Over the next week, Harry and Hermione wrote to each other twice more. Harry was very pliant to Hermione's demands, making her wait for only three days before he replied to her last letter. He talked mostly about how he dealt with the constant glare of attention - which essentially amounted to him basically ignoring everyone - and how he turned down Sally-Anne, ignoring her, too, after rather brusquely telling her 'no' when she cornered him after a class one day.

I think I was quite rude, actually, Harry had written. I didn't mean to be, but she sort of pounced on me when I didn't expect it. I was already in a bad mood because I heard someone say that they were going to bet on your date actually still being Krum, that you were a dirty liar and had just staged the whole 'rejecting him thing' in a public place just so that you could get some attention. How I didn't curse the sorry smeghead who said it to smithereens I'll never know!

Hermione sort of thought she ought to have been cross about that. Harry had been unintentionally nasty to Sally-Anne, then was on the verge of committing violence against another student. But in both cases, he had been defending her honour and their date agreement, and Hermione was so flattered and flustered by the acts that she didn't have it in her to be mad at Harry.

As she told him when she replied a day later. I'm trying to feel sorry for Sally, I really am, especially after what she went through with Krum. But you are MY date and I don't like the idea of someone else trying to steal you from me. I've never thought of myself as a possessive type of witch, but maybe I've just never had something worth being possessive of before. I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I think going on a date with you definitely counts.

And Harry certainly did not mind, not even a little bit. He felt very much the same, and was deeply annoyed by what Hermione kept telling him in regards to people trying to set her up with other boys from Gryffindor House.

Parvati thinks I should have accepted Neville's offer. It was sweet, he just wanted to say thank you for all the times that I've been nice to him over the years, so I didn't have the heart to tell him that he was subtly insulting me, by not believing that my mystery date was a real person.

Luckily, he took the rejection well enough … then went and asked that meek little Daphne Greengrass from Slytherin to be his date, which is who he really wanted to go with in the first place. I probably shouldn't tell you this but, she's his Penpal Club, well … penpal! … and they'd been dancing around asking each other to go in their recent letters.

A bit like us, really!

Harry chuckled at that, but was soon frowning at the next part.

Of course, Ron is asking me to go with him on pretty much a daily basis now. It's because he's the only boy in his dorm without a date and he's getting desperate. Actually, I think he might be the only boy from the Fourth Year up without one. Seamus IS going with Hannah Abbott, then there's Nev and Daphne, and Dean Thomas is officially dating Ginny Weasley, so is naturally taking her to the Ball.

I don't mean to sound judgemental, but she doesn't half get through some wizards, that one. Wasn't she seeing Michael Corner at the start of the year? She's had more boys on her arm than her brother has had date rejections at this point! But anyway, Ron is on at me all the time. He seems to think that we are the only two left in Gryffindor without dates, so says it 'makes sense' that we go together.

Without tooting my own horn too much, I'm pretty intelligent … and THAT makes only the worst sort of sense to me! It's getting on my nerves now, though. I've tried the 'softly, softly' approach, but I think a good hex between the eyes is the only thing he'll understand, what do you think? What spell would you use?

Actually, don't answer that. If I end up putting Ron in the Hospital Wing I wont be able to explain why, and the last thing I want is a paper trail leading to you. Pre-meditated Weasley-icide might endanger our date and wouldn't be worth it, however satisfying it might be in the moment!

Harry actually laughed out loud at that comment, which drew slightly petrified looks from Fay and Mandy, who were sat close by as Harry was reading. They were both pretty sure that they'd never heard Harry's laugh before, and weren't sure if it was a good thing that they had now, or if it was the signal that Harry was going to go on a psychopathic rampage through Ravenclaw Tower.

Harry shook his head and smirked at their slightly pained looks, then went back to the letter, and a very pleasing suggestion that Hermione had made at the end.

I have a confession to make. I've been sort of obsessing about the time after the Yule Ball, when we start meeting up on a regular basis, just … because. The Ball will be great, but we'll be on display and there will be all the silly gossip and we might not get much peace. But the times after that will be quite different, I think. I'm actually looking forward to them more than the Ball itself.

