first and only lesson in Defence Against the Dark Arts. However, unlike Auror Tonks, I'm not so foolhardy as to actually teach you anything today. So how about you ask me questions, and I'll answer them?"

Hermione, smiling, leaned her hand against her chin and traced patterns with her quill in her notebook. She knew that half the reason for this informal lecture was because he couldn't be bothered to prepare a lesson. Tonks did that more often than not, or rather, sat in her room until the wee hours of the morning scrambling something together.

The students didn't mind, though. Hands shot up all over the classroom, and Mad Eye called on an eager eyed Gryffindor. "How many people have you killed?"

Everyone in the room held their breath, as if waiting for an explosion, and then Mad Eye barked a laugh that made half the class jump. "Well, that didn't take long. I'll tell you what I tell everyone." He leaned forward with both hands against his staff, his eye swirling around the room. "I've lost track of the number of degenerate low-lifes I've rid the world of, but as for people…well, you'll have to be a bit older and get a few more drinks into me before I tell you that."

Moody called on another student. "Your eye is cool. Is there any way I can get one when I grow up and become an Auror?"

Mad Eye smirked as he shook his head. "I'm afraid there's only one, but there is something more powerful than my eye." He paused, and like a good storyteller, shifted his position while anticipation built. "Legends tell of a dark magical artefact that could see inside better than any Legilimens. It knows all thoughts, past and present, of the mind it invades. Eventually, its wearer is consumed by greed, and another master bears it with new ambition. Whole races were wiped out by this eye, before one noble soul cast it into the fire that forged it. Still," said Moody, as the students let out a disappointed breath. "That is no reason to let down your guard. What can be forged once by magic can be remade just as easily. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Moody called on one student, who stood up shyly. "Why don't love potions—"

She squealed and ducked as a hex was fired in her direction.

"Oops, sorry," said Mad Eye. "Happens when someone mentions 'love potions.' Best not do it again."

Students' hands shot up and Mad Eye pointed to a Slytherin boy at the back. He stood, carefully folded his arms, and asked, "Why are the Unforgiveable Curses considered the worst of the dark arts?"

Mad Eye's eye paused briefly on the student, and then he grinned in way that reminded Hermione of a hungry shark. "Let me guess. You want to know why such convenient curses are considered evil, when they are far more useful in a real fight than most hexes?"

The student shrugged. "Well, yeah. A cutting spell can be just as deadly as the killing curse, but it takes longer and hurts more. So, why is one acceptable to use, and the other sends you to Azkaban?"

Mad Eye chuckled. "I asked myself the same question at your age. Turns out, the answer is complicated. Some would say it is because the Unforgivable curses are fuelled by hate, and it damages the soul. Well, I would argue that most murder, whether with a spell or a muggle weapon, can destroy you if you let it. However, there is a certain degree of…shall we say severity between the type of damage caused by one or the other." Moody paused to frown at his wand, tapping it against his hand, and then he continued. "I assume some of you have had sex before?"

No one moved, but everyone looked a little more uncomfortable. Hermione cringed; she knew where this was going. "Imagine then," said Moody, his voice detached. "That you had the choice between killing a person using a blasting spell and…raping them to death." A few students gasped, while the rest had tense looks on their faces. "Long story short, the Unforgivable curses defile you. There is something within your magic that can be twisted so wrongly that it turns you into more animal than human. Most wizards prefer death, and I can't say I blame them."

He braced himself against the cane and stood, pacing slowly, and with each step came a thud from the cane. "Another reason it is unforgivable is that the effects are permanent on the victim. A victim of the Imperius curse will suffer nightmares and be forever weak to control by their aggressor. A Cruciatus victim will go insane if the curse is cast continuously for more than a few minutes. And while you can staunch bleeding and start a stopped heart, there is no magic that can revive someone put down by the Killing Curse. No dark ritual or sacrifice can bring them back."

The room waited in silence as Mad Eye Moody stopped, turning to his captive audience. Then, he smiled grimly. "Well, this took a dark turn, and I've only been here five minutes. Tonks, I think I owe you a galleon."

From her seat beside Hermione, Tonks roused herself from frowning contemplation to give him a mischievous grin. "How about we wait and see how many more bets you lose first?"

"Right, well, then I'll ask a question," he said briskly. "Tell me about your favourite hexes. Did you cast them? What happened? Don't leave out the gory details."

