After Ginny's dramatic exit from the gardens, Harry wandered back to the Ball. He realized almost immediately that it was a mistake. Fred and George were walking past with Angelina and Alicia, and Harry was forced to duck behind a crowd of Ravenclaws to avoid being seen. Explaining where Ginny had gone (and why) would be almost as bad as if Harry ditched Ginny in favor of a more proper date prior to the ball. Harry couldn't let any of the Weasleys see him without Ginny, and probably not Hermione, either.

They would all find out later, of course, but finding out later was fine. But if they discovered that Harry had returned to the ball without Ginny, however, they would assume the worst. After all, why would any wizard ditch his date, unless it was in favor of another witch? Tracey and Theo seemed perfectly happy together, so everybody would probably reckon that the other witch was…

"Hi, Harry!"

…Pansy. She, like most of the witches from Slytherin, looked fantastic, in the way that only extremely expensive dresses and makeup could achieve. Harry noticed for the first time that she was wearing the bracelet that he had given her as a Christmas gift.

"Hi, Pansy," Harry said. His eyes were still flicking about, nervously scanning the room for his friends in Gryffindor. "Where's Blaise?"

Pansy shrugged. "I'm not sure. And I'm not sure I care. I'm much more interested," Pansy said, moving closer to Harry, "in showing the rest of Hogwarts how well I taught you to dance."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Harry said.

"Harry Potter, you promised me a dance."

"I don't remember that at all," Harry said. He was still glancing around, but not he was searching for an opportunity to escape from Pansy before he was noticed by anybody. Gossip at Hogwarts somehow managed to spread faster than the speed of sound, and if anybody saw Harry dancing with Pansy then Harry could safely assume that everybody in the school knew, even Filch.

"You certainly did promise me a dance," Pansy said. She reached out and grabbed Harry's wrist. "And I don't care how poor your memory is. I intend to collect."

"Pansy, wait." Harry placed his hand over hers. "I just had a huge row with Ginny Weasley, and she left."

"Good," Pansy said firmly.

"No, not good," Harry said. "If her brothers see me dancing with you, they'll wonder where she is. And when they find out, they'll come after me."

"Harry, you can't be afraid of them!" Pansy looked disappointed. "You're the most powerful person in Hogwarts not named Dumbledore or Diggory."

Harry shook his head. "The twins will make a nuisance of themselves, and it's a distraction that I don't want. I have more important things to focus on." As Harry said his last words, he looked Pansy directly in the eye. In actuality he meant the tournament, but if Pansy misinterpreted his comment, he couldn't be held accountable for that.

Pansy glanced down and smiled. "I understand," she said. "But if that's the case, then you shouldn't stay here at the ball. You should leave before anybody else sees you."

"I agree," Harry said, resisting the urge to point out that he had been trying to do precisely that before Pansy had intercepted him.

"If anybody else asks, I'll say that you weren't feeling well," Pansy said.

"Thanks for covering for me." Harry gave one last glance around, then released Pansy's hand and stepped toward the door. "We'll talk to you soon."

"I'll make sure of it," Pansy replied.

*!*!*!*

The social structure of Hogwarts was thrown into turmoil after the Yule Ball. Half the students were happy, because something went well with their date. Half the students were unhappy, because something went wrong with their date. Three quarters of the students were unhappy because of something that happened with somebody else's date. The math didn't add up to Harry, but nobody else seemed to notice.

Harry couldn't decide whether he should be happy or unhappy about the ball. On one hand, he enjoyed the time he had spent with Ginny, and he had managed his first kiss. On the other hand, Ginny had seemed to be angry with him, or at least frustrated, despite Harry's best efforts to treat her to a nice evening. Harry wasn't sure why Ginny wanted more from him. Wasn't a nice evening enough? If they enjoyed each other's company, and enjoyed sharing a kiss, why did Ginny need some sort of essay about Harry's emotions?

Whenever they passed each other in the hall, Harry would smile and wave, and Ginny would wave back. But Ginny seemed to be waiting for Harry to do something more… Harry reckoned that she wanted an answer about why he had kissed her in the gardens. Unfortunately, he had no idea how to answer that question, not without dragging her into a world full of murder plots and former Death Eaters.

