Disclaimer: Everything you recognize is J.K. Rowling's. Except for Jamie, Luka, and Ariana.
Chapter 20-The Yule Ball
Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth years have been given for the holidays, I am in no mood to work when term ends, and spend the week leading up to Christmas enjoying myself as fully as possible along with everyone else. Gryffindor Tower is hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seems to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants are rowdier than usual. Fred and George are having a great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people keep bursting into feather all over the place.
Before long, however, all the Gryffindors learn to treat food anybody else offers them with extreme caution, in case it has a Canary Cream concealed in the center, and George confides to me that he and Fred are now working on developing something else. I make a mental note never to accept so much as a crisp from Fred and George in future. I might help make the pranks, but that doesn't mean that I have escaped any sort of target on my back.
Snow is falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looks like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that is Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portholes are glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen are outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seems to be able to find anything to complain about.
"It is too 'eavy, all zis 'Ogwarts food," we hear her saying grumpily as we leave the Great Hall behind her one evening (Ron skulking behind Harry, keen not to be spotted by Fleur). "I will not fit into my dress robes!"
"Oooh there's a tragedy," Hermione snaps as Fleur goes out into the entrance hall. "She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn't she?"
"We can start calling her Veela the vain." I snicker, quite proud of myself coming up with that on the spot. Yeah, it's been a slow week for me. Hermione grins, and Harry hides a smile behind his robes.
"Hermione — who are you going to the ball with?" says Ron. He keeps springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expects it. However, Hermione merely frowns and says, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me."
"You're joking, Weasley!" says Malfoy, behind them. "You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?"
I squeeze my hands into fists attempting to stop myself from decking Malfoy in front of the entire Great Hall and guests. That's bound for more than a few detentions.
Harry and Ron both whip around, but Hermione says loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy's shoulder, "Hello, Professor Moody!" Malfoy goes pale and jumps backwards, looking wildly around for Moody, but he is still up at the staff table, finishing his stew.
"Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?" says Hermione scathingly, and she, Harry, Ron, and I go up the marble staircase laughing heartily. I drape my arm around Hermione immensely pleased with my friend.
"See Jamie. One can fight just as well with words rather than fists." She says happily.
"Yes but sometimes you just need to feel the satisfaction of seeing Malfoy with a black eye." I say wistfully. Harry nods his head in agreement to that statement.
"Hermione," says Ron, looking sideways at her, suddenly frowning, "your teeth . . ."
"What about them?" She asks.
"Well, they're different . . . I've just noticed. . . ."
"Of course they are — did you expect me to keep those fangs Malfoy gave me?"
"No, I mean, they're different to how they were before he put that hex on you. . . . They're all . . . straight and — and normal-sized." Hermione suddenly smiles very mischievously, and Harry, and I notice it too: It is a very different smile from the one we remember. Personally it kind of scares me.
"Mione…" I start.
"Well . . . when I went up to Madam Pomfrey to get them shrunk, she held up a mirror and told me to stop her when they were back to how they normally were," she says. "And I just . . . let her carry on a bit." She smiles even more widely. "Mum and Dad won't be too pleased. I've been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with my braces. You know, they're dentists, they just don't think teeth and magic should — look! Pigwidgeon's back!"
Ron's tiny owl is twittering madly on the top of the icicle-laden banisters, a scroll of parchment tied to his leg. People passing him are pointing and laughing, and a group of third-year girls pause and say, "Oh look at the weeny owl! Isn't he cute?"
I snicker as Ron turns red. "Stupid little feathery git!" Ron hisses, hurrying up the stairs and snatching up Pigwidgeon. "You bring letters to the addressee! You don't hang around showing off!"
Pigwidgeon hoots happily, his head protruding over Ron's fist. The third-year girls all look very shocked.
"Clear off!" Ron snaps at them, waving the fist holding Pigwidgeon, who hoots more happily than ever as he soars through the air. "Here — take it, Harry," Ron adds in an undertone as the third-year girls scuttle away looking scandalized. He pulls Sirius's reply off Pigwidgeon's leg, Harry pockets it, and we hurry back to Gryffindor Tower to read it.
"Well Ron, now you'll start getting that reputation as a brute." I tell him, and dodges the swipe that he takes at me. I sidle along Hermione's other side, and the girl rolls her eyes at us.