Some students chuckled, and a couple raised their hands.


"I hope you will all take these lessons seriously," said the Headmistress, from the middle of the giant ballroom. "Because I will not have you embarrassing me in front of all the other schools. The Yule Ball dance is a great tradition of Hogwarts, and if you want to know why it was discontinued, you can ask Fred and George Weasley."

Harry stood in a line with all the other fifth year boys, staring uncertainly at the girls lined up on the opposite side. McGonagall was giving instructions, dragging a poor Gryffindor over to demonstrate the movements. It would have been better, Harry thought, to choose Justin Finch-Fletchley, since he was the only one who'd actually studied dance before.

The practice went about as awkwardly as Harry had expected. He stepped on his partner's foot, had trouble with eye contact, and generally disliked having random people wrap their arms around him while he was sweating.

Some part of him wished Hermione was there to practice with, but the rest of him was glad she wasn't. With everyone else, Harry could pretend this didn't happen. With Hermione, however, every mistake would be catalogued in his brain. It would hang over his head forever that she was better than him at yet another thing.

They received a ten minute break while McGonagall followed a student, who for some reason ran sobbing from the room.

"Seriously, why do we have to do this?" muttered Harry, to no one in particular. "It's not essential to the curriculum at all. There should be some option for backing out."

"Right?" said Ron, sitting beside him. "It's total bollocks."

Ron was flushed red and breathing heavily, wiping his palms on his dance robes. "It's cruel to those of us with two left feet."

Harry nodded, for once in complete agreement with Ron. "See, you get it. The Yule Ball is just an elaborate ploy to get us to interact with the visiting schools, as if we weren't doing enough of that already. It's worse than this school's obsession with Quidditch, since at least we aren't required to play the games if we don't want to. No offense, Ron."

"It's fine," said Ron, shrugging. "At least you understand. Most of my friends already got girlfriends, but it's a nightmare for us blokes who don't."

"Well see…technically, you're not desperate to find a date, but to avoid a drop in social status," said Harry, applying a cleaning charm to his robes. "The Yule Ball is designed to be a popularity contest: who's dating the prettiest girl, who's wearing the best dress, etc. You must find a companion to attend with you, and if you can't then you're at the lowest rung of the social ladder. That's why some people go to dances with their relatives—a cousin, for example—than risk not going."

Ron snorted. "I'd rather die than go with my sister."

"Not saying you should. The popularity contest is the reason I'm boycotting it, even though I'm sure I could find a date if I wanted one."

Ron looked confused. "You could?"

"Absolutely. I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, so it would be easy to find a date using status alone." He picked at a frayed edge on his robe. "But I'm also a conscientious objector to forced social conscription, and any girl I could find using that strategy would be boring anyway."

Someone on Harry's other side chuckled. "Still think girls are icky, huh Potter?"

Harry turned around. It was Blaise, of course. "Girls icky, me? Now why would I say that?"

That was the wrong thing to say to Blaise, who grinned widely. "But you won't deny it, will you? That's as good as an admission on your part. It's either that or you're a poofter."

Harry ground his teeth, refusing to rise to the bait. If you ignore him, he'll go away…

"Are you a poofter, Harry?" asked Ron.

Aww, crap. He'd forgotten about Ron. "What I am right now is annoyed," said Harry, pitching his voice low, hoping his dark lord aura would shut them up.

"Ohh, better watch out," Blaise said to Ron. "Or he might snap his fingers."

That did it. "Interesting theory I heard the other day," snapped Harry. "There are several signs of homosexuality, but did you know one of them is insecurity and bullying?"

Blaise smirked. "You can't scare me. All your psychobabble can't change the fact that I have a date and she's gorgeous. See ya, Harry Poofter."

He was saved from Harry's wrath when the class resumed, and Harry was paired with a blonde girl from Slytherin. Eyes wide, she trembled as he put his arms around her waist, and he realized she was scared of him. "Don't worry," Harry said, feeling kinda bad. "I'm not mad at you, but at another Slytherin I bumped into."

She smiled weakly. "I thought you didn't want me as a partner. I'm really bad at dancing."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm probably worse." He attempted a smile. "Let's just get this over with, hopefully without injuries."

