A/N: This chapter is a little longer than the rest. Almost as long as WTDTYAD chapters, which I tried to avoid but then it was either this or split the chapter in two. I figured once wouldn't hurt.

It is said that desperate people in desperate situation will likely take desperate decisions. It is also said that there are no desperate situations, only desperate people.

"Neville, will you be my date for the Yule Ball?" Hermione hurriedly asked a very stunned Neville Longbottom without once stumbling over her words.

Neville stepped back, looking very awkward and flustered with himself. "I, er, really?" he squeaked, then blushed furiously. "I– I don't know what to say, Hermione, I'm sorry– you're really nice and I'm really flattered, honestly, it's just– well, you see, the thing is–"

"Oh, never mind, just walk away!" she cried, sinking into the sofa behind her and burying her face in her hands.

He hesitated, now truly looking as sorry as he claimed. He sat next to her on the sofa. "I'm really sorry, Hermione," he said earnestly. "It's nothing against you, promise! You were actually my first choice, it's just…" he swallowed. "…I-I just really don't want to get on Krum's bad side."

"Oh for goodness' sake!"

"Ron's said he's got fangs!"

Ginny rolled her eyes at that. "And you actually believed him?"

"Even if he didn't–"

"He doesn't!" Hermione said, glaring at the petrified, fumbling boy. "Ron's got nothing to show for it and I for one can testify that he's got perfectly normal human teeth."

"Me too," Ginny chimed in. "Saw them myself. He takes really good care of them, too. I could almost see my reflection in them."

"Still, Hermione, you've got to admit that he can be quite scary sometimes… most of the time." He sighed. "And he comes from Durmstrang, too. He can probably fire a bunch of banned nonverbal curses and I can barely do basic Transfiguration." He then blushed. His tone dropped to a more timid note. "Also, I… I was going to ask Ginny."

Ginny blinked, shocked. "You were?"

He nodded. "Yea. I mean, if no one's asked you already."

Ginny lowered her copy of Witch Weekly, torn between accepting Neville's invitation or to continue waiting for Harry to ask her. If she refuses Neville now she'd risk going home for the holidays, and Hermione knew that Ginny wanted to go to the ball as badly as she did however much she denied it and tried to conceal it, but Harry was as oblivious as always and Ginny was running out of time. She's still a third year. She's wouldn't be permitted to attend the ball without an invitation from an older student.

She smiled, having finally reached a decision. "Alright, Neville. You've got yourself a date."

"Really?" he asked, shocked that someone actually said yes to him. "I– thanks! I'm going to write to Gran, then, tell her to owl me my dress robes and all." He then turned to Hermione with the same apologetic look from before. "Listen, I–"

She waved off his apologies, giving him her best encouraging smile. "That's alright, Neville, I understand. I'm happy for you two."

He beamed at her. Hermione felt sorry for him but at the same time very happy that Ginny accepted his invitation, even if it was straight after her own got rejected. She knew Neville meant well and that he and Ginny would have a great time together.

"So," began Ginny once Neville left, taking his vacated place next to Hermione, "that's Neville, Seamus, Dean, Collin Creevey…"

Hermione glared at her friend as she continued counting down the names of all the boys that rejected her. They weren't exactly horrible, and they didn't laugh at her as she's always expected them to, but she was still humiliated and she wanted nothing more than crawl into a hole and die, but the Yule Ball was approaching fast and she desperately needed to find a date before she runs into Viktor again.

Sometimes she thinks that she should've just swallowed her pride and accepted Parvati's invitation to London. It would've given her plenty of time to come up with a good plan.

"I'm just saying," said Ginny, flipping to a page in Witch Weekly that featured a close up of a surly looking Viktor, "he's still available last I checked."

Hermione responded by snatching the magazine from Ginny's hands and tossing it into the coffee table.

"You know I really don't get what the big deal is," said Ginny, frowning when Hermione stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest and turned towards the fire. "It's just a ball. So what if you're going with Krum? Half the school is expecting it anyway."

"You know exactly why I can't go with him, Ginny," she said, watching the flames dance and break the blackened logs beneath them. "He's one of the champions. Everyone will be there, and the press, it… it says too much, and as you said it's already bad enough that half the school expects it."

"I didn't say it's bad," said Ginny, "I just don't see why you should care about what everyone thinks of you and Krum. You do want to go to the ball, don't you?"

