It wasn't an unusual sight in the Gryffindor Common Room to find Hermione Granger sat on her own at the table under the window just to the left of the fireplace. It was one of the bigger tables in the room, in better condition than most, but the bossy, snooty cow tended to regularly commandeer it for her own use. Then she'd sit with her back facing the room to work, turning only to snap at moderately loud talking, to chastise people for running around nearby, or else tell everyone off for having unnecessary fun.

It led to the belief that this was the tightest-wound Gryffindor in the history of the House. Either that or she had somehow managed to get a particularly awkward branch of the Whomping Willow stuck up her bum.

But that weekend yielded something of a watershed moment in this pattern of behaviour. For whilst Hermione was still to be found sat at her table, she didn't do her usual 180 degree head-spin (for many students were convinced that she had this ability) to shout at a single person. Nor did the gobby witch huff and complain about over-exuberant revelry. And even the Prefects agreed that it was the first weekend in living memory where Hermione didn't lecture them on how to do their jobs properly.

Her dorm mates, the ones who knew her best, even though this wasn't saying much, discussed the matter amongst themselves and wondered openly if Hermione might be ill. Indeed, Lavender Brown even swore that she heard Hermione humming to herself as she worked, which the others dismissed immediately, as Hermione didn't approve of unnecessary noises of contentment. That was a fact well known by the girls who were around her the most.

But they all agreed that something had definitely happened to change Hermione, even if none of them could guess what it might be.

Now, if Hermione had been able to have an out-of-body experience and look back at herself, she'd have likely noticed this new behaviour too, though she might have had a better insight into what had caused it. She wouldn't have wanted to think that it was all because of Harry Potter, that her renewed vigour in Charming her special paper and stamps had anything to do with him, but she'd have shyly thought about it just the same.

For that was pretty much all she had done all weekend - think about Harry Potter. She hadn't meant to blurt out that she'd quite like to have him as a penpal, and her unexpected brazenness had rattled her. But what had rattled her even more was that Harry Potter had actually agreed to the scheme. That had not been on the cards at all and Hermione was honestly a little unsure about what to do with the development.

One thing she did know was that she found the possibilities a little bit intoxicating. Ever since that first blink of surprise, as Harry's name materialised at the bottom of her Master Penpal Sign-Up sheet, Hermione found herself unexpectedly entertaining the idea of what it would be like to get to know him a bit better. She'd never dwelled on the prospect of getting to know anyone intimately before, but Harry Potter wasn't your usual anyone, and she blamed that for this sudden change in her attitudes.

For a start, Harry was the biggest enigma at Hogwarts. Famous … albeit for something he knew more about from textbooks than his own memory … but guarded, some even said sullen and moody. But Hermione had never gotten that sense about him. Painfully shy, keen to avoid the glare of attention … these descriptions of him satisfied Hermione the best, along with a fierce reluctance to discuss the events that had made his name. And, given the horrific nature of what he had suffered, who could blame him for shutting down all attempts to wheedle information from his wounded heart?

Though it seemed now that he was willing to talk about it, or at least to talk about something. He'd signed up to an anonymous buddy scheme just for that purpose, but had agreed to go ahead with it even though he now knew who he'd been telling his private things to. Hermione was deeply curious about that, keen to understand why he was still pliable to opening up, even though he would eventually have to look his secret-keeper in the face.

And also why it was that he was seemingly content for that secret-keeper to be her.

Hermione reasoned that it was because they were perfect strangers, and this was a sort of anonymity in itself. They knew each other by name and sight, but Hermione doubted that they'd spoken more than a dozen times over the past three-and-a-bit years, and she couldn't recall a single instance of talking to Harry anywhere outside of the Hogwarts library. That wasn't so unusual, and was the inspiration behind her promoting inter-house unity by founding the Penpal Club in the first place.

Though the library was now a location that stirred an odd nervousness in Hermione. A venue she usually haunted worse than one of the House ghosts, Hermione now found the idea of going there and running into Harry, following their agreement to be pen-pals, one that made her come over all silly and fluttery. She had to shake that off, it wasn't like her at all and was so illogical as to be a source of chagrin to Hermione's neat and orderly mind.

But the library also had another source of chagrin for her, and it came in the form of that brutish Quidditch player who was competing for Durmstrang in the Triwizard Tournament. Viktor Krum was regularly to be found stalking the shelves, a gaggle of vapid girls (or autograph hunters, usually led by Ron Weasley) shadowing him like a dæmon. Several times Hermione had caught him scowling at her through gaps in the books and wondered what on Earth he could want. She had to admit that, as he was a much older boy, the leering attention made her more than a little uncomfortable.

