Chapter Three: The Prince's Visit

There was still some uncertainty circulating around the castle about whether the Halloween dance would pass this year unscathed by Umbridge's decrees, or if she were even going to let it be held at all. However, even with this uncertainty, the atmosphere in the Gryffindor common room hadn't been this positive for the entire year. Everyone fifth-year and above were chatting in groups about what to expect, who they were taking, and if it was worth it to buy something nice to wear at all (though, an argument could be made that it was just Harry and Ron debating that last fact). By midnight, the common room was packed to the brim with chatting students.

"Can you—just—I—explain it to me one more time?" Ron asked Harry. The two of them sat across from each other at the table by the window and Hermione sat a few feet away on the couch reading a dusty old tome.

"Please don't, Harry," Hermione said, looking up from her book for the first time. "Ron, he's told you four times—if I have to hear it again, I'll curse you both!"

"He asked me!" said Harry.

"So? Don't respond!"

"But he's stupid, Hermione!" said Ron.

"Hey!" said Harry.

Hermione huffed and returned to her book with her lips pursed.

"Harry," whispered Ron after a moment of silence. Harry was sure he saw Hermione roll her eyes. "Run it by me one more time."

"Okay—for the final time—I was on my way to Potions," started Harry for the fifth time. "Cho stopped me—"

"Cornered you, more like," Hermione muttered without looking up.

"Sure. And she asked me If I had a date to the dance. I said 'no.' She asked if I planned on taking anyone yet and I said 'no.' Then she asked me if I wanted to go with her—"

"And you said . . ." Ron questioned.

"I said 'no.'"

Ron stared at Harry for a long time, scrutinizing him with furrowed brows.

"So, you've asked someone then?" Harry asked defensively, crossing his arms. Hermione looked up again, this time with a small smirk.

Ron went pink in the ears. "I—not exactly," he gave Hermione a quick glance, "not yet at least." She and Harry continued to look at him in silence. Ron was as red as a beat when he finally said, "Stop it!"

They kept staring.

"It's hard!"

"If it's so hard," said Harry, finally unlocking his arms. "Why are we so worried about it? We can just hang out the whole time. We don't need dates, do we?"

"Right!"

Hermione snorted in her chair.

"Watch her pull what she pulled last year," said Ron, tossing a quill at Hermione, who just swatted it away and kept reading with a grin.

"No Krum this year," said Harry. "She'll be just as alone as us."

"Oh," said Hermione, placing a bookmark into the spine of the tome and standing up. "I won't be going alone." Hermione giggled at Harry and Ron's faces, which must have looked rather goofy since both of their jaws were hanging wide open. Before either of them could close their gaping mouths again to question her, she turned around and made her way up the staircase to the dormitories, clutching the tome in her arm tightly. She came to a stop when she reached the top landing and looked down at the two from the balcony.

Harry licked the dry roof of his mouth to speak when he heard a voice behind him say the exact words he was going to say. "Already?" Ron asked; Harry couldn't help but notice a tinge of hurt in his voice. Or maybe he was irked? Either way, Ron was definitely surprised—that Harry was sure of. "Who's asked you? It's so far away!"

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard that Harry thought he might have to cover his head for falling projectiles. "It's next Saturday, Ronald—it is not far away. And no! No one's asked me yet"—she tucked a loose curl behind her hear—"but I . . . I'm pretty certain that someone will."

"Who?" shouted Ron.

"A good friend!" Hermione slammed the door behind her, sending a temporary wave of silence across the common room before it returned back to its normal buzzing.

She already has a date . . . thought Harry. For the last several days, Harry had been working up to asking Hermione to the dance. He liked the idea of hanging out with Ron the whole time, but ever since the last D.A. meeting, he hadn't been able to stop daydreaming about dancing with her in the great hall on Halloween, which was weird because he hated dancing. Something was changing in his brain. He never acted on his feeling toward Hermione, but that struggle was becoming harder and harder as they spent so much time together alone recently. It was like his feelings for her were beginning to amplify.