Hermione blushed. "Well, yes, but only because–!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Then just go with him, Hermione! Dance with him for a bit, make him happy, and then come find me and Neville. We'll make sure he doesn't get a moment alone with you."

"But that's not fair for you! You should be able to have fun, too."

Ginny smiled. "What makes you think I wouldn't? Neville and I are going as friends anyway, so having one more friend joining our little party really wouldn't put a damper on our night."

Hermione bit her lip, conflicted still. "I don't know, Ginny."

"Will you at least think about it?"

She smiled. "I- alright, I'll sleep on it. Thank you, Ginny."

Ron found her around suppertime alone in the common room gazing thoughtfully into the fire. Ginny had given up trying to persuade her to eat sometime ago.

"Where's Harry?" she asked, taking note of their mutual friend's absence. Since the Yule Ball's announcement she hasn't seen her two friends apart, adamant as they were to find dates for one another.

"Went to ask Cho for the ball," he said. "Said he'll try, anyway."

"I see." she turned back to the fire. "Well, Ginny's got a date with Neville."

It took him a while to ask. "And you?"

She sighed, then rose to her feet to face him with both her hands resting on her hips. "I'm not going with anyone, Ronald, and I've got you to thank for, don't I?"

He frowned, confused with her thinly veiled aggression. "What did I do?"

"Fangs, Ron?"

"I know what I saw," he said defensively. "Really, Hermione, how long have you known him to take his word over mine?"

"It's not about taking anyone's word. I believe what I see, Ron, and I didn't see fangs!"

"Well obviously he's not going to show you! He must've hidden them, or… or…" his face scrunched up in thought then blanched in fear. Hermione braced herself. "Hermione, he's got you under a spell."

"I don't even want to know how you came up with that."

"You've seen how it is with Veela from the World Cup!" He hissed, gripping her shoulders in a panic. "What about Fleur? What if he's got something similar but stronger because he's a male Veela, and what if he's using it on you right now?"

"First of all, a Veela's gender doesn't determine the strength of its allure," she said bitingly, shrugging his hands off her shoulders. "Second, as it is with being under the influence of a Love Potion, you'd know immediately if I were being seduced by a Veela." Lord knows how many times she had to grit her teeth at the sight of him ignoring her to stare dreamily after a passing Fleur. "Third, me not having a date for the ball has got nothing to do with Viktor and his hypothetical Veela magic, but with you spreading those ridiculous stories about Viktor that got everyone thinking he'd rip their throats in their sleep should they look my way."

"And how do you know it's not true, hmm?"

"Because, Ronald, I wouldn't be on the verge of begging the next boy to take me to the ball if I were, as you put it, under his influence."

"O–oh, right," he mumbled, averting his eyes in embarrassment. "I didn't think of that."

She turned back to the fire with a huff, grabbing the lightest log she could carry from the side to add to the dying flames. Ron was fidgeting behind her. He appeared to be struggling with himself.

Finally he found his courage. He stood up straight. "We– we should go together, then."

In her shock she dropped the log into the flames, sending sparks flying into the air. She slowly turned to face him again, grateful for the light of the fire behind her casting a shadow over her pink cheeks. "Did… did you just ask me to be your date for the ball?"

He averted his eyes and nervously scratched the back of his neck. "Yes. I– I mean, as friends, obviously! Just friends. It'd be silly if we go as… you know." He cleared his throat, his blush deepening. "Right. Anyway, you shouldn't have to go with Krum, and I sort of owe you one–"

"Sort of, Ronald?"

He ignored that. "He'll leave you alone when he sees that you're with someone else– a friend! You wouldn't have to deal with him for a while. It might even help break the spell, you know?"

She tucked a loose curl behind her ear, looking shyly up at him. Never in her wildest dreams did she anticipate this. She had dreamt of many different scenarios, some simple and sweet and others outrageously unrealistic, but she never once thought that he might someday see her in the same light. Who would've known that something good would come out of this whole Veela mess?

She took a deep breath. "Yes. Alright. I accept."

She fought hard to repress the girlish giggle bubbling in her chest. She all but failed to resist the small smile when she saw his.

The next day she went straight to the library after her morning classes. She had the books she purchased for Viktor cradled in her arms. The night before she somehow managed to remember them through her blissful haze and she thought they'd give her an excuse to seek Viktor and to talk to him about the ball. She was no longer obligated to go with him, but he was still a champion and he was expected to attend with a date. The least she could do is give him a heads-up.