The reason, I think, is that I'm sat here in my Common Room all by myself. I've always done it and normally it's fine … no-one thinks to involve me and I don't usually want to be disturbed. But now … I don't know … to think that in the future I could just slip out and meet you for a walk by the lake, or for a chat in that secret copse you mentioned or whatever, has left me feeling a bit, well, lonely I suppose.

So I was thinking, and you don't have to if you don't want to, but perhaps we could practise at that in a sort of remote way. What I was thinking is, if you wanted, perhaps we could put aside some spare time, maybe an hour or so after dinner on a Sunday or something, and sit next to our pigeon holes and send little notes to each other using the Penny Blacks. We could be finishing last bits of homework or something, but it'd be like keeping each other company from our different towers while we did it. You don't have to write a big reply if you do, but just give me a nod if you see me at any point tomorrow and I'll send the first note at about eight o'clock Sunday night.

But only if you want to.

As it happened Harry very much did want to, and hurried down to breakfast the next morning with only one goal in his head … to nod it as vigorously as he could, without it looking as though he'd developed some neurological disorder that had afflicted his neck muscles to a worrying degree.

Hermione noticed Harry straight away as she entered the Great Hall and saw him nod enthusiastically as their eyes met. She smiled deeply and gave a subtle nod back, which her friend Fay saw, then she looked at Harry, before glancing suspiciously between the two of them for the rest of breakfast. Harry quickly decided to look away before his attention to Hermione became obvious, but Fay seemed to have already noticed that, if the warm grin she gave to Harry was any indicator of her intuition.

So on Sunday night Harry was in a pretty buoyant mood at dinner. He didn't even care that he'd been squeezed almost to the end of the bench by Fleur Delacour and some of the other French girls. It had been quite a curious experience at first, as Harry had never been this near to the Beauxbatons Champion before, but he noticed that she was very pretty close up.

Then something odd came over him. He had a strange urge to try and get lost in the waves of her golden hair, sure that there must be pots of Galleons and inner peace hidden amidst her rule-straight locks. He was about to tell Fleur that he'd built a special broom designed just for the purpose of flying right into her big blue eyes, when he suddenly felt the urge to look over at the Gryffindor table.

That's when his eyes fell on Hermione. She looked a bit miffed that he'd been pushed to the end of the bench and rolled her eyes with a little grin, as if to say, 'honestly, what a cheeky bunch they are! We should just kick them out!'. And, just like that, Harry forgot all that nonsense about brooms and hair and turned to Fleur with a frown.

"Excuse me? Any chance you could budge up?" he grumbled. "I'm practically falling off here!"

"Most boys would be happy to make room for me," Fleur purred, batting her long lashes.

"Yeah? Well I'm not 'most boys'," Harry scowled. "Now move up, please."

Fleur didn't scowl at him. Instead, she cocked her head and looked a little confused, as though her charms had never failed her before. She stared at Harry in a new way a moment, almost as if she was suddenly fascinated with him … if he hadn't known better, he'd have sworn she looked as though she liked being brushed off. Indeed, she even smiled a bit as she pliantly slinked along the bench, elongating her lithe, appealing figure as she did so.

But Harry noticed that for barely a second. He looked back at Hermione, who nodded her approval at his actions. Then Harry went back to eating in perfect contentment, chatting with Luna opposite him until he was ready to head back up for his first Sunday session with Hermione.

And then a loud alarm began to ring in the Hall, which surprised them all.

"Fire Drill!" Professor McGonagall announced with a magically modified voice. "All Hogwarts students are to make their way to the Main Courtyard and line up in your Houses. Students from our visiting schools will return to your boat and carriage respectively."

There was a great cufuffle as a thousand students got up at once and tried to scramble into the Courtyard in one go. Harry was caught in the crush, frowning and cursing as people around him asked confused questions.

"What's this about?"

"We've never had a Fire Drill before."

"How, exactly, do you drill a fire?"

And other such nonsense. After much jostling and squeezing, all the students made it outside and diligently lined up in their House. Gryffindor House had taken up the right-hand side of the yard, and the Ravenclaws queued up next to them. Quite by chance, Harry and Hermione were very near to each other in their respective lines, and when Fay Dunbar sneezed into her hand - then had to run off to grab a tissue before she started crying at the discharge of phlegm she found herself holding - Hermione took a step forwards so that she and Harry were directly opposite one another.

