Chapter Sixteen
The Dancing Detective
Sherlock spent the next few days doing homework by himself considering he wasn't fond of chatting about the winter dance with anyone. He was surprised on Thursday morning when Molly Hooper sank into the chair opposite him in the library. It was still dark outside, but the sun was just beginning to peek up over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest.
"Molly, what are you doing out of bed this early?" he asked, flipping through his notes for Transfiguration class.
"Oh, I just couldn't sleep is all," she shrugged, adjusting her grey skirt under her and brushing off her Hufflepuff badge.
"A believable excuse." Sherlock sighed, rubbing his tired eyes which had purple circles under them. Molly looked like she might hurt him if she proceeded farther into their conversation. She yawned and rested her elbows on the table, her head digging into her palms.
"Ever thought of taking extra Herbology lessons in the future, Molly? I heard you're very good." The Hufflepuff considered the remark to be silly and shook her head in disagreement.
"Where'd you hear that?" she questioned, bending over to pull out a quill and some ink from her bag.
"Considering you have two very close friends who take the same class with you, I think I'd know." True, Molly thought, remembering John and Lestrade standing by her side during their morning class together on certain days and sharing tips. She always blew them out of the water, but at least John had a vague idea of what was going on in the greenhouses. After all, his mother was a nurse and he'd studied healing plants before. Molly considered he would be a good doctor one day, helping patients with plants used for medical care.
She didn't understand why she was so interested in the study of plants and how they helped wizards in needs of peril. Although, she was a good teacher when helping Lestrade in Herbology. She was actually very pleased with the way her skills in the subject had progressed.
Molly snapped out of her daze. "Well, to answer your question, I haven't really thought about it yet. I mean, we are only eleven years old, so we have years to go."
"My brother Mycroft already knows what he plans to do once he gets out of school. I assume his dream will come true with the marks he has in his classes. He wants to be the Minister of Magic one day," Sherlock said, wiping the puzzling expression from Molly's face. "He's still got a year to go though at Hogwarts."
Molly remained deadly quiet, and Sherlock slowly raised his head to stare at her. Ginger hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, tired brown eyes, something is bothering her...
"What's the real reason why you're here, Molly?" he asked in a gentle voice, laying both his arms parallel to the edge of the wooden table. It was unusual for Sherlock Holmes to be having a casual talk. She looked back at him, perplexed. Don't think you can get away with anything Molly Hooper...
She let out a painful sigh yet avoided eye contact. "I wanted to ask you for some help..." Sherlock was shocked by the simple request but listened intently nonetheless. Why she came to him now, he was clueless.
"Which subject?" he asked, before she'd finished her sentence. "Because if it's Defense Against the Dark Arts, honestly you should ask John —"
"No no," she corrected, "not with any school subject." He gave her a cocked eyebrow, signally for her to continue for his confusion. "I need some help with the Patronuses."
Sherlock leaned back in his chair, one of his fingers on his mouth for the look of concentration. Molly gave him a nervous glance and swallowed. He didn't say anything for a considerable amount of time, so she argued why he should help her.
"I just can't seem to get it. I've tried all the memories possible that might be strong enough, but none have worked. John seems to be the only one who truly gets the concept of how to produce a Patronus." Sherlock still didn't say a word.
"Well, don't compliment John for everything," he replied back. "He has some faults and…weaknesses."
"So, will you help me?" Molly lifted her head bravely, forcing herself to look directly into Holmes's eyes. The brown of Molly's eyes looked determined and powerful against the calm and observant of Sherlock's green ones.
With the smallest movement he could manage, Sherlock nodded his head. Satisfied, Molly stood up and swung her bag over her shoulder, the strap running diagonally over her chest. Her footsteps halted at the corner of the bookcase leading to the library's main aisle, and she turned back around to face him again. He looked up on second thought as she wasn't finished and hadn't said a proper goodbye.
"By the way, you're coming to the Quidditch game tomorrow. I don't care what you say." Wow, what a powerful sentence coming from the shy girl. Getting anxious, are we Molly?
She shuffled her feet away from where he sat, leaving him alone in his own world. The urge was too powerful to ignore, so his lip curled into a cheeky grin. There's no way I could skip a match. No, definitely not when John's playing.
John Watson sat in the changing tent located next to the Quidditch pitch after his second game of the season. He unbuttoned his scarlet robes and unhooked the latches on his leg protectors, relieved at how the outcome of this match was 100% better than the first. His fellow teammates had finished changing back into their school robes and headed back up to the common room for a celebration party. He said he was going to follow a little while later.
The school Snitch fluttered around in the tent, its delicate wings making itself fly over his head as he changed. John felt generous and decided to let it roam free before being shut up in the chest for hours in the dark. The outcome of the game wasn't as thrilling or easy as the Gryffindor team had expected. When playing Hufflepuff, the black and yellow brought a tough team to beat. But nevertheless, the lions had defeated the badgers.