"Honestly…" She sighs.
Everyone in the common room is much too busy in letting off more holiday steam to observe what anyone else is up to. Ron, Harry, Hermione, and I sit apart from everyone else by a dark window that is gradually filling up with snow, and Harry reads out:
Dear Harry,
Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. Whoever put your name in that goblet shouldn't be feeling too happy right now! I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis Curse, as a dragon's eyes are its weakest point — "That's what Krum did!" Hermione whispers — but your way was better, I'm impressed.
Don't get complacent, though, Harry. You've only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament's got plenty more opportunity if they're trying to hurt you. Keep your eyes open — particularly when the person we discussed is around — and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble.
Keep in touch, I still want to hear about anything unusual.
Sirius
"He sounds exactly like Moody," says Harry quietly, tucking the letter away again inside his robes. "'Constant vigilance!' You'd think I walk around with my eyes shut, banging off the walls. . . ."
"But he's right, Harry," says Hermione, "you have still got two tasks to do. You really ought to have a look at that egg, you know, and start working out what it means. . . ."
"Hermione, he's got ages!" snaps Ron. "Want a game of chess, Harry?"
"Yeah, okay," says Harry. Then, spotting the look on Hermione's face, he says, "Come on, how'm I supposed to concentrate with all this noise going on? I won't even be able to hear the egg over this lot."
"Well at least we wouldn't have our ears bleeding then." Jamie grumbles rubbing her ears just thinking about the loud wailing screech, thankful that there won't be any need to listen to it.
"Oh I suppose not," she sighs, and she sits down beside Jamie to watch their chess match, which culminates in an exciting checkmate of Ron's, involving a couple of recklessly brave pawns and a very violent bishop. At least no one bled this time.
The next morning I am thrust back into reality by a high shrill voice. I groan, and pull my pillow out from under me, and put it over my head to attempt to block out the noise. "THIS WAS JUST WHAT I WANTED!" Lavender screams again, and I give up hope at having a peaceful Christmas morning.
I get up and glare blearily at the girl dancing around in her long pink nightgown, clutching a box to her chest. The rest of the girls are up now as well, in various states of awareness. "Thank you for the bloody wake up call, and guess what Lavender, I didn't get what I wanted. You can still talk!" I exclaim sadly.
Lavender shoots an evil glare at me, and turns back to her bed to continue opening presents. At least we've gotten back to the stage where she doesn't acknowledge my existence again. I like this stage much better than the others. Hermione slips out of bed and into her slippers, and the pair of us start opening the gifts on our bed.
They're pretty much the same as every year. Luka gave me a jumper with the phrase 'Hot Blooded' on it. Harry got me a broom servicing kit, and Ron sprung for a lot of candy this year, and Hermione being Hermione she got me more books. Mrs. Weasley knit me another sweater but this time I felt rather fond of it for it had a letter J knit into it for my name.
Once Hermione and I were done opening our gifts, we made a quick exit back down to the common room, since Lavender Brown's squeaky voice was threatening to give me a migraine. We waited by one of the couches discussing none other than the Yule Ball, which was supposed to take place tonight.
Hermione was rather excited to be going, especially with who her date was going to be. I on the other hand still dread and despise balls despite the fact that I'm going with one of my friends. There's only so much pure blood sanctimony a girl can take before she needs to go and throw up.
Finally after what seems like ages later, the boys come tumbling down the stairs, and our small group is off to breakfast. We spend most of the morning in Gryffindor Tower, where everyone is enjoying their presents, then return to the Great Hall for a magnificent lunch, which includes at least a hundred turkeys and Christmas puddings, and large piles of Cribbage's Wizarding Crackers.
We went out onto the grounds in the afternoon; the snow is untouched except for the deep channels made by the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students on their way up to the castle. Hermione chooses to watch Harry, the Weasleys', and me snowball fight rather than join in, and at five o'clock said she is going back upstairs to get ready for the ball. Not to mention dragging a snow covered me along behind her with a very grumpy look.
"What, you need three hours?" says Ron, looking at her incredulously and paying for his lapse in concentration when a large snowball, thrown by George, hits him hard on the side of the head. "Who're you going with?" he yells after Hermione, but she just waves and disappears with me up the stone steps into the castle.
