Title: Kiss.
Author: AspergianStoryteller.
Genre: Supernatural/General.
Summary: When a dementor tried to Kiss Harry Potter, it got more than it bargained for. And Harry did not walk away unaffected. Don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter 28: December.
Harry took pleasure in telling her goodbye savagely, then filled Ron in on what he and Hermione had been up to between then and Halloween.
During the party in Gryffindor Tower that night, Harry noticed a lot of money changing hands. When he asked Ron about it, his friend told him that a lot of students had been making bets on the outcomes of the first task.
'And not all of the wagers were made on money,' he added. 'Some guys, especially in our house- what? You didn't think the others wouldn't be betting too?- traded dares.'
'Oh?'
Ron grinned. 'Oh yeah. I can't wait for class tomorrow,' he glanced at the grandfather clock in the common room. For the occasion, it was half smothered in red and gold drapes. 'Class today, really.' It was past midnight.
The next morning at Potions, in the dungeons today, Harry noticed that Seamus looked rather nervous.
'Are you alright?' he asked him from the desk behind.
Seamus nodded shakily.
'Seamus lost a bet,' Ron explained as quietly as possible. 'He bet you'd end up in the Hospital Wing overnight.'
'Oh, nice,' Harry muttered sarcastically, putting his stationary on the desk.
'Yeah, but you do end up in there a lot, admittedly.'
'Well, true,' Harry sighed. He lowered his voice further- Snape came back out from his office. 'What's his dare?'
'Watch.'
Seamus got up from his desk and walked, very pale, to the front of the class. It said something for his courage that he barely trembled.
'Professor,' he began.
Snape turned and gazed down condescendingly at the Gryffindor that had dared approach him during class.
The other Gryffindor boys watched in trepidation. Neville looked ready to faint.
'Sir, are the rumours true?'
'Rumours?' Snape raised an eyebrow. 'What nonsense are you babbling, boy? Make sense or return to your-'
'Is it true that you're a closet-Gryffindor?' Seamus blurted out.
Harry's jaw dropped. Neville squeaked in horror. Even the Slytherins were shocked.
'I heard the Sorting Hat-'
Harry could practically see the evil-teacher aura around Snape darken, his eyes widen- then narrow, and a gleam in them flash.
'Mr. Finnigan,' he drawled, voice like silk. 'Outside, now.'
After class, the fourth-years crowded around Seamus to ask what he and Snape had talked about in the corridor.
'Well, first of all, he just stood there, you know? When he looks at you like you've done something awful and lets the silence build up.'
The students nodded sympathetically.
'Then he asked me, menacingly, what possessed me to say something so ridiculous,' Seamus was getting into his tale now, happy to enthral his year mates as they walked up out of the dungeons. Now that it was over, he felt much braver.
'And then he was spitting out insults and scolding me so hard and fast I couldn't say anything! When he was done, he took thirty points from Gryffindor-'
'Thirty!'
'That's not my fault! So he took points, and gave me detention at the weekend, gutting toads.'
'Ew,' Lavender winced.
'Think yourself lucky,' Blaise Zabini, a Slytherin fourth-year boy had been listening. 'Professor Snape could have done something much worse to you for calling him that.' He wrinkled his nose. 'Why did you do it?'
'Lost a bet.'
'On the tournament?' Draco Malfoy asked. 'Figures Gryffinorks would be either too poor or too reckless to bet with money,' he sneered.
'At least we're not cowards,' Ron sneered right back. 'And you probably lost a bet too. Didn't you say you had a bet with your dad that Harry wouldn't last ten minutes?'
Draco opened his mouth to say something no doubt insulting about Harry, or about Gryffindors in general, but Theodore Nott, another Slytherin who'd been trailing behind reminded them that they had class, not time for a useless fight.
XXX xxx XXX
December soon arrived, brining with it sleet, wind, and amusing occasions with students fulfilling their lost-bet dare obligations. Including an older Gyrffindor asking Moody if he wanted to strip search her for Dark artefacts, Neville (who had been coaxed into betting on Fleur to use veela charm) asking Trelawney if she could foresee when he'd lose his virginity, Fred eating a canary cream during dinner in the great hall (not before placing several on the other House's and teacher's tables) and Justin posing lewdly with a venomous tentacula during Herbiology. One of Harry's favourites was when Vincent Crabbe offered Professor McGonagall a job of catching mice in the Slytherin dorms.