Gryffindor had won their second game of the season by thirty points, bringing them to land in the top spot out of the four houses. Depending on the outcome of the next match, Ravenclaw versus Slytherin, it would determine Gryffindor's next opponent.
Out of nowhere, distracting John from his thoughts, something brushed up against his leg. The object wasn't solid nor liquid, and it certainly didn't feel like a gas. The slivery mist glanced his calf, and Watson progressed that it was a Patronus. If it was corporeal, he couldn't tell because the vapor swirled and died quicker than he could observe it.
Standing in the doorway of the tent, leaning against the post with a smug look on his face, was none other than Sherlock Holmes himself.
"That's some Patronus," John remarked, standing up and adjusting the waistband on his school uniform.
"Ah, not really." He replied without enthusiasm and crossed his arms just for the cool appearance. "Still not corporeal yet, but I'm working on it."
"So you have been practicing then," John said, straightening his back in order to pull his Gryffindor sweater over his head. He seemed mildly impressed.
"Well of course. I wouldn't lie to you."
"You will in the future," John assured, patting him on the shoulder and exiting the tent.
Sherlock looked mildly baffled but followed his friend out the door anyway. "No I won't," he tried to convince John.
"Yep."
"Nope."
"Oh, shut up."
Holmes snickered, thinking he had won the war, but they still argued all the way back to the marble staircase in the entrance hall.
"Remember, meet me tomorrow morning in the library?" Sherlock pointed his finger before descending to the lower levels of the castle to make sure John understood.
"Not too early," John chuckled, but gave him a thumbs up anyway. "I'm not fond of rolling out of bed early on a Saturday morning..."
The next morning, John mumbled a few curse words under his breath as the blazing sun poured onto his bed sheets. Figuring it was time to rise and shine, he clambered out of bed and searched for a jumper to throw on in what little darkness there was. He found a nice forest green one and pulled on his favorite pair of jeans, then headed out of the common room to grab some breakfast.
His Astronomy and History of Magic homework was tucked under his arm, and his leather bag held the remaining writing utensils needed. His wand was stuffed in his pants' pocket for safe keeping and just in case anything decided to attack him; though it wouldn't be much use because he only knew a handful of spells, and not very many would hold off an opponent.
A few dozen people were enjoying breakfast in the Great Hall when he arrived, and he sat by his lonesome while skimming the pages of his textbook. The various stars and planets scattered in moving images were quite soporific to John, bit he nonetheless read the information on Venus and where it was located in the solar system.
He finished his paragraph when someone very light in weight sat down on the opposite bench from him. He glanced up to see Mary Morstan's doe‒like face staring at him, and once again he felt his cheeks increasing in temperature.
"Hey John." She always says it in the same way. Not a hint of nervousness or anger or excitement, just the same old normal sweet way of saying hello.
I can tell she's trying to get my attention though..."Hey," the Gryffindor boy replied, taking a bite out of a piece of sausage and giving her a welcoming smile.
"Nice job in the Quidditch match yesterday," she commented, scanning the table for what would be her starting meal. Her big blue eyes told the truth, and he closed the book quietly to focus his concentration on the student he barely knew personality wise.
"Thanks!" he exclaimed, sounding excited and pleased that someone enjoyed watching him play the sport. She looked at him as if she was giving him a hint. Her eyebrow was raised and she batted her eyes at him. However, she gave up and lost interest quickly and returned to her food.
"How's Sherlock?"
"Hmm...?" Watson never expected that to slip out of her mouth anytime they were together.
"Well, I've just noticed you two hang out a lot with each other." The fact that Sherlock and John were best friends didn't seem to bother her at all.
"Oh..." He felt stupid giving that answer, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. "Well, he's been doing great. We've been working on our Patronuses together after lessons, and we've been helping each other out with homework. Just the usual stuff, I guess..."
Mary nodded her head and said, "That's good." When the upset look crossed her face, John told her some positive feedback.
"You're really good at Patronuses you know." She gave John a weak smile. "Even Sherlock said so, and that's saying something." She stopped chewing her food to stare at him, and Watson knew he'd said the right thing.
"Yeah, but you're better though." She was flat out flirting with him.
He heard Mary swallow and he shuffled his books off the table, chuckling and thanking her. Grabbing a piece of toast and winking at Morstan, he turned to go but stopped in his tracks. The nervousness was swept from him as he lengthened his spine and let out a sigh. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure," Mary offered. "Anything at all."
A few minutes later, John gathered up his homework and bid Mary good day. She thanked him for the lovely conversation which resulted in him giving her a small salute goodbye. He sneakily snatched up another piece of toast before heading for the library, and she giggled at his behavior. Then John's mind abruptly switched to Sherlock. He's probably been waiting for a long time. Knowing Sherlock, he's been up since sunrise.