Hermione didn't look at Harry, and he didn't look at her, but he was still able to see her struggling not to glance at him, as well as appearing to be holding in a smile. They both looked resolutely ahead and wondered how curious it was that they were both avoiding turning their heads to the other when they were this close.

Then Professor McGonagall began to speak from a dais at the front of the Courtyard. "Attention everyone! This is our first school Fire Drill. As we are now hosting the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, it has been decided by the Magical Health and Safety Executive that we must upgrade our emergency evacuation procedures, especially as certain social events are on the horizon that will cram more bodies than usual into an enclosed space."

Many of the girls around Harry began to snicker excitedly. He frowned at them for their silliness, and found Hermione shaking her head at them also. They looked at each other for the first time and swapped rolling-eyed expressions. Then the Deputy Headmistress continued.

"As part of our new procedures we will now conduct monthly fire drills," Professor McGonagall informed them. "Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students, turn to your left. Ravenclaw and Slytherin students turn right to face them."

There was a great shuffling as every student moved on the instruction. Harry and Hermione were now facing each other directly. They grinned at one another.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione said, pleasantly.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry replied. "Having a good day?"

"So, so. I had plans for this evening that this is really getting in the way of. So that's annoying."

"Me too. What are the odds?"

Hermione simply smirked at him. But Professor McGonagall's voice was carrying over the crowd again.

"The person you are now facing will become your Emergency Partner," the Deputy Head announced. "In case of fire, explosion or an invasion of Acromantula, all students are to assemble in exactly these lines in this courtyard. The Head Students are now moving between the lines and assigning you a number. In the event of an emergency, it is each of your duties to account for your partner. If they do not line up opposite you, inform a member of the Faculty immediately and we will instigate a search of the castle."

Harry and Hermione were each assigned the number thirty-three, which they both found pleasantly alliterative. Then Harry frowned playfully at Hermione.

"Does this mean that I'll have to run in and save you from a burning building?"

Hermione grinned back. "I suppose so. But don't fret … I'm the only thing you'll have to save, so it wont be much effort."

"Still, I wouldn't hold your breath," Harry teased in a solemn voice. "I'm actually allergic to fire, you know."

"Charming!" Hermione laughed. "But don't worry, I'm a Virgo, a water sign. I'll put you out if you get too hot."

"That's alright then," Harry smirked.

Next to Hermione, Parvati and Lavender swapped semi-scandalised, semi-delighted looks. They couldn't wait to get inside and ask what the hell that exchange was all about.

But Harry wasn't done. "So … I hear you have a date for the Yule Ball."

Hermione rounded her eyes and pursed her lips in a sort of amused shock. She seemed to be struggling not to playfully tell Harry off. "Yes, that's right."

"Congratulations," Harry offered genuinely.

"Thank you," Hermione managed to reply, a twitchy grin pulling at the corner of her mouth, which she was trying hard to resist. "I understand that you also have a date. Well done."

"Who told you that?"

"Oh, well Harry, you should know how fast the Hogwarts Rumour Mill spins," Hermione told him, sniffily. "I hear that she will be your Penpal Club partner?"

"That's right," Harry nodded. "The part about her being the person I write to in the Lonely Hearts Club, I mean. After all, I'm only assuming it's a she …"

Hermione snorted out a guffaw that she pointlessly tried to hide. Harry's blatant tease, of using the Penpal Club moniker, and his infuriatingly calm demeanour was unexpectedly hilarious to her.

"But you have no idea who she is?"

"None, as it's an anonymous scheme," Harry confirmed bracingly. "For all I know she - if it is a she - could be a total nightmare."

Hermione cocked her head and bit her lip, her eyes flashing with mirth. Harry was aching with his own efforts to not burst out laughing. They must have made quite the odd sight to anyone who was watching … which almost everyone nearby curiously was.

"Yes, I bet she could," Hermione replied, narrowing her eyes at Harry. "I suppose you'd just better behave yourself then."

"Yes, that might be good advice. Thanks," Harry returned. "You must have been one of the first people to get a date for the Ball, you know. Whoever it was must have been very keen to tie you down."

