Friday the Fourteenth rolled around quick as a flash. For the entire week, the only things being discussed by the older members of the Hogwarts student body were dresses, make-up, The Weird Sisters, dancing, and whether anyone was going to get a cheeky snog or not. The fact that they had a whole week of classes to end the term before the much anticipated Yule Ball seemed to fall hopelessly by the wayside.

So when the final class bells rang around the school at four p.m that Friday, it can be well imagined that the excitement levels went through the roof. The younger students grumbled that it was deeply unfair that they weren't allowed to attend the event, and those lucky enough to have been asked by an older pupil lorded it over their peers and crowed gleefully through the thronging corridors, as they raced towards their respective Common Rooms to get ready for the big night.

Harry saw all of that and more, as he left the Potions dungeons and headed back to Ravenclaw Tower with his classmates. The girls immediately flew up to their dorms, leaving the boys to wonder just how complicated their outfits might be, if it was going to take them three whole hours to get dressed. Michael and Anthony, who were going with Lisa and Mandy respectively, simply shook their heads as they rapidly tried to dissect the ins and outs of a female wardrobe.

Harry left them to it and crossed the room, careful, as ever, not to step on the stars of the big blue carpet. He came to a stop at one of the deep viewing alcoves, this being the one that looked out across the castle and towards the Forbidden Forest beyond. But Harry wasn't admiring the trees. His eyes lingered on the windows of Gryffindor Tower on the opposite corner of the building, wondering which one might belong to the girls' dormitory and whether Hermione was inside yet and, like the Ravenclaw girls, feverishly arranging her dress and make-up for the evening.

Then he came over with an involuntary shiver, as the idea of 'Hermione getting changed' peeked into his teenaged, hormonally erratic brain and he was compelled to look at something else, before his conscience made him feel like a Peeping Tom.

But the whole notion of getting prepped up for the Yule Ball had occupied Harry's thoughts on several occasions that week. The image of Hermione turning up with glossy, sparkly hair was now living rent free in his mind, having taken residence there as they concluded their latest Sunday night note-exchange session. He'd even dreamed about it more than once since. And the whole thing got him to thinking.

In particular, he was now thinking a lot about Hermione's looks. She had told him explicitly that she was going to wear make-up and was planning to do her hair differently … or at least she was, until Harry intervened. Which meant that she was going to go to all this extra effort for him. And Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that.

For one thing, he didn't feel nearly worthy enough for anyone to change their habits for, let alone a girl like Hermione, who he readily admitted now topped his Favourite Person List. He didn't know if she wore make-up regularly or not, but he had to think that she wasn't the sort of witch addicted to beauty products. So he looked at other girls, as he went about his week, for a source of comparison.

And he soon saw that Hermione wasn't orange, like Pansy Parkinson seemed to be, didn't have the panda eyes favoured by Marietta Edgecombe, or even the quirky make-up often worn by Luna, which sometimes made her look like a clown at a children's party. But Harry chuckled that this was probably the look she was going for, even if it wouldn't top the polls in a Witch Weekly fashion article.

But then there was the other point that bothered Harry … that Hermione felt the need to change her appearance for him. He felt a little guilty when thinking about this, as his own Yule Ball preparations merely included a thorough shower and making sure that his newly-altered dress robes had no creases in them. That was pretty much it.

As an unsociable soul, Harry didn't even own aftershave, only a moderate amount of antiperspirant for hygienic reasons. So he was quite panicked as he thought about the effort he should be making, accepting that barely-scented soap and water probably wouldn't be acceptable when going on a date. Luna tried to put his mind at ease, when he was asking what sorts of scents were nice, before he sent Sirius on a rescue mission to buy him some.

"Boys tend to go for muskier fragrances, but something cool, with a citrus-hint might be nice," Luna mused. "Of course, girls most often plump for floral scents, and that goes back to why ladies started carrying flowers at their weddings."

"Why's that then?" Harry asked. "I always assumed it was just because flowers are pretty."

"I suppose that could be part of it, but it's not the main reason," Luna pondered.

"What is then?"

"Well it's because, back in the older days, people - especially poorer people - hardly ever had baths," Luna explained. "They might only had ever had one every few months or so. So, after a while, they started to smell a bit, with sweat and body odour and things. So the ladies used to get big bunches of flowers to hide the stink. It's hardly conducive to romance, to smell like an unwashed farmyard animal on your wedding night, is it?"

Harry smirked at the comment. "No, not really. Which is what I hope I don't smell like at the Yule Ball!"

"You wont," Luna told him confidently. "You always smell nice to me. But if you want to smell a bit nicer for Hermione Granger, something fresh and fruity would be the way to go."

Harry didn't think of himself as either fresh or fruity, but he was happy to defer to Luna's judgement on this. He was less certain of Sirius' motives however, when a package turned up from Grimmauld Place a day or so later, with a note that read, "Hope this does the trick … expect a fortnight of teasing when you come home for Christmas though! I want DETAILS!"

Harry decided that the only detail he would be concerned about was the scalding temperature of the cauldron water, when he told Sirius to go and boil his nosy head if he tried prying for information later. Even so, the fragrance Sirius had sent was very nice and even activated enzymes in the pheromones, to essentially personalise the scent. Harry just hoped that this new eau de Potter didn't send Hermione running for the nearest sick bowl when she caught a whiff of it.

But that put Harry back onto his musing about all this changing. He'd done something new for Hermione, and she was doing new things for him. And he wondered if it was all worth it. He liked the way Hermione looked as she was, and he wasn't sure if he wanted her to look any different. And when he caught himself thinking that, the floor seemed to go from beneath him.

Because it was the first time that Harry realised that he thought Hermione was pretty.

He was copying down a complicated list of alternate names for Philosophical Mercury in his alchemy class when the thought occurred to him. The impact of it was so profound that it made his hairs stand on end, and his quill hovered over his parchment in a quivering hand for a full minute, as he tried to process the enormity of the understanding.

He found Hermione pretty … when had that happened? Or had it always been there and he'd simply never thought it was important before? But if that was true, why was it important now? Or was it important at all? He liked her as a person and her physical traits shouldn't matter.