John felt like a weight was lifted off his chest. He'd finally asked Mary what he'd been wanting to for a few weeks now, and he felt more comfortable talking with her now. She was a very sweet eleven‒year‒old; besides the stunning blue eyes, she was a very funny girl and loved to smile at every available opportunity.
And now I have a partner to the winter dance.
John knew the librarian would surely yell at him if he even stepped one toe in the library with food, so he swallowed the last bit of toasted bread and brushed the crumbs off on his jeans. The library wasn't just the normal volume quite, it was deadly quite. There wasn't a peep coming from anyone's mouth, and not even the rustle of pages was heard through the bookshelves. John found this remarkably odd but headed to the back of the shelves in search for his friend.
The curly‒haired Ravenclaw was tucked in the back corner as usual, minding his own business with his nose buried in a book Watson didn't recognize. His black robes were nowhere in sight, and instead he wore a black suit with his blue and bronze tie draped over his shoulders. He didn't stir or flinch when John came to join him until his eyes finished scanning the letters jumbled on the page.
Sherlock marked his spot in his novel and slid the book across the table. He acted as if John had been there the entire time, but addressed the Gryffindor in a typical starter conversation. "Hello, John." The shorter boy responded the same way with swapped names and hastily poured his homework out over the table top. Sherlock grunted as he pulled out his Astronomy homework, not turned on in the slightest at the history of the solar system.
"Shall we?" John asked, looking at the homework like it was dirt.
"Better now than later."
"Sherlock…" There was no answer, just his light breathing and the faint crinkle of paper.
"Sherlock…Sherlock!" The older first year growled and sluggishly opened his eyes. His head was resting on the spine of his textbook and a small drop of drool ran down his cheek. John's face tilted to come in line with his, and Sherlock wiped away the liquid on his face with his blazer sleeve.
"Bored much?" John teased, sitting up again and packing his homework away.
"Can we stop talking about how Mars is the planet of war now?" Sherlock groaned, propping up onto his elbow. "I'm really not interested."
John laughed. "I thought you loved to learn? Well, if you wish. Besides, we've got other things we can talk about."
Sherlock was undoubtedly relieved inside as he carelessly chucked his books back into his bag. His crowded and scientific brain never hooked onto learning knowledge on galaxies and stars, as there were multiple subjects that were far more important to getting a successful job in the near future. He said his next thought out loud, but John wasn't entirely paying attention.
"I only prefer to jam information that matters into my mind rather than rubbish." The eagle lounged back in his chair, crossing one knee over the other with his arms dangling at his sides.
"So…" John leaned forward with his elbows on the table, lightly tapping his wand on the edge. The end sent off tiny green sparks, but John ignored them completely.
"So what?"
"You still debating about going to the winter dance?" The Gryffindor was now drawing circles on the surface, his hand shaking ever so slightly.
Sherlock sighed and folded his hands in his lap. Not the winter dance again… "I haven't given it much thought. Like I said before, John, I don't dance."
"Yes, I'm aware of that, but why not just go for fun? You don't have to dance. You could just stand and watch."
"From the way you're speaking, you must be going." John dipped his head as he was caught, and he dreaded what Holmes would think when he announced who he was going with. He bit his lip and nodded, eyes closed. Sherlock's mouth was open as he tilted his head back, and the words came out as his neck straightened again. "Okay, who are you going with then?"
John shifted his position in the chair and slipped his wand back into his pocket. Hoping Sherlock wouldn't flip out, he said his partner's name out loud. "Mary Morstan."
Surprisingly, Sherlock didn't disapprove of John's choice selection. Sherlock always appreciated the way Mary worked extra hard during their Patronus lessons, and she had nice manners and thanked him after each practice session. In fact, he bowed his head and his neck cracked, informing John his partner was a good choice with a smug smile. "I'm surprised you could claim her this late. I thought at least someone would have asked her by now."
"Same." There was another endless silence before the blond spoke up again. "Please come." John stared at his friend with pleading eyes and leaned inwards. He's not going to let me get out of this one…"I promise, you won't have to dance if you don't want to. Mary even said she has a friend named Sarah Sawyer if you'd like to go with her. Otherwise, just come and watch. Besides, you never know what might happen…"
One end of the Ravenclaw's lips curled up towards the ceiling, and the glossy surfaces of his teeth were mildly visible in the depths of his mouth. When he didn't respond, John asked a question.
"So, is that a yes…?"
"As long as I don't have to watch people dancing like silly human beings or snogging in the middle of the dance floor…" John couldn't help but laugh silently, making his shoulders shake up and down.
"And I think I'll just go alone," Sherlock continued, not wanting to have to deal with a girl for an entire night. "Mycroft is probably going to go just to spy on people."
"Alright. I suppose Sarah will go anyway, but I'll let Mary know later today. And no, you won't have to watch people…doing things." Watson, why are you so awkward? he told himself. "But," John ejected abruptly, pointing his finger in the direction of Sherlock's nose, "you are getting a photograph with me. And maybe one with you, me, Lestrade, Molly, and Mary," he finished, giving his friend the 'don't argue' eyebrow.