By the time we get back up to our dormitory, it looks like a dress shop had exploded and thrown up it there at the same time. Not a surface was spared, and the sir was sickly sweet with the overpowering smell of too much perfume. "I've changed my mind, lets go battle an ogre. At least the smell will be better." I comment, holding the sleeve of my jumper over my poor over sensitive nose.
Hermione rolls her eyes at me, and tugs me over to our beds. "Come on now Jamie. When are we ever going to get another chance to go to one of these?" Hermione whines. I cross my arms over my chest and glare at her.
"There's a gala in the summer, should I put your name down in attendance instead of mine?" I question her. Hermione just sighs, and places me down on her desk chair with an oomph. She doesn't have to manhandle me. I swear these girls think that they have to resort to violence to get what they want. I let her play with my hair getting it to curl just so, and after a twenty minute argument the smallest amount of makeup on my face.
"I don't know what you're so against about all this girly stuff Jamie. You're beautiful." Hermione says softly so the other three girls in the room don't take notice of the comment. I close my eyes for a brief moment and sigh.
"I have nothing against girly stuff Hermione. I am a girl after all. I don't know… I guess that I just feel comfortable enough in my own skin to forgo all this crap." I attempt to explain to her. I pause for a second, and turn around to see how Hermione is taking it. There is a soft smile on her face, and she finally sets the curler down.
"And that confidence dear Jamie, is what makes you all the more stunning." She tells me. I feel a blush heat up my skin, but shake it off so, that I can stand and get started on Hermione's hair. Once I was done, Hermione set off applying her own makeup and I went about getting into my dress robes. She still wasn't exactly sure why witches had to still wear robes on formal occasions, but I explained it to her that this is just the way that our very old fashioned society still operates in some way.
As soon as I was dressed in my dark green set that would go stunningly with Harry's I looked over to Hermione and stopped breathing for a second. Gone was the shy, and hesitant visage of my best friend. In her place was a beautiful, elegant, and very stunning woman.
"Well… what do you think?" She asks me worriedly spinning around once in her beautiful blue robes.
"Brilliantly beautiful Mione. The school won't know what hit them." I assure her, watching as a glowing blush adorns her cheeks.
"I should say the same about you Jamie. Who knew that a graceful and dashing girl was there all the time behind the rough and tumble tom boy?" She giggles. I roll my eyes at my friend, and execute a small spin.
"It's always been there Mione. One does not simply grow up a Pendragon without taking etiquette classes, and functioning in high society. At least I will get a few dances out of this night. That's the only thing that will make this ball even reasonably enjoyable. That is unless Malfoy trips over his own two feet." I grin. Hermione shakes her head at me, and starts for the door.
"I have to go and meet V— him." She tells me. I nod my head and give her a jaunty salute and a thumbs up, if anyone deserves this night its Hermione. Quickly the chatter and squeals of Lavender and Parvati grow louder now that Hermione's gone, so I make a break for it down to the common room.
The common room looks strange, full of people wearing different colors instead of the usual mass of black. Parvati is waiting for Ron at the foot of the stairs. She looks very pretty indeed, in robes of shocking pink, with her long dark plait braided with gold, and gold bracelets glimmering at her wrists. I still wonder how exactly he got her to agree to go to this ball with him. We aren't yet advanced enough to be able to produce love potions yet. So she must really want to go to the ball, since I know for a fact that she does not like him one bit.
Finally like a herd of nervous sheep, the boys climb down their own stairs in their dress robes. I look for the familiar shock of unruly black hair of my friend. When I spot it, I'm surprised that Harry looks rather handsome in his dark green dress robes as well. He grins when he spots me, but comes to a stop a few paces away from me.
"Jamie…?" He asks. I roll my eyes at the boy who looks dumbfounded about whether it is truly me or not.
"You're not the only one who can clean up well Potter." I tell him. Ron comes over to us as well with Parvati. He stops dead at the sight of me.
"Bloody hell Jamie!" He cries, which for Ron is pretty much a high compliment. Parvati is giving me a pinched look but switches to a friendly smile when she catches my gaze. I roll my eyes again, before turning back to Harry who has gotten himself under control again.