Only now, they did a bit. And the reason for that was that they were going on this date, and Hermione wanted to change herself for it, maybe to look prettier still. Harry frowned at that, thinking that maybe Hermione didn't think that she was pretty as a rule and had to make herself up to achieve it. He ought to have told her that there was no need, that she was pretty as she was.

But that thought made Harry slightly trembly. It shouldn't have been an issue to tell Hermione that she was pretty, but the idea of doing it honestly terrified Harry a little, and he couldn't understand why. Maybe it was because the knowledge was so new and raw to him that he didn't know what to do with it, or maybe it was down to the reflexive instinct that it generated in his mind.

For now he was wondering what Hermione thought about his looks.

As a self-deprecator by nature, Harry was naturally inclined to think the worst, that Hermione wouldn't find him attractive at all. And Harry was rattled by how badly he wanted her to. Where the hell had all this come from? At the start of this school year, Hermione Granger had been a slightly overbearing academic rival that Harry knew next to nothing about. That was it. And now he was losing sleep over whether or not she thought he had nice eyes.

The world might as well have flipped upside down.

So as Harry added the last few touches to his outfit at seven o'clock that night, he just hoped that he looked alright. His robes were nice, and he did like the aroma of his new aftershave, so he supposed he looked decent. He was already convinced that his new look wouldn't be worthy of Hermione tonight, and he was genuinely a touch worried that he wouldn't be able to handle it if she turned up looking breathtaking, which he was certain that she would.

Luna made him feel slightly better as he reached the Common Room though, crossing to him as soon as he emerged from the boys' staircase. She was wearing a pretty, sequinned silver frock and had painted her radish earrings silver to match. Her hair was twisted into an elegant plait that went right the way down her back. All in all, she looked very nice.

"Ooh, you do look pretty, Harry," Luna chimed as she assessed him. "Those robes are lovely."

"Thanks," Harry grinned. "Though I'm not sure 'pretty' was the look I was going for. You've pulled off pretty very well though."

"Oh, thank you!" Luna beamed. "Do you like my dress? I made it myself."

She did a twirl for Harry and ended with a dainty curtsey.

"It's very nice. You're very clever, you know."

"Well, I'm not a Ravenclaw for nothing," Luna grinned. "The sequins took ages, but I think it was worth it. I look a bit like a witch-sized glitter-ball, which I like."

"You'll definitely out-sparkle everyone, that's for sure," Harry nodded.

Lisa, Padma and Mandy came over just then. They seemed to be going from boy to boy to assess their outfits, and Harry was next.

"Wow, Harry, you look nice," Mandy purred.

"Yeah, very dishy," Padma nodded. "Those dress robes are really fancy."

"Yeah, much better than Mike's," Lisa frowned, looking over at her date. She reached out and took the hem of Harry's sleeve. "Ooh, feel this girls! That's so soft."

"Oh yes, very classy," Mandy agreed, stroking Harry's forearm. He glowered at her till she stopped. "Where did you get them?"

"I didn't, my Godfather got them for me," Harry explained, straightening his cuff from where Mandy had bent it. "Somewhere called Swifts of Commersh Alley. Never heard of it myself."

Padma gasped aloud. "You got these from Tailor Swift's?"

"Yeah. Is that … good?"

"It's only the most exclusive fashion house in Magical London," Padma breathed in awe. "These must have cost a fortune!"

"It certainly explains the quality," Mandy nodded in vigorous agreement.

"Are you sure it isn't too late for you to ditch this pen-pal date of yours and go with me?" Lisa chanced. "I'm sure Mike will understand."

"Maybe, but neither me nor my date would," Harry replied. "Sorry, but I'm sticking with my first choice."

"Well, it was worth a try," Lisa smirked. "So, Padma, are you nervous? You'll finally be finding out who your pen-pal date is very shortly, too."

"I am nervous, but excited too," Padma confessed. "I just hope he's cute!"

Mandy erupted in a fit of shrill giggles and then the trio moved away to assess the next poor wizard in their crosshairs. Once they were gone, something occurred to Harry and he turned to Luna again.

"Lu … how is it that you're going tonight?" Harry asked. "You're only a Third Year."

Luna turned her big eyes back to Harry. "Oh yes, but my date is from the Fourth Year, so I'm able to go."

"Oh, do you know who it is then?"

"Yes, we agreed to stop being anonymous when he asked me to be his date," Luna confessed, somewhat timidly. "I thought it was only fair on him to know. I don't need to tell you how people see me mostly, do I? You're very sweet about it, but most people think I'm weird … or a loony. I thought it was for the best to tell my date who I was, in case he changed his mind once he did."

Harry scowled at that. "He'd have been an idiot if he did, and not worth your time."

"Thanks," Luna smiled, shyly. "But it wasn't just for him, it was for me as well. If I'd turned up at the date, met him, then he laughed at me, or ran off, or said something horrible when he knew who I was, I wouldn't have liked that very much. It would have upset me quite a lot, I think, because I've gotten to quite like him through our letters."

"I think the same can be said of all the pen-pals," Harry agreed, his mood still see-sawing over how much Luna had to put up with. "That's why Padma and so many others are going with theirs."

"Including you and Hermione," Luna grinned, speaking low so only Harry could hear. "Though it's not secret between you two."

"No, which is why I can happily turn anyone else down, safe in the knowledge that I'm going with the only person I want to be going with," Harry nodded. "So, can I ask who your date is? Just in case I need to hex him if he decides to be mean to you."

Luna turned her eyes down coyly. "His name is Rolf and he's from Hufflepuff."

"Rolf … Rolf," Harry mused. "Do you mean Rolf Scamander?"

"Yes, that's him."

"Scamander … as in who wrote Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them?"

"Well, Rolf didn't write it … he's only fourteen," Luna giggled. "But his great-grandfather was Newt Scamander, or was it his great- great-grandfather? I cant remember, but he did tell me once. But yes, it's him."

"Alright, so now I might have to hex the descendent of a textbook author," Harry funned. "Hermione will not be pleased about that! It'd be like hexing the book itself."

"I'm sure you wont need to hex anyone," Luna replied. "Rolf is very nice."