Sherlock argued anyway. "I hate taking photos. None of them ever come out well…"
John stood up and swung his bag strap onto his shoulder bone. Smirking, he teased, "Too bad." Before he disappeared down the library hall, Holmes yelled out to him.
"Hey, John...Thanks."
"For what?"
"Helping me." His mouth formed a real smile, and the lion smiled back in a 'you're welcome' gesture.
John shuffled his feet and blushed; he could feel it in his cheeks. Strangely, he waved with the tips of his fingers. "See you later," he assured nervously. The sandy‒haired boy grinned at his brilliance and bravery. After only a few hours into the day, he'd accomplished two tasks.
Two dance invitations complete. All I have to do is get Lestrade to ask Molly. And conjure a Patronus later today.
Lestrade breathed in heavy gasps as he ran along the corridors, knowing he was late for their weekly Patronus lesson. As he sprinted, his fumbling hands attempted to stuff his tie into his bag. He'd dozed off in the Gryffindor common room and lost track of time, bringing his bag with him considering he wasn't going to waste a few precious moments to put it on his four poster bed upstairs.
His feet took him around the corner and he found himself in a deserted corridor. The stone wall to his left was blank, and he concentrated on what he wanted. I need the place where my friends and I practice Patronuses. I need the place where my friends and I practice Patronuses...
Without opening his eyes, he heard a rustle and cracking of iron on stone, and he knew the door had appeared and his pleading thoughts worked. Rushing forward, his muscular fingers gripped the door handle and pushed it open.
Molly's swirling incorporeal Patronus faded and died as she turned to see who had opened the door. Mary was giggling at her instructor's random analogy, and Sherlock's hand was inches from her shoulder, giving her instructions. All four heads craned around to catch Lestrade walking in the door, and he closed it foolishly behind him.
"Sorry," he mumbled, nodding his head to all of them. "I lost track of time."
Sherlock saved him from the lingering, disturbed silence. "Well, glad you could join us, Lestrade! Come practice, we only have twenty minutes left, so hop to it." Greg was eager to jump on it, so he slid his bag across the floor into the corner and went over to join John.
His fellow lion gave Lestrade a small smile as the taller Gryffindor joined him. Watson cleared his mind completely and focused only on his happy memory, trying his best to brush off Mary's prissiness. When it filled him inside so much he couldn't help but show it on the outside before it would burst, he shouted, "Expecto patronum!"
Instead of his Patronus orbiting around the tip of his wand, the sparkles wove in and out of each other, twisting and forming the shape of his protector. John braced both his hands on his wand as his mouth fell agape at the new form of his Patronus.
The sphere of mist expanded to form the torso of an animal, which sprouted four long legs. A long, bushy tail rested just below the kneecaps on its hind legs, and small fluffy hairs were visible on its back. A long snout with a round nose grew out of the forming head while two identical ears poked out of the skull.
The animal's long, sharp claws hit the floor as it pranced around gracefully yet made no noise in the room. It ran in circles around John's standing body, and he couldn't help but see how beautiful the creature was. Greg had stopped to stare as well, like he'd just mistaken the fuzzy animal for a foreign species.
The blue swirls traveled up to form its eyes, and they resembled the same color of John's. The top of the wolf's head came up to his hip height, and it pawed the ground in front of its producer loyally. Before John reached out far enough to stroke the Patronus, it trotted away over to where Sherlock stood.
The white wolf stood on its hind legs, brushing up against Holmes's leg with its tongue out. The dog sprinted around Morstan, stopping in front of her and sitting. Sherlock gazed from the wolf to John, and when the blond caught his friend's eyes, the fluffy, wild beast faded and vanished.
The attention on John was quickly drowned away as Molly let out a shriek from her corner of the room. She jumped back violently as a large silvery swan erupted from the tip of her wand, spreading its great wings and flying around the ceiling lamps.
"Keep your concentration, Molly! That's excellent!" Sherlock complimented her, and she in fact stayed focused on her spell.
John gathered back his powerful thoughts and conjured his corporeal Patronus again. "Expecto patronum!" he said, pointing his wand at Hooper. The wolf bolted out of the end of his wand, running around the Hufflepuff girl and barking silently for the swan to join it. The dark blue spots around the swan's pupils spotted the wolf on the ground, and Molly's Patronus flew to dive.
The five first years stood watching the swan circling the wolf and flying through its legs as it ran around the two spell casters. John had to duck eventually as the swan almost passed straight through his head. Watson's wolf jumped up to try and follow Molly's Patronus into the air, and the swan disappeared as it hit the chandelier. John lost concentration on his thought and his wolf too faded as it skipped in his direction.