He offers me his arm and I take it, letting my training take over, and reign in the free spirit inside me that loathes the fact that I have to be escorted. "Shall we go down?" I ask him cautiously. Right now Harry looks like he wants to run right back up to his dormitory and pretend that this night never really happened.
"Sure?" He says though it sounds more like a question. As we make our way down to the Great Hall, I glance at Ron's robes again and see that they're frayed and that the lace is gone. He went from girly to dumpy in the matter of minutes.
The entrance hall is packed with students too, all milling around waiting for eight o'clock, when the doors to the Great Hall will be thrown open. Those people who are meeting partners from different Houses are edging through the crowd trying to find one another. I scan over the crowd in search for Luka and Ariana since the pair of them are going to this ball together.
I at least want to say hello before we're swept away. So the four of us snake through the crowd until I see a set of deep blue dress robes attached to my brother. "Well someone can actually pull off dress robes around here." I comment playfully to him. Luka spins around and smiles widely at the sight of me.
"I would rather say two people Jamie. You look brilliant as you always do. Now all we need is for the lovely Miss Dumbledore to grace us with her presence and the night will be set." Luka says grandly.
"I thought that mockery comes after dancing in the social events Pendragon?" A voice interrupts our fun. Both Luka and I spin around to a heart stopping sight. Ariana's blond hair is falling down to her shoulders in perfect waves and her brown eyes are shining bright with mirth and excitement. The matching deep blue of her dress robes to Luka's is stunning on her, and I'm fairly sure that my mouth is still open at the moment.
"You look beautiful Ariana." Luka tells her, recovering before me from his trance. I quickly shake myself off, and smile at her shyly.
"Gorgeous as always." I say, winning a dazzling smile from her in return. Harry comes back over to me and offers his arm again, causing the smile on her face to dim.
"I believe that we're supposed to me closer to the doors. I promise we'll find them again okay?" Harry asks me. I nod my head reluctantly and Luka gives me a shooing motion to go with Harry, but Ariana looks rather put out all of the sudden. Nevertheless I allow Harry to drag me away from them.
As we make our way through the crowd again, Ron suddenly squeaks and bends his knees slightly to hide behind Harry.
"What's wrong?" I ask before seeing what it is. Fleur Delacour is passing, looking stunning in robes of silver-gray satin, and accompanied by the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, Roger Davies. When they have disappeared, Ron stands straight again and stares over the heads of the crowd.
"Where is Hermione?" he asks. I keep my lips shut not wanting to ruin her whole surprise by letting the cat out of the bag now. I just can't wait to see the look on Ron's face. This will be one of the highlights of my night.
A group of Slytherins come up the steps from their dungeon common room. Malfoy is in front; he is wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar, which in my opinion makes him look like a vicar. Pansy Parkinson in very frilly robes of pale pink is clutching Malfoy's arm. Crabbe and Goyle are both wearing green; they resemble moss-colored boulders, and neither of them, I am pleased to see, have managed to find a partner. That would be a truly scary sight for any girl with them would have to be locked away in the psyche ward at St. Mundgos.
The oak front doors open, and everyone turns to look as the Durmstrang students enter with Professor Karkaroff. Krum is at the front of the party, accompanied by a pretty girl in blue robes that has to be Hermione. Over their heads I see that an area of lawn right in front of the castle has been transformed into a sort of grotto full of fairy lights — meaning hundreds of actual living fairies are sitting in the rosebushes that have been conjured there, and fluttering over the statues of what seem to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.
Then Professor McGonagall's voice calls, "Champions over here, please!"
Harry says "See you in a minute" to Ron and Parvati and walks forward with me, the chattering crowd parting to let us through. Professor McGonagall, who is wearing dress robes of red tartan and has arranged a rather ugly wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat, tells us to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else goes inside; we are to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students have sat down. Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies station themselves nearest the doors; Davies looks so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that he can hardly take his eyes off her. Cedric and Cho are close to us too; Harry looks away from them so he won't have to talk to them.
I can tell the moment that my friend has figured out that the girl in blue is Hermione, for he gasps and his jaw drops open. I do say I'm rather proud of her, and my self for being able to do her hair so. Her hair; it is no longer bushy but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. She is wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she is holding herself differently, somehow — or maybe it is merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually has slung over her back. She is also smiling — rather nervously, it is true — but the reduction in the size of her front teeth is more noticeable than ever.