"But he's also a year older," Harry reminded her, seriously. "If he starts getting over-friendly just give me a nod and I'll burn his hands with my wand."

Luna smiled shyly, then stepped in and hugged Harry around the middle. It was slightly awkward, but Harry let her do it anyway. Then she moved back, blushing deeply.

"So, it's going to be quite the event when Hermione Granger's secret is finally revealed," Luna pointed out. "Do you want me to stay with you until she arrives?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Harry said, accepting the offer. "You can introduce me to Rolf … and I can put the frighteners on him for if he steps out of line!"

"Oh, Harry, don't tease!" Luna begged. "You're enough to frighten anyone."

"Alright, I'll be nice," Harry smirked. "But I'll need your help for that, as I'm not very good at being nice, and you always are. So you've got the walk to the Entrance Hall to educate me!"

"Then let's go now … and take very small steps!" Luna giggled, before she and Harry crossed the Common Room and began the slow walk downstairs.

Across the castle in Gryffindor Tower, Fay Dunbar was just adding the final touches to Hermione's look, as she sat pliantly in front of a vanity mirror. Hermione wasn't entirely comfortable, as she never usually looked at herself for this long, and she was anxious over whether Harry would like her transformation. She hadn't gone crazy with the make-up, but Fay had given her a volumising conditioner for her hair that had caused it to become very thick and bouncy.

"Stop fussing with it!" Fay snapped, as Hermione poked her dense tresses for the umpteenth time. "It looks lovely. I never realised how lustrous you hair is. You should keep it like this."

"Do you really think so?" Hermione asked, hopefully. "Does it look okay?"

"It looks gorgeous, and that's the truth," Fay nodded in the reflection of the mirror. "I'm very jealous. Look how wiry my hair is. I'd give anything to have luscious locks like yours."

Hermione smiled shyly. "Well … thanks. For all this, I mean. I owe you."

"Oh, it's quite alright … you'll pay me back soon enough," Fay smirked.

"I will?" Hermione quizzed in suspicion. "How so?"

"Well, I expect to be a much wealthier witch by the end of the night … when my bet on your date comes in," Fay grinned. "And that'll do fine as a payment. I know who it is, you know."

"Is that right?" Hermione frowned. "Go on then, amaze me with your intuition."

"I'm not saying, as I know how cross it makes you to keep denying it," Fay replied. "But I'm not nearly as dopey as Lav and Parvati. That's why I've gotten you a little something to complete your look."

Then Fay came around to the front of her table and reached into a little drawer at the top. From this she produced a handsome and elegant hair clip, in the shape of a majestic eagle with it's wings spread wide. Hermione blushed as she saw it, accepting that Fay had guessed right about her date, and merely stayed mute as the clip was carefully placed into her hair at the base of her head. Fay then fluffed Hermione's tresses so that they fanned out over her shoulders and, as she looked at it, even Hermione had to admit that she looked rather glamorous like this.

"Thank you … you didn't have to do that," Hermione mumbled, bashfully. "It looks lovely, though, so thanks."

"Don't mention it," Fay grinned. "You look really lovely. And I'll tell you one thing, too … the Boy Who Lived wont know that he's lived at all until he sees you like this!"

Hermione blushed deeply as she beamed into the mirror at Fay's hand affectionately squeezing her shoulder.

"Do you really think so?" Hermione asked in a little voice, conceding the futility of denial.

"Definitely," Fay whispered in triumph.

"Fay … don't tell anyone, please?" Hermione begged. "They'll all know soon enough, but I still want it to be a surprise."

"I wont, I promise."

"How long have you known?"

"Ages," Fay confessed. "And I think you're going to look unbearably cute together tonight. I cant wait to see the look on his face when you come down those stairs … and I hope this wont be the last time I see you together."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, sheepishly.

"Hermione, this last few weeks have been so much better for you," Fay explained. "You've been happy … I see it in your face and the way you go about your days. It's been great, actually. And if Harry Potter is the reason, then I hope you keep doing whatever it is that you've been doing together. He's good for you, and I think you must be good for him, too. Keep it up, girl."

"I'll try," Hermione grinned. "So … are we just about done here?"

"I think so," Fay nodded, stepping back to assess Hermione as she stood up. She shook her head in wonder. "You do look very beautiful, I have to say."

"Steady on, Fay," Hermione teased. "I know you are going with a girl tonight and I don't want to make her jealous!"

"Hark at you, all confident now!" Fay laughed. "Come on, let's get you to your date, before you decide that he isn't celebrity enough for the new you and change your mind about rejecting Viktor Krum!"

Hermione looked seriously at Fay moment. "No, Fay … that will never happen. I wouldn't trade my date for any other boy in the country, including foreign visitors."

"I know … and I hope you know just how lucky you are, for him to want to be there with you, too," Fay smiled. "I'm really happy for you, Hermione, I truly am."

Hermione blushed deeply at that, at the inference. She just beamed at Fay. "Thanks, and I do know all that and so much more. Come on, let's get the surprise over with, shall we?"

Fay grinned and they linked arms as they made their way down into the Common Room. The scene that greeted them was pretty similar to the one that Harry was encountering at about the same time across in Ravenclaw Tower. There were couples all ready to go, others excitedly discussing meeting their dates later on. Hermione was quite cross that there were so many Gryffindor-only couples, but she shouldn't have been surprised, considering how she knew that fewer Gryffindors than any other House had signed up to her Penpal Club.

It seemed that inter-house unity wasn't a priority for the so-called 'best House.'

But the big difference between Harry's entrance and Hermione's was that she drew more goggled-eyed attention than he did, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. There were more than a few appreciative gasps, as the other Gryffindors saw Hermione in her Ball gown, and she heard her name whispered behind hands again. But she was getting used to that now.

Fay noticed and tugged Hermione closer. "Let them gossip and stare," she whispered, as she guided Hermione through the other students and across the room to one of the large windows. "The only eyes that matter are emerald green and somewhere in that tower over there. It's only them seeing you that counts tonight."

Fay pointed through the window at Ravenclaw Tower, part covered by a low mist now. Hermione felt her insiders flutter again as she grinned at Fay, wondering if Harry was ready yet and how nice he looked, for he was certain to look nice whatever he was wearing.

