The Halloween Ball was set for tomorrow evening, and the excitement around Hogwarts was palpable. Decorations had already started to go up, with floating jack-o'-lanterns hovering near the ceiling of the Great Hall and cobwebs draped across the chandeliers. Students were buzzing with excitement, whispering about their dates and what they planned to wear.
Hermione sat at her usual spot in the library, watching from afar as her friends and fellow students excitedly discussed their plans for the ball. Harry had, of course, already asked Ginny, and they were planning to go as a matching duo—Ginny as a fierce lioness and Harry as a Gryffindor knight. Neville had nervously asked Luna, who had agreed without hesitation, and they were planning something quirky and entirely Luna's style—Luna as a celestial moon, and Neville as a constellation. Even Seamus and Dean, who usually weren't so keen on these types of events, had managed to secure dates.
But Hermione? She knew better than to hope for a public display of affection from Severus. It wasn't just that he was the Headmaster and significantly older than her; their relationship had to remain hidden. She couldn't exactly broadcast to the entire school that the only man she wanted to attend the ball with was Severus Snape.
The very thought made her heart skip a beat, but reality quickly set in, and she sighed, staring at the notes in front of her. Picking a random boy to go with—just for the sake of appearances—seemed wrong. She couldn't imagine going with anyone but him. The idea of faking it, pretending to enjoy herself with someone else, felt like a betrayal to everything they had shared in secret.
Hermione sighed, closing her book as she contemplated whether she should even bother going at all. The thought of showing up dateless, or worse, pairing up with some random boy, only to watch her friends have the night of their lives with their partners, felt unbearably lonely. She wasn't sure she could handle it, especially knowing that Severus would likely be there, watching over the festivities, cold and detached in front of the students, yet simmering with the same secret passion they both held.
What would it be like, she wondered, to dance with him in the open, just once? To feel his hands on her waist, pulling her close as they swayed to the music under the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall?
It was a fleeting fantasy she quickly pushed away. Severus wasn't one for grand, romantic gestures, especially not in front of the entire school. He valued discretion above all else, and Hermione knew better than to ask for something that would jeopardize their already delicate situation.
But still, as she packed up her notes and books, the thought lingered—nagging at her. She didn't want to miss out on the ball, but at the same time, attending without him felt wrong.
She stood up, adjusting her bag on her shoulder, and made her way out of the library, lost in thought. Maybe skipping the ball would be for the best. After all, why go to a celebration when the person she most wanted to spend it with couldn't be there with her in the way she longed for?
That night, as Hermione curled up in bed, staring up at the ceiling, she wrestled with her decision. The Halloween Ball was supposed to be fun, a night of excitement and laughter, but for her, it felt like a reminder of everything she couldn't have—at least not out in the open.
Hermione woke up the next morning to the loud chatter of her housemates echoing through the dormitory. The excitement was palpable, the air filled with animated discussions about dresses, hairstyles, and last-minute plans for the Halloween Ball tonight. Groaning, she pulled her blanket over her head, trying to drown out the noise, but it was no use. Her roommates were far too excited to keep their voices down.
Lavender Brown was in front of the mirror, gushing over her dress with Parvati, while Seamus and Dean, whom she could hear from the common room below, were laughing about their costume choices. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits, ready for what was clearly shaping up to be one of the most exciting nights of the school year.
Everyone except her.
Hermione sat up in bed, ruffling her messy curls, a feeling of annoyance washing over her. She felt like an outsider in her own dormitory, the only one not completely swept up in the whirlwind of Ball preparations. It was painfully obvious that she was the only one considering skipping the event altogether. Most of her friends had dates, and even those who didn't seemed excited about just having fun together.
But Hermione? She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that had been gnawing at her for days. The thought of attending the ball alone, sitting on the sidelines while her friends danced the night away, didn't sit right with her. It wasn't just about going dateless—it was the idea of feeling out of place, watching Harry and Ginny, Neville and Luna, and everyone else twirl around the dance floor, while she was left to nurse a pumpkin juice at some empty table.
Maybe I'm overthinking it, she told herself as she climbed out of bed and padded over to the window. Outside, the autumn sun was shining weakly through a layer of clouds, and she could see the leaves falling gently from the trees in the Forbidden Forest. Hogwarts was always beautiful this time of year, and on any other day, she might have felt a little more in tune with the festive spirit.