He enjoyed telling Hagrid how McGonagall had gone pink during their next Care of Magical Creatures lesson, in which they were attempting to see if the blast-ended skrewts hibernated or not. The Beauxbatons jumbo-horses' single-malt whisky was stored in troughs nearby, their fumes making the students light-headed.
The skrewts, the ten were that were left alive anyway, were now repulsive creatures nearly six feet long, with thick, grey armour and strong, scuttling legs. It turned out they didn't hibernate and did not enjoy being forced into large, pillow-filled boxes.
Fifteen minutes into the class, the skrewts were making a rampage through squashed pumpkins and burnt crates, while most of the students cowered in Hagrid's cabin, barricaded. Only Harry, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Hermione remained to fight.
Just as it was backing Ron and Harry into the cabin wall, Hagrid sumo-slammed onto it, and Rita Skeeter popped her head over the garden fence to watch the chaos.
She wound up booking Hagrid's time for an interview at the Three Broomsticks later that week. Harry and Hermione had a bad feeling about it.
Later that day, while the boys were looking for Hermione, Hermione found them and dragged them into the kitchens to meet the house-elves. The kitchens were actually right under Great Hall, so food could be sent straight up. They were full of cooking tools and a large brick fireplace at one end.
Harry surprised to find out that Dobby was working there. He was the only elf who wanted wages. Winky was there also, having accompanied Dobby on a job search, though she was much less happy than him. Still distraught over her dismissal by Mr. Crouch, the female elf took no care of her pretty blue clothes or herself, if her obvious intoxication said anything.
The rest of the Hogwarts elves were very happy with their work. Hermione's insistence that they deserved payment and sick leave disturbed them. Harry and Ron thought she had a good idea, but if the elves honestly liked working for nice people (which definitely excluded the Malfoys) there was no problem. Try telling her that, though.
XXX xxx XXX
A bit later that month, on a Thursday, the Gryffindor fourth years were nearly finished with their Transfiguration lesson. They had practised the transforming spell (guinea-fowls to guinea-pigs), written down their homework and were now waiting for the bell to ring.
Before it did, however, Professor McGonagall interrupted Ron and Harry's epic fake wand sword fight (Ron's was a tin parrot, Harry's a rubber haddock) to inform the class that there would be a Yule Ball that Christmas, which called for dancing and dress robes and good-behaviour-or-else.
She held Harry back after class to inform him that being a school champion, he and his dance partner- 'Yes, Potter, your dance partner for the Yule Ball'- would be opening the ball.
Harry was horrified. His guts seemed shrivel up and he went red.
'Dance partners? I don't dance.' No way. Nuh uh.
'Oh yes you do,' said Professor McGonagall. If it were Snape, he'd swear his teacher was enjoying bestowing this task on him. Professor McGonagall was just irritated. Harry found himself remembering his uncle and aunt going to work parties wearing a formal suit-tails and hat and frilly dress respectively.
Harry tried to protest it, but McGonagall's word was final.
After the first task, Harry said he'd rather take on the horntail again than attempt asking someone to the ball. Loads more students than usual put down the names to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas, and the female population seemed much larger than before. They were everywhere, giggling, whispering, laughing, pointing and travelling in packs, which made it so much harder to approach them.
Harry had no idea how to do it. He wanted to ask Cho Chang, but she was always surrounded by her giggly friends.
As Ron had predicted- shame he couldn't use it for Divination- a lot of girls kept coming up to Harry to ask him to the ball. A curly-haired third-year Hufflepuff girl (Harry was so startled he immediately said 'no'), a second-year, a fifth year ('She was a foot taller than me! It'd look so silly... I half-thought she'd clobber me when I refused,'), and Colin Creevy all asked him in one day. Ron laughed at him and Hermione said she thought it was cute.
The situation reminded him of what Hermione had said of Viktor: 'They only like him because he'd famous!' If Cho asked him, would it because he was a school champion? Would he mind?
Still, it was a vast improvement over life before the first task. People were being much less horrid to him and there were fewer "Support Cedric Diggory/Potter Stinks" badges going around. Cedric had probably to the Hufflepuffs to leave him alone.
Harry asked Healer Nathaniel and Vin Orange for advice when he saw them.
'Just ignore the giggling, it's them being nervous, and ask politely,' Nathaniel told him.