The music started, as they danced, she managed be even more clumsy than he was. Harry was patient, even when she stepped on his feet, guiding her as much as he could. When the dance was over, she thanked him with a grateful smile, and Harry gave her a bow. When Harry returned to his side of the room, he was surprised to find himself reconsidering his boycotting decision.

Not that Harry wanted to dance at the Yule Ball, of course. And he certainly wasn't going because he had to prove a point to certain idiots who would not be named.

But…he had to admit, it would be sorta nice if a girl came up to him, blushing and smiling, and asked him to the dance. Even if he ended up turning her down.

On second thought, that was cruel. Why not just go? Attending the ball could be a useful, low stakes chance to practice social skills, and maybe that was the real point of it all. The professors couldn't possibly think that every couple was going to get married, so he didn't need to take it that seriously either.

By the time class was over, Harry was starting to think it might be fun to ask a girl out, just to see what would happen.

Harry went to his lab, sat down at his desk, and brainstormed a list of potential partners, ranking them based on a variety of factors. The most obvious choice was…

He paused, his quill hovering over Hermione's name before scratching it out. He didn't know why, but it felt weird to do this experiment with her. They were supposed to be rivals, anyway, and it didn't count if they went together.

Harry finished his list of names, then spent another hour writing potential dialogues for asking the girl out, making sure he had a contingency for all of the likely responses. He didn't want to be caught unawares, saying something stupid out of nervousness. And then, after a final check of his hair and robes, Harry and his papers went to lunch.

As Harry picked at his food, he peered at the girls over his notes, trying to decide who to ask first.

What's so hard about it? said his Slytherin side. Just pick the first girl you see, walk over there, and get it over with.

But they all sit in groups, complained Hufflepuff. We can't do this with an audience, that's a high level skill.

Ahh yes, like hunting wild animals, you need to capture one alone, when they're away from the pack, said Gryffindor.

There was internal silence as Harry's brain mulled over that analogy, unnerved by the fact that it made sense.

After lunch, Harry's eyes followed the girls out, but they all stuck with their friends. So Harry waited a few seconds and then followed them out, lagging behind in case someone detached from the group.

And so the hunt begins, said Gryffindor.

We're experimenting, not hunting, objected Ravenclaw. We're isolating a test subject.

In that case, why don't we wait outside the girls' bathroom, catch someone alone? said his Slytherin side. I'm sure that will be way less creepy.

Harry persisted with his plan, though it felt more and more awkward as time went on. His feet seemed to move without him, as his brain looked on and shook its head at everything Harry was doing. He was just about to give up when a dark haired girl stopped to tie her shoe.

It was Cho Chang, one of the girls at the top of his list. He dawdled by the window—he didn't want to bother her while she was busy—but when she stood up, she noticed him. "Hi, Harry. What's up?"

Harry had prepared a line for this specific question, something simple and easy to remember. Cho smiled at him, her eyes bright as she brushed a stray hair behind her ear.

He suddenly realized she was quite pretty, a lot prettier than he remembered, which caused his brain to lurch in confusion.

"Ummm…" said Harry, swallowing against the dryness in his mouth.

Wait a second, said his brain. Girls are socially selected to get to be the 'more choosy' partner, and this girl is really pretty so her 'social status' is probably higher than mine. Plus we're in the same house, and I haven't talked to her in...what, two weeks? There's got to be way more viable candidates on her list, I'm probably not even in the top ten, and if she rejects you then I don't even want to think about what happens, probably pits with spikes open up in the floor, or maybe even worse-

Cho was looking at him with a perplexed expression.

...oh crap words aren't coming out of your mouth and you've been standing here for at least 10 seconds. Quick, you fool, do something not stupid! Remember the plan!

"Ahhh…" said Harry, waving. "Hiii. Would you umm...fancy going out..."

To his horror, her response was to frown. She opened her mouth to say something.

RETREAT!

His face burning, Harry fled down the hall and ran to the nearest bathroom, hiding in one of the empty stalls. He sat there for a long time, waiting until he stopped freaking out.

I give it a 4 out of 10, said his Ravenclaw side. At least we didn't word vomit or real vomit.

Yeah, cheer up, said his Slytherin side. Who knows, you might meet someone here you can stutter at.


30 minutes later…

Harry was exiting the boy's bathroom when, completely by surprise, he saw Luna Lovegood walking by. She stopped, peeking around one of the corridors.

After a few seconds, Harry straightened his robes, smoothed back his hair.