Lavender and Parvati skipped up to them at that point, eyes wide and astonished as they admired Hermione's new look.

"My God, Hermione … you look so lovely!" Lavender squeaked.

"Yeah!" Parvati nodded warmly. "Where have you been hiding this figure all this time?"

Then Parvati gave her a playful pinch on the hip, causing Hermione to colour again.

"You've done such a good job with her, Fay," Lavender complimented, moving Hermione's shoulders to get a fuller look at her. "Her mystery man will go nuts when he sees this. So, are you going to tell us who it is yet?"

"Nope," Hermione grinned. "You'll all see soon enough."

"Well, you look stunning," Parvati beamed. "Your dress is almost as feminine as Ron Weasley's!"

"What?" Hermione giggled, then she looked over at Ron and saw quite clearly what. She bit her lip as she looked at him. "Oh … dear lord! What is he wearing?"

"Best not to ask," Lavender chortled lowly. "It's a touchy subject."

"Yeah, I think poor Demelza is having a change of heart about being his date," Parvati added. "I think she'd rather give the whole thing a miss with him looking like that."

"Oh, is that who he's going with then?" Fay asked, looking over at Ron.

For now they were all staring at Ron, who was dressed in a musty set of hideous maroon dress robes that did, indeed, look more like a dress from the 1850's. He looked so uncomfortable that even Hermione winced at the look on his face.

"Yeah, someone had to take one for the team," Parvati explained cattily. "I felt sorry for him, so I did ask my sister, Padma, but she's going with her Penpal Club friend. So in the end, Ginny had to step in and convince Demelza to go with her brother, as they are best friends. It was the only way she'd get to go tonight, but she looks like she's regretting it now."

Hermione had to agree that Demelza looked about as comfortable with her date as she did when she was playing against Harry as a Quidditch Seeker. She was looking on in horror as Ginny tried to burn off the frills on Ron's sleeve collars with her wand, leaving ragged strands dangling everywhere. Ron looked up at Hermione then and his jaw fell open at the sight of her, but the act made Hermione deeply uncomfortable and she looked away quickly.

"So, is everyone meeting their dates in the Entrance Hall?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, that's been made an unofficial hooking up spot," Lavender grinned. "I have to say I'm as interested in finally knowing who Hermione is going with as I am to be having my own date."

"Oh, so you believe he's real now, then?" Hermione quirked.

"Seeing you all dolled up like this I think I have to!" Lavender hooted. "Come on … let's go now before the suspense kills me!"

Down in the Entrance Hall, the clock ticked over to seven-thirty and Harry felt like his heart was hammering at seven hundred and thirty beats per minute, his chest tight with a sort of nervous energy. The anticipation was practically killing him. Luna was bobbing on her heels next to him, scarcely less excited for Hermione's arrival than Harry was. Rolf Scamander, however, looked borderline terrified to be in the imperious presence of Harry Potter and the protective way he stood at Luna's shoulder.

This was something that Harry found amused him, so he used it as a distraction from the butterflies misbehaving in his gut. "So, Rolf, what's it like having such a famous relative?"

"It can be difficult," Rolf confessed. "Some people tease me about it sometimes. But it cant be anything like it is for you, actually being famous and everything."

"It's not that bad," Harry shrugged. "I only killed one of the most dangerous Dark Lords of all time, not much really. That's just the sort of thing I do for those I care for when people don't treat them properly."

Rolf swallowed hard at the serious look Harry was doing very well to keep on his face. Fighting not to laugh, Harry simply turned to Luna on his other side and gave her a sly wink, making her kick the side of his foot to remind him to behave himself.

"But no, being famous isn't all it's cracked up to be," Harry went on. Then he looked up at a commotion on the Main Staircase … and his eyes went very round at what he saw. "Though sometimes it … it does have its perks."

Harry's breath left him in a stunned rush, and his wasn't the only one. For an astonished silence seemed to have come over the amassed students in the Entrance Hall, as this was the moment most of them were hanging around to witness. For a group of girls were slowly descending the steps, with the one in the middle flanked by her dorm mates the very obvious centre of attention.

They reached the bottom step … Hermione Granger had arrived for her Ball and every eye was watching to see where her date was.

Harry was gobsmacked by what he saw. It was all he could do to keep his jaw from falling off. Hermione looked unspeakably lovely, and it wasn't just her hair - which looked as lustrous and gorgeous as Harry had imagined in all his dreams combined - but it was the way she was holding herself, too. She was more upright and elegant, or maybe it was just that she wasn't bent in half carrying most of the library around with her for once. And her dress … it shimmered and sparkled and was so pretty that Harry couldn't take his eyes off the girl inside it.

Hermione's eyes, for their part, were scanning the assembled faces before her. She had inclined her head demurely as she descended the stairs, fully aware that everyone was watching in anticipation of the big reveal. She wore a shy little smile as she pretended to look around for her date, clocking Harry at once and letting her head spin at the expression on his face, then pretending not to have spotted him at all for half a minute or so.

Then they locked eyes and the fire in Harry's gaze caused Hermione's little smile to become a full face beam of pure joy. She turned to the other girls.

"Well, see you girls. Have a good time, wont you?"

Then Hermione ducked her head, tucked her smile into her neck and glided across the Hall, not glancing up until she reached Harry and looked hungrily into his stunned face. The eruption of fierce whispers that broke out around them was almost deafening.

"It's Potter?!"

"Potter and Granger? How in the hell?"

"Did anyone bet on Potter? The odds must have been obscene!"

But Hermione ignored every single one of them. She had eyes and ears only for Harry.

"Hey you," she hushed breathlessly. "Sorry I'm late. Traffic was terrible."

Harry tried to grin at that, but he seemed to have lost control of his faculties a moment. All he could do was blink and try to remember how to speak. Hermione found his struggles unbearably validating for her efforts.

"I … I'm supposed to say something now, aren't I?" Harry managed to croak out eventually. "I remember that much, at least."

Hermione giggled girlishly. "Yes, this is the part where you're supposed to tell me what you think."