He was in a surprisingly good mood when she found him. He was even helping Madam Pince sort out the returned books.

"Hermione!" he exclaimed when he saw her, grinning broadly and collecting her in his arms. "Good morning, my beautiful little luck charm! I missed you."

He bent to kiss her cheek. She yelped and pushed away from him, flushing crimson and quickly shoving the wrapped books at his chest. "H-here! I've got your books."

"Books?" he echoed. He set the package on the nearest table and tore the wrapping. He examined his three selections with a frown. "I did not buy these."

"Y-yes, well, I saw you looking at them and I thought I might as well, since I was the one that forced you out of the shop." She confessed, averting her eyes to one of the books laid on the table.

"How much did you pay for them?"

"That's alright, Viktor, they're on me," she said without thinking, then silently chided herself when she heard him gasp. "Consider it an early Christmas present, is what I meant!" she quickly added, only instead of mending the situation she just dug herself a deeper hole.

She looked up at him and her guilt nearly tore her in two. He looked so surprised and so happy that she almost ran up to the common room to cancel her date with Ron. It was like watching a little boy unwrap a toy he's always wanted that she accidentally bought and now must return.

"No one is buying me anything before," he said reverently, taking both her hands in his. "Thank you, Hermione."

He got down on one knee before she could respond or attempt to slip her hands free, immediately sending her brain into a full-blown panic. This is definitely not how she imagined getting proposed to. In the middle of a library? Perhaps. When she's only halfway through her education and by a person she barely knows? Most definitely not, Veela killer heartbreak be damned!

"Are you out of your mind?!" she shrieked, attempting to yank him back on his feet. "You can't, Viktor! You- you're too young, I'm- I'm only fifteen!"

He continued staring adoringly up at her, completely unfazed by her hissing commands and hysteric gestures. She was about to beg him to get back up on his feet, cry even if that's all it takes, but then he silenced her by pressing his lips to her knuckles. "Please. Hermione, I am begging you. Let me buy you a gift. Is only fair, no? You buy me something nice, you make me happy, so now I must make you happy by buying you something nice but you don't let me. So now I will beg until you say Yes."

She stifled a sigh of relief. So he was pleading his case, a little too literally for her taste, but pleading and not proposing. That's one less thing to worry about. For now.

He really is like a lead of a soap opera, she thought with amusement, thinking back on all the sappy specials her aunts loved to watch on repeat.

"You can start by getting back up on your feet," she said.

He obeyed with a grin. "What else? I want to buy you something. I will buy you everything! I will buy you this library–"

"There's no need for that!" she interjected. "I don't think you can, anyway, but please don't try to."

He scoffed, looking a little offended. "Of course I can. I can do anything! I will do anything for you. I will buy this school for you, even if–"

"There's one thing you can do that will definitely make me happy," she said, stepping around him to return the last returned books to their rightful places on the shelves behind him.

"What?" he asked eagerly, hurrying after her. "Tell me. I will do it now!"

She turned to him with a smile. "Please try not to get bankrupt by the end of the year. Do that for me and I will be the happiest girl in the world."

"My finances are good," he scoffed. "You are not telling me what you want."

"Yes, I am! I honestly care about your finances. I never want you to empty your vaults for me. In fact I'm perfectly happy with I've got."

He stared at her for a moment, then sighed. "Ok, I will not buy you libraries. I will buy you something else, something nice and small to wear for ball. Will you accept it?"

She bristled at that. Did he simply assume that she'd just go with him without first getting an invitation? Never mind that, it doesn't matter now! She chided herself. It's now or never, Hermione. He deserves to know.

"Viktor, about the ball," she started, looking nervously up at him and trying not to gnaw on her bottom lip just yet. "I… I was… are you taking anyone?"

He looked at her as if she just grew a second head. "You are ok, Hermione?"

She flushed under his scrutinising gaze. "Y-yes, perfectly well! I'm just curious. I heard that you've turned down all invitations and I was wondering if you were going at all." Technically it wasn't a lie. No one told her but she did hear girls crying about him and cursing her when they thought she was out of hearing range.

He chuckled. "I have to go, Hermione, I am a champion. And I am saying No to other girls because I am taking you, silly girl."

Here we go….

"Here's the thing, Viktor." She took a deep breath, steadying her guilt against his glowingly happy face that will shatter the moment she utters the words. "I'm going with someone else."