"No no, come on. You have to do it now." Sherlock was pushing Lestrade's back in the direction of Molly and her fellow first year Hufflepuff girls, but Greg was trying to restrain against the Ravenclaw. Sherlock pushed the black‒haired boy a few feet away but the Gryffindor spun around to face him. Lestrade tried to protest but the eagle interrupted before he backed out.
"No, listen, if you don't do it now, Molly could already be taken. Go. Go!" Sherlock ordered. Lestrade brushed off the front of his Hogwarts robes and tightened his tie around his neck. He took a deep breath and headed off towards Molly Hooper. The Ravenclaw remained where he was under a tree on the grounds, turning his long black coat collar up against the early December air.
From a long way away, Lestrade was undoubtedly nervous and had a hard time asking her to the dance. Sherlock could tell he tried to back out of the conversation multiple times, but in the end Molly waved goodbye and Lestrade did a little fist pump to himself.
"See, I told you it wasn't that hard, was it?" Sherlock grinned as the Gryffindor came within earshot.
"Oh, shut up," Lestrade argued, but had to show his cheeky grin too. Their feet crunched on the frost covered grass as tiny snowflakes began to fall for the first time since they'd been at Hogwarts. They each had flurries stuck in their hair that melted when they entered the castle's main hall, and they headed up the marble stairs to meet John at their Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson.
Over the next few weeks, snow began to fall more heavily over the grounds, and within a few days of the winter dance there was at least two feet of the white blanket outside. The flakes on the roof of Hogwarts froze and turned to ice, and Hagrid's cabin looked like a frosted cake on the edge of the forest. Students were frantically running around last minute trying to find dance partners, and the corridors had been decorated festively for the holidays. Five girls tried to ask Lestrade to the dance, and he felt miserable having to reject all of their proposals. John also got a request, and so did Molly for the matter. She seemed very popular and people seemed to realize a little too late how pretty she really was in terms of looks.
John walked into the Great Hall talking with Lestrade one morning to find the place entirely renovated with Christmas crafts. Twelve Christmas trees almost as tall as the arching walls stood on both sides of the hall, decorated with glass balls the colors of the Hogwarts houses and candy canes. Tinsel hung down from their branches, and gold stars were on top of each pine tree.
On both sides of the hall where the fireplaces were, wreaths the height of Sherlock hung on nails, and the bewitched ceiling let snowflakes fall down below. Gingerbread cookies were in dishes for snacking on as desserts, and streamers lined the edge of the staff table. John sat down on the Gryffindor table bench and pulled the platter of sausage towards him. Even the ghosts went around the halls singing Christmas carols.
"Well, they certainly love the holidays don't they?" Lestrade beamed, tucking the bottom of his white shirt under his sweater. John looked up at the ceiling to see tiny leaves of mistletoe dangling under the floating candles. Boughs of holly were scattered around the large platters and bowls on the house tables, making the school incredibly jolly.
"Why not?" John asked, taking the first bite of his breakfast. "I love the holidays," he continued after swallowing. "Especially Christmas. It's just so cheerful and you get to spend time with everyone."
"Hello boys!"
"Molly!" The Hufflepuff fell into the seat next to John with a smile on her face. "Did you see the icicles near the grand staircase?" she questioned excitedly.
"No! Blimey, how could we have missed them?" Lestrade seemed baffled and paused for a moment. Then, jumping up without another word, he left the Great Hall to search for them eagerly.
"Mail's here," John pointed out, hearing the familiar swoosh of hundreds of owl wings above all the students. In all sizes and colors, brown, black, white, tan, big, and small, the owls flew over the heads of the kids, dropping letters and newspapers and gifts from family members. John wasn't surprised when nothing dropped down on his plate, but Molly received a copy of the wizarding newspaper The Daily Prophet to read.
"You actually read that garbage?" Sherlock had joined the lot, sinking onto the bench across from them with Greg just over his shoulder, criticizing the paper.
"What do you mean?" Molly flattened out the front article and grabbed her goblet full of milk.
"None of that stuff is true. Ever since Cornelius Fudge became the Minister, most of the news is made up or fake. I say the Ministry should fire him."
"Sherlock!" Lestrade almost roared, elbowing him in the ribs. Molly snorted into her drink and John shuffled a hand through his flyaway hair.
"What do you say we take a walk outside?" John suggested, cutting off the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor before the fight broke out.
"I left my gloves up in Gryffindor Tower," Lestrade explained, but John simply informed him to stick them in his pockets if he started to get frostbite. The four friends rose from the Gryffindor table and bundled up in their school hats and scarves.
The biting temperature hit John's face quicker than he'd completely stepped outside. He stuffed his fists into a pair of gloves he'd brought down to breakfast with him, bending his face over against the ice cold wind. Smoke billowed from the chimney in Hagrid's hut, and the surface of the Black Lake was frozen solid in a white mix.