"Hi, Harry!" she says. "Hi, Jamie!" I grin widely at my friend and smack Harry slightly on the shoulder to get him to stop gaping openly at Hermione like he had never seen her before.
When the doors to the Great Hall open, Krum's fan club from the library stalks past, throwing Hermione looks of deepest loathing. Pansy Parkinson gapes at her as she walks by with Malfoy, and even he doesn't seem to be able to find an insult to throw at her, which I am very amused about. Ron, however, walks right past Hermione without looking at her. That is going to spell trouble tonight. Luka and Ariana pass us, and complement Hermione on her dress and how beautiful she is before going in as well. Got to love my friends.
Once everyone else is settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall tells the champions and their partners to get in line in pairs and to follow her. We do so, and everyone in the Great Hall applauds as we enter and start walking up towards a large round table at the top of the Hall, where the judges are sitting. I keep a firm grip on Harry and smile at him reassuringly.
Everything will be fine tonight, a few minutes of discomfort for the rest of the night being relaxing. That I can handle. The walls of the Hall have all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables have vanished; instead, there are about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.
It's beautiful to say the least. I'm happy that my robes are of a silk material since it will get ridiculously hot in here later on. We spot Ron and Parvati as we near the top table. Ron iss watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes. Parvati is looking sulky.
Dumbledore smiles happily as the champions approach the top table, but Karkaroff wears an expression remarkably like Ron's as he watches Krum and Hermione draw nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple with large yellow stars, is clapping as enthusiastically as any of the students; and Madame Maxime, who has changed her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, is applauding us politely. But Mr. Crouch, I suddenly realize, is not there. The fifth seat at the table is occupied by Percy Weasley.
When the champions and their partners reach the table, Percy draws out the empty chair beside him, staring pointedly at Harry. Harry takes the hint and sits down next to Percy, who is wearing brand-new, navy-blue dress robes and an expression of such smugness that I think it ought to be fined. I take my seat beside Harry happily, for I'm not the one that has to sit next to him tonight. I have been enjoying my Percy free time.
"I've been promoted," Percy says before Harry can even ask, and from his tone, he might be announcing his election as supreme ruler of the universe. "I'm now Mr. Crouch's personal assistant, and I'm here representing him."
"Why didn't he come?" Harry asks. I'm not looking forward to being lectured on cauldron bottoms all through dinner. Maybe I can distract myself be counting mistletoe.
"I'm afraid to say Mr. Crouch isn't well, not well at all. Hasn't been right since the World Cup. Hardly surprising — overwork. He's not as young as he was — though still quite brilliant, of course, the mind remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry, and then, Mr. Crouch suffered a huge personal shock with the misbehavior of that house-elf of his, Blinky, or whatever she was called. Naturally, he dismissed her immediately afterward, but — well, as I say, he's getting on, he needs looking after, and I think he's found a definite drop in his home comforts since she left. And then we had the tournament to arrange, and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with — that revolting Skeeter woman buzzing around — no, poor man, he's having a well-earned, quiet Christmas. I'm just glad he knew he had someone he could rely upon to take his place."
I want very much to ask whether Mr. Crouch has stopped calling Percy "Weatherby" yet, but resist the temptation. There is no food as yet on the glittering golden plates, but small menus are lying in front of each of us. I pick mine up uncertainly and look around — there are no waiters. Dumbledore, however, looks carefully down at his own menu, then says very clearly to his plate, "Pork chops!"
And pork chops appear.
Getting the idea, the rest of the table places their orders with their plates too. Harry leans in closer to me and I turn to give him my attention. "Yes?" I ask.
"I didn't get the chance to say so earlier but you look brilliant tonight Jamie. I couldn't ask for a prettier girl up here with me, so thank you for agreeing to do this with me." Harry tells me. I grin at him, and give his hand a squeeze.
"Who knows Potter maybe this whole night won't be a bust. You could find another pretty girl to dance with." I tell him. With that Harry and I glance up at Hermione to see how she feels about this new and more complicated method of dining — surely it means plenty of extra work for the house-elves? — but for once, Hermione doesn't seem to be thinking about S.P.E.W. She is deep in talk with Viktor Krum and hardly seems to notice what she is eating.