He looked like he had just been stabbed in the gut. He leaned back against the shelves, shocked and pained beyond comprehension. "Someone else? Who?"

"Viktor, I'm so sorry, he– he asked me first," she said, reaching out for him on reflex but then quickly withdrawing her hands. "I– I thought you'd say Yes to one of the girls that asked you."

"What, other girls? Hermione, I asked you first!" he said, pushing himself off the shelves and standing straight again, the fight in him reignited. "I asked you before all boys!"

"No you didn't!" she said hotly. "I haven't seen you since McGonagall's announcement."

"I asked before, and you said Yes!" he insisted. "Before announcement, after the first task. I remember. You come to my bed and I asked you and you said Yes. We talked about dress robes, but I am not remembering what color you said you wanted." He then frowned, muttering more to himself than to her: "I think there was also a bunny wearing purple robes called Poopy, but maybe I was dreaming that."

"Viktor, we never talked about dress robes! All I did that day was–" she froze. She suddenly remembered him saying something to her in his native tongue and then later muttering in his sleep about dress robes. "Oh. I understand now."

He smiled triumphantly. "Good. Now go tell other boy you are not going with him."

"I will do no such thing!" she snapped. "And you're right about one thing. You did ask me, but I never said Yes. Rather, I didn't know that you asked me. You were completely out of it by the time I got to you. You made no sense whatsoever! You kept switching from English to Bulgarian and I think you might've even said a few things in Swedish."

"But… I… we talked…" he fumbled with himself, running his fingers through his hair and thinking and groping hopelessly for anything that could turn the situation around.

He looked afraid but unwilling to accept the fact that Hermione wasn't going with him and once again the sight of his struggle made her reconsider her decision. She was beginning to regret ignoring Ginny's offer, and was starting to think that she may have put too much value on a school dance. So what if the world was watching? They talk about her all they want as it is. And Viktor is harmless, albeit persistent and infuriating with his devotion. He's never once stepped out of line.

She opened her mouth, ready to declare that she's had a change of heart, but then he stopped and narrowed his eyes. The anxiety and hurt on his face was replaced by something so furiously sinister that it made Hermione instantly swallow her words and take a step back.

"Weasley," he growled, the sound coming out more animalistic than normal. Her eyes flickered to the row of gritted teeth behind his parted lips. Still human.

"This has nothing to do with Ron!" she lied, spreading her arms out in front of him to block his path. "What made you even think that?"

"Bigger Weasley," he spat. "Dragon Keeper. He is making me take potion when I told him I don't need it and now another boy is taking you to the ball because I thought I asked you first. He cost me my mate. He will pay with his blood!"

He marched past her towards the exit, leaving her momentarily stunned and frozen. He wouldn't actually…?

She hurried after him, struggling to keep up with his long strides. "Wait, Viktor, what do you mean by that? How is he going to pay by blood?"

"I am saying I will beat him so hard he will bleed," he explained, staring ahead with a determined look set firmly in his black eyes.

"No you won't!" she grabbed his arm and somehow managed to stop him. "How could you say such things? Charlie was only trying to help! You were hurt, Viktor, and he helped you get better. Is this how you plan on repaying him, by beating him to a bloody pulp?"

He paused, taking in her words. He seemed to be struggling with his guilt and rage. Finally he said: "ok, you are right. I will not beat him. I will beat his brothers."

"They've got nothing to do with this, either! I won't let you harm them."

"Ok, fine!" He threw his hands up in frustration. "Only because you are asking me. I only care about you. Everyone else? They are annoying." He then beamed, having just come up with an idea. "I will write Weasley a letter."

Hermione frowned. "A letter?"

He nodded, striding towards the closest empty desk and summoning his pick from the library's stock of parchment rolls and quills. Hermione stopped herself just as she was about to chastise him for it. "Yes. It will be very angry and it will have many naughty words. I don't know in English so I will write in Bulgarian and confuse him."

She quickly snatched the parchment from under his quill just as he finished writing his opening in English. Dear Weasley, I hate you.

"Hey, give it back!" he grabbed the paper and attempted to yank it free from her grasp but she tightened her hold and snatched it back. "Hermione, I am not finished."

"And you won't be, ever," she said, tearing the short letter in two. "He helped heal you, Viktor, and you're being unfair and awfully rude towards him."