Usually, Harry would go to Tracey for advice, but Harry had enough social savvy to realize that his dating life would be a sore subject for Tracey. Tracey had started speaking to Harry again after the ball, and Harry didn't want to do anything that might upset the apple cart. Apparently, Tracey and Nott had gotten along just swimmingly at the ball, which had assuaged Tracey's anger.

In fact, Tracey was more cheerful than Harry had ever seen her. She couldn't stop telling Harry about how much fun she had with Theo at the dance. Theo had been extremely complimentary of her dress, completely attentive to her moods, and extraordinarily courteous at all times. On top of it all, Theo was apparently an excellent dancer. Harry wasn't sure why these things made Theo so great—it was precisely what Harry had done with Ginny, after all, and why was that special—but Tracey just couldn't stop talking about it. How much of a gentleman Theo was, how she had been surprised to discover that Theo was such a good kisser, how Theo had already asked her to go with him to Hogsmeade during the next Hogsmeade weekend… She had her share of criticisms, too, but most of them were either minor annoyances or the sort of things that would resolve themselves in time. She wished that Theo would study with her more often, for example, and she hoped that he would trust her soon because he was being really secretive and reserved.

Harry was happy for her. That's what he kept telling himself. He was happy for both of them, and he had to ignore that strange pang that he felt in the pit of his stomach whenever Nott and Tracey were talking. It certainly wasn't jealousy. Probably Harry had just eaten something that was a little bit off.

Pansy and Blaise were now completely at odds, as were Draco and Daphne. Neither of Harry's friends had managed to effectively conceal their ever-increasing lack of interest in their dates, and over the course of the evening both Blaise and Daphne had grown more and more dissatisfied with the way they were being treated. Blaise had retreated to sulk with Theo, his best mate, while Daphne did the same with Tracey. As a result of Tracey and Theo's newfound couplehood, the four of them could now be found together more often than not. Draco and Pansy were almost forced to set aside their differences, as their only socially acceptable option was to spend time with Harry, and therefore also with each other. Harry took this as a positive sign, but Draco still seemed to be waiting for the other shoe to drop; when he and Harry spoke in their dormitory, Draco insisted that Pansy was still planning to revenge herself upon him.

Hermione and Ron were no longer speaking with one another, which didn't surprise Harry overmuch. They hadn't been on the best terms leading up to the ball, and apparently the two Gryffindors had a spectacular row while Harry and Ginny were on their walk in the gardens. Ron was now spending his time with Lavender Brown, while Hermione had, predictably, retreated to the library. Hermione managed to convince Madame Pince that Harry's library privileges, already reinstated on a provisional basis, should be permanently restored. She insisted that her efforts were made for tournament purposes only, but Harry strongly suspected that Hermione simply needed to be around a friend.

Hermione was insistent that Harry begin to decipher the mystery of the golden egg, so Harry didn't wait long to take up Diggory's offer to use the prefect's bathroom. Just before the new year, Harry took the egg, a blank scroll of parchment, and his bathing supplies into the bath.

Harry turned on the taps and began to draw a nice, hot bath. Harry was determined to relax, whether he was able to decipher the clue or not. There was a lot of pressure on Harry, being a champion and all, and he felt like he deserved a break. Maybe he would just soak for a while, before he started to work on the egg.

Harry glanced over. The golden egg was nestled snugly in the soft folds of his towel. It gleamed alluringly in the light of the bathroom.

Harry didn't have to get to work on the egg right away. He didn't. He had plenty of time before the next task. Months, actually. There was no reason to get in a tizzy about it.

The egg continued to sit silently on Harry's towel.

"Damn it," Harry muttered. He couldn't leave a puzzle unsolved. When the egg hadn't been in his possession, it was easy to ignore. Now, however, the presence of the egg was a like a clanging bell in his brain—he simply couldn't put it out of his mind.

Harry leaned over and grabbed the egg. It was heavy, and had some sort of etching all around it, and a few hinges on the bottom. One circle seemed to be etched deeper than all the others. A button, maybe?

Harry pressed.

The egg opened and began to emit a piercing screech that echoed painfully through the bathroom. Harry shouted and dropped the egg, raising his hand to his ears. The egg fell into the bath with a plop, and the screeching came to an immediate halt. Instead, a muffled song seemed to be coming from under the surface of the bath water.

