Author's Note: Yes, it's canon that the Yule Ball occurred on Christmas. I'm changing it, for no other reason than this: I imagine everyone would rather have a lazy day to relax, feast and watch "A Christmas Story" (well, not that they have television at Hogwarts, but you get the point). So, in this fic, the Yule Ball is a pre-Christmas celebration.

Also, thanks for all the reviews! My mistake in forgetting that the Golden Trio had Potions together. I've marked that down and will edit it at some point.

Christmas Eve had finally arrived. It was difficult to discern what everyone at Hogwarts was looking forward to more: The Yule Ball or Christmas. The day flew by quick as a Snitch. After they used the blissfully empty morning hours to catch up on sleep, Harry, Ron, Fred, and George got into a spirited snowball fight on the grounds during the afternoon. Then it was time for dinner. After a delightful meal, everyone returned to their dormitories to get dressed for the ball.

Harry rather wished he would have gotten the chance to talk to Hermione alone before the ball. He had no idea what her expectations were for the evening after the events that had transpired over the past few days. "Is this still not a date? Am I going to have to really impress her?" he fretted as he put on the dark green dress robes Mrs. Weasley had purchased.

"I'll find out soon enough, I suppose."

"Relax," another part of him chimed in. "Going to a ball with Hermione CANNOT be worse than facing down a Hungarian Horntail with nothing but a wand and a Firebolt." He laughed to himself, took another deep breath to calm his nerves, and went down to the Great Hall.

Professor McGonagall caught him by the arm. She attempted, with little success, to flatten his messy hair. She sighed, then said, "Potter, once you and your date are together, please join the other three champions at the front table. You will open the dancing."

"Open the dancing?" he frowned.

"Of course," she nodded vigorously. "It is tradition that the champions and their dates have the first dance, as the Yule Ball is only held during the Triwizard Tournament."

"Alright."

"Having some warning about that would've been nice," he thought.

He peeked around oversized dresses, slid between affectionate couples, and tried to avoid treading on people's toes while walking around the dance floor. It seemed he'd gone round the entire perimeter, and there was still no sign of Hermione. He glanced back at the champions' table, thinking she may have gone there. No, there was Fleur talking to Krum, and a gorgeous girl who looked maybe a tiny bit veela-"one of Fleur's Beauxbatons friends, no doubt," Harry guessed-standing next to the French girl, and…he did a double take. It was Hermione. Just not normal, bushy haired, anxious about homework Hermione. This Hermione had straight hair, pulled back in a simple ponytail. A few stray curls framed her face nicely. She was wearing, no, glowing in a light pink dress, her soft smile matching the dim candlelight of the hall. Harry gave her a small wave and waded through the throng.

"Hello." She gave a silver earring a nervous tug, but was still smiling, nonetheless.

"Hi."

"Stop staring, everyone's going to think something's wrong with you," Harry warned himself. He looked up. "Err…you look good. Like, really good." He hoped she'd heard the emphasis, the stress, on that first, horribly inadequate word.

She grinned shyly. "Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself."

After giving the normal opening speech about thanking everyone for attending, enjoying the good spirit shown between the different schools, and the like, Dumbledore smiled. "I would like to give a few words specifically about dancing tonight, and they are: Try not. Do, or do not. There is no try." Amidst laughter from Hogwarts students and bewildered looks from those of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, he clapped his hands. "Let the Yule Ball begin!"

Harry and Hermione's first couple dances together were, to put it mildly, an absolute disaster. The two were horribly out of sync, as neither one of them knew the popular songs of The Weird Sisters. To make the situation worse, Harry ended up stepping on her feet more than a few times. Burning red, he evacuated the dance floor as the second song ended and headed for the punch bowl, while Hermione went to change out of her heels into more practical flats.

While there, Harry ran into Krum. "Potter," he grunted-thought it was a reasonably friendly grunt. "I vatched you fly in the First Task. Very impressive."

"Thanks," Harry grinned, hardly able to believe he'd gotten a compliment from Krum on his flying. "I saw you at the World Cup. That Wronski Feint, that was something. And getting the Snitch…" he shook his head.