His thoughts of Cedric were less frequent, Umbridge's reign of terror became an afterthought, and articles where the ministry dragged his name through the mud were almost funny to him now. But that didn't matter anymore. She wanted someone else to take her. She had someone else in mind. That's fair. I hope they have a good time—a great time . . . I'll have Ron.

Harry turned back to Ron with the most normal face he could muster, only to see his red-haired friend fuming in his chair.

#

In the morning, Harry woke up before anyone else in his room. On any usual occasion, he would see the dark blue sky and roll back over, but he knew Hermione wouldn't. She would more than likely be reading by the common room fireplace. Seeing as he had time before breakfast, Harry slid on a long-sleeve shirt on top of his pajama pants and made his way down the stairs.

As expected, Hermione sat on the floor with her back against the couch reading the same old book she had begun reading the night before. She didn't notice Harry come down the steps so, walking quietly, he reached the backside of the couch and looked down at her. She had put day clothes on already, but her robe sat on the empty seat of the couch beside her, folded nicely. Harry thought that he could watch this for hours. Her hair was still frizzy from hours of rest, her left hand placed against her chin with her fingers fidgeting with her bottom lip mindlessly, and her head slowly bobbing from one side to the other as her eyes sped along the lines.

"Ahem," coughed Harry.

Hermione gasped and her head spun around to him. "Oh," she said breathlessly. "Merlin, you scared me, Harry!"

He chuckled. "Sorry, sorry. It's too hard to resist."

"Well, I hope it was humorous for you." Hermione got up to her feet and dropped the book onto her robe. "I'm actually glad you're awake, I've got good news."

Hermione took a seat on the edge of the coffee table, and Harry moved around the couch to sit in front of her. He expected her to speak when he sat but she said nothing for a long moment. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, she smiled and grabbed hold of his hands, then took a deep breath.

"I think I know how to disenchant the mirror," said Hermione.

"What?" said Harry. He couldn't believe it; they had only been trying to find out how for a little over a week. "How?"

"That book. It's all about ancient charms and enchantments." Harry looked back at the book. The cover was stripped on the edges and dust seemed to be permanently anchored to the front. It had to be at least a century old. "I'm borrowing it from Professor Flitwick."

"Professor Flitwick?"

"Yes! We never thought about the teacher's rooms but, the other day, I noticed a small bookshelf behind his desk and asked him if I could look through it."

"So . . . I . . . how do we do it?"

"We need to check the mirror for a rune—one that looks like a forked tree. If it has one underneath the glass, a fourth-year spell during a full moon is all it'll take!"

"Gone forever?"

Hermione grinned and bit her lip in a rather cute way. "Gone."

Harry snorted. He opened and closed his mouth a few times trying to find the right thing to say. Finally, without warning, he pulled her to him by her shoulders and kissed her forehead, then wrapped her in a hug. "Thank you," he said.

"Of course, Harry," said Hermione, hugging him back even tighter.

It felt right to be so close to her. His head found the crook of her neck and he rested it there, and he felt Hermione do the same to his shoulder. They sat like that for a while. Ten seconds turned to thirty, and thirty turned into a minute. Finally, Harry checked his watch.

"We should get ready for breakfast," he said. "Everyone'll be coming down soon."

The two of them split up at the top of the stairs. Harry made his way back up the stairs to his room where Seamus and Dean were chatting while getting dressed. They left for the Great Hall as Harry was buttoning his shirt. A moment later, he laughed as Ron and Neville's head popped up at the same time, joining him in conscious thought.

"Wuh'time'sit?" groaned Ron, ripping his covers off.

"Time for breakfast, Ron," said Harry happily. Only then did he realize that he was still smiling.

The three of them made their way down the spiral staircase to the common room steps.

"What are we waiting for?" Neville asked when Harry didn't follow them down the top landing.

"We should wait for Hermione, she'll want—" Before Harry could finish his sentence, Ron wheeled around and continued walking.

"Meet you there, mate," said Ron.

Neville and Harry watched as Ron walked to the portrait hole, straightening his prefect badge, and closed it behind him. "What just happened?" asked Neville.