"He was actually very presumptuous," Hermione mused. "Just assumed I'd go with him without even asking."

"You must like him, though, to have agreed to go with him despite all that."

"Yes, I actually like him very much. Even though he can be a little toe-rag from time to time, so maybe I need to take a leaf out of your date's book and be a nightmare to him at the Yule Ball, just to keep him in line. To be honest he's quite sweet, so I generally forgive him quickly."

"Good for you … and him, obviously," Harry nodded, piously. "Has any of the betting gotten close to revealing his identity yet?"

Hermione scowled warmly at Harry's perpetual funning. She had never seen this side of him before and she found it stirred a cosy heat deep inside her.

"Let's just say he's the last person anyone would expect," Hermione replied.

"Don't fancy giving me any clues? I could use a few extra Galleons."

"Sorry, that would just be insider trading."

"Fair enough," Harry grinned.

"You know, I'm surprised you are going to the Ball at all," Hermione considered aloud. "I wouldn't have thought it would be your sort of thing."

"Oh, well, I suppose we all want a Cinderella moment, don't we?"

Hermione snorted out a laugh at that. She couldn't help it. "I expect to see you in glass slippers, then."

"Oh yes, and a periwinkle blue ball gown," Harry agreed. "I'm quite looking forward to seeing that, myself."

Harry and Hermione just looked at each other for a few seconds, blinking together in unspoken understanding. The urge to burst out laughing was almost unbearable for the both of them. Luckily, it was at that point that Professor McGonagall instructed the classes to all file back into the castle, one House at a time.

"Bye, Hermione," Harry called, jauntily, as Hermione walked away.

"Bye, Harry," she returned in equal breeziness. "Maybe I'll see you at the Ball."

"Unlikely, but have a good time," Harry teased back. "Let's just hope the dancefloor doesn't catch fire or we might have to become emergency partners!"

"Let's hope not then," Hermione called in reply. "See you."

And with that they parted. Hermione was heaving with suppressed giggles all the way to the Common Room. She felt like she wanted to explode, as though she'd swallowed a gallon of Coca Cola and an imperial mint at the same time, and was now suffering the consequences. She just wanted to get to the safety of her four-poster, but she wasn't allowed to escape so easily.

"Right, Missy, don't you think you're going anywhere!" Lavender Brown cried as Hermione made a dash for the dormitory staircase.

Hermione turned around, suspicious and confused. "What? What have I done now?"

"We don't know, that's what we're going to get to the bottom of!" Parvati hooted gleefully, her eyes alight as she blocked the stairway with Lavender. "You aren't taking a single step up those stairs until you tell us what's going on with you and Potter."

Hermione's heart leapt to life, but she fought to stay composed. "I have no idea what you're rabbiting on about."

"Oh, don't give us that rubbish!" Lavender squeaked. "We both saw you in the yard … flirting with Harry Potter for all you were worth!"

Now it was Hermione's turn to laugh. "Flirt? Don't be absurd. We were just chatting, that's all."

"It was flirting and you know it!" Parvati cried. "Don't pretend to be all coy."

"Yeah, nobody chats with Harry Potter, even if that is what you insist on calling it," Lavender cut in. "Nobody even talks with Potter, let alone what you were doing outside."

"Teasing, banter, plays on words," Parvati took over. "I wouldn't have believed it of either of you if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"Then maybe you need to get them checked, because you're seeing things that aren't there," Hermione replied in her haughtiest tone.

"Just tell us once and for all … is there something going on with you and Potter?" Lavender demanded. "Is he your date?"

Hermione looked Lavender square in the eye and drew in a weighty breath. "I'm not telling you who my date is. I've told you that twenty times at least. And I don't care if you think it's Harry, the Bloody Baron, or Professor Dumbledore, himself … I. Am. Not. Telling. You. For the umpteenth time."

"So what is your connection to Potter, then?" Parvati asked. "Why are you so friendly all of a sudden?"

"There's nothing sudden about it," Hermione fired back. "Harry and I have always gotten on well. We study together in the library quite a lot … not that either of you knows much about studying or the library. I'm always breaking quill nibs, he always has spares. That's how our conversations start. Just because everyone else wants to ask him stupid questions about Voldemort doesn't mean we all do."