It now occurred to me that I have never actually heard Krum speak before, but he is certainly talking now, and very enthusiastically at that. "Vell, ve have a castle also, not as big as this, nor as comfortable, I am thinking," he is telling Hermione. "Ve have just four floors, and the fires are lit only for magical purposes. But ve have grounds larger even than these — though in vinter, ve have very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying them. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains —"
"Now, now, Viktor!" says Karkaroff with a laugh that doesn't reach his cold eyes, "don't go giving away anything else, now, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!"
Dumbledore smiles, his eyes twinkling. "Igor, all this secrecy . . . one would almost think you didn't want visitors."
"Well, Dumbledore," says Karkaroff, displaying his yellowing teeth to their fullest extent, "we are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealously guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school's secrets, and right to protect them?"
"Oh I would never dream of assuming I know all Hogwarts' secrets, Igor," says Dumbledore amicably. "Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turning on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon — or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder."
Harry and I snort into our plates of goulash. Percy frowns, but I could swear Dumbledore has given us a very small wink. Meanwhile Fleur Delacour is criticizing the Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies.
"Zis is nothing," she says dismissively, looking around at the sparkling walls of the Great Hall. "At ze Palace of Beauxbatons, we 'ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do not melt, of course . . . zey are like 'uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place. And ze food is seemply superb. And we 'ave choirs of wood nymphs, 'oo serenade us as we eat. We 'ave none of zis ugly armor in ze 'alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbatons, 'e would be expelled like zat." She slaps her hand onto the table impatiently.
Roger Davies is watching her talk with a very dazed look on his face, and he keeps missing his mouth with his fork. I have the impression that Davies is too busy staring at Fleur to take in a word she is saying. I do have to admit that this night is shaping up to be rather entertaining.
"Absolutely right," he says quickly, slapping his own hand down on the table in imitation of Fleur. "Like that. Yeah."
I look around the Hall. Hagrid is sitting at one of the other staff tables; he is back in his horrible hairy brown suit and gazing up at the top table. I see him give a small wave, and looking around, see Madame Maxime return it, her opals glittering in the candlelight.
Hermione is now teaching Krum to say her name properly; he keeps calling her "Hermy-own."
"Her-my-oh-nee," she says slowly and clearly.
"Herm-own-ninny."
"Close enough," she says, catching Harry's and my eye and grinning. I can't help but snicker at the hopeless battle that she is facing.
When all the food has been consumed, Dumbledore stands up and asks the students to do the same. Then, with a wave of his wand, all the tables zoom back along the walls leaving the floor clear, and then he conjures a raised platform into existence along the right wall. A set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes are set upon it.
The Weird Sisters now troop up onto the stage to wildly enthusiastic applause; they are all extremely hairy and dressed in black robes that have been artfully ripped and torn. They pick up their instruments, and the other champions and their partners are standing up.
I rise and Harry quickly shoots up beside me. "Jamie, I still can't dance." Harry hisses to me worriedly. I smile at him reassuringly, and offer him my hand.
"If your ego can survive the hit, I can lead, you won't look like a total fool." I tell him softly. Harry nods his head eagerly, and I grin at him. Once on the dance floor, I place one of Harry's hands on my waist, and hold the other in my hand.
"Here goes nothing boy wonder." I quip, and with that I start leading the two of us through a slow waltz. Harry should give himself more credit; he can actually keep in step with me. Soon it's no longer the champions being the center of attention.
Neville and Ginny are dancing nearby — I can see Ginny wincing frequently as Neville trods on her feet — and Dumbledore is waltzing with Madame Maxime. He is so dwarfed by her that the top of his pointed hat barely tickles her chin; however, she moves very gracefully for a woman so large. Mad-Eye Moody is doing an extremely ungainly two-step with Professor Sinistra, who is nervously avoiding his wooden leg.
"Nice socks, Potter," Moody growls as he passes, his magical eye staring through Harry's robes.
"Oh — yeah, Dobby the house-elf knitted them for me," says Harry, grinning. I laugh and lean my forehead against Harry's shoulder briefly. As soon as they're away, we keep on dancing.
"You know, this isn't that bad." Harry says finally. I pull away from him a little to grin victoriously at him.
