"I've got to ask," a voice behind Harry said, "how the hell did Granger end up on Krum's arm?" Ron shifted beside Harry and Harry kicked gently at his ankle to keep him from saying or doing anything stupid.

"Your muggle is showing, Benson," Harry said, turning with his eyebrows raised.

"Sorry," Blaise drawled. "How in Merlin's name did Granger end up on Krum's arm?" Blaise wore black robes patterned with metallic green and silver. They should have been gaudy, but somehow, it suited him. "I mean, she's cleaned up better than I expected, but-"

"I'll see you later," Ron said, pushing his chair back. "Zabini."

"Weasley." Blaise dropped into the seat Ron had just vacated and Ron strode away before Harry could say anything. "Well? He's an international athlete and she's- well, Granger."

"Be nice," Harry said. He watched Ron disappear through the doors, sighed, and then turned his attention properly on Blaise. Blaise held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"I'm not being mean, I'm just saying it's a surprise."

Harry watched him for a moment but could smell he was telling the truth, so conceded with a small smile.

"If you want the literal answer: he asked her."

"Fascinating," Blaise said. "Imagine if Ruth, Leanne, and Ryan could see her now." Harry huffed a laugh, but sniffed the air; it was unlike Blaise to allude so directly to their time at primary school, even when it was just the two of them. He was unsurprised to find Blaise's scent was unsettled.

"Everything okay?" Harry asked.

"No," Blaise said darkly. Then, conversationally: "I didn't recognise your date." He nodded toward the dancefloor, where Luna was doing a strange, twisting dance beside Neville and Ginny. Harry had had the one mandatory dance with her, then been quick to excuse himself to the sidelines to keep Ron company.

"Luna. She's a third year."

"Luna who?"

"Lovegood. Ravenclaw."

Blaise glanced at Luna, opened his mouth, then seemed to think better of it and closed it.

"Right," he said. "I'm staying at Hogwarts over the break."

Harry blinked, thrown by the sudden change in topic.

"Right," he said. "I thought you usually stayed with your dad?"

"I do," Blaise said. "I was meant to, but Dolly was there to intercept me at King's Cross. Giovanna's elf," he added, at Harry's blank look. "She's spooked by all this Dark Lord activity, doesn't want me having anything to do with muggles in case it makes her look bad."

"Giovanna, or the elf-"

"Honestly, Potter. Giovanna," Blaise said, rolling his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Harry offered. Blaise grunted. "Do-"

"Shh," Blaise said.

"But-"

"Shh," Blaise said again, and slid down a little so he was slouching in his chair, arms folded. "I don't want to talk about it, I just want to sulk and not have to explain myself, and you're the best option for that."

"Glad to be of service, then," Harry said sarcastically, and Blaise gave him a tiny smile, scent grateful.

"'S'not like you were doing anything better with Weasley," Blaise said. "He looked like he was sulking too." Harry shrugged, not denying it, but unwilling to say anything about Ron's issues to Blaise; Ron was already incredibly uncomfortable about how many people knew.

Harry went back to watching the dancefloor, but when he spotted Padfoot whirling around with McGonagall, turned to Blaise.

"Teachers have Floos in their offices, you know," he said. "Proper ones, not the restricted ones we have in the common rooms."

"Great," Blaise said unenthusiastically.

"Don't suppose your dad's connected to the Floo?" Harry continued.

"No," Blaise said.

"Ah well, maybe you just Floo to-" Blaise was Blaise, but Harry wasn't sure if it was the best idea to let him in on the Secret of Grimmauld's location. "-the Leaky Cauldron or somewhere. Or maybe Padfoot or Kreacher - he's our house elf - can take you."

Blaise straightened in his chair.

"You think so?"
"Don't see why not-"

"Ha- Oh." Hermione had come up behind them and was now watching Blaise uncertainly. "Hello."

"Granger."

"I didn't mean to interrupt," she said cautiously, glancing between him and Harry. She frowned curiously at Harry, who shrugged.

"It's no bother," Blaise said. "I was just going." He pointed at Harry. "I'll come and find you tomorrow, shall I?"

"Sure," Harry said, and Blaise offered him a tiny smile before the disinterested expression slotted back into place and he wandered away.

"I thought I'd come and say hello," Hermione said. "Viktor's gone to get drinks." Harry gestured to the chair and she dropped into it with a grateful sound and began rubbing her feet.

"These are awful," she said, flicking the silver strap of one of her heels. "I had Lavender put a charm on them but I'm still getting blisters."

"Take them off," Harry suggested.

"If I do that I'll never put them back on," she said, grimacing. She switched feet. "Are you planning to spend the whole night sitting here, hiding from the dancefloor?"