But for her own part, Hermione's attention had been solely focused on speeding up the prep work for her new project, unacknowledgingly spurred on by the fascination of what Harry Potter might say to her in their first letter exchange. She also had to decide on what she was going to say to him to start the whole thing off, feeling it was probably best that she got the ball rolling on that score.

Then, as she was mulling over all this in her quiet corner, the topic of another type of ball piqued her attention from nearby.

It was started by Parvati Patil, who was sat on the battered couch near the fire, drying her hair with her wand. Lavender Brown was with her, carefully applying scarlet polish to the nails of her left foot. She had just finished her little toe when she suddenly snapped her head up as she abruptly remembered something.

"Ooh, have you heard?" Lavender squeaked excitedly. "The rumour all around Hufflepuff is that Diggory has solved the clue inside his Golden Egg. They aren't saying much, but the guess is that the Second Task is going to have something to do with the Lake, because Diggory worked out that the clue was in the language of the Mer-people."

"That's interesting," Parvati replied. "Maybe they'll have to wrestle a Loch Lizard or something. But I heard an even more interesting rumour this afternoon."

"And you're only just telling me now!" Lavender shrieked in pretend affrontedness. "What sort of best gossip friend are you!"

"It'll be worth the wait, I promise," Parvati grinned. "My sister, Padma, heard it from Mandy Brocklehurst, who was told by Hannah Abbott, who overheard McGonagall and Pomfrey talking about it when she was in the Hospital Wing getting a potion for period cramps, that Professor Dumbledore is right now in the final stages of talks with the manager of The Weird Sisters! That must mean they are going to do a concert here!"

"Ooh! I bet they're going to put on a big party at Christmas, maybe like a Yule Ball or something, a party much grander than usual as a show for all the people from the other schools. And they want to book the most popular magical band in Europe to play it!"

"That will impress everyone," Parvati crooned. "I love The Weird Sisters!"

"Everyone loves them," Lavender agreed. "I love their singer, Maria Edge. I love her boobs, they're just the perfect shape. I wish mine were like that."

Then she started poking and prodding her chest, as she tried to coax her breasts into the shape she wanted them to be.

Just then, Seamus Finnigan cocked his head up from the floor in front of the fire. "I wish you had boobs like Maria too, Lav. But yours are pretty nice. If we do have a Yule Ball, do you want to go with me?"

"I'll think about it," Lavender frowned. "Just in case I get an offer from someone less crass."

"Suit yourself," Seamus shrugged, then went back to playing Exploding Snap with Dean Thomas.

"Ooh, Lav!" Parvati giggled in a low whisper. "If there was to be a Ball, who do you think Hermione would go with?"

"Ooh, I don't know! Let's think … who would make the perfect date for Little Miss Cross?!"

"I can hear you, you know," Hermione called over without looking up from her work. "I'm only three feet away, not three miles."

"Well perhaps you shouldn't be eavesdropping," Lavender returned.

"Well maybe you shouldn't be talking about me!" Hermione snapped shrilly.

"We're only having a discussion," Parvati sniffed. "You can join in if you like."

"Yeah," Lavender nodded keenly. "So … who would you like to go with, Hermione?"

"No-one," Hermione said bluntly. "All that dancing and being silly? No thank you, very much."

"But what if they made it compulsory?" Lavender argued. "What if a notice went up tomorrow that all Hogwarts students have to go and represent the school? What then? I think we'd have to pick someone for you."

Hermione huffed, put down her quill firmly and turned her head, rolling her eyes as they fell onto Lavender's annoying smirk.

"Go on then, tell me who you'd pick," Hermione drawled in a bored sort of voice. "Who would you inflict the ignominy on of taking me out for a date? Which poor boy would you torture with that punishment? Come on, I'm waiting."

Lavender looked taken aback a moment by Hermione's curt, cutting tone. She looked to Parvati for support.

"We aren't saying that at all, Hermione," Parvati tried to argue.

But Hermione swiftly cut her off, her eyes sparkling with rage. "Yes you are. Obviously you think that the idea of me being on a date at all is utterly hilarious, and you must have a scale of who would make the most comical partner for me. So go on then, now you've started it, tell me who would make you laugh the most to be seen with me? Who would make your night, if you end up getting stuck with a boy like Seamus, whose eyes don't make it above your tissue-stuffed bras, and you need to look to me for your entertainment?"

"Hey, that isn't fair!" Seamus protested. Then he looked over at the girls on the couch. "Wait a minute … tissues?"

Lavender seemed to shrink into herself a little, her arms crossing her chest on defensive reflex. Hermione just smirked smugly at her.

"You know, I don't know if it would be funny, be it'd certainly be interesting," Fay Dunbar interjected as she flopped down next to Lavender on the couch. "If you were to go with Harry Potter."

Hermione's eyes went round at the out-of-nowhere suggestion and her breath hitched on the inhale she'd been making. Now why had it done that?