"See! I told you that dancing would be the best part of this night!" I exclaim. Harry chuckles at shakes his head at me exuberance.
"That doesn't mean that I want to dance any longer though." He tells me. I pout at that for the music stops, and we all applaud politely. "Come on, let's go sit for a while."
"You're absolutely no fun Potter." I whine. Harry grins and tugs me off the dance floor anyway.
"Oh yes, taking you on life threatening adventures every year is particularly boring and lacking in fun." Harry deadpans. I grin at him finally, and we make our way to the table where Ron and Parvati are at.
"How's it going?" Harry asks Ron, sitting down and opening a bottle of butterbeer. I grab one as well, thankful for the treat.
Ron doesn't answer. He is glaring at Hermione and Krum, who are dancing nearby. Parvati is sitting with her arms and legs crossed, one foot jiggling in time to the music. Every now and then she throws a disgruntled look at Ron, who is completely ignoring her. He really doesn't know how to act around girls.
Hermione comes over to the four of us, spinning down into the chair beside me her cheeks tinged pink from all the dancing. She grins at us. "Hey Mione!" I say happily. Harry greets her as well, but Ron doesn't say anything at all.
"It's hot, isn't it?" says Hermione, fanning herself with her hand. "Viktor's just gone to get some drinks."
Ron gives her a withering look. "Viktor?" he says. "Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"
Hermione looks at him in surprise. "What's up with you?" she asks.
"If you don't know," says Ron scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you." Hermione stares at him, then at Harry, who shrugs, before turning to me.
"Don't look at me I don't speak imbecile." I say, and Ron shoots a glare at me.
"Ron, what — ?" Hermione starts.
"He's from Durmstrang!" spits Ron. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You — you're —" Ron is obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime, "fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"
Oh this is so not going to end well. I knew that this would be happening. Hermione's mouth falls open.
"Don't be so stupid!" she says after a moment. "The enemy! Honestly — who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph? Who's got a model of him up in their dormitory?"
Ron chooses to ignore this. "I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"
"Yes, he did," says Hermione, the pink patches on her cheeks glowing more brightly. "So what?"
"What happened — trying to get him to join spew, were you?"
"No, I wasn't! If you really want to know, he — he said he'd been coming up to the library every day to try and talk to me, but he hadn't been able to pluck up the courage!" Hermione says this very quickly, and blushes so deeply that she is the same color as Parvati's robes.
"Yeah, well — that's his story," says Ron nastily.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" She fires back
"Obvious, isn't it? He's Karkaroff's student, isn't he? He knows who you hang around with. . . . He's just trying to get closer to Harry — get inside information on him — or get near enough to jinx him —"
Hermione looks as though Ron has slapped her, and I'm about ready to slap him. When she speaks, her voice quivers.
"For your information, he hasn't asked me one single thing about Harry, not one."
Ron changes tack at the speed of light."Then he's hoping you'll help him find out what his egg means! I suppose you've been putting your heads together during those cozy little library sessions —"
"I'd never help him work out that egg!" says Hermione, looking outraged. "Never. How could you say something like that — I want Harry to win the tournament, Harry knows that, don't you, Harry?"
"You've got a funny way of showing it," sneers Ron.
"This whole tournament's supposed to be about getting to know foreign wizards and making friends with them!" says Hermione hotly.
"No it isn't!" shouts Ron. "It's about winning!" People are starting to stare at them.
"Ron," says Harry quietly, "I haven't got a problem with Hermione coming with Krum —"
But Ron ignored Harry too.
"I don't have a problem with it either. We both know that you'd betray Harry before Hermione would." I snarl. Ron glares at me murderously for brining up earlier this term. He then ignores me as well.
"Why don't you go and find Vicky, he'll be wondering where you are," says Ron.
"Don't call him Vicky!" Hermione jumps to her feet and storms off across the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd. Ron watches her go with a mixture of anger and satisfaction on his face.
"Are you going to ask me to dance at all?" Parvati asks him.
"No," says Ron, still glaring after Hermione.
"Fine," snaps Parvati, and she gets up and goes to join Padma and the Beauxbatons boy, who conjures up one of his friends to join them so fast that I could swear he has zoomed him there by a Summoning Charm.