"Probably," Harry admitted. Hermione pulled a face, but it was fond.

"I suppose you'll have company, at least," she said. "I saw Ron was here before…?" Her tone was casual but her scent was guilty and her eyes were flicking around, like she was trying to find him in the crowded hall.

"Er... actually I think he's gone back upstairs."

"Really?" Hermione looked immediately disappointed, bit her lip, then added: "Already?" Harry grimaced. "Right," Hermione said in a small, guilty voice, then seemed to gather herself. "Right. Well, I suppose that means you'll have to dance with me, then."

"I thought you wanted to come and sit," Harry said. "Sore feet, and-"

"I'll live," Hermione said, shrugging.

"Can't you dance with Krum?"

"I've already danced with him, and Draco. I want to dance with you." It went unsaid that she'd probably hoped to have a dance with Ron as well. "And I daresay Luna will probably want another go, and Ginny." Hermione's eyes flickered over his face and she smiled. "Don't look at me like that; we're at a Ball, Harry." She gave her foot one last rub, then stood and offered him her hand. "Please?"

Harry smiled reluctantly and pushed himself to his feet.


Accio, Ron thought dully, holding his hand out toward his wand. It remained where it was, sitting in the middle of the Room's coffee table. Accio. Still nothing.

He wondered if the others were still at the Ball. He assumed they were - he'd lost track of time while he was in the Room, but he didn't think it was that late. And- and he was back to thinking of the Ball, which was what he'd come here to avoid.

Ron groaned and ran a hand through his hair, turning back to his wand.

Accio.

It wasn't even that Hermione had picked Krum over him anymore, not really; Hermione was smart, and she was a good judge of character. She could certainly do a lot worse than Krum, even if Ron thought he was a bit of a surly git. And she obviously liked him - he'd seen that tonight - so it was hard to be mad at her for not wanting to give up something she already had and liked for something that could be. That wouldn't be very sensible, and Hermione was.

"Probably wouldn't work at all," Ron said to the empty Room; Krum was older, talented - not just at Quidditch, but at spells and stuff too - and he was famous and rich, and Ron, in comparison was- well, he was just Ron.

And that was okay, sort of; he and Hermione were friends, best friends, even. That was more important to him, anyway, and he'd rather have her as a friend than try to make a go of it and have it end badly.

Except, he sort of had tried and it had ended badly, and maybe Hermione'd been a bit- well, she could have been nicer about it, but he was the one who'd put her on the spot. He was the one that had made it weird between them… although everyone else had made it stay weird between them.

He knew it was well intentioned but all the sympathy from Harry and Draco was driving him mental, and he wished they'd stop being so careful when he and Hermione were in the same room. Hermione herself... well, she alternated between pretending it had never happened - which was Ron's preference, honestly - and looking guilty and trying not to offend him, and being defensive about the whole thing, and that just made Ron feel worse; obviously he wasn't exactly happy about the whole thing, but she was and he didn't want to make her feel like rubbish about it and yet it seemed like that was all he'd been doing for weeks-

And he was thinking about it again.

Ron made a sound that was halfway between a growl and a huff and got to his feet, snatching his wand-

Out of the air.

Ron stared down at it, resting innocently in his hand. He stared for several long seconds, then stepped forward and set it back down on the coffee table. Rather unsurprisingly, it lay there, still.

Accio, he thought. Nothing. He felt a stab of disappointment.

Ron considered it, considered how it had come when he'd needed it to, rather than when he'd asked or even told it to, how it had happened when he'd been agitated rather than when he'd been calm and focused. He held out his hand.

Accio. His wand slapped into his open palm. He stared at it again, eyes round, and the beginnings of a disbelieving grin on his face. He'd have to-

The Room's door opened to reveal Hermione.

She was wearing pyjamas and had washed off whatever make-up she'd been wearing at the Ball, but her hair was still sleek and shiny, making her look like- well, not quite like her. Ron suddenly felt very self conscious in his faded pyjama trousers and too-small jumper.

"Can I come in?" she asked, somehow both shy and brisk. She hadn't actually come inside, so it seemed to be a genuine question.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, and she seemed to take that as permission, stepping forward and pulling the door shut behind her.

"Looking for you," she said. "I've actually been outside for about ten minutes, trying to convince the Room to let me inside-"

"Er… sorry," Ron muttered; he'd told the Room he wasn't in the mood for company. Then, curious, he asked, "How'd you manage it?"

Hermione wandered over and folded herself into one of the armchairs. Ron realised he was still standing, clutching his wand like an idiot, so he sat down as well.

"I don't think I did," Hermione admitted, flashing him a small, uncertain smile. "I thought you'd decided to let me in."