"I don't need his help–"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, yes, because you can supposedly do anything! The point is you're being very rude and ungrateful and he of all people doesn't deserve it. It's not his fault you didn't think of confirming anything with me afterwards, and it's certainly not the end of the world if we don't go together." He huffed in response and folded his arms over his chest. He scowled at the table. She glared at him. "Oh come on now, it's just a stupid dance!"

"Is important to me," he muttered under his breath.

She faltered, her guilt overriding her own anger and frustration in an instant. Had she gone too far? She had meant to break it gently to him, or as gently as she could, and had planned on keeping her cool no matter what or how he reacts.

"Right," she said after an awkward silence. "W-well, I better get going."

He didn't respond or ask why she was leaving or where she was going. He continued sulking in silence, looking gloomier than ever. She was halfway towards the exit when her overwhelming guilt finally produced tears in her eyes. She stopped to wipe them off before turning back towards him. He regarded her with mild curiosity as she stood next to him, no doubt looking as utterly lost and nervous as she felt.

She steeled her nerves. It's just a hug, she reminded herself. You've hugged Harry and Ron many times before. This is nothing different. Just another purely platonic, friendly hug. She managed to get her arm to hover over his shoulders before her resolve crumbled. What if he misunderstands? The arm hanging awkwardly over his shoulders was increasing his confusion. Too late to turn back now, she decided, then took a deep breath and allowed her arm to drop limply over his shoulders.

He raised a brow. She prayed for death. This has got to be the most awkward situation I've ever been in.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked.

"I am obviously trying to comfort you," she huffed, then stopped. Gently, she reminded herself. "Er… is it working?"

He thought about it. "I am confused."

"Yes, I figured you'd be," she said with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm usually very good at this."

"What is this you are trying to do?"

She averted her eyes, fighting down a blush. "W-well, I'm trying to hug you. That's usually how friends comfort each other when they're upset." She was surprised to hear him chuckle. "What?"

"You are bad at this," he said with a hint of a twinkle in his eyes.

She glared at him. "I'm doing the best I can."

"Here, I teach you."

"Teach–" she yelped when he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap in one quick motion, causing her to throw her arms around his neck for support. "Viktor, what–" she blushed when she felt him burying his face in the crook of her neck and inhale deeply. She placed her hands on his shoulders and attempted to push herself back but his arms were like steel around her. "Now wait just one–"

"Five minutes," he whined.

She narrowed her eyes. "One."

"Four."

"One."

"Three and a half."

"One."

"Ok, just three."

"One minute, Viktor."

He looked up at her, his eyes wide and pleading. "One and a half?"

She bit her lip. "Oh… alright. Just this once!"

He happily resumed his position. She gave him an extra minute to ease her guilt some more. She cleared her throat and detached herself from his loosening grip when she found that her fingers had started running through his hair out of their own accord.

"I really have to go now," she said, smoothing down her skirt in an attempt to avoid his eyes. "Are you feeling any better?"

He gave her a small smile. "Little bit, yes."

"Little?"

He shrugged. "I will be very happy if you give me five minutes, but you only give me two, so I am only a little better." He grinned. "But if you are changing your mind now…"

She smiled despite her best efforts. "You'll live."

By suppertime Viktor was sulking again. Malfoy had managed find himself a seat next to him. He was babbling nonstop about who knows what but the champion didn't seem to be paying him any attention. He was nodding along but his eyes were glued to his full plate and the pattern his spoon was drawing. The only thing he seemed to be consuming was the content of his goblet. Hermione liked to think that it's nothing alcoholic.

"Luna told me he tried asking the Grey Lady," said Ginny, following her line of view.

"Ghost of Ravenclaw?" she asked, tearing her eyes from Viktor to look incredulously at her friend. "Surely he'd have no problem finding a date in anyone else?" Anyone living.

She shrugged.

"He's just trying to guilt you into going with him," grumbled Ron to Hermione, stabbing a piece of roasted potato a little harder than necessary. "I'm telling you, Hermione, he's mental."

"And did she say Yes, the Grey Lady?" asked Harry before Hermione could form a response, shocked yet slightly impressed.

Ginny snorted. "She yelled at him."

"Wonderful," grumbled Hermione under her breath, dropping her fork into her plate and rising to her feet.

"Where are you going?" asked Ron, about to follow her himself.

"To talk to Fleur for a bit. I won't be long."