Krum sighed moodily. "I vould have preferred the victory, but…life goes on. It is only a game." He waved at Fleur, his date, indicating that it was fine for her to dance with Cedric for the next song.

"I'd say that's a victory," Harry nodded at the veela. "But how come you're not…"

"Not as affected by her?" Krum finished the thought. "I took a potion that reduces the effects of the veela. I did not vant to look…" He paused, searching for the right English word, but then gestured at the flock of Hogwarts fourth years who were ogling his date. "Like that."

"Good call."

The pop number ended quickly, and Fleur rejoined Krum. "Ello, Arry." She smiled and shook his hand warmly. He'd clearly proven he was no "leetle keed" to her with how well he'd handled the first task.

"'Lo, Fleur," he nodded, not trusting his mouth to properly form more than simple words in her presence.

"Vell, back to the dance floor," Krum smiled and linked arms with the Beauxbatons student. Just before they entered the sea of dancers, he turned back to Harry. "And Potter, if you do not mind my saying so…" A roguish grin broke out across his normally dour face. For once, he actually looked eighteen. "You haff good taste in vomen."

"Thanks," Harry called back, smiling. Hermione made her way over to him, looking a bit wary at the prospect of another dance. He couldn't blame her.

"Ello, Arry," she greeted him throatily, imitating Fleur.

"Oh, don't tell me you saw that."

"Yep," she smirked. "Don't worry, you could've looked like more of an idiot. At least your mouth wasn't gaping."

"I guess, yeah." They took a few dances off, simply drinking in both some butterbeer and atmosphere. Professor McGonagall, to their great amusement, had followed her own advice: She'd literally let her hair down after downing a few Firewhiskeys, and was now attempting to persuade Snape, of all people, to dance with her. His face suggested he'd rather eat a Blast Ended Skrewt.

Finally, Hermione pulled Harry to his feet. "Come on, we should dance to at least a couple more songs." He noticed she used a similar tone of voice to convince him and Ron to just write one or two more paragraphs before they quit on an assignment. "Now, just follow my lead," she advised. "If I move left, you move right. If I move back, you move forward. But don't look at my feet to see where I'm going or you'll get mixed up. And…"

Harry was reminded rather strongly of the first time he'd traveled by Floo Powder. The Weasleys had bombarded him with tips on what to do, and he'd ended up lost down Knockturn Alley. He placed a hand on her arm. "Hermione…relax," he said gently. "I think I'll be okay. Just lead me. The next one's supposed to be a slower song, so we don't have to worry about moving too much, right?"

She blushed. "Yeah. Sorry, I'm sounding like a professor." Still, she did want the dance to go well, even if "going well" only meant not getting stepped on at all for the rest of the affair. "But how do I get through to Harry?" her brow furrowed. "Use what he knows, what he's good at," she decided. That was normally an effective teaching strategy.

"Look, forget everything I said before." He rolled his eyes. She saw and smacked him lightly on the arm. "Now, just imagine we're flying. And I'm in front of you. And you're trying to catch me. So you have to follow me."

"Err…okay," he shrugged.

To his immense surprise, and Hermione's relief, her idea worked. He was following her steps easily, even with his eyes focused only on her face.

"This is nice," she smiled. She had her hands around his neck, and she pulled him in a bit closer.

"Yeah." Had he just admitted that the Yule Ball was nice? Or that being like this with Hermione was nice? And more importantly, which one of those things was her "this" referring to?

The two of them glanced around the room to avoid looking quite so much like a couple, seeing as they weren't one. Harry's eyes fell on Ron. He'd been having a decent time with Padma earlier, had even danced for a while with the girl. Now, however, a scowl was fixed on his face, and it seemed to be directed at them.

After a few more songs, the ball began winding down. As the band's alcohol consumption increased, the quality of performance dropped. A bit before 11:30, Harry and Hermione decided to call it a night and exited the Great Hall. "Want to grab some food?" she asked. "I'm famished."