'Ask a friend,' said Vin, playing patronus leap-frog. 'No pressure. We had a dance when I was at school and I went with a group of friends. Or maybe you could take that dragon friend of yours?'
Towards the end of term, student concentration in class (except for Transfiguration and Potions. As if Professors McGonagall, Snape (prone to swooping down on them like a vampire bat when their guards were down) and Moody (who would sneak-attack them if they were distracted) would let them slack off) was zilch and rumours about the upcoming ball flew. One rumour Harry thought actually sounded realistic was that apparently Dumbledore had booked the Weird Sisters to perform. They were a famous music group often heard playing on the Wizarding Wireless Network. Harry and Ron had danced to their rock music in their shower cubicles sometimes. Hermione wouldn't admit to doing that herself.
The castle went through an incredible clean up; The decorations were more spectacular and varied than ever. Everlasting icicles hung on stairs and hooting, golden owls perched on the Christmas trees in the Great Hall. The armour suits shone and sung Christmas carols. Peeves took to hiding in them and singing rather rude songs.
One day, very close to ball-time, Harry trudged back into Gryffindor Tower feeling very dispirited after he'd finally gotten the courage to ask Cho to the ball. She had let him down gently, but it didn't make the fact that she was already going with Cedric any easier to bare.
Ron was back too, there he was , sitting in a corner looking quite ashen. Ginny was with him, speaking consolingly. He had been walking past Fleur when her charm, probably on full blast aimed at Cedric, had hit him and he blurted out his request for her to go to the ball with him.
'She didn't answer,' he mumbled. 'She just looked at me like Snape looks into our cauldrons. So I ran for it.'
'She's part-veela,' Harry told him. 'You were right. She must have been using her charm and you got hit with it. Hey, why don't we ask a friend to go? Or go as a group and just hang out?'
'So long as we're not the only ones without a partner,' Ron agreed.
When Hermione came in, Ron asked her to be his partner. She said she was already going with someone, and that he shouldn't be asking her as a last resort. Then she stormed off into the girl's dorms because he wouldn't believe her.
Ginny also had a partner by now: Neville, who'd asked Hermione earlier that day. She was red in the face and sounded disappointed when she left for diner.
'What's with them?' Ron wandered.
'Dunno,' said Harry. 'I think it was something we said. Maybe Ginny wanted to go with someone else?'
'Yeah maybe. Argh, at this rate, we'll be the only guys in our House who haven't got dates!' Ron fretted.
'We could go as friends,' Harry suggested. 'I don't mind if I'm your last resort. At least you won't giggle all the time, and we could just talk about quidditch or something after the opening.' It'd be awkward though.
Ron thought so too. 'Yeah, last resort maybe. No offence mate.'
'None taken.' Actually, there may be no need for a last resort; Harry had just spotted Lavender and Parvati enter the portrait hole.
By the next day, he and Ron each had a date for the Yule Ball.
XXX xxx XXX
Just before Christmas day, a letter back from Sirius came. It congratulated Harry on his success in the first task, warned him to be careful still, told him to keep in touch and agreed that Parsletongue and Dragonese probably were similar in origin. He should ask Charlie Weasley more about it.
After reading, Harry, Ron and Hermione had a mini chess tournament. And after he took them down in a climatic checkmate, they all decided he would almost certainly win that year's school chess tournament. He'd come in fourth the previous year.
On Christmas day, Harry almost fell out of bed when he woke to find Dobby leaning right over him. They established that Harry only needed a prod to be woken up and exchanged presents: a mustard yellow pair of Uncle Vernon's old socks for odd socks.
After the elf left to get started on Christmas dinner, Harry happily unwrapped his other presents, which were a quidditch book, dungbombs, lollies, a Weasley jumper- this year green with a dragon picture, mince-pies, a cookbook, a tissue from the Dursleys (they also remembered the Tongue-ton toffee incident. Hopefully they wouldn't come summer) and a nifty knife for opening locks and undoing knots.
Afterwards, Harry, Ron and Hermione went down for breakfast, then Harry headed to Myrtle's haunt to meet Snape for his detention-turned habit. Snape was being less horrible to Harry in class since their excursions into the Chamber had started, not that he let the other students notice. Every time Harry and his friends went in for Dark magic practise, they were careful to pack their target dummies away and vanish every trace of their presence.
