Balls.

Harry woke up in bed at Grimmauld place. He looked out the windows; it was a fairly good view of a cloudy day. He yawned. The Slytherin Green colour scheme was old, but okay. The furniture was, on reflection, a bit shit and Harry made a note to get a better desk, it was quite battered. Harry peered at the desk-legs. Those dings looked like dog-bites. Oh. Sirius Black.

Mister Lupin, at breakfast had news for him. Strange incomprehensible news.

"There's a what?" asked Harry.

"Masquerade ball fundraiser for St Mungos." said Mr Lupin. "Everyone wears disguises, drinks, dances, goes home happy."

"Great" said Harry dully "That sounds exactly my cup of tea."

"The tickets help fund the St Mungos orphans ward" said Mr Lupin.

"Orphans ward" said Harry.

Mr Lupin nodded. Harry felt… pangs of adulthood. He'd have to do this.

"Fine. Where do I get a costume? Oh, and one for you too."

"But I'm not going, I couldn't afford the ticket" said Mr Lupin.

Harry smiled coldly "Oh. You're going. If I'm going, you're going. And you're getting an expensive costume, so nobody knows you're you."

"You are like your mother sometimes" said Mr Lupin.

"That's good right?" asked Harry.

"Lily could be… determined." said Mr Lupin.

Harry smiled broadly "Yes. Where do we go?"

"Gladrags or Twilfitt and Tattings I suppose."

"Twilfitt's more expensive. You're going there." said Harry. "I'll get something from Madame Malkin's"

"Ah… no. If I'm going to Twilfitt, you have to. Besides, you're a celebrity; sort of. And the Blacks left you a lot of gold."

Harry experienced a stabbing sense of guilt for no obvious reason.

He wrote a letter to Elnya, explaining and inviting her, and offering to pay for the portkey. The stupid ICW thing was already useful.

Harry drew the line at an animated animal head mask, and went with a black mask that covered his eyes, and changed them to blue. It was enchanted to be eyeglasses as well. Harry felt he'd keep the bloody mask forever. It instantly made him someone else. The rest of the costume was just dress robes, and a hairbrush that changed your hair colour. Harry decided to go brown; and the brush smoothed his hair out; so that was a keeper too.

Remus got a longer mask to cover his scars, and a French tricorn, and cloak. He looked… pretty good for a hangdog old werewolf.

Harry and Remus took their costumes home to Grimmauld.

Harry had a letter from Zabini. He opened it at the table.

'Understood.

Zabini'

Two whole words. Harry got the feeling Zabini was… trying not to be an annoyance. The faint flicker of satisfaction, that Zabini had… learnt not to annoy Harry by osmosis touched Harry. Hopefully he could do all the negotiating with bloody Nott. Honestly, all Harry wanted was a rabbit-human crossbreed to flush out an amoral clinic's boundaries, and Nott had a hissy fit. Harry was even more sure that Nott was the poorly transfigured rabbit for the job. And eliminating a blood supremacist was practically praiseworthy. And, Harry thought to himself, Nott might make some sort of contribution to society once he was treated. There was a brain in there somewhere behind the sometimes lank brown hair.

Harry at lunch and considered his new, socially responsible lifestyle. And considered going in a deep-dive through the Black's library of very cursed spellbooks this afternoon for interesting magic.

As Harry finished his second cup of tea, a letter arrived from Elnya, and Harry took it to his bedroom, closed the door and licked his lips. This was going to be good, Harry just knew.

'Harry,

Time apart from you has… well I'm not really missing you that much, and we only dated for a few months. I hate portkeys, England sounds dreadful, their food is awful – everyone knows from the Tri-Wizard, and it's populated entirely by morons and creeps; you're neither but you're not enough plus for all the minus.

Not Yours

Elnya'

Harry felt a ghastly hollow in his chest. His brain went fuzzy. Elnya was… was dumping him? Dammit he should have stayed in France, visited her family. But a sheep farm had sounded so boring.

Harry dropped the letter on the desk and gazed sightlessly out the window.

He stood still till his feet hurt, then sighed, and sat on the bed. Well... he could try to pick up at the Ball, he supposed. Everyone was in masks. His heart told him he had no chance, that he was actually worthless and a bad person and… deserved nothing.