You…are aware I was kidding about picking up girls outside bathrooms, right? said his Slytherin side.

Yes, but she's third on the list, said Ravenclaw. We stick with the plan.

Plus, we're totally calmed down now, said Hufflepuff. Nothing can phase us.

Harry approached Luna, hand raised in greeting. "Hi—"

Luna walked right past Harry, as if he wasn't there.

"Seen any Snortblats?" she asked, peering around the corner. "I'm sure I heard one of them."

"Not that I recall," said Harry.

"Oh, darn," she said. "I've been searching all day. Even bought a trap for one too."

Harry realized his palms were sweating, and he felt a little sick, but he was going ahead anyway.

"Luna," said Harry, rubbing the back of his head. "I was wondering…umm…"

"Funny thing about Snortblats, is they steal things," said Luna. "Or break them, if they can't steal it. You have to watch out, or your things will be next."

Luna walked off, leaving Harry frowning behind her.


At dinner that evening, a dark cloud hung over Harry's head as he walked into the Great Hall.

That afternoon, he'd gone to the library and looked up Snortblats only to find they didn't exist. When he asked the librarian for advice, she'd berated him for using foul language. Because apparently Snortblats were some old-timey Wizarding slang for a "playboy."

Desperate, he'd gone to the Weasley twins for advice. He didn't know what he was doing so wrong. He told them about his social experiment, and their response was to shove a love potion in his face. "Now even people like you can get a girlfriend, Harry!"

Annoyed, Harry would have gotten a date just to spite them, but he needed some time to think first.

Harry plunked down at the Ravenclaw table, in the closest seat to Hermione. "So, Hermione," he said. "I've a hypothetical question I'd like to pose to you…"

A dozen white roses appeared between them, held by some Slytherin Harry didn't know.

"Miss Hermione Granger," he said. "Will you do me the honour of attending the Yule Ball with me?"

She glanced down at the roses, biting her lip. "Thanks, but I'll, uhh…I'll have to say no. I'm sorry."

The boy left, and she turned back to Harry. "What were you saying?"

"Umm…" said Harry. "Right, the hypothetical question—"

Another boy appeared from Beauxbatons, holding a box of Swiss chocolates. Hermione turned him down too. "Harry, I'm really sorry." She gave a frustrated sigh. "This has been happening all day."

"She's been picky all day," sighed a Ravenclaw girl. "Seriously, that last one was so cute. Why don't you just say yes?"

"I'm...considering my options," Hermione said, picking at her food.

Harry didn't speak for the rest of dinner. Afterwards, Harry found an empty hallway and took out his list. With a flash of magic, he set it aflame.

Well…it was a stupid plan, anyway.

He'd suspected for a long time that he wasn't skilled in the romance department, but he'd assumed it was because he didn't care, not because he wasn't able. It came with the unfamiliar feeling of being completely stupid. It was like his brain capacity was 99% devoted to theorizing and problem solving, and the other 1% dedicated to system maintenance (eating, sleeping, and not walking into doors while contemplating).

Up to now, that had worked just fine for him. Achieving interstellar space travel and discovering immortality did not require a level 10 in charm skills. Yet, even if it wasn't a necessity for his life, the revelation that he'd made charisma a dump stat was disconcerting. He didn't want girls to fawn over him, but it would be nice if he could somehow avoid annoying them.

That evening, as he wandered the halls of Hogwarts, which he was accustomed to do when he was thinking, Harry found a door he didn't recognize. After a few customary trap detection spells, he walked inside. Five hours later, he walked back out, and said to himself, "Huh, looks like it's time for bed."

Then he left, and thought no more about what was inside the room.


When Hermione had originally heard about the Yule Ball, she had the vague idea that it might be nice to go. The partner didn't really matter, as long as she got to dance and have a good time. She would go with Neville, maybe, or Michael Corner.

Then the Weasley twins had found her around dinner time and said that Harry had asked them for advice about getting a date for the Yule Ball, and immediately Hermione Granger's brain was doing Damage Control.

She'd never imagined Harry Potter would want to go to the dance. When Ron had once asked him what kind of music he liked, Harry had replied with some indignation, "You can't read with music blasting in your ears." But maybe he'd changed his mind since then, as he sometimes played music while he worked. If he was going, of course, it was only natural he would ask his closest female friend. And Hermione would accept, since it would be cruel not to. Even though it would probably be annoying to dance with him if he stepped on her feet…or maybe a little bit cute. It would make him flustered and nervous, and she would offer to lead the dance and teach him slowly.