Then Hermione gave a dainty little curtsey to show off her outfit. Harry could only goggle at her.

"You … you look beautiful tonight," Harry stammered out. Next to them, Luna swooned and grabbed onto Rolf as they swayed on the spot.

Hermione's face shone brighter than all the stars on the Ravenclaw Common Room carpet combined. "Why thank you. You look really nice, too."

"Not nearly nice enough," Harry mumbled, toeing the carpet guiltily. "Not to be walking into this party on your arm. Wow. I'm speechless. I mean, I'm usually speechless, but this time it's because I can't talk, not because I don't want to."

Hermione laughed prettily and stepped in close. "Hey, listen to me … I think you look really handsome. I was sure before tonight that I'd nabbed the best date, and now I'm even more certain. So come on … shall we make our grand entrance? There are still some people who aren't gossiping about us yet!"

Harry grinned at that. "Well, we don't want to keep them waiting, do we?"

Then, after a stuttered first attempt, Harry cautiously extended a crooked arm and waited hopefully. Hermione wasted far less time, swiftly slipping her left hand around Harry's elbow and tucking in close to his side. Then she looked over at the Gryffindor girls, who were still gawking at her in stunned admiration, and gave them a little wave as they passed. Lavender Brown simply beamed at her and mouthed, "I knew it!" over the shoulder of her own date, while Fay rubbed her fingers together in anticipation of her cash windfall later.

So Harry and Hermione entered the Great Hall together for the first time. What they didn't know was that the Triwizard Champions were about to arrive and open the Ball just as they got there, so all eyes were on the arched doorway as two of the most talked about people at Hogwarts just then came into view arm-in-arm.

And the impact of that was surely greater than any of the Champions could have generated.

The hushed, wildfire-like whispers from outside followed Harry and Hermione, as they made their way across the Hall in full view of the rest of the school. People craned their necks to get a good look at them, some undoubtedly trying to confirm rumours brought in by students who had seen them together in the Entrance Hall. Hermione smirked at Harry, rolling her eyes, as they both heard their names on the lips of their fellows all around them.

"Still glad you did this?" Harry muttered, as they passed a group of scowling Slytherins led by Draco Malfoy.

"More than ever," Hermione told him resolutely, holding her head high and guiding Harry with dignified pride through the gossip and chatter. "Harry … we're finally on our date! After all this waiting, it's finally here!"

Harry turned to her with a goofy grin. "We are … and how are feeling about it?"

"Terribly excited, I must say," Hermione confessed coyly. "But … what do we actually do, now?"

"I don't know … I was sort of hoping you might know."

Hermione guffawed at that. "Why do I have to know everything? Ravenclaw's best student, eh? Not all it's cracked up to be, I see."

"Well Gryffindor's brainiest witch doesn't seem to know any better!" Harry teased. "I suppose we'll just have to work it out as we go along."

"That sounds like a plan," Hermione nodded. "We should get some drinks and find a table before they're all gone."

"Yeah, not one near the front, though."

"Oh, Merlin no!" Hermione agreed, vehemently. "I see one just in the middle there. We should be able to see the stage and the dancefloor well enough. Shall I sit down while you grab some Butterbeers?"

"Sounds good," Harry nodded. "See, we're making progress already. Wont be long."

"Okay."

So Hermione went one way, and Harry headed for a large table at the back of the Hall that was groaning with snacks and drinks of all kinds. He scooped up two bottles of Butterbeer and span the tops off just as Michael and Anthony hurried up to Harry's side.

"Harry! Granger is your penpal then?" Anthony asked.

"Obviously," Harry frowned.

"Well, don't feel too bad, she at least looks pretty tonight," Michael nodded, totally misreading Harry's response. "Scrubs up quite well, doesn't she?"

"Yeah, so if you want to swap later -" Anthony started to say, but Harry cut him off sharply.

"Stop … before you finish that sentence with something that will make me hurt you," Harry growled lowly.

"Whoa, steady on, Harry," Anthony squeaked, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. "I'm just saying …"

"Saying what, exactly?"

"I'm just saying … it's Granger, isn't it?"

"And …" Harry demanded, his tone dangerous.

"Well … if she isn't who you expected to meet tonight, she looks nice anyway. That's all. I didn't mean anything by it."

Harry stepped in so close he could see Anthony's pupils vibrating. "I'll have you know that I think I'm with the best-looking witch in the room. And more than that, I knew who I was meeting tonight. I've always known, and I know her far better than either of you. So if I hear one more insulting, uninformed slander against Hermione Granger, from either of you, I swear to God I wont be responsible for what happens to the idiot who says it. Understand? One warning, that's all you're going to get from me."

"And that's all they need, right boys?" Hermione asked. She had crept up behind Harry and swiped a bowl of peanuts from the snack table. Her eyes were glowing with warmth as Harry breathed heavily in his anger. "What? I haven't eaten all day, just in case I didn't fit into my dress."

Harry smirked at that and his rage drifted away like a gentle spring mist. That was very odd.

"Well, you look very nice for your starvation, Hermione," Michael offered, somewhat apologetically.

"Yes, I heard," Hermione replied a little waspishly, catching Michael by surprise. Then she slipped her arm back around Harry's elbow. "Come on, Harry, before someone swipes our table."

And they moved off, leaving Michael and Anthony feeling very put in their place by this unexpected power couple.

"Sorry about that," Harry mumbled. "They're a pair of idiots, but they're generally harmless."

"Oh, I don't care about them," Hermione chimed brightly. "But … did you mean what you said … about me being the … the best-looking witch in here tonight?"

Harry blushed hard and looked at the floor. "You heard that?"

"Only if you meant it," Hermione grinned. "If you didn't, then I'll just pretend I was hearing things."

Harry looked up at Hermione, almost pleading for her to see his honesty, which she easily did, as it was written so clearly into the lines of his expression that it left her a little breathless when he finally replied in his littlest voice.

"Yeah … yeah I meant it. Every word."

"Every word …" Hermione hushed in wonder, almost to herself. "I think I might need all of those, just to tell you how special I feel for you saying that. You do say the nicest things to me, but it's so different to hear them in person."