John felt something hard slap across his thigh, and turned to see Lestrade grinning with a snowball in his grasp. "Oh, no you don't!" Watson shouted back, fetching up a small mound of the white fluffy substance and throwing it back. Molly joined in by also chucking snow at the buffer Gryffindor, and Sherlock tried to dodge an incoming snowball thrown by John.
When they walked back into the entrance hall thirty minutes later, their cheeks were almost as pink as flamingos and their fingers almost glued together. John peeled his scarlet and gold hat from his skull, revealing a head full of messy blond hair and blushing ears. His hair was damp and it stuck up a few inches in the back. He pushed the front locks over his forehead and felt Holmes attempting to flatten the ruffles in the back.
Even Sherlock couldn't help but realize how much fun he had. Pink cheeks, wet stains from where the snowballs came in contact with our robes, white fingers, signs of snowflakes around and in my curls.
What more fun can you have in the snow?
The school was abuzz with social opinions on the afternoon of the winter dance, and some girls were seen leaving early Sunday afternoon to prepare for the event.
"Seriously, what do they think this is, a wedding?" Sherlock grumbled at the number of packs of girls heading up the marble staircase to the Ravenclaw common room. Someone tapped him suddenly on the shoulder and he turned to see an older Slytherin girl skidding in front of him.
"Yes?" Sherlock asked, trying to act as politely as possible.
John stood and watched as the Slytherin seemed to be pleading Sherlock for something. Eventually, he shouted at her and she bolted off in the direction of the Great Hall. Watson gave him a 'what was that for?' look, and Sherlock rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"She wanted to know if I could go to the dance with her. I simply said no, but she refused to listen!" John sighed at his socially awkward friend but guided him up to Gryffindor Tower all the while.
"You didn't have to shake her off like that though," John informed him, heading up the moving stairs to the seventh floor. "Girls are delicate sometimes. You go too far, they can almost break as easily as a toothpick sometimes…" Sherlock never paid any attention to woman, as they were not really his area, so he never knew how to act around them.
"You can come chill out in my common room for now, until the dance that is. I think Lestrade said Molly was coming too." The shorter boy halted in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady, gave her the password, and she swung open for the two buddies.
John let Sherlock crawl into the portrait hole before him, and the eagle was introduced to the Gryffindor common room for the first time. John sank into one of the plushy armchairs by the blazing fire, bending over to warm his hands. He motioned for Sherlock to sit down next to him, and the Ravenclaw sat as far away from the study tables as possible, curled up on the floor in the corner. He made sure his back was to the window so he could observe his surroundings in depth.
"So, you plan on still going alone then?" John wanted to confirm the statement before heading off to the dance later. His question was answered with one word.
"Yes."
"Hey, freak." John, don't. His knuckles had contracted into a hidden fist.
"Hey, Sally." Watson spoke before Holmes could, forcefully keeping his anger to himself. "Getting ready for the dance are you?"
"I was thinking about it, yeah." She sounded so matter‒of‒fact and proud that she was going in the first place.
"I suppose you're going with Anderson then?" Sherlock said smugly, looking up from his seat to gaze at her tan face. She decided not to take the risk to mess with him and started to walk away.
"See you two later."
Greg and Molly didn't show up for another hour, and when they did the four friend discussed classes, homework, and what they thought would happen that night. Hooper announced around five o'clock that she was going to get ready, and Lestrade smiled at her as she left.
John watched Sherlock from the seat diagonally away. The brunette was warming his hands almost dangerously close to the flames, making sure they didn't lose feeling and turn white. After a short while, he broke the silence as a group of teenage boys passed them to head up to their dormitory.
"Everything okay?" There was no response.
Watson got up and sat in the chair Holmes was stationed in front of. The Ravenclaw felt the lion's tough hand grasp his shoulder bone, and John repeated his soothing words in Sherlock's ear.
The older boy nodded, reaching up with his own hand to clamp onto the blond's. John bent over so Sherlock could see his cheek out of his peripheral vision. "If you need anything, I'm here to help."
Their tender moment was broken when Lestrade dropped onto the couch next to them. He coughed, undoubtedly trying to be his usual self and grab attention.
"I don't get it," Sherlock flipped out, grabbing clusters of his hair and twisting his spine so it cracked gleefully. John was thrown away rather freshly and avoided getting slapped by his friend. "The dance doesn't start for another two hours! Why do people insist on getting ready this early?"
John didn't know how to respond, so Lestrade commented for him. "Girls will be girls."
Sherlock didn't head down to the Ravenclaw common room until forty‒five minutes were left, making entertaining deductions about passing fifth year nerds as he went by. Watson turned to Greg and he got the message. Both Gryffindor boys headed up to get changed into their dress robes.
Their fellow eleven‒year‒old roommates Elijah, Gale, and Skyler decided to change in the bathroom down the hall, and Lestrade also left to let John change on his own in their bedroom. One by one, John swapped his lounge clothes for the separate parts of his dress robes, slipping some bits of cloth over his head, through his arms, and over his hips.