And suddenly she became anxiously preoccupied about how she would do her hair, if he did ask her to go, and what kind of dress she would wear. Or if he would even ask her to go in the first place. If he DID ask, what would she say? After a few practice conversations in her brain, she determined the best response would be something casual like, "Sure, Harry, sounds like fun." Definitely not, "Wow, I thought you'd never ask!"

The next morning, the bright form of Harry's Patronus woke her from sleep. He was bent over her bed, tapping her on the shoulder.

"What is it?" she asked, hastily covering herself, and then remembering that it was like a telephone, and would only relay her voice.

"Harry says: What's taking so long? Wake up already."

"Excuse me," she said groggily. "Tell him that whatever he wants, it's the weekend, and I'll get up when I'm good and ready."

It was only after the Patronus left that she realized the butterflies in her stomach were the familiar call to adventure.


The quest was Ravenclaw and Gryffindor.

Their mission was to dodge falling rocks while searching for riddles. Solving a riddle would open switches that allowed them to change the path of the rocks, so they could descend deeper into the dungeon.

"You know," said Hermione, on level 9. "This morning McCormac asked me to the Yule Ball." When Harry didn't say anything, she continued, "I told him no."

"Yeah, he would have made a terrible partner," said Harry. "He keeps making the same lewd jokes about the Defence Professor."

"Well…" she said, then grabbed his hand to drag him away from an oncoming boulder. Once it passed, she continued. "Anyway, I wouldn't have gone regardless. I'm waiting for the right person to ask me."

"Hermione, do you see that over there?" asked Harry, pointing to a dim light. "I think that's the entrance to the Terrible Evil Monster's lair."

The Terrible Evil Monster, as it turned out, was a twelve foot tall lemur who stroked his stomach while he crooned out his riddles. He tried to choke them with his tail when they took too long to answer.

Fortunately, Harry and Hermione had plenty of practice from the Ravenclaw doorway, and also from regularly thinking too much.

Once he was defeated, he went off to sulk, and they ran to the prize room.

"Oh goodness," said Hermione, clutching a hand to her chest. "I think I'm going to have nightmares about his eyes."

"Me too," said Harry, shuddering. "He's my new definition for the word "creepy.""

"Where did he even come from? Certainly not from my imagination," said Hermione, stuffing her pouch with their quest prize. "I wish we could have attacked him. He looked like he needed a punch in the face."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Really?"

"Yeah," said Hermione, stuffing the last of the prize into her pouch. "I mean, I wouldn't do it if he was a real person, but sometimes I just get this urge to…punch things, you know?" She blushed. "Anyway, it's kind of weird."

The door to the Hogwarts grounds opened, and they walked outside. "Well, if you feel that way," Harry said. "We could…"

They crested the hill, and saw that Hogwarts was on fire.

We leave for 5 minutes, thought Harry, but Hermione had already raced ahead. The students, lead by their prefects, poured out the doors of the Great Hall, choking and clutching each other in fear.

If Harry were allowed to fly, he could have caught up with Hermione easily, but he settled on running instead. He really needed to buy the students some Superman comics, show them that the good guys fly, too.

He could see Hermione casting a spell that looked like Aguamanti, but sprayed out water with the pressure of a firehose. Other Aurors and professors were also casting spells to douse the flames. Flitwick cast something that looked like fluffy crème, which reminded Harry of fire extinguishers.

Once Harry was within range, he pulled out his Accio gun from his pouch, and aimed it at the Hogwarts lake. He set the direction he wanted the water to go, and shot a geyser straight at a Hogwarts tower.

Some students near the lake shrieked and ran away, one of them falling face first into the mud. Whoops. Well, they'll live, thought Harry.

"Harry Potter!" cried McGonagall, lifting her skirts and racing towards him.

Out of respect, he walked towards her, but didn't stop using the gun. She couldn't be mad at him for trying to help. She had to have more important things to do than worry about whether or not he was disturbing the biome of a partially sentient aquatic life form or something.

"It's an infestation of Ashwinders," said McGonagall, breathing heavily as she stopped before him. "There are too many of them to kill, and by the time we do get them all, the damage could be irreparable. However, I believe you can help us."