The Potions teacher was also keeping something to himself. Having informed Dumbledore of their morning activities, he'd been subjected to the headmaster's twinkling eyes and beaming smile. How splendid that he and the boy were getting along! Not. It wasn't as though he was going to be nice and buy him a Christmas present. He certainly wouldn't be telling the brat about how the profits selling the basilisk parts were being split. Severus and Dumbledore had worked out a deal they could both agree was fair enough. One third went into his pay, for the work he put into harvesting, and because as an adult, he got adult wage. One third went to Harry for his part in killing it and harvesting, and because he had to get them into the chamber each time. As for getting out, they both brought brooms now. The other third went to the school. No, Severus wasn't going to tell Potter because he was still a teenager prone to idiocy, and Merlin knew what he might spend his share of the money on if he knew it was there.
Severus perched on his broomstick at the bottom of the main pipe leading back up into the school. He glanced at Potter.
'On your broom, Potter. It's time to go.'
The boy didn't answer.
Severus looked where he was looking. Had he seen something? No.
'Boy. Look at me when I am talking to you.'
No answer. Severus frowned. What was Potter playing at? Oh. He was having one of those episodes.
Severus put down his broom and moved to face Potter. The boy's face was blank, as though his thoughts were far away. Feeling curious, and telling himself it was necessary to check on the brat, Severus looked into empty green eyes (oh how they resembled Lily's), pointed his wand (don't think of James) and whispered,
'Legilimens.'
Oh. Oh, those thoughts were far away. There they were, human thoughts. He could see them, hear them, smell them, touch them, taste them faintly, as though he was half conscious or experiencing a movie with the sound down low, seeing though a mist, eating with a cold. What was this distance in the way? Why were the edges of his vision dark and green?
XXX xxx XXX
Afternoon tea had a sense of anticipation and impatience to it. It was because of the ball in a few hours, Harry knew. His fellow champions were brimming with excitement. To fill the time, Cedric told them about his House dance lesson. He'd learnt how to ball dance outside of school and had taught many of his Housemates during lessons as the Yule Ball drew near. Almost all the Hufflepuff girls, his friends, Professor Sprout and many younger students who were going to have their own party in the dorm had had fun twirling around with him.
The other Hogwarts Houses had had their own dance lessons in their common rooms or in classrooms. Being a champion, Harry had no choice but to attend them. They were surprisingly fun though; watching a red-faced Ron waltz with Professor McGonagall, seeing girls trying to figure out if the twin they finished a dance with was the same one they started with, the satisfaction of finally getting steps right and finishing off with a folk dance that involved the whole group. By the end of each lesson, most of the awkwardness was gone and they were all smiling.
It was interesting to hear about the reason and ritual behind some of the dances. Harry remembered one or two from primary school. On one day there'd been a few girls missing, since they'd shared a cold at a sleepover, and Dudley had purposely stepped on Harry's poor toes.
Harry and Cedric had a laugh picturing the Ravenclaw and Slytherin House dance lessons. What had little Professor Flitwick looked like spinning with a taller student? Had Professor Snape had to dance with any little firsties? Or a tall seventh year?
'Cedric,' said Fleur suddenly. 'Let us warm up for later. I don't feel like sitteng around all afternoon.' She got up and looked at Cedric expectantly.
He blinked, thought for moment, then shrugged and stood up.
'Why not? I'm also a bit impatient. Waltz?'
Fleur nodded, and they began a a graceful sweep around the classroom. Harry and Viktor sipped tea and watched. It was rather nice watching Fleur dance. Her silvery-blond hair swished prettily and her movements were eye-catching. Harry pinched himself a few times.
When their dance was over, Cedric noticed the others sitting out and made his way over to them.
'No slacking off you two,' he said, grinning. 'We have to open the open the ball, so we should be the best dancers there are.' He pulled Harry up and meshed their fingers together. 'Do you know the Owl's Flight?'
The Owl's Flight was one of several in a series, including Raven's Flight, Sparrow's Flight, Hawk's Flight, Bat's Flight, Dragon's Flight, Phoenix Flight and Gryffin's Flight. The Owl one involved a lot of spinning and leaning in and out, and other movements that Harry vaguely recalled seeing in Hedwig.
He saw Fleur and Viktor doing the foxtrot. Viktor looked a bit awkward. Harry reckoned the Bulgarian would be better at a Flight dance.