"Is it better than me writing them?" Harry smirked as they sat down.

"Oh yes, I definitely prefer it this way!" Hermione nodded keenly. "Oh, by the way, what do you think of my hair? Do you like it?"

Hermione fluffed her hands through her tresses to give Harry a better view. In fairness, he already looked transfixed by her and she honestly didn't know what to do with Harry's blatant admiration. She had not been expecting this at all, and was utterly thrilled by it.

"It looks amazing," Harry replied. "Can … can I touch it?"

Hermione gasped at the request. "Um … okay."

"If it's weird, you can say no."

"Well, it is a bit weird, but I did say we'd be weird together," Hermione funned. "It's just … no-one's ever asked anything like that of me."

"Oh … well I wont then," Harry mumbled, sounding as if he'd been scolded for misbehaving.

"No, I didn't mean it like that," Hermione squeaked quickly. "Oh, bother, Hermione! … here, let me."

And then she reached over and gently took Harry's hand, before raising it to the lustrous waves flowing over her left shoulder. Harry's breathing tripped and stumbled as he brushed the back of his knuckles with cloud-softness against Hermione's dark tresses. Over Harry's shoulder, Hermione could see Lavender throw her hand up to her chest and Parvati looked like she wanted to cry, as they watched the display with fond affection. Hermione just smiled shyly at them.

"Wow, it's so smooth and silky," Harry hushed, then he snapped his hand back as if he'd been electrocuted.

Hermione blinked warmly at Harry's uncertainty. Being rattled was clearly a new thing for him and Hermione found it devastatingly cute. "Is that what you were expecting?"

"Yeah … just not to that degree. It's really nice."

"Thanks. Look at this hair clip Fay gave me," Hermione said, turning her head to show Harry. "It's an eagle, for Ravenclaw. Inter-house unity all the way for us tonight. I like the red and gold on your robes. It suits you."

"Well, my mother and father were both Gryffindors, Sirius too," Harry told her. "Maybe there's a hidden streak in me somewhere."

"You should ask for a transfer then!" Hermione teased.

"Not on your life," Harry smirked. "You can always come to Ravenclaw though, if you like eagles so much."

"What? And take your place as number one student? I couldn't do that to you."

"Ho ho," Harry replied, narrowing his eyes playfully. "What score did you get on the mock Charms exam on Monday?"

"Ninety-four percent. You?"

"Ninety-six. Maybe next time, Miss Granger."

"Ooh, you are so on, Harry, so on!" Hermione laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. That was a risk, but Harry hadn't complained about any physical contact yet so Hermione was feeling daring. It was only then that she realised how closely they were sitting together, close enough to bump shoulders. That made Hermione feel warm and cosy, too.

"Oh, look … here come the Champions," Harry pointed out. "Cedric and Cho first."

"Merlin, she looks pleased with herself, doesn't she?" Hermione frowned. "Like the cat that got the cream and the mouse!"

"She always looks like that," Harry told her. "I actually cant stand her. She gets on my tits most of the time."

Hermione giggled at that. "Proud of your baby A's, are you, Harry?"

"Very proud," Harry nodded firmly. "Ah, so Fleur went with Roger Davies. He looks like he cant believe his luck! Look at that, Hermione, two Claws as partners for the Champions. Not a Gryffindor in sight."

"That makes sense," Hermione replied, haughtily. "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. Pretty much sums up you Claws, doesn't it? When did you last win the House Cup?"

"When did you?" Harry laughed.

"True, maybe we need to gang up on the Slytherins, share the win," Hermione suggested.

"Oh, so you've finally come around the majority view on them, have you?" Harry teased. "I never did educate you on them, did I?"

"Educate me?" Hermione asked, turning to Harry in confusion.

"It was the first thing I promised, when we agreed to be pen-pals," Harry reminded her, which made her smile at the memory. "And I never got around to it."

"Well, you can tell me all about it in Hogsmeade next weekend," Hermione suggested. "I'm really looking forward to my toffee apple."

Harry just smiled back. It obviously meant that she hadn't changed her mind about that and it put Harry in a very good mood. He'd only been here for ten minutes but he was afraid that being this close to Hermione in person might easily become an addiction, and he was glad at the prospect of getting a regular fix.

"Oh, there's Krum," Harry whispered as the final Champion entered the Hall. "Who did he convince to be a consolation prize for missing out on you in the end?"

Hermione grinned warmly at Harry a moment, then turned to examine Krum's partner. "I think that's Mildred Hubble, Slytherin girl from Sixth Year. Apparently, she's the worst witch in that House …"

"She looks like she doesn't quite believe she's with a Champion either," Harry observed. "She looks more starstruck than Roger."

"Well, he is with Fleur, and she's quite pretty, isn't she?" Hermione said. "I saw you talking with her the other day … what do you think of her?"

"Snooty," Harry scoffed. "Thinks she's all that, but I didn't see anything extraordinary in her."

That made Hermione smile. "So … her Allure didn't work on you?"

For some reason, Harry imagined allure with a capital 'A'. "What do you mean?"

"Well, she's part Veela, isn't she?" Hermione explained. "I read about it in Rita Skeeter's articles at the beginning of the tournament. She covered the Wand-Weighing Ceremony and Fleur said her wand contains a hair from her grandmother, so she is at least quarter-Veela. That means she can mesmerise people attracted to women, though it isn't quite known how it works."

"She didn't mesmerise me," Harry argued, conveniently forgetting his spell of part-hypnoses when he was sat next to Fleur that day.

"Good for you," Hermione nodded.

"I wonder why not," Harry mused. "I didn't consciously do anything to resist her."

"Strong emotional attachment to another person is the best defence against a Veela," Hermione explained without looking at Harry. "You'd know that if you took Care of Magical Creatures."

"Sounds more like something we should be taught in Defence Against the Dark Arts," Harry huffed, which caused Hermione to giggle rhythmically.

Then Harry remembered something about that day, about how he'd come to his senses after looking over at Hermione. A strong emotional connection, she'd said … did that mean -

"Ooh, they've started dancing," Hermione muttered. "Oh my, look at Krum … he dances worse that he walks."