Parvati and Lavender visibly winced at the mention of the Dark Lord's name.

"Can't you say You-Know-Who?" Lavender begged.

"No, it's cowardly," Hermione returned, vehemently. "I got over that a long time ago. Perhaps you all should, too. Maybe then you'll realise that Harry Potter is a person and not a legend. Goodnight, I'm turning in early."

And with that Hermione span on her heel and marched her way past Parvati and up the stairs to her dorm. Once there, she hitched a better mood onto her brain and closed the curtains of her bed, before penning a quick note to Harry, which she dropped into her pigeon hole.

You are bloody incorrigible, do you know that?

Harry grinned at the other end as he read the note, scribbling down a rapid reply.

- I saw you trying not to laugh, so don't get all high and mighty. What took you so long anyway? It's ten past eight already.

Hermione gasped in faux shock and took up her quill again. I was accosted by the girls of my dorm, if you must know, which annoyed me as I nearly wet myself holding in all that laughter! They saw our little exchange in the courtyard and wanted an explanation. If you wanted to speak to me so badly you could have just walked me back to Gryffindor Tower and made less of a scene!

Harry smirked as he dipped his own quill into an ink pot. That would have given the game away, don't you think?

It looked like you were trying to do a good enough job of that on your own, Hermione wrote back. What are you doing this evening? Apart from making my life a trial, obviously!

Don't be such a diva … you're worse than Hedwig! Harry replied. I'm just finishing an essay on Thestrals.

Thestrals? Hermione queried. I didn't think you took Care of Magical Creatures.

I don't, Harry confirmed. This is part of my Charms homework, though it's more Magical Theory, really, which I'll probably take for my NEWTs. I'm writing about how the Thestral Invisibility Pheromone works. It isn't until the human brain has suffered real trauma that a chemical is released that counteracts the T.I.P, allowing you to see them. It's sort of like a natural Charm, or that's what I'm arguing, anyway.

Can you see Thestrals, then? Hermione asked.

- Yes.

Really? That's fascinating. I wish I could.

There was a pause of about a minute, which seemed an age to Hermione considering how fast the other notes had been exchanged. She was getting slightly concerned by the time her pigeon hole finally glowed purple again.

Do you? Harry asked. Do you really?

Then Hermione gasped out loud as understanding struck. Feeling utterly wretched, she scribbled back a hasty reply.

No! No of course I don't! I'm so sorry … forgive me, Harry. That was a stupid, stupid, horribly insensitive thing to say. Oh, I feel just terrible now!

It wasn't the best choice of words, but I know what you meant, Harry replied. Don't beat yourself up over it.

How can you say that! After all you've been through! For me to say something like that … I'm a horror of a person, aren't I?

- Well, you did say you could be a nightmare!

Hermione couldn't help but grin to herself. You do realise that I'm going to be a nightmare now, don't you? Just to get back at you for that?

- I'd expect nothing less! Shall we study?

Yes, let's.

So they did, Harry continuing on with his Charms work and Hermione revising for a History of Magic mock exam that she had in the morning. Occasionally, Hermione would send over a question to Harry, to test him on whether he knew the difference between Emeric the Oddball and Ulfric the Oddbod, which he usually did.

Then Harry would be silly, sending back a question like, "How do you spell Petrificus Totalus?", to which Hermione would roll her eyes with a chuckle and write, "like that," and Harry would swiftly reply with, "good, just checking," or, if he was feeling particularly cheeky, would say, "no, it's with a low tenor incantation and a wand movement that looks like a wonky key. Get it? How do you SPELL it! Five points from the Gryffin-dummies!"

Hermione would then smirk to herself as she ignored Harry for the next five minutes, until he sent an apology for calling her a 'Gryffin-dummy', which he usually did, too. Apart from one occasion when Hermione dubbed him a Raven-loony, which he accepted he deserved and they called a truce on their friendly name-calling for the evening.