"How?" asked Harry, and then he realized. "Ashwinders are snakes."

"Yes," said McGonagall, and now Flitwick was approaching them too. "And you're a Parselmouth."

There was silence for a moment.

"Tell me what you need me to do," said Harry.

Harry stood within the doorway of the main gate, where even close to the fresh air the smoke was heavy. He held his wand in the voice amplification spell, which his classmates had been charmed not to hear.

"Come here, snakess," he said. "Bring your eggss."

Professor Sprout said she wasn't sure the snakes were dexterous enough to carry their nests on their backs, but Hagrid had insisted. Harry thought it wouldn't hurt to ask.

After a few moments, an Ashwinder slithered towards him. "Ssafe?" he asked.

"Not ssafe insside," said Harry. "Come out."

"Not safe outside," asserted the snake. "Death comess."

Harry turned to the Headmistress, showing a pained look. "I can't lie in Parseltongue. I think they know we're planning to kill them."

She sighed heavily, and then Hagrid spoke up. "I'll take 'em. Keep them safe until they die naturally. T'will be no more than an hour."

Harry turned back. "Ssafe outsside. We will protect you."

Several more Ashwinders had arrived, some carrying their nests. "Ssafe?"

"Yess," repeated Harry.

"Not ssafe," said the first snake again. "Darknesss comess for uss. Keep children ssafe insside."

Seeing as the plan had failed, Harry was about to default on Plan B, which was take out as many congregated snakes as possible, when a second snake spoke. "Not ssafe insside or outssside. Nowhere ssafe from Darknesss. The big man iss kind to ssnakess. We will go."

Several snakes slithered forwards and past Harry's feet to Hagrid, who lovingly set them and their eggs within glass containers. Harry hopped aside as more snakes slid out of the castle, their eggs so hot that he could feel the burn from a meter away.

As he rejoined the nearby group of professors and Aurors, he noticed Hermione hovering near the doorway, looking like a scared puppy. Harry took a step towards her, but then Auror Tonks was at her side, patting her shoulder and whispering advice. Harry knew he wasn't needed right then, and so he turned to McGonagall. "What else can I do?"

"When the building is clear of Ashwinders and all their flames, then we'll lead the students back inside to the Great Hall. You'll go with Ravenclaw."

After a moment of silence, Harry asked, "Do you know why the Ashwinders are here?"

"That is what we are trying to determine." She looked at him sidelong. "What did the Ashwinders say to you?"

"They said something about Darkness coming for them, and that they wouldn't be safe anywhere." Harry frowned. "It could be referring to their rapidly approaching deaths, but I feel as though there must be some deeper, darker reason that you won't tell me."

McGonagall quirked an eyebrow. "Harry, we're all in trouble if even the snakes are spewing prophesies."

She walked away to confer with Hagrid, and Harry glanced at the line of Ashwinders before going back to emptying the Hogwarts lake.


Hermione Granger went to dinner that evening exhausted and in a terrible mood.

The fire had been all her fault. It was her job to protect the area against Ashwinder eggs, and she had failed. As the Headmistress had informed her, the Ashwinders had sprung from the fire inside Angelica's dying dragon, as well as from the flames she spread on the Hogwarts castle in their flight. The Headmistress had tried to persuade her that these things happen, and that it was just as much the fault of the dragon handlers who took so long to collect the body. The investigators had found more Ashwinders in the dragon's ravine, and they explained that some must have migrated to Hogwarts due to its well of magic.

Madam Bones had been in the meeting, too. She hadn't said a word to Hermione, but her cold look said everything. I'm disappointed in you. You could have done a better job if you'd tried. Maybe it was a mistake to put you in this program.

Sitting beside Hermione, Harry watched as she pushed the food around on her plate. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," she said.

"Want to talk about it?"

"Not now," said Hermione, casting a glance at her classmates. "Later."

Hermione felt her hand tremble as she moved her fork to her mouth, her heart still beating too fast.

"By any chance," asked Harry, looking at Hermione's hand. "Do you still want to punch something?"

Hermione considered this. "Maybe a little."

Harry excused himself and went to the Hufflepuff table. Hermione ate her soup and tried to focus on what Tonks had told her. We all make mistakes, but the important thing is that we learn from them. That's how you grow.

When Harry came back, he looked extremely nervous.