Harry sat, feeling sorry for himself for ages, till his eye settled on his divination bag, tossed on the desk as part of unpacking his school stuff to find quills. It did work, sometimes, and Harry angsted at the bag till the sun started to set. He finally found the strength to go get his Tarot cards. He shuffled the pack, thinking of his love-life. It felt stupid to try to use divination for this, but… the stupid cards worked annoyingly well sometimes.

He drew a card. The Tower. Chaos, the current order being destroyed. He stared at the card. Stupid fucking cartomancy, he thought to himself, always tells you after the event. He cleared his mind and tried to think of his love-life. And drew the next card and turned it over. The Lovers. Harry checked- right way up too. It felt… not likely to Harry really. Harry drew one third and final card, and got… the Priestess inverted. Repressed feelings and a lost inner voice. Harry snorted at the irony of that. His hand itched. Three was the normal number of cards… but stuff it, thought Harry and drew one more. The Fool. New beginnings, innocence, free spiritedness. Harry looked at the row. Disaster, Love, ignored inner voice and new beginnings. Well, that made… surprisingly little sense to Harry, even with a NEWT in Divination. Harry tried to separate his feelings from the cards. Treat it like a test. Whoever this was for, they were in for an upset, an awful one, but love, and repressed feelings, and new beginnings. Harry shook his head. The Tower was now, So… the cards were basically saying he'd pick up at the Ball. If that worked? Well… what difference would it make anyway.

Apart from tidying his room, burning the letter from Elnya, and spending a day or so cleaning the bathroom, laying on better towels and soap, and trying to guess what a witch straying overnight might want. Harry realised he had no idea.

At dinner that night, Harry asked Remus, who despite being a massive wet blanket, was an adult and over thirty, and had someone, probably female visiting. Surely he had some idea about this. "Remus, what supplies should I get to prepare for a witch staying here?"

Remus eyed Harry sideways "Contraceptives." he said, "I'm not dealing with the fallout of you knocking up your girlfriend."

"And yours?" asked Harry, and Remus blushed. It was a witch then.

Harry summoned parchment and a self-inking quill and started a list.

Remus thought " Fresh milk, fruit – witches like fruit, some fancy muesli, really good tea, some cakes, ice-cream, fresh fillings for sandwiches, salad and deli-meats."

"And you've bought that sort of thing?" asked Harry.

Remus paused with his mouth open for a bit.

"Your grandmother made up a spare room for Lily, so she didn't have to apparate home when she visited before your parents got married" said Remus "They went to the cottage after they married. Cut down on your grandmother asking Lily if she'd had a good evening."

"My grandmother did that?" asked Harry. That was news to Harry.

"Very politely." said Remus in a droll tone. "It was apparently hysterically funny, according to Sirius. Your parents would go red in the face and Sirius would do his stupid barking laugh."

"So?" asked Harry "Ideas?"

Remus suggested all of the things he'd listed again, fresh towels, flowers in the bathroom and his room, and making up a spare bedroom for someone. In case she wanted her own room.

Harry felt very grown-up putting contraceptive potion in all the bathrooms, and hangover cure. And then he went out and bought headache remedy and some bruise paste, and that felt like… well, being responsible. And would help next time anyone got a headache too.

Harry whiled away the few remaining days before the ball cleaning out doxies and large spiders. And making sure his room was extra-clean. And a quick skim of the watch instructions and the ICW rules. He turned the iron ring till the letters faced his palm and the ring vanished. He could still feel it… but it was invisible. The watch, he discovered had a dark detector and a sneakascope built in. Which was amazing. And probably very useful for his notional job, he mused. There was even a knob to change the appearance of the watch, and one setting was 'GALA'. Harry turned the correct knob, which had a little black bead on the end of it, and the watch fluidly reshaped into a smaller, more rounded off watch that would, he mused not get caught on lace shawls and the like. Most of the functions were now missing till the turned the knob to change the appearance again. The Swiss Mugwump had really outdone themselves, Harry mused.

The night of the event, Harry dressed up, made extra sure to have fresh breath, made sure for a second time that he had shiny shoes and mask and went to the ball. It was in a ballroom off the seventh floor of St Mungos, he sent Remus ten minutes before, to make sure he went, and not arrive together.

Harry walked in, and eyed the large crowd of colourfully dressed people talking and dancing. It was like the Yule ball he'd avoided, but this one was for a good cause. Harry snagged a tall glass of bubbly yellow liquid that tasted like it might be champagne. Or some kind of knock-off thereof. After three sips, he decided it was a knockoff. But drinkable.