When they paired up, Fleur claimed the lead because she knew Swan Dance better, and because she was taller, she told Harry with a smile. Harry scowled, but he couldn't retain it for long. He felt very clumsy compared to her. The older girl moved like a swan herself, graceful, light and floating. It was sort of soothing, if you ignored the awkwardness. Like the hand on his hip and Fleur's mischievous, sparkling smile.
Harry found he was right about Viktor being better a a Flight dance as they did Hawk's Flight across the floor.
Was there Broomstick Flight, he wondered? Or a Snitch's Flight?
XXX xxx XXX
The distance was likely related to Potter's dementor experience, Severus thought. The boy's medical file mentioned the spaces outs he had, and the notes from the healer suggested the beginnings of out-of-body-travel.
'Good evening, Severus.'
Professor McGonagall, as Deputy Headmistress, stood at the entrance to the Great Hall to open them when dinner started. She was dressed in tidy, red tartan dress-robes with her clan crest on the back and breast, in place of her usual black or dark green, and her hair pins had little gold nubs in the ends under a conical hat wrapped in a wreath.
'Good evening, Minerva.' After years of being colleagues, it still felt strange addressing her by first name. Thankfully he didn't slip any more. 'Nice dress-robes. Red suits you almost as well as green.' Ugh, what a thing to say! He was an adult now, and usually so eloquent but he still had trouble complimenting a woman's outfit! Why was their House rivalry the first thing that came to mind and got blurted out? Perhaps she hadn't noticed that implication.
Minerva raised her eyebrows. Ah, she had noticed.
'Thank you, Severus.' She also knew he meant to compliment her. 'You look nice in black. As usual.'
To his credit, Severus's black dress-robes were not potion stained like his day wear, and cut a little more elegantly. He was even wearing a nice silver pendent and his best boots. He wouldn't have bothered coming to the ball if he wasn't obliged to as a Head of House. He wasn't a bad dancer. Lily and Alice had told him that. It was hard tell if James thought he had any talent since Sirius had jinxed them together. His Slytherins all agreed that he was no klutz on the dance-floor. Being in a hall full of dressed up, emotional teenagers was the problem.
'Hello Minerva, Severus!' Professor Charity Burbage approached them, not ungraceful herself in light blue robes and braided blond hair.
'Isn't it lovely when we have special events like this?' she said happily. 'I do wish we had dances more often.'
'I'm afraid I have to disagree,' Severus said, keeping an eye on the students. There was Diggory and his dance partner. They made a fine couple. 'The students' concentration has been terrible of late. Not something I appreciate in a potions laboratory.'
'Oh, yes, it would be troublesome in there,' Charity agreed. 'But the actual night is something special. I hope you'll save a dance for me.'
Severus blinked in surprise, and refused to look at the smirk he was sure Minerva was wearing.
There was Delacour, enchanting as always, in silvery-grey robes. Her partner was the Ravenclaw quidditch captain, Davies. Not far from them were Weasley (Ronald), in very old-fashioned robes with bits of tattered lace and Potter, wearing green dress-robes. They were accompanied by those Indian twins in bright pink and turquoise.
'Evening Minerva, Charity, Severus,' Filius stepped between taller people towards them. His dress-robes were dark blue, bronze and silver.
'Good evening, Filius.'
'Evening.'
'How are you?'
The Durmstrang champion was standing near Potter, with- Merlin, was that Granger in the periwinkle robes with her hair sleek and tied up? She scrubbed up well.
'I'm very well, Charity,' Filius said pleasantly. 'You look lovely. As do you, Minerva.'
'Thank you, Filius. I like your robes.'
Serverus saw a group of his Slytherins together. Draco Malfoy wore, no doubt expensive, high collared, black velvet robes and boots with a stepped heel. Parkinson was on his arm, wearing frilly, pale pink robes. Crabbe and Goyle, resembling mossy boulders were with them. Not far away were the other Slytherin quidditch players and the other fourth-years. He could see that a few Slytheirns had partners from another house, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff.
At last, the doors to the Great Hall opened, revealing walls covered in frost, ivy and mistletoe. The students began to pour in, and Severus was distracted from his musings for now, his last non-ball-related thoughts being on why the hell did Potter have green inside of him?
XXX xxx XXX
Happy World Autism Awareness Day! 2nd April. Ah, is anyone out of character here? I hope not.