But not today.
As she dressed for the day and prepared her bag for class, the conversations around her only fueled her annoyance. She could easily find another time to hang out with her friends; it didn't have to be tonight at the Ball. The idea of sitting through a night of forced smiles and watching everyone else have fun wasn't appealing. Not to mention the pressure of people asking her why she hadn't brought a date.
What would I even say? she thought bitterly. That the person I actually want to go with is the Headmaster?
It was an impossible situation. Hermione knew that attending the ball without a date would raise questions, and while she wasn't exactly keen on drawing attention to herself, going alone would surely do just that. She imagined the whispers and sideways glances—Poor Hermione Granger, the only one who didn't have a date.
Her frustration grew as she thought about how easy it would be for Severus to attend the ball as part of his duties, standing at the back of the Great Hall, watching over the students with his usual stoic demeanor. He wouldn't be able to acknowledge her, let alone dance with her. And as much as she tried to push the thought away, it stung.
Hermione sat on the edge of her bed, staring out of the window with a frown. It wasn't just about the Ball. It was about the secrecy, the stolen moments, the fact that while everyone else could openly enjoy their relationships, she had to hide hers. The very idea of choosing some random boy to attend the Ball with felt like a betrayal to what she had with Severus, but at the same time, it was unbearable to imagine spending the evening alone.
As she grabbed her bag and prepared to head down to the Great Hall for breakfast, the noise in the common room grew louder, and she sighed. Tonight was going to be a difficult one, no matter what she decided.
As Hermione sat in the Great Hall, absently stirring her porridge, her thoughts still tangled in the frustration from earlier, Harry plopped down beside her with a huff. His exasperation was palpable even before he opened his mouth.
"Why not just go with Ron?" he asked, shaking his head in disbelief as he reached for a plate of toast. "It's your last year at Hogwarts, Hermione. You can't miss the ball."
Hermione's stomach twisted at the mention of Ron. She kept her eyes on her food, not wanting to meet Harry's gaze. The idea of going with Ron, especially after everything that had happened recently, made her skin prickle with unease.
"I can't," she muttered, her tone more defensive than she intended. "After what I said to him, after the way things ended… it's not that simple, Harry."
Harry furrowed his brow and set his toast down, turning to look at her properly. "He'd still go with you, you know. He's not mad at you, Hermione. Upset, sure, but it's Ron. He'll bounce back."
Hermione finally looked up at him, feeling the weight of his words but also the exhaustion from everything surrounding her. "I don't want to lead him on, Harry. He still—" She hesitated, unsure how much to reveal, but knowing she couldn't leave it hanging. "He still likes me, more than he should. And it wouldn't be fair."
Harry's face softened, understanding creeping into his expression. He knew Ron better than anyone, and as much as he tried to brush it off, even he couldn't deny that his best friend had never quite moved on from his feelings for Hermione.
"I just… don't want to hurt him any more than I already have," she added quietly, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on her.
Harry sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I get that, I do. But you don't have to go with him as a date. Just go as friends, Hermione. The Ball's supposed to be fun, and I know Ron would rather go with you, even as a friend, than not go at all."
Hermione shook her head in disgust, her frustration bubbling to the surface. "There is no way in hell I'm bringing Ron to the Ball," she said sharply, her voice low but firm as she pushed her plate away. She couldn't suppress the anger that had been simmering ever since Ron's persistence had crossed a line. "Why should I bring him? He doesn't respect my wishes, Harry. I've told him, repeatedly, that I'm not interested, and yet he ignores me every single time."
Her words came out in a rush, years of pent-up frustration finally spilling over. She clenched her fists, trying to steady herself, but the memory of Ron's unwanted advances made her stomach turn. "You know what he did to me," she continued, her voice growing more emotional. "He keeps acting like if he pushes enough, I'll just give in. I refuse to give him any more chances to touch me or kiss me without my consent. It's exhausting, Harry."
Harry's expression shifted from concern to surprise. While he knew Ron had been relentless, Hermione's intensity took him off guard. "I didn't know it was that bad," he said softly, his brow furrowed in confusion. "But Ron… he wouldn't—"
"He would!" Hermione cut him off, her voice rising slightly. "He already has, Harry. Every time I tell him no, he doesn't listen. He grabs my wrist, or pulls me aside, or corners me when no one's around. I'm sick of it."