He pulled his black vest on to cover his chest, weaving the gold buttons through their holes. He strolled to the opposite side of his mattress, examining himself in the mirror. The ends of his white long‒sleeved, buttoned shirt were rolled back a few folds, and his collar was flat on the top of his pitch‒black vest. His dress pants were perfect length, covering his ankle bones. Black shiny shoes protected his feet, which were the same shade as his pants. Watson secured the tie pin to his shirt, flattening the silk all the way pressed against his stomach.
He added the final touch to his outfit, the dress robes themselves, and adjusted the hooks under his ribs to a comfortable position. He picked off a thin hair from the edge of the black trim, thinking Sherlock's choice of the navy blue robes suited him perfectly. He straightened his chest to look more proud. I can't deny I look a little older than I am, but hey, I look pretty good!
There was a click from the door of their dormitory and Lestrade shuffled around the corner, his focus fixed on the floor. When his head lifted and spotted John, the blank expression on his face morphed into a teeth baring smile. "Look at you!" he beamed, slinging his school robes over his arm and throwing his hanger onto his four‒poster bed. John bent his head over bashfully as his robes swished at the hem when he spun. Greg walked around the furnace in the middle of the heated room to join John at the mirror. "Don't you look handsome?"
"Oh, don't rub it in…Besides, you're not so bad yourself." Lestrade didn't quite agree, but he did look quite spiffy in his black and white dress robes. His outfit almost matched Sherlock's entirely, minus the green trim and black bow tie. Lestrade's accessory was white instead.
"Come on," the taller boy beckoned. "We should start heading down." John thanked him as he held the door aloft for him. "You know, Mary's got one lucky dance partner," Lestrade added, punching John on the upper arm.
"You can stop any time now," John almost whispered as they headed down the hall and through the magical portrait hole.
John and Lestrade knew they had quite a few minutes left when they reached the entrance hall, which they found jam packed with students of all ages. It was almost mentally impossible to pick out their friends and partners in the crowd, but Lestrade found Sherlock slouching on the wall to their left.
"Hello Sherlock!" Lestrade greeted, folding his hands behind his back. Holmes found it polite so he stood up all the way and held one arm across his ribs like a gentleman. "Have you seen Molly?"
"I have not." He even bowed his head. That's the calmest I've heard him speak before. John grinned, impressed at how his best friend was doing his most to act polite and professional.
John noticed his outfit wasn't completely finished. His collar isn't complete..."Sherlock, you forgot to tie your bow tie."
"Do I have to, John?" he complained, backing away before his friend's hands came in contact with his neck.
"I did," Lestrade pointed to his white one, and John wasn't going to let Sherlock get away with it. He reached up and tied it for him, tucking it under his shirt collar and straightening it out. Maybe he didn't know how to tie a bow tie…Stupid me, he remarked. Sherlock Holmes knows everything.
John felt a tap on his shoulder by a skinny finger and turned to see his dance partner standing behind him. Mary wore a short, black dress that came down and was knee length, and tiny sparkles were draping in a curved line down to her waist. Her friend Sarah Sawyer was with her in a long red dress, flowers pinned to the right sleeve.
"Hello," John said stuttering, and he offered the ladies to join their group. He was shocked at how polite Sherlock was to both Mary and Sarah, and the brunette started up a conversation with the brown‒haired girl.
"Where's Molly?" John asked, leaning in to whisper at Lestrade.
"I don't know, she should be —"
He was cut off as Molly Hooper came pushing through the crowd. She was easy to spot among the mass of black and dark colors, because she had on a sunny yellow dress. It was the same length as Mary's, but crossed in a pattern around her chest area. Her black flats had cute bows to match the one in her ginger hair, which she tied back in a loose braid.
"Molly, you look gorgeous!" Mary complimented before her partner could, as he was frozen staring with his mouth open. John snapped his fingers in front of Lestrade's nose to bring him back to the real world.
"Oh, thank you!" she stumbled, pulling up the strap of her dress.
Coming from the doors of the Great Hall, silver bells echoed their peaceful ring out to the entrance hall. The students gossiped to each other excitedly as couples headed into the dining area, preparing for the dance. John checked his watch and sure enough, the time was 19:03.
Lestrade cleared his throat and made the first move, even though he was the last to have a partner. "Shall we?" He offered Molly his arm, and she blushed before he swept her away. Greg grinned at the smaller lion before swaying away, winking and indicating that John could accompany a girl with ease. Sherlock pointed for Sarah to walk ahead of him, and they easily chatted away about their days in school and how the eagle made deductions about people. Watson chuckled as they strode away together, glad his best friend had hooked up with someone.
John smiled at Mary, hooking his palm onto his hip. She slid her delicate arm through the hole and they proceeded to the hall arm in arm. Several groups of people stared as they glided by, whispering if they really were first years or not.