Harry said nothing, but to him it was obvious. Ron had liked Hermione ever since the Yule Ball last year. She went with Krum, and Ron flipped out on her because of it. Harry hoped that Ron wouldn't make the dance a living hell for her again this year. She had worked so hard recently, all just to help Harry; she deserved to have a fun night with whoever she wanted to take. Even if it wasn't him.

Ron wasn't in the Great Hall when Harry, Neville, and Hermione made it to the Gryffindor table. Harry and Hermione gave each other knowing looks as they ate their breakfast together. Ron never was great at subtlety, though Harry doubted that was the point.

"You think he'll start the shouting right after classes or save them for tonight?" sighed Hermione.

"Maybe we're just misreading it?" said Harry. "Maybe he's not avoiding you—he could be busy . . ."

They had Transfiguration second period. Harry sat with Ron in the back of the class as usual while Hermione liked to sit a few seats up for a better view of the chalkboard. After a few minutes of awkward silence (besides the scratching their quills against the paper to seem like they were taking notes), Harry nudged Ron.

"Ron," said Harry, being careful with his words. "You know you can't punish her every time she gets a date to something."

Ron chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"I—er—I know you like her," Harry continued. "At least I think you do. That makes sense—she's great—but . . . but you're still her friend. You can't do this to her again."

Ron frowned at Harry. "I don't have to like it, Harry. Like you said, we're her friends. We deserve to know who she plans on taking, don't we? Has she told you?"

"No, why would she tell me?"

"Because—maybe it's you," Ron's whispered voice was coming out as more of a hiss now. "You two have been spending an awful lot of time together recently. Anything I should know about, mate?"

"What? We've just been dealing with some D.A. things."

"Funny, Hermione told me she was helping you with Potions. . . ."

"It isn't me Ron," Harry looked back to his notes. "Trust me."

Ron's words stuck with Harry throughout the lecture, replaying over and over in his head as he struggled to pay attention to the lesson. Who was she expecting to ask her to the dance if it wasn't either of them?

Not before long, the bell rang in its tower and the halls filled again. Ron seemed testy as he, Harry, and Hermione made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. He didn't say a word but did shoot the two of them nasty glances when they smiled or joked with each other. Hermione made a show of glaring back even worse at him each time he did. They continued like this for some time until they sat down at the Gryffindor table. Harry felt like laughing at the sight of them; The moment they took their seats, they began eating as quietly as if neither had ever had qualms with the other. Just the way Harry liked it. Friends eating quietly . . .

Harry stretched out his arm to grab one of the sandwiches that appeared in front of him when a thin hand from beside him seized the entire platter instead.

"Let's just take it with us, shall we?" said Hermione, shooting Ron a stony look. "We'll be eating in the library until Ron sorts himself out."

Ron scoffed and tightened his lips.

"We are?" asked Harry. He didn't want to pick a side.

"Yes!" said Hermione. The bushy-haired girl spun around and walked towards the door.

"Er—see you later, I guess, Ron," said Harry, getting up and chasing after her. He found her waiting by the doors for him in the Entrance Hall frowning down at the platter she held with both hands. What had once held a pile of turkey sandwiches was now barren and sparkling clean. A group of seventh years passing by shot the pair curious looks.

"I forgot they disappear when you take them out of the hall . . ." muttered Hermione.

"Er—it's . . . okay . . . what . . . what just happened?" stuttered Harry.

Hermione huffed and set the platter down on a bench by the doors. Harry walked with her as she wheeled around and headed for the stairs.

"Well, I've had enough of being scowled at for one day, I think," said Hermione rather coolly as they ascended the stairs. "I love Ron, but if he wants to tell me something, he should use his words."

"I think he's just curious, Hermione," said Harry.

"He's not. And if he is, he shouldn't be. It's none of his business who I take with me if it isn't him. Let him scowl all he wants."

"Hermione," called Harry. She had reached the landing but kept climbing the stairs. "I thought we were going to the library."

"Oh, no, I just said that to avoid suspicion. We're going to the Room of Requirement. I figured we could go ahead and look for the rune while we have nothing better to do."

"Why not after classes?"

"I have something to do after classes," she said with a smirk.