And so the pattern for the next few weeks was set. Harry would write to Hermione on a Tuesday or Wednesday, and she'd respond two days later. But the letters became shorter and shorter, because their Sunday night meetings became longer and longer. One hour quickly became three … indeed, the meeting on the second Sunday in December stretched to four, and it was well past midnight when they finally agreed - reluctantly - to go to sleep.

The reason for this, of course, was that this would be the last meeting they would have before the Yule Ball the following week.

It had come around more quickly that either of them could have imagined. They were both overcome with such an excited sort of nervousness that Harry forgot to write to Hermione on that last Tuesday and she forgot that she was supposed to be expecting a letter at all. They simply waited until Sunday night when all the final preparations would be put in place.

I have my dress, Hermione wrote, noticing that even her hand was nervously shaking. It's really quite cute, I think.

And you went for the periwinkle blue? Harry asked back.

I did.

- Then I'll do my cuffs in scarlet and gold. It'll look quite nice when it's done, so long as I don't muck it up! Or it will look nice … until I get in it!

Hermione went to write back straight away. She was going to scribble that Harry would look nice in anything, as that was the instinctive response that came to her mind. But the words shocked her for how true she found them, and she blushed at it, and then had to take a moment to write a less explosive answer.

I'm sure you wont muck it up, she wrote, neutrally. You're a great wizard, you really are. That spell will be a doddle for you.

I'm not great, Harry argued. Books and cleverness, that's me. There are more important things. And that's all you.

What do you mean? Hermione asked.

- Well, haven't you noticed how many people don't know who their dates are for the Ball? I've heard of over two dozen that are going with their penpals. It looks like you've fixed a lot of lonely hearts at Hogwarts, Hermione Granger. That's a magic greater than everything you'll find in all our spellbooks combined.

Hermione swooned with a soft 'aww' as she read the words, a rush of affection for Harry catching her totally off guard a moment. Part of her insides felt as though they had melted. She wondered which bits they were and if the damage was terminal.

But at that second her quill was hovering over her parchment. She was debating with asking Harry if she'd fixed his lonely heart, but she was terrified of saying the words. So she wrote them, twice, each time flinging the parchment into the fire as her courage failed her. In the end she cursed her cowardess and played it safe.

You say the nicest things to me. You're making me blush over here, you know.

Harry was smiling to himself as he wrote out his reply. I wouldn't worry about it. You'll match the furniture now. I assume everything over there is red and gold?

Yep, Hermione confirmed. The carpets match the curtains in these rooms … and so do I.

- Um … okay. Little bit more information than I was after … but okay!

Hermione blushed deeper at Harry's racy inference. Harry Potter! That was so rude. I should be scandalised!

- Hey, you said it, not me!

Yes, but I was NOT referring to THAT! I merely meant that I'll be the same colour as the curtains, because of my blush, which is ten times deeper now.

- Oh, right. Sorry. Are you really cross with me?

I said I 'should be' scandalised, didn't I, not that I was. You work it out.

There was a pause then, and Hermione felt her heart beating hard. This was as daring as her little flirting moments with Harry had gotten. She'd long accepted that what they were doing at times was flirting, because girls like Lavender and Parvati knew far better about such things and Hermione had chosen to defer to their expertise in the area because it suited her.

So she wondered now if Harry was wrestling with a conundrum, just as she had been earlier. This was a bit of a naughty topic that they were discussing, the closest they'd ever come to anything like it. Was Harry as flustered as she was about it, wondering how far he dare push it? Hermione was fluttering with excitement that he might be, her mind a little dizzy that Harry might be thinking about her in such ways.

But if he was, he was as big a coward as she was it would seem.

So you're not cross with me then? Good. I've seen your angry side and I don't want to get a bucket of baboon pimple pus thrown over me or something!

Hermione sighed and laughed a little, as a feeling that was a bit like disappointment flooded through her. That had been a close call for a moment there.

Then their exchanges carried on as normal, the skirting with raciness swiftly forgotten. The topic moved back to how they were going to dress for the Ball, with Hermione telling Harry how she planned to accessorise.

I have a little blue shoulder bag that will go nicely with my dress and shoes, she wrote. I don't think I'll bother with a hat, otherwise I might look like Little Bo-Peep, just without a staff!

-oh my Merlin, the images! I think I've broken a rib from all this laughing! Should I bring along some inflatable sheep for you?