"I didn't," Ron said, and when Hermione looked pained, he added, "not because- I didn't know you were there." He wasn't sure if he'd have let her in if he had. "Figured you'd still be downstairs, or- yeah."

"My feet were sore," she said. "And I didn't think the afterparty would be my sort of thing-"

"Afterparty?"

"Some of the Durmstrang students have organised it. It's on their ship. Which- well, if anything was going to tempt me, it'd be the chance to have a look around their ship, but..."

"Not really the time," Ron said.

"No, not really," she said, smiling. "Still, Harry might see or hear something interesting."

"Harry's going?" Ron asked.

"Not willingly," Hermione said, with a laugh. "Cedric invited him - I think just to be polite - and then Viktor overheard and said Harry ought to be there as a Champion and before Harry could reason his way out of it, Fleur showed up and said something about his age." Hermione's mouth twitched, and Ron could well imagine how that had gone down. "Last I saw he was being dragged outside by Fred and George - they seemed to think Moony and Padfoot would thoroughly approve… or that they would have at the same age."

"No doubt of that," Ron said; he'd had enough of a chat with the Map to know. "So you just left him?"

"Harry can handle a party," Hermione said. "He might even have fun. And if he doesn't, he's more than capable of slinking away unnoticed." Ron shrugged, of the opinion that that was very dependent on how close of an eye Fred and George decided to keep on him. Still, maybe Hermione was right - maybe he would have fun.

"Did Malfoy go?" Hermione shook her head.

"I saw him in the common room just now; he was going to bed."

"Right." Ron cast around for something more to say, but was interrupted before he could find anything.

"I wanted to apologise," Hermione blurted. Ron blinked. "I was- I was really unfair to you about- when you asked me to the Ball."

"Thanks," Ron said, uncomfortable and not quite able to look at her; he could feel his ears had gone red. "Now can we never talk about this again?"

"I'd really like that," Hermione said, "except we can't." Relief, which had been swelling in Ron like a balloon, burst. He made a wounded, wheezing sort of sound. "Not talking about things is how we ended up here," Hermione continued. "And here has been fairly awful for me - I hope I'm right in assuming it's the same for you? Not to mention Harry and Draco, and-"

"Yeah, it's been awful," Ron said, cutting her off.

"I've really missed you," Hermione admitted in a small voice.

"Same," Ron said, and the nervous smile she offered him made his chest feel warm.

"Well," she said, brisk again, "good. So- um- I suppose the main thing we need to talk about is- well- where we're at." She looked down at her hands. "I really like Viktor."

"I know," Ron said, and thought he did a pretty good job of sounding accepting rather than begrudging.

"And- I'm really flattered that you asked me as- as not just friends-" She swallowed. "-but I don't- I- we're good friends, and I really like it like that." She looked up at him then, worried, waiting.

"I do too," Ron said, and she relaxed a little, though her eyes were cautious.

"Not as anything more," Hermione added.

"Yeah, I got that," Ron said. It was actually a bit of a relief to hear; maybe it wasn't the answer he wanted, but it was an answer, and it was a clear one. She still seemed to be waiting, so he added, "It's fine."

"Is it?" she asked.

"Yeah," Ron said. "We're friends. That's more important."

"You're sure?"

"Do you not want to be friends or something?" Ron asked, eyebrows shooting up.

"No!" Hermione said. "No, I just- if you fancy me-" At least he wasn't the only one finding this incredibly uncomfortable; her face was just as red as his must be. "-then I don't want to be upsetting you by- well, by just being around-"

"Okay, stop," Ron said. "I thought-" He took a deep breath. "Look, when I asked you, I thought- y'know, we could try it because we're such good friends. That it would be… I dunno, easy." He wished the couch would just swallow him up, or that he could sink through the floor. "We already know each other and you're brilliant-" Though that was something he said often, somehow it seemed to hang heavier this time, and Hermione seemed more wary than flattered. "-so… it would be easy for me. But you don't have to think the same- you don't think the same, and that's- you're allowed-"

"Ron!?" Hermione said suddenly, aghast. She scrambled up to half stand on her armchair pointing; the couch had swallowed him up to his chest. He looked down, blinked, and then laughed, face flaming, and wriggled free.

"The Room does what we want," Ron reminded her as the couch settled back to its normal shape, and Hermione looked blank for a moment, then amused and apologetic as she realised what had happened.

"So much for Gryffindor bravery," she said after a moment, lowering herself back onto her own chair. Ron grinned.

"I'm being brave," Ron said. "This is a bloody awful thing to have to talk about-"

"Isn't it," Hermione agreed, with a grimace and a laugh. "So we're all right?"

