Fools In Love

The highly anticipated day was soon upon them - the final day of term and the day of the Christmas Party. Even with only a dozen students making it on the guest list, the event had the school in a spin. Least of all because of the rumoured participants that were arriving at the castle especially. Some of the gossip had Harry guffawing at the ridiculousness. Apparently, according to some sources, Slughorn had hired out a retinue of veela dancers as entertainment. Funnily enough, the sources were mostly male. Other rumours veered towards as bizarre as saying that representatives from a vampire coven from Transylvania were making an appearance. Harry's personal favourites were the rumours about himself. Dean had giggled himself to breathlessness when he said that he heard that Harry had hired a valet to attend to him for the party, as well as two Trolls as his bodyguards.

Of course, among the rumours were facts. As expected, by the time the day of the party had arrived, everyone in the school had heard that he and Hermione were attending together. He smirked to himself when he noticed a rather sullen mood descending on the Great Hall when he entered with Hermione and Neville. While he and Hermione had agreed that they'd keep things discreet and not broadcast their partnership out of spite, just them being within the vicinity of one another was enough to get the whispers starting.

Settling down for their breakfast, it didn't take long for the owl post to arrive. As it always was on the last morning of term, the air was thick with parcels and envelopes. Harry's seeker instincts did well to catch one of Hermione's parcels before it landed in her cereal. More parcels fell, joining with wrapped presents, cards, and letters. Hermione amassed herself a collection of post: a small cube box, a taller box, and a small parcel wrapped in jolly wrapping paper that looked very muggle. Each Hermione stowed into her bag, her face blushing a little at the muggle present.

Harry jumped in shock when two sets of claws suddenly gripped his shoulder. He looked over, his vision obscured with pure white feathers. He peered up into Hedwig's bright yellow eyes.

"Hedwig? What are you doing here?" He noticed a letter tied to her leg. He untied it, frowning. Who would use Hedwig without his permission? He unravelled the note, recognising Dumbledore's hand at once.

Forgive the short notice and the use of your owl, Harry. She would not let me use any other to send you a note.

I wish for you to come to my office at midday today when classes end for the holiday. Fret not, it will not take up too much time.

Yours - AD

"Hedwig?" Hermione gasped in surprise when she noticed Harry had a snowy owl on his shoulder as if he was a human perch. He mutely handed her the note he received. As she read it, he cut off a piece of his bacon and fed it to Hedwig. He smiled fondly at her and scratched her under her beak.

"Oh… well, the end-of-term lunch doesn't start until one so I expect you'll be finished before then. I suppose it can't really start without Dumbledore anyway." Hermione said as she handed the note back. Harry took the note, looking up to the top table. Dumbledore wasn't sitting in his usual high-backed chair. In fact, only a couple of teachers were present. Slughorn and McGonagall.

"Strange that it's such short notice." Harry then extended his arm. Hedwig hopped onto his wrist. "Back to the Owlery, girl," he told Hedwig. At once, she took flight.

"Hmm." Hermione gazed off, thoughtful. "Well whatever it is, it doesn't sound too serious."

Harry nodded his agreement, slipping the note in his pocket.

Three hours later, Harry was alone in the seventh floor corridor while the rest of the school were making use of their freedom before the end-of-term Christmas lunch. Bag slung over his shoulder, he made his way through the corridors, skin prickling at the unpleasant silence of the deserted hallway.

He reached the entrance to the Headmaster's office and gave the password.

"Acid Pops!"

The gargoyle shuffled out the way to reveal the spiral staircase with its usual enthusiasm. Harry pulled the strap of his bag up higher on his shoulder before ascending the stairs, peering up them curiously. He reached the door and knocked, waiting for the customary permission to enter.

"Come in."

Entering the office, Harry was graced with the usual sights of the familiar space - the myriad of portraits lining the wall behind the large, impressive desk, the cabinets of delicate, whirring objects (many of which repaired since Harry's grief-stricken rampage last summer), and of course, Fawkes in all his glory. Professor Dumbledore looked up when Harry entered. As expected during the daytime hours, he was at his desk, in the middle of what Harry assumed was a letter. His handsome quill danced around as he continued to write.

"'Afternoon, Professor," Harry greeted from the doorway once he finished his assessment of his surroundings. Dumbledore returned his bespectacled gaze downwards, inking his exuberant quill of deep blue and fiery orange.

"Ah Harry, please take a seat. I will only be a moment."

Giving a small nod at the request, Harry made his way across the room. He glanced in the direction of the cabinet where Dumbledore kept his pensieve. It was shut.

No memories then.

He pulled the seat opposite Dumbledore's desk out, setting his bag on the floor beside him. Harry then noticed perched on the desk with a small cloud above its head was a small snowman, kept fresh with its own miniature flurry. When Harry sat down, the snowman gave him a little wave and doffed its cap at him.

The only sounds in the room were the soft clicks and mechanical noises of Dumbledore's strange ornaments and the scratching of his quill. After a minute of rather awkward silence, Dumbledore finally set down his quill. He waved his wand, drying the ink. The parchment lifted upwards, folding itself neatly.

Dumbledore gave Harry a smile once the letter settled neatly on a pile of other envelopes. He set his hands upon the desk before him, as he often did, steepling both hands - one blackened and the other healthy.