Don't you dare! Hermione scribbled with a soft laugh. I swear I will pop them if you do!

Okay, no sheep, Harry replied. What do you need a bag for, though?

Well, I'll need somewhere to keep my wand, Hermione explained. And my spare make-up.

Harry paused over his reply. You'll be having make-up done?

Yes, a little, Hermione confirmed. I've got some silvery earrings so I think I might get my eyes done in a smoky silver to match. Fay suggested it and I think it'll look nice. Then I just need to slap a ton of Sleek-Easy on.

- Sleek-Easy?

It's like a type of gel. It'll allow me to get my hair under control, keep it tidy. It does tend to have a mind of it's own.

Can you … not? Harry asked, and Hermione imagined him writing the words in a sheepish tone, which was odd. I mean, if you really wont be comfortable without all that Sleek stuff, then by all means do what you feel you have to. But I have to say I'd quite prefer it if you didn't. I like your hair as it is, sort of … wild and unrestricted. It reminds me of how you are in a way … or maybe it's how you've made me feel since we started writing to each other, which is something I lack the vocabulary to explain properly. I just don't want you to change anything for my benefit, if that's in your thinking at all.

Hermione blinked at the words a moment. It was the first time that Harry had ever admitted to noticing her physically, the first time he'd ever said that he found a feature of her … dare Hermione think it … attractive. It was a monumental statement and Hermione felt a stampede of butterflies take flight in her stomach as she considered it. She wondered if Harry had even the slightest idea of the impact those words had had on her

For someone had actually told Hermione that they found a part of her attractive … for the first time that she was conscious of. Harry liked her hair as it was … and Hermione was already mentally throwing the jar of Sleek-Easy out of the window.

If you'd like me to keep my hair down, of course I will, she wrote back, fumbling with her quill as her fingers trembled. I'll just give it a good shampoo to get it bouncy and glossy, and then get Fay to stick some sparkles in it or something. That might be nice, you know.

- It sounds like it will be … sounds perfect, actually. I cant wait to see it.

Hermione found that she was breathing very heavily. The very real understanding that she was going on a proper date, with a real boy, crashed into her chest and left her a bit light-headed. And this wasn't just any boy, it was Harry Potter, a boy she'd barely known only two months ago, but who she could now hardly stop thinking about.

And he was clearly thinking about her, too. Thinking about her in ways she'd never have expected him to think about her in a bazillion years. Harry Potter was excited to see Hermione looking prettier than usual, but suggesting that he thought at least some part of her was pretty already. And Hermione dearly hoped that Harry thought she was pretty, was keenly anxious to know if he did, not that this was a question she'd ever have the guts to ask.

So she'd have to find out in other ways, coax the information from Harry using schemes and stratagems. She considered saying that she'd have to go to bed soon, to get some beauty sleep, but that seemed a little pathetic and as if she was fishing for a compliment. Which she accepted she probably was, but it was a bit shameful to be so transparent about it.

But Hermione wasn't very good at being wily on instinct, so she'd have to think about this one and come back at it with a clear plan. How to get Harry to say if he thought she was pretty or not? This was harder than any homework assignment Hermione had ever been set. Truth was, she didn't even have a clue where to start.

That was a puzzle for another evening though. For now, she had to stay on topic.

So … the next time we'll have any contact will probably be the night of the Ball, she wrote.

Yeah, that's likely, Harry replied. How are you feeling? Excited? Nervous?

Both! Hermione confessed. You?

- Same. Don't know which I feel more, but it's sometimes one and sometimes the other.

Me too! I don't know why I'm nervous. You don't bite, do you?

- Ha ha. Not normally, but then I've never been to a Ball before so who knows what might happen! It must be because of the gossip. I feel nervous for you about that.

Don't be. Let them talk, Hermione jotted out. When we are sat comfortably and judging everyone for their bad dancing, we'll be the ones having the last laugh!

About that, Harry began. You've mentioned that a few times … dancing.

Oh, don't worry. I don't expect us to do any dancing.

-I know, that's what I mean. Why not?

Hermione drew in a breath of surprise. Well … I just know that you're not keen on people touching you, so I just assumed that you wouldn't want to dance with me.