"Hermione, there's something I want to ask you," he said. "Well, actually it's sort of like a mutually beneficial proposition. It might brighten your mood."

It took Hermione's adrenaline addled brain a few seconds to realize that he was about to ask her the Question.

What? Now? My hair is probably a mess, and what if I have food in my teeth? She quickly set down her fork and asked, "Yes, Harry?"

Then, as if thinking better of it, he said, "Not here. I'll tell you after dinner."


…"Ahh yes" Edward sighed, "Now that's what I call equivalent exchange."

Daphne handed the paper back to Lavender, giggling wildly. Actually, none of the three girls had stopped giggling for the past five minutes. Whenever one would stop, another would start, and then they were all giggling again.

"I didn't know you could write so well, Lavender," said Daphne, swatting her hand playfully.

"Neither did I," Lavender replied with a smirk, tossing back her newly dyed pink hair. "But I've always wanted to, and I'm trying out all sorts of new things now."

Something had been different about Lavender ever since she'd screamed and fainted in the Beauxbatons common room. She'd spent a day in the infirmary, Parvati never leaving her side. Then, the next week in Potions, she'd walked into class with shortened skirts and hair dyed pink. Now, she was writing some very interesting fiction.

"It's really good," said Parvati. "Maybe I'll write one for Light and L. They were always my favorite."

"Oh, well, my favorite is Fred and George, but it would be kind of weird to write about real people," said Lavender.

"Ummm…." said Daphne. "They're twins."

"Exactly," said Lavender, with a wicked grin.

Parvati snickered. "Don't tell Ginny about that, she'd kill you."

Daphne was starting to worry a little about this new and improved Lavender. She was about to change the subject to something less scandalous, when Susan Bones bounded through the door, practically bursting with exciting news. "Oh my god, you won't believe what I just heard!"

"What?" asked the girls, making room for her on the couch.

"I was walking down the hall coming from charms, and I heard Harry and Hermione having a big row in the middle of the hallway! And you'll never guess why!"

When Susan explained the reason, they all gasped.

"No way!" they cried.

"It's true!" declared Susan. "He was saying things like, "Why don't we just try one time? Only for like 10 minutes, and then I promise we can stop. Neville even said it was okay!"

Daphne frowned. She didn't like the implication that Harry and Neville had a thing, because they most certainly didn't, or if they did she was going to go to bed and have a good cry.

"And then," said Susan, breathless with excitement. "When Hermione still said no, he said, 'But you have to consider the effect of endorphins! Just ten minutes will help you release some stress, which will make you better at your job, which is what you're worked up about, right?"

The girls gasped. "He didn't!"

Susan nodded, head bobbing up and down. "Oh, he did, and Hermione went beet red she got so mad! Then she said, 'Release stress, Harry? I can't think of anything more annoying than doing it with you!'"

That was the last straw, and suddenly everyone was talking at once.

Ginny and Romilda came into the room, with Ron trailing behind and nagging Ginny about something. Susan had to repeat the entire conversation again, but Daphne didn't think she minded.

Romilda snorted. "The Virgin of Hogwarts trying to tempt the Unicorn Princess? No way. They were probably talking about Arithmancy homework or something."

"But they have been spending a lot of time together," pointed out Susan. "And disappearing for hours just to reappear in some random part of the castle."

"Whatever it is, it's not what it looks like," declared Romilda, as if that were the last word on the subject. "No one is secretly snogging and I don't know about it."

Daphne noticed that Lavender had checked out of the conversation, and was staring quite intently at Ron.

"Well," Lavender said softly. "Duly noted, Romilda. Oy Ron, come here."

Warily, he approached. "Uhh…what do you want?"

She leapt off the couch and kissed him. Well, more like snogged him within an inch of his sanity. All the girls gaped at her, while Ginny had a look of complete disgust on her face.

When Lavender finally broke away, Ron was staring at her without blinking or moving at all.

"Bloody hell," he whispered.

"I've always wanted to do that," she said. "So, want to go to the Yule Ball with me?"

He nodded, and she smoothed back his mussed up hair. "Good. Now, come along, I think we need to improve your kissing skills. There should be an empty classroom somewhere."

As soon as they left, Romilda said, "I knew that was going to happen."


Author's Note:

Hey everyone! It took me a while to finish editing this chapter, and I'm still not sure I'm satisfied with it. Feedback is welcome. :)