He walked about, eyeing the tables of drinks, the dancers. The music was even… not terrible. Harry scanned the crowd, and there were plenty of young witches in pretty dresses. He sipped and eyed the pretty ones. Not as varied as Beauxbatons, but… it was for a good cause.

A witch in pink robes with an ostrich feather mask tapped his arm. Harry looked over.

"Dance?" she asked.

Harry shrugged, and took her hand. He was a little rusty, but it came back to him. His memory jogged, he danced and after the dance ended, bowed politely, and looked about for redheads, and spotted a tall one in a green dress that was almost healers robes, with a mask on that was like a Doctors surgical mask. He idled over in that general direction, and found as he got closer that the green dressed witch had a nice arse, and the front of the dress showed off some cleavage through some broad green straps. Harry's pants were uncomfortable, but he looked the witch in the eyes, charmed blue, doubtless by the mask like his, and held out a hand. The witch frowned at him.

"It's a fundraiser" said Harry politely, and she took his hand.

He put his other hand on her waist and missed. He looked down and tried again, aiming further in, and began to dance with possibly a taller Ginny Weasley. After four turns, she smiled – and her eyes practically sparkled. "You're pretty good" she said muffled through the mask.

After the dance ended Harry asked "How do you drink?"

"I lift the bottom of my mask" she said, and winked. Harry's bits tingled. He might have checked out her cleavage again. Three broad straps over… She lifted one eyebrow at him. Her eyes were practically level with his, so she was tall-ish and he'd seen she was wearing heels.

Harry kind-of held onto her arm and escorted her to the drinks table, and handed her some almost-champagne. Her arm was a convenient height too, thought Harry.

She clearly smiled, and lifted the bottom of her mask to bare her lips and chin, and sip. She had hot-pink lipstick on, and Harry kind-of sort-of stared at her lips. He grabbed a glass and sipped as casually as he could, given his pants-related discomfort. Two glasses.

"Are you French?" asked the masked witch – Harry mentally christened her hot lips.

"A little" said Harry. "I've been out of the country."

Hotlips licked her lips, and Harry nearly snapped the stem off his third glass.

After watching her drink champagne, and describe the current news, Harry held out a hand.

"Another Dance, blue-eyes, you're hogging me" said Hotlips.

"I am just doing what I know" said Harry.

Hotlips's eyes flicked over Harry's face "You're trouble" she said politely but a tiny bit suggestively.

"You have no idea" said Harry, thinking of some of the worse spells he'd used on adventures with Dumbledore.

"Cliché much?" she asked.

"Oh I'm an original" said Harry "Come on, dance?"

He danced a second dance with Hotlips, and she didn't hide her mouth. Which meant Harry could stare at it as she talked. It helped keep his eyes off her bust.

The song ended, they parted and Harry went off in search of someone else pretty to dance with. The young Asian witch who danced with him next was less… well she wasn't as good a dancer as Hotlips, or as tall as Hotlips, so Harry was looking down more. She looked up at him, and acted sort of nervous.

Harry stopped for another drink, and picked up the hand of a witch almost Harry's height, older than Harry, wearing blue and pearls; she had to be at least thirty-something, and … she really could dance. She spun around in the twirls, her dress fanning out. Her mask covered her eyes and left her lower face uncovered to smile, and laugh.

"I'm just here to raise money for St Mungos" said Harry. She nodded and smiled politely. "And dancing with so many witches your age in masquerade?"

"Well you're not" said Harry, and she laughed – and had a pretty laugh, like bells.

"Not only are you a little young for me, I am married" said Blue dress witch, and Harry couldn't help chuckling "Oh no, the older married woman" he said.

She rolled her eyes "Honestly, that's terrible. Intent on Fundraising for St Mungos, so noble for such a young man."

"Orphans" said Harry much more seriously, "I was an orphan. It's no life."

"Oh you poor dear" said Blue dress witch, and she patted his shoulder.

"You're someone's' mum" said Harry feeling perceptive.

"And my daughters came separately, so I don't know who they are here. They're quite devious" said Blue dress, looking around as they danced.

"Adult daughters. You don't look that old" said Harry. "I would have guessed thirties."

"Flatterer" she said, with a grin, spinning out on their extended arms and back in again.

"What should I talk about to witches here?" Harry asked, as she was now quite close.

"Oh! You're worse than my husband. Ask about hobbies. Everyone's got hobbies." said Blue dress.