- I never said that.

Hermione's heart set off again, patting away rampantly under her ribcage. She hadn't expected this, she'd acclimatised to the idea of not dancing at the Ball, but now …

Then … do you? Hermione asked in caution. Do you want to dance with me?

- I was hoping to, if you wanted to.

But what about not being touched?

- Be gentle and we'll see how we go! Harry teased. I wont want to jump around like a possessed person and make a show of myself, but it is a Ball and it would be all kinds of wrong if I didn't dance with my date at least once. I don't know if I've mentioned it, but I don't like being bad at things, and I'd be mortified if you ended the night thinking I was a bad date, and not dancing with you would definitely count. I'd think I'd sold both of us short if I let my silly hang-ups get in the way of us having the best night we can … and if I miss out on dancing with you then I know I'll regret it later. So I'd like to, if you would.

Hermione could barely believe what she was reading. Harry wanted to dance with her … was willing to overlook his aversion to touch just to be able to be close to her! That was just the most stunning piece of literature that Hermione had ever read. She barely knew how to respond to it.

But respond she had to, and quick. Of course I want to! I just didn't think you would. Wow I … I just don't know what to say. This has taken me a bit by surprise.

- I can imagine. It's a sensible assumption on your part. I wouldn't hold out much hope for me, though. I have no idea how to dance.

Hermione smiled fondly at Harry's honesty, so gave some of her own. Don't worry … neither do I! We'll just have to muddle along together until we get it right for us. It might be a bit like that television advert for Discos crisps! Did you ever see that?

Is that the one where the guy stands on the girl's foot and breaks her bones? Harry wrote. I'll do my best not to do that to you! No promises, though!

I'll cast a Reinforcement Charm on my shoes just in case! Hermione replied. Oh wow, Harry, I'm looking forward to this even more now! If I get any more excited I might genuinely burst. Are you sure you'll be comfortable, though? Don't do this just because you think it's the right thing to do. I wont be offended, honest.

- But I would be … I'd be offended with myself. These last few weeks have been something else. They've changed me … YOU'VE changed me. I trust you like I've never trusted anyone. I feel safe with you, and I've been looking forward to having a dance as a way of saying thanks and telling you so, as much as anything. I just hope you don't see it as an empty gesture when you see how hopeless I am on a dancefloor!

Hermione sat there a moment with her jaw hanging open. These things Harry was saying to her … they made her blood speed in her veins. She felt something pressing on her, leaving her breathless and exhilarated and honestly a bit terrified. She had to stop before she completely lost her senses.

You wont be hopeless, or if you are, at least we can be hopeless together! Hermione told him. But it's getting late. I think we both need to get some sleep. School in the morning and everything.

- Yes, you're probably right. So … anything last minute that we need to agree on for the Ball?

No, I don't think so. I think we've covered everything, Hermione replied. Outfits, colour co-ordination, meeting time. Seven-thirty in the Entrance Hall, don't forget.

I wont forget, Harry wrote. Which one of us will be there earliest, do you think?

I think I'll let you get there first. A girl needs to be fashionably late, you know!

- Just don't be too late, or I'll have to go looking for Sally-Anne …

Harry Potter! Be careful or I might just have to cut your sassy little tongue out!

Charming! Harry replied. On that note, I think I'll head to bed, before I get any more threats out of the amiable Miss Granger!

I was only joking … sort of, Hermione scribbled back. But you're right, we should get some rest. Night, Harry xx

- Goodnight, Hermione xxx

Hermione looked fondly at the three little 'x's' as she burrowed down into her quilt and pulled it tight around her with a contented swoon. She fantasised about the scene in a few days time … actually dancing with Harry, which she hadn't expected to happen at all. She looked at the last note again, let the 'x's' dance before her eyes, and her fantasies included another element for the first time … for she wondered if maybe, just maybe, those three little symbolic kisses might actually turn into the real thing, when she finally took Harry Potter on their date to the Ball.

It was the perfect final image as she closed her eyes and drifted into a gentle sleep.

Enjoying this story? Check out some of the others in my portfolio and don't forget my crossovers! They're worth a go, honest! Thanks for reading, and stay safe in these wacky times!