Huh. That was easy.

Harry slid into the bath, and submerged his head. The haunting voices were much clearer underwater:

Come seek us where our voices sound

We cannot sing above the ground…

Once the song had finished, Harry came up for a breath. He had a suspicion about the egg's clue, but he wanted to listen again. He once again submerged himself.

And while you're searching, ponder this:

We've taken what you'll sorely miss…

Harry surfaced again. The next task was going to take place underwater, and he was going to have to retrieve something. And only one magical creature was both aquatic and notorious for singing: merpeople.

Harry called his friends together the next evening and told them what he had discovered. Everybody agreed that merpeople were the most likely explanation for the riddle.

"So the next question is this: how do I breathe underwater?" Harry asked. "I haven't been able to think of anything."

"It can't be anything overly complex," Hermione said. "A seventh-year student is supposed to be able to complete the task."

"So, what does a seventh year know that Harry doesn't?" Tracey said, musing out loud.

"That's the problem," Harry said. "I don't know."

"So fix the problem," suggested Draco. "Let's ask Flitwick and McGonagall and Snape for copies of their syllabi for fifth, sixth and seventh years. Somebody has to teach a spell or potion that will allow Harry to breathe underwater."

"Wonderful thinking!" Hermione said. "I'll ask Professor McGonagall tonight!" It was rare that Hermione complimented Draco, and he seemed pleased by it… and also surprised at how much he was pleased by it.

"I'll take Flitwick," Harry said. "Draco, you ask Snape. Barty Crouch will blow a gasket if he sees me asking for any sort of help."

"Sure," Draco said. "But… what's a gasket?"

"Never mind that," Harry said. "Just get the syllabus."

The professors were more than willing to provide Harry and his friends with their syllabi. The solution to Harry's problem almost leapt off the page of Flitwick's syllabus: the bubblehead charm. It would trap a bubble of air around Harry's head, and allow him to breathe while move through water (or noxious gases).

When the time came to practice the charm, Harry and Draco discovered that the onset of winter had rendered it too cold to practice spells on the grounds of Hogwarts. They needed to find somewhere else to prepare for the tournament.

"I've got an idea," Draco suggested. "What we need is a big room, private, and preferably with access to water." Harry had already begun to shake his head, but Draco forged onward. "Why don't we practice in the Chamber of Secrets?"

"No, Draco," Harry said. "We're not going down there."

"Can you think of a better place to practice spells in the entire school?"

"Maybe a classroom?" Harry suggested sarcastically. "They're built for it, you know."

Draco folded his arms. "Stupid logic. I suppose I can ask Snape to lend us an empty Potions classroom…"

"Yes," Harry said, relieved. "Let's do that."

Draco was hardly able to get the request out of his mouth before Snape agreed to assign him a classroom. Draco said that it seemed like Snape was actually trying to cut Draco off, before Draco could mention either Harry or the tournament. In fact, Draco's pass to use the classroom in the evening simply read, "Charms Self Study – Draco Malfoy and classmates." Harry mentioned that Snape was trying to avoid the attention of Barty Crouch, and Draco agreed.

Harry practiced the charm every night after dinner, and Draco, Tracey and Hermione rotated as his practice partner. Learning the charm was not difficult—Harry was able to cast the bubblehead charm after only two nights of practice. The problem, Harry discovered, was maintaining the charm. Harry could only keep the bubble of air around his head for five or six minutes before he felt exhausted.

Harry became frustrated almost immediately. Charms was his best class. He was supposed to be good at charms. So why was this so hard? Harry practiced regularly, but after several weeks he had only extended the length of his charm to ten minutes.

"How am I supposed to make this last for an hour?" Harry asked one night, leaning against the wall in exhaustion. "I'm completely hopeless."

"You have a month, still," Tracey said optimistically. "Maybe you'll get better?"

"Doubtful," Harry said.

"Don't get down on yourself," Tracey said. "Maybe you can just swim along the top of the lake without the charm. Cast it when you're directly above the merpeople, and then swim down."

"Maybe. I'd need some extra weight to get me to the bottom of the lake, though. I couldn't waste any time."