Harry nodded and soon enough, he found himself on the seventh floor looking over his shoulder for teachers or students. At any second, anyone could come around the corner and see them enter the Room of Requirement. The crackling stone outline snaked its way around the dark oak again and Hermione waved Harry inside once he was satisfied that no one could see them.

"Where was it again?" said Hermione.

Harry chuckled. "This way."

Once they reached the busted piano and bullfrog sculpture, Harry sat on a nearby table while Hermione inspected the surface of the mirror intently. The table threatened to buckle under his weight; two of the legs were missing notches like a game of Jenga and the surface was scratched and missing chunks of wood and paint.

Hermione ran her finger slowly down the right edge of the mirror, looking intently. Harry noticed her eyes breaking away from just above her finger to gaze upon the reflection in the mirror. He smiled to himself for a moment as he watched her, wondering what she saw. By the look on her face, he could tell it wasn't boring. Her smile grew wide and she shot a nervous look to Harry before bringing her gaze back to the edge in search of the rune. Harry cleared his throat.

"You really pushing my curiosity to its limits, Hermione," said Harry. He watched her suppress a grin. Suddenly her eyes went wide, and her mouth gaped open. "What is it?" he asked, standing up.

"It's here!" said Hermione. "The rune, Harry, it's here!"

"Really, where?"

Hermione tugged on Harry's sleeve and showed him a tiny translucent-purple rune on the very edge of the mirror. It looked just like a forked tree (like Hermione said it would). Harry wrapped Hermione in the second hug that day and she returned the pressure. Harry laughed to himself as she let him go. He tried to thank her again but was cut off by her hand covering his mouth.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered, releasing her hand from him and listening closely.

"No," Harry whispered. "Hear what?"

And then Harry heard it too: footsteps. Someone somewhere in the cathedral-sized room was shuffling along, and it became more and more obvious as they listened that the footsteps were heading their way. Harry grabbed hold of Hermione's hand and rushed over to the table that he sat on before.

Hermione understood instantly as Harry knocked it over on its side as quietly as he could. She joined him in pushing it against the hill of luggage and soot-covered trunks. As they struggled with the heavy table, the steps grew even louder; faster. Whoever was coming this way wasn't just passing by. They pressed it as far as it could go into the hill, and Harry jumped over. He helped Hermione over the tabletop and both of them got as low as they could to the ground, shoulders pressed tightly against each other's. Harry wasn't certain they were safe from view but as long as they were quiet it might work.

A shadow formed on the floor across from them next to the busted piano followed by long dark robes and greasy black hair. Professor Snape stopped in his tracks at the sight of the mirror. His brow furrowed momentarily until his gaze drifted upwards into the heart of the glass.

Harry stretched his neck to peek out from the side of the table and felt Hermione beside him doing the same thing. The two of them watched as Snape kneeled down in front of the mirror and rested his palm against the cool glass. He looked up slowly as if making eye contact with someone they couldn't see.

"We shouldn't be seeing this . . ." said Hermione in a barely audible voice. Harry agreed but couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. Together, they watched as Snape began to mutter to the reflection under his breath. Finally, Hermione pinched Harry on the arm. "Let's go."

With some effort, Harry detached his eyes from the scene. He grabbed Hermione's hand as she led him through a small gap between the table and the luggage. The two of them crawled noiselessly across the aisle and only stopped once they were safe behind the cover of the next hill.

Harry peeked around the corner to peer at Snape again. He hadn't noticed a thing. If Harry was curious at what Hermione saw, he didn't know what to call this new emotion, but it was familiar. . . . Hermione took hold of his arm and pulled him away again. They watched their steps as they silently rushed to the door of the cavernous room, careful that their feet didn't land on anything that snapped, cracked, squeaked, or squealed.

When they found themselves in the corridor again—what seemed like miles and miles away from the mirror or Snape—Hermione gently pulled the door of the Room of Requirement to a close with a satisfying click. Harry leaned his back against the wall with his hands on his knees. Beside him, Hermione let out a long sigh of relief with her ear to the crack of the door, then looked to him with a wild expression on her face.

"So . . ." said Harry, feeling the same way she looked. "Still wanna' go to the library?"