"Vare is Herm-own-ninny?" says a voice. Krum has just arrived at our table clutching two butterbeers.
"No idea," says Ron mulishly, looking up at him. "Lost her, have you?"
Krum is looking surly again.
"Vell, if you see her, tell her I haff drinks," he says, and he slouches off. I swing my angry gaze over to Ron.
"You really are a bloody idiot aren't you? You can't stop thinking about yourself for one minute and let her have some happiness. This is the first time in a very long time that I've seen my best friend truly happy and you have to go and ruin it for her! So you better get your head out of your arse Ronald Weasley." I growl, getting up and heading for the exit of the Great Hall. It's getting too hot and crowded in this room again, and I'm tired of the company that I'm keeping.
I make my way outside into the courtyard, which has been transformed into the garden decked with all the fairy lights. I wander over to an empty bench and it is far enough away from the other students that I'm alone. Letting out a breath of air, I shake my head dejectedly. I hate balls, and this is one of the main reasons why.
I look up at the stars that I can see. Crunching and shuffling starts up to my right, and I look over to see who is coming. A second later a blond head pops out of the darkness. "Ariana?" I ask hesitantly. The girl stiffens for a second before coming over to my bench.
"What are you doing out here? Don't you have a date to get back to? I'm sure he's wondering where you are?" She says refusing to look at me but at a bush filled with fairies in front of us.
"Oh Harry? No, he'll be fine. Besides he has Ron to keep him company anyway. Not that Ron deserves to have anyone be nice to him at the moment." I mutter scuffing my dress shoes on the ground. Ariana whips around to give me a weird look.
"Don't you want to be with your date though?" She asks cautiously as she approaches me.
"Why do you keep calling this a date? I only agreed to go with Harry because Cho wouldn't go with him. Personally I would have been perfectly happy going alone or by myself. You know me Ariana, I hate these things." I say with a crooked grin.
"Oh. Well that's good. I-I mean not good— but not bad either. I— you know what forget I said anything. My head isn't with me. Too much butterbeer." Ariana tells me sitting down beside me. I snort and shake my head at her.
"I never thought that I'd see the day where Ariana Dumbledore would be having problems with her words. All it took was a ball, and schoolmates that we don't really know or like." I declare. She gives me a shove, and I nudge her back.
"So I take it that this didn't turn out to be the greatest of nights." She says after a few minutes.
"You could say that again. I always knew that things would get more complicated when we grew older but I didn't expect it to tear apart me friends like this. I just— I just don't understand why everyone is suddenly going all crazy about finding someone to be with. We're still young." I say trailing off. I glance over at Ariana to find her shaking with suppressed laughter.
"What's so funny?" I demand. She lets a chuckle go, and shakes her head at me.
"You are. Don't worry though Pendragon, you'll get there eventually." She tells me squeezing my hand quickly before getting up to leave.
"How do you know?" I call after her. She pauses by one of the fairies and glances back at me.
"I just do. By the way Jamie, you look beautiful tonight." She says before disappearing back again. After a few minutes of staring out at nothing again, I get up and make my way back up to Gryffindor Tower. I'm tired of being dressed up, and I'm ready to sleep in until maybe next month.
I come across the drunken portrait of the Fat Lady and smile. "Fairy Lights." I say with an unintelligible mumble she swings open, and I climb in only coming to a stop beside Harry as we both watch with wide eyes at the scene unfolding in front of us.
Ron and Hermione are having a blazing row. Standing ten feet apart, they are bellowing at each other, each scarlet in the face.
"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?" yells Hermione; her hair is coming down out of its elegant bun now, and her face is screwed up in anger.
"Oh yeah?" Ron yells back. "What's that?"
"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" She cries. Ron mouths soundlessly like a goldfish out of water as Hermione turns on her heel and storms up the girls' staircase to bed. Ron turns to look at Harry and me.
"I don't even know what to say anymore." I tell him, and bid both boys goodnight and head up the stairs after Hermione. That night I lay beside her on her bed as she switches from angry scathing rants about Ron, to tears and runny noses for she really wanted tonight to go perfectly.
There was really only one thing that I could do. Hold her and make sure that she knew that she wasn't alone. It wasn't like I knew how to handle these situations any better. At least we had made it through the famed Yule Ball. Thank Merlin these things aren't annual.