"So cast a featherlight charm on a rock, and end the charm when you're above the merpeople. Itll act as an anchor."

"It's a better plan than drowning, I guess," Harry said.

The door to the classroom burst open, cutting off Tracey's reply. Hermione charged into the room and slammed the door behind her. Her expression was one of pure fury.
"Hermione?" Harry asked. "What's-"

Hermione scowled and thrust out her left hand. Her hand was clenched into a fist and her index finger was raised. Harry got the message: wait.

Hermione turned to the door and began casting charm after charm. Harry noticed a locking charm, a bolting charm, a sticking charm, and three variations of a silencing charm before he stopped keeping track. Hermione finished her casting with a flourish, then turned back to Harry and Tracey.

"FUCKING LAVENDER BROWN!" Hermione threw her hands up into the air and yelled. "That stupid SLAG is snogging RONALD WEASLEY in the middle of the COMMON ROOM like a damn cornerwalker! Every. Single. NIGHT!"

Harry glanced at Tracey. He had no idea what to do. Tracey put her finger to her lips—keep quiet, and let Hermione rant.

"Apparently, Ronald wants to date an airhead bimbo with huge tits and no class! I must have been crazy to think that he would actually want some substance in a relationship!" Hermione turned to Harry. "Am I crazy, Harry? Do I look crazy?"

"Er… do you mean generally? Or right at this moment?"

Hermione's wand was suddenly pointed at Harry's head. "This is not a time for jokes."

"Sorry!" Harry held up his hands. "I surrender!"

"I thought you fancied Viktor Krum," Tracey said quietly.

Hermione folded her arms. "I did! I mean, I do." Hermione sighed. "I mean, I like Viktor… I just like Ron more. Mostly… I like Viktor because he reminds me of Ron. The only thing better about Viktor is that Viktor knows I exist."

"Wait," Tracey said. "Are you dating Viktor to make Ron jealous?" Harry wondered why Tracey was so quick to leap to that conclusion.

Hermione threw her arms in the air. "Yes! How much clearer of a signal can I send to Ron? I went to Yule Ball with a muscly, emotionally distant quidditch player! Hello! Ron Weasley!?"

"Do you realize how weird that is?" Harry asked. "You're trying to show Ron that you like him by dating somebody else? Why would that ever work?"

"You're a boy," Tracey said. "You don't understand."

"If boys don't understand that stuff, then how will dating Viktor ever successfully send a signal to Ron?" Harry asked.

"Harry, shut up." Tracey snapped.

Harry's mouth clicked shut. Tracey had never been so abrupt with him.

Tracey turned back to Hermione. "So, you were trying to make Ron jealous, but now he's snogging some other girl. It sounds like you made him angry, instead."

"He has no right to be angry with me," Hermione said. "He didn't even ask me to the dance. I had TWO Tri-Wizard Champions ask me to the dance, but Ron assumed that NOBODY would want me! Where does he get off being angry with me?"

"Maybe he's overthinking things," Tracey said.

"Ron? Overthink something? Hardly."

"Who's your best male friend?" Tracey asked. "Besides Ron."

"Harry, I guess," Hermione said.

"You mean, a short, quiet, dark-haired star quidditch seeker whose classmates are stereotypically associated with the dark arts?" Tracey asked.

Hermione's mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise.

"Ron's a tall, fair-skinned, brash, loud-mouthed, heart-on-his-sleeve Gryffindor," Tracey said. "He's worried that he's not your type. Actually, he might be worried that you're sending a signal that you want to date Harry."

Hermione dropped into the nearest chair. "Oh. Well, shite."

Harry chimed in. "You know that Ron is always comparing himself to his brothers. Now you've got him comparing himself to Victor Krum? AND Harry Potter?"

"Wow," Tracey said. "Ron's probably trying to piss you off by dating Lavender."

Hermione was chewing on her lower lip. The idea that she might be alienating Ron had clearly never occurred to her.

"That's something Draco would do, not Ron," Harry said while shaking his head. "I bet Ron doesn't even realize what he's doing. He's probably dating Lavender because he doesn't want to be reminded of Hermione."

Tracey folded her arms. "I think he's doing it on purpose. And I think it's working."