The Great Hall had been completely redecorated for the occasion and was mostly glinting with a silver and blue light. The twelve Christmas trees were layered in frost, and snow fell lightly from the ceiling. One monstrous tree three times the size of the regular ones was stacked in the middle of the hall towards the back, and gold and silver glass balls hung from the branches.
At least four ice sculptures were stationed at the corners of the dance floor with benches circling them. Extra seats lined the walls with green squashy cushions, and two bars were on either side of the great oak doors containing alcohol‒free refreshments. A long table at the back of the hall was in front of an orchestra, and plates filled with healthy snacks and cookies were set up for eating.
The dance floor covered three‒quarters of the wooden floor, and it resembled ice. When in fact people stepped onto it, no one slipped, as it had been bewitched to feel like stone under the soles of shoes. A few older couples and pairings of teachers were positioned to start off the event, and soon Albus Dumbledore raised his arms to silence them all. The crowd backed away from the floor and stood near the sides of the room, giving the headmaster their attention.
Professor Flitwick stood on a stack of Christmas carol music books and raised a director's baton to conduct the orchestra. A stereo was also set up to play extra music later, music that most Muggles would know. Hogwarts made it fair by playing known music in the outside world for a party after the luscious notes of instrumental pieces.
The instruments strummed up a flowing melody, one cheerful enough to let the kids glide through the dance floor smoothly and with skill. The violins played sweet notes while the cellos and violas backed up with a harmony. A piano was heard in the background of the strings, along with some flutes and a harp.
The staff members turned to face their partners, then joined hands and began waltzing around the dance floor festively. John watched Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall sweep past him and Mary, and the students let the teachers dance for a few measures before the teenagers stepped onto the floor.
As far as John could tell, Lestrade was the first eleven‒year‒old to pull Molly out with him, and she tried to pull him back. She lost as they entered the stage, and Greg carefully rested his hand on her waist and grabbed her hand. Hooper joined in by following his lead, every so often glancing down at her feet to make sure she was doing the steps the right way. John gave Lestrade a wink as they faded into the middle of the crowd.
Sherlock however, was frowning at a specific couple on the edge of the floor across from him. Not because he wasn't enjoying himself, but because he despised both human beings. Moriarty, whenever he got the chance, would sneer at him and Irene tried to convince Holmes to dance with her using her eyes.
Sherlock changed his stare as he saw a figure in navy blue dress robes pass him, accompanying a girl with short, blonde hair. I'm happy for John. Mary's a wonderful young girl, and John's lucky he's got her.
Sarah went off to dance with a Slytherin Sherlock didn't know, so he stood watching the various couples stride in circles. He laughed to himself as John was struggling to lead Mary, and grinned as Lestrade was having too much fun with Molly. He's really making her open up and come out of her shell. She was giggling freely and spinning in circles under his arm, and Greg was basically making a fool of himself and being a clown.
When the waltz ended, John took Mary's hand and stepped off the dance floor, breathing heavily because of his nervousness. Lestrade stayed with Molly out on the floor as the band played up a more upbeat song, twirling her around so her dress flew out from her in even waves.
"I'm going to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back, okay?" Mary told John, and he nodded. She left him standing watching the crowd, but he lost interest and swiveled to examine the nearest ice sculpture instead. It was clearly a snowflake, and he lounged back on one of the open seats. Preoccupying himself, he picked some more hairs off his dress pants.
There was a loud applause from the dancers as the skippy music ended abruptly on a sudden note. The mob around the edge of the dance floor was starting to clear off as students added to the dancing session or left to get air out in the entrance hall, so John had a clear view of Lestrade and Molly. The sight of their closeness made him feel joyful.
"Don't have a partner Watson? Shame…" Moriarty taunted him as he led Irene from the hall. Her tight black dress matched the polished heels she wore, and she definitely was wearing too much eye makeup.
Before the nasty Slytherins were gone, Moriarty made John feel down as he announced the expensive maker of his dress robes. "Westwood," he gloated, winking evilly. The Gryffindor watched them all the way until they were out of sight, a frown crossing his face and eyebrows contracted.
"Excuse me?" I know that voice…A hint of deepness starting to develop in the lungs, sharpness in every syllable, even when his mouth is flying at a hundred miles an hour.
John snapped his neck around to see Sherlock's towering figure standing over his hunched back. His black robes were free of all fuzz balls and hairs, and the dark forest green trim lining his cloak brought out the color of his eyes.
The blurred music behind his back faded into a slow tune John recognized from hearing on the radio back home. Sherlock bit his lip and John sat up against the back of the board supporting the ice figure. The sharp cheekbones collected a hint of scarlet, and the lion saw his best friend swallow. The smile tugging on John's lips grew before his friend said anymore.
Sherlock's arm slowly floated out to stop a foot from John's face, palm up, veins blue in his long skinny fingers.
"May I have this dance?"