"Aren't you worried that the house elves might be overworked, Hermione?" he teased.

"Shut up." She playfully shoved him. "Oh, and let's try and find Ron, see if he wants to join us in the common room…"

"Finally remembered me, have you?" his voice came from behind them. Sure I won't ruin your date?" he asked snidely, venom dripping off the end of his question.

"It wasn't a date." Harry wheeled around.

"It was just dancing, Ron. We had a bit of fun, that's all. What's your problem?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, just dancing," he mocked her, putting air quotes around the words in question. "Sure. Yeah. Bet that's what everyone else thought as well."

"Ron, just because…" Hermione started.

"Hermione…" Harry tried to cut her off.

Ron laughed sharply. "No, let her talk. I reckon I want to hear this."

That set her off. "You don't have the right to talk shit to me. It's not my fault Harry had the decency to ask me to the ball with some kindness, even if it was a bit weird-"

"You know he only asked you cause Cho turned him down, right?" Ron interjected. "Wasn't like you were his first choice."

"Be that as it may, he showed me a hell of a better time than you could have dreamed of doing if you were in his shoes. Not that you'd ever be in his shoes, anyway, since we all know that you, unlike Harry, couldn't muster up the courage to ask me in the first place!" She stormed off up the staircase.

Harry felt like punching Ron wouldn't be the worst idea right now. Still, he would be plenty pissed at them already. No reason to make it worse.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Aren't you going to go after her?" Ron asked sarcastically, pointing up the stairs.

For once, his antics had left Harry without sympathy. "Yeah, I am. And Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Go fuck yourself."

He found Hermione crying quietly, curled up on the largest couch in the common room. She'd discarded the dress in favor of plaid pajama pants and a gray hoodie. He changed, as well. The dress robes had become uncomfortable. He came back down in sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

"Sorry he's an idiot." Harry wrapped his arms around her.

"I kn-know…Sh-shouldn't let it get to me." She blew her nose loudly. "It's just…tonight was so great, y'know?" She regarded Harry with tear stained eyes. "Better than…A lot better than I thought it'd go, no offense. And then he absolutely wr-wrecks it."

"Yeah…Well, he's not here now."

An unsteady laugh came out. "No, luckily, he isn't."

"And yes," Harry wiped a tear off Hermione's cheek, "Tonight was great." He hesitated. "You were great."

"Thanks, Harry." She smiled at last. "So were you…after the first ten minutes." She laughed harder.

"Me!" he exclaimed. "That was not all my fault, you didn't know those songs either."

"Okay, okay, I'll take…30% of the blame for us being a total mess, I suppose," she chuckled.

"Right, then, how do I make up for the other 70 percent?" he asked.

The clock chimed. It was midnight.

"Well, you could start by wishing me a happy Christmas," she offered, leaning in closer.

"Happy Christmas, Hermione."

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

The clock struck one-Their lips met again, still gentle, still cautiously exploring.

Two-Harry opened his mouth the tiniest bit and felt Hermione's teeth graze his lower lip.

Three-Like at the dance earlier, Hermione led the movement, tilting her head like she was preparing to make a sharp turn on a broomstick. Harry followed.

Four-Their tongues finally got properly acquainted. And Harry had thought her lips were warm! That heat froze in comparison to this tasty fire.

Five-The lack of oxygen broke them apart.

Six-Their mouths reunited, starving for company.

Seven-More hungry kisses that did nothing for their empty stomachs but stunned the rest of their senses.

Eight-They were horizontal on the couch. Another shattered kiss, this one cut off by words-When was the last time they'd used those? Felt like ages ago. "You are gorgeous," he breathed into her ear.

Nine-Hermione's mouth raced along Harry's neck like a niffler searching for treasure.

Ten-At last, they discovered nourishment: The salty sweat of each other's skin.

Eleven-Another slightly less than chaste kiss, interlocking fingers, a muffled question from Harry: "What is this?"

Twelve-Hermione's answer, layered with contentment, sensuality, and a few other things he'd probably come to like about her: "This is brilliant. Nice and brilliant."