Hermione waved her arms in the air. "Whatever! How do I fix it?"

"Easy," Tracey said. Harry recognized the confidence in Tracey's voice. It was the same confidence Tracey had displayed first year when she ordered Harry's clothes for Pansy's party, or when she had suggested that Harry lay claim to Sirius's enchanted motorbike. She had a plan, and she knew it would work. "First, you have to start talking up Viktor, and doing it where Ron can hear."

"You just told me that Ron was dating Lavender because I was dating Viktor!" Hermione was exhasperated. "How does that help?"

"You're going to talk about the things that make Viktor similar to Ron, but different from Harry," Tracey said. "Viktor's strong, he's not a show off, he's honest and sincere."

"HEY!" Harry said. He was mostly joking, but that was a little offensive.

Tracey ignored Harry's protests. "Ron will start to wonder about you. If you like all those things, why are you with Viktor and not with him?"

"But won't that just make him angrier?" Hermione asked.

Tracey shook her head. "You take care of that with step two. Next, you start complaining about the things that make Viktor similar to Harry. BUT! You also have to do it in a way that discretely praises Ron. Like, 'Viktor's so quiet. I want to talk to him, but he's never up for conversation.'"

Harry chimed in. "Or, 'I love that Viktor plays quidditch, but watching the seeker is so boring. There's none of the strategy that's involved with playing a strong defense.'"

Hermione's eyebrows drew together. "What does that even mean?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry said. "Ron will understand, and that's the important part."

"Or you could talk about his looks," Tracey said. "'Viktor is attractive, but I never really liked dark complexions. He'd be much cuter if his hair and skin were lighter. And it wouldn't hurt if he were a taller, either.'"

"Okay," Hermione said. "How about this: 'I wish Viktor would be more open with me. He's so evasive about the things that go on at Durmstrang. He and I hardly understand each other sometimes.'"

Harry rolled his eyes. He and Hermione had been through that exact argument more than once, if you replaced 'Viktor' with 'Harry' and 'Durmstrang' with 'Slytherin.'

"Now you've got it," Tracey said.

Hermione cracked her knuckles and smiled. "Starting tomorrow, Mission: Ruin Lavender Brown is in effect. She'd better watch out, because this won't be pretty."

"It's going to take some time," Tracey said cautiously. "Don't expect anything to happen overnight."

"Of course I don't expect anything to happen overnight," Hermione said. "I already said that I'm starting tomorrow." Hermione grinned. She was joking, which meant that her mood had improved considerably. "Speaking of romance with the Weasleys, Harry, how are things going with you and Ginny?"

Harry leaned back—the sudden change of topic caught him slightly off guard. "I have no idea. I haven't really talked to her since the ball."

"Why not?"

"I guess Ginny wants some sort of declaration of intent stating precisely why I asked her to the ball, and I don't know what to tell her," Harry said with a frown. It wasn't totally accurate; Ginny had demanded to know why Harry kissed her in the gardens, but Harry was smart enough not to say that in front of Tracey. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"Here's a thought," said Hermione. "You could try telling her why you asked her to the ball."

"I said I don't want to talk about it, okay?" Harry rolled his head around and shook his shoulders. "Let's practice the bubblehead charm again. Hermione, if you have any ideas about how I could make this thing last longer, I'd appreciate it."

"None since the last time I was here," Hermione said. "Maybe you should ask Professor Snape? You said that he would take general questions, just not specific ones."

"Maybe," Harry said. "In the meantime, could you unlock the door? I'm sure Draco will appreciate it."

As Hermione began to strip the door of its charms, Harry turned toward the center of the room and raised his wand. Maybe all he needed was practice… "Bubulos caputso!"

A/N: Fun fact: whenever I'm writing a scene with Pansy, I listen to the song "No Sleep Tonight," by The Faders. That song might as well be titled "Pansy Parkinson's Theme Song." Seriously, it's 100% pure Pansy Parkinson-you should find it on Youtube and give it a listen.

In other news, Pansy's scene in this chapter is a recent addition. Due to popular demand, Yule Ball was extended for a few paragraphs and Pansy made another appearance. I'm sure that nobody is truly satisfied, but our tale marches onward.