"Like a limp duck?" Harry offered.

Hermione laughed and clung onto Harry's arm. "Oh, that's cruel … but oh so accurate. I've never seen a limp duck, but I know exactly what you mean! And it's just like that!"

Harry felt shoots of electric energy fly up his arm from where Hermione was touching him. He swallowed hard as they reached up and tickled his throat.

"What shall we call that dance? Duck Lake? Phantom of the Duck?"

Hermione howled with laughter now, drawing some strange looks from nearby tables. Clearly, people were about as used to hearing Hermione laugh as they were Harry, and they weren't sure how to respond to the sound.

"Oh, you have to stop, Harry!" Hermione breathed, reaching up to dab at her eyes. "I might burst a lung at this rate!"

"Well, a date isn't a date without at least one ruptured internal organ," Harry funned. "It's like when older people get traffic cones while out drinking. It's just one of those things that has to be done."

"Shut up, Harry," Hermione laughed, poking him in the ribs. "If I burst a lung, I'll burst yours right back!"

"Sounds fair," Harry smirked.

And so the night progressed, far too quickly for both Harry and Hermione's liking. Minutes turned into hours in the blink of an eye, and the two of them spent the time almost oblivious to the events and gossip all around them, so absorbed were they in each other. They both agreed that their nerves had been a complete waste of time … this was easy, so natural that they couldn't understand why they hadn't always been like this in all that time in the library. It was something to regret, but they'd just have to put that right in the future.

So far, the date was going very well, far better than either could have imagined.

Then the music from The Weird Sisters began to change. The driving, energetic tunes were replaced by something altogether slower and more emotive. Hermione looked up at the dancefloor as the rhythms changed, swallowing hard as this pressing urge she'd been fighting most of the evening made it's strongest surge through her yet.

Feeling brave as any Gryffindor ever had, Hermione slowly stood up, straightened out her dress and stretched out her hand.

"Dance with me, Harry."

It was as much a command as a request. Harry gulped and looked at Hermione's moon-bright skin shining in the soft light of the Hall. Nothing had ever been more tempting to him in his short life.

"Are you sure? I'm telling you I'll be terrible," Harry mumbled, looking up at Hermione.

She just smiled down at him. "No, you wont be. We'll do it right together. So, will you dance with me? You did promise."

"And I'm a wizard of my word," Harry grinned goofily, slipping his hand into Hermione's and letting her guide him to his feet.

Merlin, her skin was soft! He'd never imagined just how much. And cool, too, as though the complete antithesis to his own searing flesh. He wished he wasn't so clammy, but he couldn't help it. Every face watched them as they walked down the aisle to the dancefloor, one of the few couples who had braved the glare of the gossiping eyes to do so.

Luna and Rolf were one of the hardy bunch who had, and Luna grinned at Harry and Hermione as they met eyes. Then Harry and Hermione found a spot of dancefloor of their own and turned to face either other, both impossibly nervous. Hermione brushed a mass of hair behind her ear, and Harry ached at how cute the action looked.

"So, how do we start?" Harry asked.

"Well, first of all I'll put my right hand around your left shoulder, like this," Hermione stammered, as she sheepishly put her arm in place. "Then you put your left hand on my right hip."

"Like this?" Harry gulped, following the instruction.

"Maybe a little higher, Harry …" Hermione muttered, trying to hold in a giggle as Harry had put his hand in a very low spot.

"Oh, sorry," Harry squawked, lifting his hand quickly. Hermione let out the giggle she'd been fighting against.

"Don't worry, I didn't mind," Hermione blushed crazily, causing Harry's inside to churn in all sorts of new ways. "Now, we hold our other hands together and sort of … rock about a bit. There! That's it."

"Am I doing okay?" Harry asked, sounding certain that he was getting this all wrong.

"You're doing great," Hermione smiled, pulling Harry a little tighter. "See? This isn't so hard, is it?"

"No, it's pretty good," Harry agreed. "But shouldn't we be moving?"

"Okay, we'll try shuffling around a little. We'll go to my left, shall we?"

"Let's try … and I'm sorry if I trod on your feet!"

So they began to move, their awkward dance getting easier and more relaxed by the second. Encouraged by them, more and more couples made their way to the dancefloor. They passed Parvati and Terry Boot, with the former giving Hermione a big smile and thumbs up, and then swapped partners with Luna and Rolf for a minute, until Sally-Anne Perks tried to cut in from Luna, and Hermione had to tug Harry back with a warning look at the Hufflepuff witch.

Then the song went from being slow to a blatant love song. Maria Edge, the voluptuous lead singer of The Weird Sisters crooned into her microphone.

"This is one for the lovers. So girls, grab your boys and pull them Closer."

Which, evidently, was the name of the next song Maria sang. At that point, Hermione stopped Harry on their merry circuit of the dancefloor and held him in one spot … with held being the operative word. For, without speaking, she changed their pose, threading both of Harry's hands around her waist, so that they met at the base of her back, while at the same time snaking her own arms around Harry's neck, inadvertently tickling the triangle of downy hair that she found there as her wrists crossed over each other.

The electric shock of this made Harry's knees weak for a moment. But that was nothing compared to the effect of what Hermione did next. For she stepped in slowly and, with painfully shy movements, turned her head and pressed her cheek right into Harry's chest, nestling her bushy crown into the crook of Harry's neck and chin.

If Harry could have defined the perfect moment of his night, this would have been it. If he'd been handed a dictionary and looked up the term 'contentment' there might have been a picture of this very second along with the definition. Hermione must have felt the same, as - emboldened by her brazenness - she coaxed Harry closer with nervous, almost imperceptible movements. He went without resistance, feeling the very real weight of Hermione's warm body pressed tight to his. It was firm in places, squashy in others, and Harry fought to control his senses as he enjoyed them all.

Hermione, for her part, had closed her eyes and was grinning wildly to herself. She could hardly believe where she was and had to open to eyes to make sure it was actually real. Harry was cuddling her on the dancefloor! That's what this was. It wasn't a dance, it was a cuddle, and an intimate as hell one at that ... in front of everyone … and Harry thought she was the prettiest witch in the room! It was so much better than a simple dance, and everything he'd promised in the note he'd written about it. Hermione simply clung on tighter and tried to imprint the feeling of this moment onto her very soul, hoping the song would never end.