The Great Hall around them seemed too loud, too filled with laughter and chatter, starkly contrasting the heavy silence now hanging between her and Harry. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hermione continued before he could say anything.
"Why can't he just go with Lavender?" she said bitterly, her tone laced with frustration. "She's probably still waiting for him. They had their fling in sixth year—why not rekindle it instead of pestering me? I've moved on."
Harry was quiet for a long moment, clearly grappling with what Hermione had said. He hadn't realized the extent of Ron's behavior, and it unsettled him. "I didn't realize how hard he was pushing," he finally said, his voice apologetic. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I should have stepped in sooner."
Hermione sighed, letting some of the tension leave her body as she looked over at Harry. "It's not your fault. I just… I thought I could handle it. But Ron won't let it go. And the Ball is the last thing I want to deal with right now."
"Fine, don't bring Ron," Harry conceded, exhaling in frustration as he leaned back in his chair. "But there are other guys out there who could go with you, Hermione. It doesn't have to be someone from our house. Why not ask a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw boy?" He was careful, she noticed, not to mention Slytherins, likely out of his lingering mistrust for the entire house, Snape especially.
Hermione let out a tired sigh, shaking her head. "It's not about finding someone just to have a date, Harry. I'm not interested in pretending to like someone for the sake of appearances. It wouldn't be fair to them—or to me, honestly."
Harry frowned, glancing at her over the rim of his coffee cup. "I get that, but I don't want you to feel like you're missing out on something just because you won't go with Ron. There are plenty of decent guys who would love to take you to the Ball. You don't have to sit it out."
Hermione huffed softly. "That's not the point. This isn't just about finding a warm body to stand next to for the night. I can't just pick a random boy and pretend everything's fine." She glanced around the Great Hall at the groups of students who were eagerly chatting about the upcoming Ball. Her friends were all paired up, excited, ready to enjoy the evening. For them, it was simple.
"I just don't feel like going," she finally muttered. "I'd rather skip it altogether."
"Come on, Hermione," Harry pleaded. "I promise we will all stick together and just have fun. We won't leave you out. Doesn't that sound better than spending hours locked up in your room?"
Hermione sighed, feeling the weight of Harry's words. He was trying to help, but it wasn't as simple as he made it sound. "I don't know, Harry," she said, staring down at the piece of toast she hadn't touched. "I'm just not sure it'll be as fun as you think."
"Why not?" Harry asked, leaning closer as if willing her to see his point of view. "It's our last Halloween Ball here, Hermione. We'll never get another chance to experience it like this. You don't have to stay in your room and miss out. You're one of my best friends. We want you there."
Hermione smiled faintly at the sentiment, appreciating his loyalty. "I know you mean well, Harry," she replied, "but I can't help feeling like an outsider, even when I'm with you and the others. Everyone's paired up, dancing, having fun… and I'll just be there, standing in the background. I don't want to be a third wheel."
Harry shook his head firmly. "You wouldn't be a third wheel. You know that Ginny and I don't care about that stuff. And Luna and Neville—they love hanging out with you, too. No one's going to be off doing their own thing without you. We're all in this together."
Hermione bit her lip, her mind racing. She knew Harry was trying his hardest to make her feel included, but deep down, she still didn't feel like she fit in. It wasn't just about the Ball—it was about everything else. The secrets she was keeping, the complicated feelings she had for Severus, and the strange distance she felt from her friends, who didn't know what was really going on in her life.
"I promise we'll stick together," Harry repeated, his voice more reassuring now. "We'll all dance, have a laugh, and if it gets too much, we can leave early. No pressure."
Hermione bit her lip, glancing down at the table. She could feel Harry's hopeful gaze on her, and it tugged at her heart. She hated disappointing him, especially when he was trying so hard to make her feel included. But the truth was, no matter how much she cared about her friends, the only person she really wanted to be with tonight was Severus.
"Okay," she finally whispered, feeling a sense of defeat. "I'll go."
Harry's face lit up with a smile, clearly relieved. "Brilliant! You won't regret it, Hermione. We'll make sure it's a night to remember."