"We're fine," Ron said. "We could have been fine without talking about our feelings, but you just had to make us…"

"I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page!" Hermione said.

"Reckon we are?"

"I think so," she said. "We're friends- just friends, and that's okay. With both of us." It was almost a question, so Ron nodded. "And you're not going to be upset by-"

"You existing?" Ron suggested.

"Viktor," she said, with a small, chiding smile.

"Urgh, no promises," he said, but grinned so she knew he was teasing. She laughed. "And you're not going to treat me differently. If you'd talk to Harry or Malfoy about Viktor, or take them to meet him, then you should do the same with me."

"You'd want to?" Hermione asked.

"Dunno," Ron said. "But I'll decide if I can deal with it or not."

"All right," Hermione said.

"All right," Ron repeated, feeling warm inside again. They smiled at each other for several long moments, and Ron knew that they really would be all right.

Hermione yawned and stood.

"Well, now that that's sorted, I'm off to bed," she said, and made a show of brushing her hands together. He smiled at the pretend-flippancy. She didn't leave right away, though, but rather stood there. She was waiting, but it wasn't in a shy way, and it wasn't a test; it was more like she'd announced she and Malfoy were off to the library but Harry was going to see Hagrid and she was simply wanting to make sure she didn't leave him behind if he decided he was heading the same way.

It was nice. Casually friendly in a way that they hadn't really been for weeks, and so Ron stood as well, leaving his wand on the couch. "Thanks," she said. "For- actually talking. And I'm sorry you had such a terrible time tonight." She reached out and squeezed his hand.

"It wasn't completely terrible," he said, giving her hand a squeeze back. "We're better, which is good. And watch this." He pulled his hand free and held it up.

Accio.

Nothing happened, and Hermione gave him a bewildered look.

"R-"

"No, wait." Ron extended his hand a little further, impatient. Accio. His wand slapped into his palm and Hermione looked at him wide-eyed.

"That's-"

"Yep," Ron said, feeling pretty pleased with himself. "It's wicked, right?"

"Wicked," Hermione repeated faintly, then shook herself. "We're going to talk about this. I have so many questions."

"Should've known you wouldn't just think it was cool and move on," Ron said, resigned. "Go on, then."

"Not tonight," Hermione said, stifling another yawn. "I'm too tired to think properly." They'd barely taken another step when she said, "Have you been working on it long?"

"Since summer," Ron admitted.

"Is that what you've been trying to do with the cutlery and quills?"

"You know, these are sounding a lot like questions…."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smiling slightly.

Ron checked to see if the corridor was clear - it was well after curfew, even factoring in any leniency because of the Ball - and then led the way out, yawning himself.

"Well, well," the Fat Lady said, glancing at them and then significantly at Violet, who was sharing her frame for the evening.

"Mistletoe," Hermione said.

"I daresay there has been," Violet cackled, pointing between them.

"Hush, Violet." The Fat Lady waved a hand at her, then folded her arms. "You-"

"Ron? Hermione?" Harry and Sirius appeared at the top of the stairs, both still in their dress robes, though both had wet faces and hair, and damp patches on their robes.

"Why are you all wet?" Hermione asked.

"Peeves," Harry said.

"I asked him to discourage anyone who was out after hours," Sirius said wryly. "Forgot to exclude myself, or the other teachers and he was very enthusiastic in his approach… he came through the Entrance Hall just as the teachers were rounding up stragglers, with some balloons filled with icewater… Snape had his yearly bath."

Ron chortled.

"You didn't last long at the party, then," Hermione said.

"Moony was walking some of the Beauxbatons girls back to the carriage and saw us heading down to the lake," Harry said, and didn't look overly upset about it. "He claimed it was too dark to recognise anyone else that was out except for me, and so said he assumed they were all Durmstrang students and were all of age and to carry on, but that he had to take me with him."

"That's not very responsible," Hermione said.

"What - McGonagall never lets you lot stay up late after Quidditch matches?" Sirius smiled. "They'll head down in another hour or so and send everyone to bed." Sirius cocked his head. "Speaking of… what are you two doing up?"

"We've been in the Room," Ron said.

"Oh?" Harry asked, and proceeded to have a silent conversation with Hermione through a series of head tilts and nods and smiles.

"I can assume from that reaction it's not anything nefarious," Sirius said, glancing at Harry. "Which means I'm not going to ask for details, but I am going to say it's bedtime." He nodded toward the portrait hole, where the Fat Lady and Violet were unabashedly listening in.

"That's it?" Violet asked. "No scolding?"

"He'd be a hypocrite if he did," the Fat Lady said. "Don't you recognise Sirius Black, Violet?"