"Ooh, yes, that would be interesting!" Parvati squealed, hitching her knees into her chest. "But Harry's so quiet, isn't he? Imagine either of them trying to make conversation with the other."

"He's quiet, but he seems intense in an alluring type of way," Fay agreed. "I bet he has loads to say, if someone could just get him to say it."

"Are you talking about Harry Potter?" Katie Bell asked eagerly, perching herself on the armrest of the couch. "He's so dishy, that one. The strong, silent type. I know lots of the girls go for Diggory for that sort of thing, but Harry would give him a run for his money … or he could,if he made a bit more of an effort with his hair."

"Mmm," Fay swooned. "Make it all long and wavy like Cedric's. He'd be yummy like that."

"He's pretty yummy as it is," Lavender pointed out, to which they all nodded in agreement. "I'd think about asking him to a Ball, but I probably wouldn't get two words from his mouth all night."

"Hey, if his lips don't want to talk, I'm sure you could find other things to do with them!" Katie teased, nudging Fay's shoulder as Lavender and Parvati fell about in hysterical giggles. Hermione simply frowned at them for being so childish. "Seriously, girls, Harry's a bit younger than me, but I don't know why you aren't all over him like a rash."

"He never lets anyone get close, does he?" Parvati replied. "My sister says he hardly ever speaks to anyone in Ravenclaw. He certainly never starts conversations anyway, so she says. Maybe that's what he and our Hermione could talk about on their date … the best ways to ignore people and be silent! What do you think, Haitch?"

Hermione huffed and narrowed her eyes. "I think, after all this nonsense, the one thing I can definitely promise you is that I will never go on a date with Harry bloody Potter! You'd be teasing me about it from now till my NEWT's!"

But that night, as Hermione lay in bed thinking about her day, the notion, however outlandish, refused to shift from her brain. Imagine what that would be like, turning up to a glamorous Ball with someone like Harry Potter on her arm? Not as a bet or a dare or anything, but if he actually wanted to be there with her. That might be quite something. It would certainly wipe the smug looks from the faces of the other girls, but it would just be insanely nice without any of that pettiness lingering over it.

And just like that, Hermione was hit with a sensation she'd never felt before … a longing … a longing to simply be liked by someone, liked enough for them to want to spend time with her, and just her alone. And not just by any someone, but by the elusive Harry Potter no less. It struck her so hard and so fast that it caused her to ache in her chest a moment. She tried to command her logical brain to quell this nonsense, but it was powerless against whatever this was that was suddenly flowing through her.

Hermione looked up at the canopy of her bed and wondered where this sudden desire for the impossible had come from. She didn't even know Harry all that well, certainly not enough to expect him to notice her, as unassuming and socially invisible as she was. How could she genuinely be entertaining this ludicrous idea?

But there it was, lodged on the inside of her forehead, just out of sight of the world. It wouldn't budge, no matter how hard she tried. But what was she supposed to do about it? Then it struck her … she now had a private conduit to Harry, one that no-one else did! And more than that, he had volunteered to create it with her! Her daft and surprised heart wanted to believe all sorts of silliness about that now, and it would invent all manner of insane reasons for why Harry had done it, if Hermione wasn't careful and reined it in.

Despite all this, a core truth remained. Harry and Hermione had entered into a covenant together, agreed to share things between each other that they might not have ever told anyone else before. That might not mean much right away, but surely they would soon develop a bond of trust and respect for one another, and that would be the start of something.

Hermione thrilled a little at the idea, at the mere concept of being close to someone for a change. Why had she never thought about this prior to tonight? She didn't really understand that, but the idea had simply never entered into her thinking before. But it was here now and boy had it arrived with a splash!

Hermione suspected that it was because she didn't know Harry very much, so she could make him into whatever she wanted him to be. Her manic brain could create scenarios, fabricate instances, dream away with no limits. Harry could be the perfect gentleman, the funniest storyteller, have limitless patience to listen to her when she began rabbiting away about her passions, which she was certain he would be the sort of person to indulge.

All of this might have been mere fantasy of course. Hermione was still sensible enough to realise that. Though at the same time it was the reality of the possibilities that excited her the most, that made her imagine that some of this might actually come true. The idea of having a study partner for the library rather than beavering away alone, of having someone to visit Hogsmeade with who might be willing to explore the historical sites as well as the sweetshop. These were the things that caused Hermione to grip onto her duvet so tightly that she left creases there when she let go.

And hovering over all of this, that image of going to the Ball with a willing partner. It was a fairy tale idea, one never before conceived in the world of Hermione Granger. But there it was, lingering and persistent and waiting to be sated. Hermione accepted it into her being, snuggled down into her covers and willed herself to sleep.

After all, she had an important letter to write in the morning.

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