"And yours?" asked Harry, with a crooked grin, as they started moving again.

"Stop that. My hobbies; I hunt." said Blue-dress.

"Poor innocent young men" quipped Harry, who'd worked out blue-dress had a very nice figure for such an old woman. Probably wearing a very tight band under the dress, thought Harry, she had a small waist.

"Don't be rude" said Blue dress "Boar mostly. It's fun and useful. I stopped hunting young men when I caught mine."

"Are your daughters this dangerous?" asked Harry, and blue-dress witch faltered, and her smile became quite fake. "They're learning" she said. Harry got the weirdest feeling he'd felt her body stiffen through the structural under-layers she must be wearing.

"Problem?" asked Harry. She seemed worried; Harry's experience in dating was that witches did like it if you asked when their mood changed.

"Teenagers can get out of hand" said Blue dress witch, sounding like there was a story Harry was not going to hear.

"Happily I'm now an adult, and don't have a family to be disappointed in me" said Harry.

"Don't be a cad" she said.

"I'm actually not that good at witches" admitted Harry. Blue dress witch smiled wryly. "Oh you're quite dangerous enough young man."

"Well I hope your daughters stay out of trouble… but not too much. Two out of all the ones here, that's a lot less chances for someone like me."

"Well, that's actually worrying." said Blue dress witch "I hope you don't get your claws into my poor girls."

"Like I said" admitted Harry candidly; candid worked too, in his experience "I'm not much of a wooer." He was determined not to let losing Elnya get him down.

She rolled her eyes "You are learning to be a flirt though. Stick to what you know."

The dance ended, and Harry went off to find someone else to dance with.

And a glass of champagne, and a brunette, and a witch who had wavy brown hair in a purple dress, and another glass, and she moved so gracefully, and was taller, that it wasn't Hermione. Harry felt a bit sad. Poor Hermione.

Brown hair said, her hazel eyes looking concerned through her mask "Hey, blue eyes, you okay?"

"You remind me of a friend of mine' admitted Harry "She can't dance like this."

"I'm not bad," said Browny, spinning out and back into Harry's arms. She smelt oddly familiar, And Harry smiled wryly "My friend has a limp."

"Oh, I'm sorry" said Browny, quite sincerely, and they danced some more.

"So why are you here?" she asked.

"My responsible adult told me about it. And it's for orphans, well at least partly. I was an orphan, so… I just had to." said Harry,

Browny eyed Harry as she danced backwards "Uhuh, orphan, fancy costume, tall, dark handsome. You're quite the catch."

"OH no, a witch on the hunt" said Harry teasingly.

Browny laughed, and her eyes danced with merriment "Don't flatter yourself. I'll meet my Mr Right the normal way, drunkenly at a pub."

"Not sqiffy at a ball?" asked Harry, as they changed direction and Browny headed towards him.

"You've got moves. Wish there were more blokes like you around. Well, in strawberry blond" she licked her lips.

"You're so shallow" said Harry, grinning "Is this my natural hair colour?"

"Masquerade, even boys get to have hair colours" said Browny "I'm not shallow, I'm just… I have a bloke in mind."

They reversed direction and Harry asked "Have you tried, I dunno, asking him to a date? I hear owl post is a thing these days."

Browny blushed "You're so sure of yourself" she said. Harry shook his head "I just know dancing, joking and asking about hobbies?"

"Quidditch" said Browny. "I play chaser."

"Seeker" said Harry.

"You're too big for seeker" said Browny.

"You just need a faster broom" countered Harry.

"I'm not, unless I got embarrassingly smashed" said Browny. "Why ask about my hobbies? Are you really forty?"

"Someone's mum in the blue dress and pearls suggested it. She's a fantastic dancer. She hunts." said Harry.

Browny's eyes narrowed "Woo hoo you danced with her." she said, and grinned.

"You know who she is?"

"Oh yes" said Browny "A neighbour. I can tease her about dancing with the blue-eyed hunk."

"I'm not that big" said Harry, and for some reason Browny giggled. "Wow" she said "See ya" as the dance ended.

Harry felt somewhat amused, and was drinking a glass of champagne watching the witches milling around, the dancing couple, when he realised what Browny had meant about brooms, and nearly choked on the champagne. She thought he'd… but he…. Well the girls at Beauxbatons hasn't mentioned it either way.