Just then, Hermione glanced up and saw Lavender and Fay dancing close by. They'd both lost their partners it would seem. Lavender made a jokey movement about being sick, by sticking her fingers down her throat with a wink, but Fay simply mouthed, 'You two look so cute!' as she pointed between Harry and Hermione, making the witch simply snuggle in closer, which Harry didn't seem to mind at all.

Then the song came to an end. Hermione swore she heard Harry groan at that, but was sure she imagined it a minute later. But they moved apart in the silence, though they were very slow in doing so. For a few seconds they just looked at each other, fire dancing in both of their eyes, then the singer began to speak again.

"Right, enough of that mush for a while, let's get some energy going!" Maria screeched out. "Let's ignite it with a bit of Gasoline!"

And another, much higher tempo song started. Hermione sighed sadly and began to move away from the dancefloor, but Harry stayed where he was.

"Aren't you coming?" Hermione asked.

"I … I thought we might stay for a bit," Harry replied quietly.

"But this is a jumpy around being a possessed person song," Hermione pointed out, cautiously. "People will be watching us."

"I think people have already done that," Harry quirked, gesturing at the eyes following their every movement. Hermione just grinned as he did. "So … shall we jump around and be silly together?"

"Yes, I'd like that!" Hermione laughed, rushing back to Harry's side.

Lavender and Fay quickly joined them, as did Michael, Anthony, Lisa and Mandy. Anthony sidled up guiltily to Harry.

"Look, Harry, about earlier … I'm sorry. I didn't mean -"

"Forget it, you dickhead!" Harry grinned, budging Anthony with his shoulder. "Just don't do it again, okay? Oh, and you have to look stupider than me for the next five minutes, then I'll forgive you. Deal?"

"Deal. I can do that easily!" Anthony crowed, before proving his point by bouncing about like a person who'd forgotten to shake his medicine and was trying to churn it in his belly. Hermione laughed and leant in close to Harry, her hot breath on his ear stealing his mind a moment.

"Harry … don't be like that, yeah?" she giggled. "There's possessed, then there's clinically insane!"

Harry chortled in response. "I think I can safely promise to never be like that! It was good of him to say sorry, though."

"Not as good as it was for you to stand up for me in the first place," Hermione told him, turning her eyes down coquettishly. "I wont forget what you said when you did … you made the night perfect as soon as you said those things about me."

Then she looked back up and blinked prettily. Harry and Hermione locked eyes, blissfully unaware of all that was around them. But they were too overcome by a new emotion to move, and were only jerked back to life when their friends prompted them to join in the dancing, which they did, though both would later rue the moment that had almost happened between them.

Not long after that, the night began to wind down. Harry and Hermione didn't leave each other's sides, not even when Viktor Krum came up and disturbed them.

"May I have this dance, Miss Hermione?" he had asked.

"No, you may not," Harry frowned as he came back from getting a drink. "May he, Hermione?"

"What he said!" Hermione giggled, as she allowed Harry to whisk her away from the leering Bulgarian, leaving him to sulk grumpily in a corner, his own date long discarded.

Then the final song played and those last stragglers who hadn't left began to file away from the Hall. Hermione agreed to let Harry walk her back to Gryffindor Tower, with Lavender, Parvati and Fay a little way ahead and utterly silent to try and eavesdrop on their conversation. Though in truth, they didn't speak much until they reached the Portrait of the Fat Lady. The other girls waited near the painting as Harry and Hermione lingered on the final stair of the spiral staircase of the Tower.

"They aren't going to go in until I join them," Hermione told Harry, inclining her head at her dorm mates.

"I know," Harry grinned. "So I wont keep you long. I just want to know … did you have a good night?"

"No," Hermione returned solemnly, grinning at the momentary crestfallen look on Harry's face until she could stand it no longer. "I had the best night … the very best. It was better than I could have dreamed of."

Harry sighed in obvious relief. "Good. Me too, I mean. It was great fun. I had a good time, so thank you for that. I'll remember this for a long time."

"Me too," Hermione breathed. Her heart felt like it was beating in her throat.

"Right, well," Harry breathed out. "I suppose I'd better say goodnight, then."

"It is late," Hermione agreed.

"Alright, well, thanks for an amazing night," Harry nodded solemnly. "I really enjoyed myself."

"So did I. It was a lot of fun."

"Right … night then."

Then Harry did something he'd never done before, and stepped in to place a chaste, but very lingering kiss to Hermione's cheek. She closed her eyes and felt the kiss tingle all the way down to her toes. She was utterly unable to move from the pure exhilaration of the sensation.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

"N-night, Harry," she stammered out.

Harry took three steps down the staircase. Then he turned back.

"Oh, and Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"That dance tonight … best moment of my life … ever. Goodnight."

And then Harry was gone. Lavender was clutching at her chest as the emotion overcame her, Parvati was teary-eyed again and only Fay had the energy to respond.

"Aren't you going to go after him!" she cried. "Give him a proper smooch for saying something like that?"

Hermione smiled up at Fay. "No. That was pretty perfect for me as it was. Anything else and I might die!"

"Right, then," Lavender announced in a shaky voice. "If you aren't going to go after Potter and snog his brains out, you are going to come into our dorm and tell us everything we don't already know! No excuses!"

Hermione grinned at her and finally gave in. "Alright. But we'll need a few Butterbeers to cover that story!"

"I'll sort that!" Parvati cried. "Girls! To the dorm for a midnight feast!"

Hermione laughed at that, allowing Fay to slip an arm around her waist and guide her into the Common Room, sad that a perfect night had ended, but her cheek still tingling from where Harry Potter's soft lips had just pressed against it. She was sure she'd never wash the spot as long as she lived, not if it would wash away the euphoria of that feeling, a feeling she was almost terrified of giving a name to, but which she thought she could probably guess nonetheless.

She hoped the interrogation wouldn't last long, as she had a lot of memories to enjoy before she bade goodbye to this, the best of nights.

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!