Ron sat back down without another word of protest, his face flushed red. Hermione frowned, then shook her head and proceeded on her way to the Ravenclaw table. Fleur was sitting at her usual place at the edge of the table talking animatedly in French to one of her classmates, a rather beautiful strawberry blonde girl with blue eyes and dimples. Hermione cleared her throat to get the Veela's attention, suddenly nervous and very much conscious of her plain looks compared to the beauties of Beauxbatons.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't see you there!" Fleur exclaimed, quickly scooting over to give Hermione room to sit. "I did not know your houses are allowed to mix during meal times."

"Thanks," she muttered, sliding into place next to her, "and they usually don't. I was just wondering if I could talk to you for a moment."

"But of course!" she turned to face her fully with a friendly pearly smile already drawn on her face.

Hermione blinked, then shook her head. She wasn't expecting Fleur to be so… well, friendly. "Right. Thank you. You see, I have a few questions about my… condition."

Fleur's neatly plucked blonde eyebrows were drawn together. "Condition?" Hermione nodded towards Viktor. Recognition flashed in Fleur's eyes. "Ah, of course, of course! I understand, but I told you before. I don't know many things. I'm not sure if I can help you anymore than I already tried."

"Yes, and I'm very grateful for the information you provided." However useless it proved to be. "I just… you once mentioned that your family from your maternal grandmother's side are all Veela." She nodded in affirmation. "I was just wondering if I could perhaps write to your grandmother sometime? With her permission, of course!" she quickly added.

Fleur was surprisingly fine with it. A little taken aback, but otherwise fine with the request. "Huh. I never thought of asking Mèmè." She then smiled. "I will write to her tonight."

Hermione smiled back gratefully. "Thank you, Fleur." She glanced at Fleur's friend who has been silently watching the exchange the entire time. Hermione gave her a smile and extended her hand. "Hermione Granger."

She smiled and shook Hermione's hand. "Claudette Lafontaine."

Her voice resembled the sound emitted by tiny bells, sweet to one's ears and not at all loud and obnoxious. For some reason that made the following words difficult to utter: "I don't mean to be so intrusive, but have you got a date for the Yule Ball?"

She giggled. "Why, have you found me a boy that doesn't ask and then run?"

Fleur rolled her eyes at that. Hermione choose to ignore it. "Well, I know Viktor doesn't have a date."

Her giggles were cut short. She exchanged a shocked, wide-eyed look with Fleur. "Viktor Krum?"

Hermione nodded, the odd sinking feeling in her stomach growing by the second. "Have you tried asking him?"

Claudette glanced over her shoulders at the sulking athlete at the table behind them then turned back to Hermione with an even more astonished look on her angelic face. "You don't mind?"

She snorted. "Not at all. I wouldn't be asking you if I did."

"But I thought–" again she glanced back at Viktor. "–I thought you two would go together."

"I'm going with a friend."

She looked uncertain and slightly suspicious. Hermione gave her the best encouraging smile she could muster. "It's alright, I promise."

"I… I guess I should try," she said. "But you are sure it's ok?"

No. "Positive."

Finally she gave her a small laugh. "Well, if you insist!"

Claudette opened the clasp of her purse to retrieve a small compact mirror and lipstick. The color was a beautiful vibrant red that worked so well with her skin tone and hair. Once again Hermione felt conscious of her own looks in comparison, and how she can never even attempt to look remotely decent in such a daring colour.

Hermione returned to her seat next to Ginny just as Claudette sauntered towards Viktor. He didn't look up from his plate even as she sat next to him, but that didn't seem to deter her. She said what Hermione assumed to be her invitation and Viktor responded by stubbornly giving her his back. For a tiny, confusing moment Hermione felt relieved, but then Claudette said something that made Viktor smile ever so slightly. She gave Hermione a wide grin and a thumbs up when she caught her staring at them.

For the rest of the hour Hermione picked at her food. She was grateful that her friends were too distracted to pay her much attention, but at the same time she wanted at least Ginny to notice. Her heart was heavy all of a sudden and she wanted to know why but at the same time she was afraid. She looked at Ron talking to Dean with a mouth full of pudding. Could it be that he was right about Viktor? Was it possible that she was under some kind of a spell? No, she decided. He can't be. If she was under any kind of spell she'd be experiencing blind rage, or maybe even the uncontrollable urge to harm Claudette. She wouldn't be sad.

A/N: Hi. Please don't hate me. There is still a ball to cover!