Three dances later, he found Hotlips, her mouth covered again.

"Hotlips" said Harry, holding out a hand.

"Blue-eyes" said Hotlips, the expression from her eyes was amused or really smashed and she wasn't slurring her words.

They danced, and Hotlips lifted the bottom of her mask; she was smiling "You are as good as I remember." she said.

"You're prettier than I remember" said Harry, and Hotlips cracked into a laughing grin; she had dimples. Harry wanted to lick her lips, and hold her hair in his hands and… he had no idea. Snog her face off that was for sure.

Hotlips let go and went off – Harry eyed her dress as she left, and felt… nice arse, nice dress, nice legs, pretty smile, cleavage. He went to the loos. And thought about it. Hotlips licked her lips and Harry wanted to hold her and never let her go, apart from loo breaks.

But he had let her go, and danced with three more witches, and enjoyed himself, and maybe got a tiny bit drunk. As had all the witches still dancing.

The ball ended at midnight, and the bandleader called out "Last song… a slow dance" and the intro started. Harry looked across the hall, and spotted Hotlips talking to a brown-haired witch Harry was pretty sure he'd danced with in a purple dress. He walked quickly but not… running over to Hotlips, and held out a hand.

"Last Dance" said Harry.

Hotlips rolled her eyes, and they danced… and Harry held her waist a little closer.

"Are you making a move" said Hotlips, muffled by her mask.

"Of course not" said Harry "That'd be cad-like." They twirled a bit, and Hotlips moved her other hand down his arm to hold his tricep "You could try" said Hotlips.

Harry moved his hand around her waist to hold her back instead.

Their legs nearly meshed, they were a lot closer, and she smelled of … flowers and under the flowers, faintly of sweat, and the scent of her body somehow rammed its way straight up Harry's nose, and down his spine to his bits, where his pants discomfort got worse. The way the muscles in Hotlips back moved felt… well it reminded him of shagging.

As the dance was pretty slow, Hotlips had plenty of time to make eyes at him. Harry got the distinct feeling Hotlips liked him. The music slowed and Hotlips stepped the wrong way, and suddenly Harry had a warm witch dancing pressed against him, and she felt … well like a fit girl. She didn't step back and his hand on her back took a risk and slipped down a little.

"Don't grab my arse in public" Hotlips said quietly, then she tipped her head back a little and he was looking at the tendons of her neck, tight underlying her pale neck. Harry involuntarily moaned, got his hand back onto her spine, and she winked salaciously. Harry hadn't seen a salacious wink by a woman before, but he was pretty sure he'd like to see one again, as long as it was Hotlips doing it.

The music ended, and they separated to merely standing really close to one another. Hotlips pouted.

Harry leaned over and kissed Hotlips. She tasted of champagne and strawberry lip gloss. Hotlips licked her lips "Hey, blue eyes mask off." she said.

Harry reached up and pulled of his mask at the same time Hotlips did. She had… still blue eyes, a long nose… pink lips… and Daphne Greengrass's eyes narrowed "You!" she said.

Harry blinked "Greengrass?" he asked, and his brain went into a weird free-fall. She'd been great company, danced really well and been intoxicatingly sexy. But was Greengrass.

"Why… god. I kissed you" she said.

Harry nodded "You're amazing" he said, still stunned. Greengrass was… really attractive when she tried and Harry felt… he wished he'd gone home with her without somehow taking his mask off. 'Shit,' he thought to himself.

"I wish I'd married you" said Harry's mouth. 'Drunker than I think I am' he thought.

Greengrass stared at him in shock. She had nice teeth.

"What Why? You don't even like me" asked Daphne Greengrass.

"You're clever, beautiful, a fantastic dancer, have delicious lips," said Harry and he blinked "And a sexy back."

Greengrass had her hands on her hips, and was glaring at him. Oh, and a surprisingly sexy glare too.

"You're the most attractive witch I've ever met, you know that" said Harry, his bits somehow operating his mouth. He felt a sort of slow-motion terror, as his mouth kept going "I like to watch your lips when you talk, when you drink, and I think I might be drunk." he admitted.

Something inside Greengrass must have snapped, and she turned and fled. Harry's brain admired her legs and arse in her dress for a few seconds before he realised something terrible.

Daphne Greengrass was getting away.

Harry wished for a moment he'd looked up sexy variations on capture spells, gave up and ran after her.

When he got out of the doors of the ballroom, she was gone.