"I discovered yesterday that you intend to remain at the school for the Christmas holidays, rather than spend the break at The Burrow."

Harry tensed immediately. Inwardly, he berated himself for not guessing that his holiday plans might be the reason for his abrupt summons to the headmaster's office. Of course Dumbledore would need to know where he was going. Everyone would need to know - the Order and the Ministry. He was a high-profile target after all. He'd forgotten about the fuss the Ministry made of bringing him safely to Kings Cross in September. He let out a small sigh and dipped his chin in response.

"I… yes, professor. I… just realised that I probably should have told you in person." Harry gave him a sheepish grimace. "Sorry."

Dumbledore flicked up his healthy hand to dismiss Harry's apparently unnecessary apology.

"You were under no obligation to do so, Harry. However, I do wish to talk to you about your decision and your reasons behind it." Dumbledore's smile diminished as he looked upon Harry sadly. "I assume that you feel unable to stay with the Weasleys this Christmas due to your falling out with young Ronald?"

Alarmed at Dumbledore's insight into his personal business, Harry mutely stared into Dumbledore's gaze. There was no reproach in his blue depths, no judgement or impatience. All he really saw was concern.

"Yeah," Harry said, bringing his own hands up to the desk. He curled his fingers over the wood top, his gaze drifting down to his hands. "I don't want to make things awkward."

Dumbledore regarded him quietly for a couple of seconds.

"You are aware that Molly and Arthur both view you as family, yes? They want you to be there because they care about you, not just because you are a friend of their son's?"

Harry's eyes sharply looked up. A rush of previously suppressed doubts swirled out from his grasp. Doubts that Ron had reawakened with his harsh words two days prior.

"If… if that's the case then I don't want to repay their kindness by dragging my drama in their house… all just so I can play at happy families," he dropped his hands from the desk. "It would all be fake, especially when I'm not on speaking terms with Ron."

His chest ached as he spoke, the hurt tightening against his lungs as his breath started to get shallow.

"It's selfish… I know… but I'd rather spend Christmas here where I'm most at home than at The Burrow, pretending that I have something I don't."

He dropped his gaze to his lap, closing his eyes briefly. He hadn't meant to say quite as much as he had done, but he had an overwhelming need to explain himself. His choice to stay at Hogwarts wasn't grounded in pettiness. He simply didn't want to be where he wasn't welcome. He would not be a burden to the Weasleys any longer.

"I understand, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly after a few seconds of silence lingered after Harry's honest words. "You are at complete liberty to choose to remain here. Hogwarts will always welcome you. However, I worry about you being on your own." Harry swallowed tightly and looked up at Dumbledore, meeting his sad gaze.

A sickly stab of bitterness arose from Dumbledore's words. Harry let out a breath through his nose, sighing.

So he cares about me being on my own for Christmas but not when I'm alone for weeks with Dursleys during the summer?

"It's only two weeks, Professor. I'll be fine," he said as convincingly as he could. Dumbledore considered him for a moment.

"It is a very hard thing - losing a friend over a disagreement." Dumbledore rested the tips of his fingers together as he stared at Harry. "I am however relieved that your steadfast friendship with Miss Granger is still as strong as ever. Though… I did hear Horace rather proudly claiming that you are both perhaps… more than friends."

Harry's mouth dropped open. He fully suspected Slughorn of gossiping, but Dumbledore? He caught the twitching under Dumbledore's white moustache as he smiled.

"Um… well… actually we are just friends, sir. I know there are rumours saying otherwise."

"Ah, so it is not true that you are attending Horace's festivities tonight in one another's company?"

"Well, yes we are and…" He brought his hands up to his forehead, sighing, "it's complicated." Harry trailed off, meeting Dumbledore's eyes sheepishly. The glint in Dumbledore's eye was all too knowing for him to feel comfortable.

"Indeed?" Dumbledore rested the tips of his fingers together, eyes twinkling. "It has not escaped my notice, Harry, that you have garnered a great deal of attention from the fairer sex." Harry's face bloomed with heat at once. His mouth opened and closed mutely before he could splutter out a word.

"S-sir?"

"Your modesty does you credit," Dumbledore kindly said, "and I am very proud of you to have been dealing with the attention as maturely as you have been. Miss Granger is a good friend indeed to masquerade as your date to shield you from any more unwanted advances."

Harry cringed inwardly at the implications concealed in Dumbledore's words. He believed that he had chosen to go to the party with Hermione to protect himself. Harry kept his gaze fixed on the corner of the desk as Ron's accusations boiled up to torment him once again. He recounted each and every hurtful word Ron flung at him. The pain stabbed into his chest with each breath.

It's no wonder everyone thought you were the heir of Slytherin. You're just like them. Scheming away to get what you want, no matter who you hurt in the process.

"No," Harry burst out at once. "No, it's not like that, sir. Well… maybe at first. It was to both stop them bothering me and also to… well… make Ron upset." He felt a prickle of shame at the confession. "And it worked, but rather than him feel guilty towards hurting Hermione, he was mad at me. He said… I was manipulating Hermione. Making her like me because that's… that's what I do. Use people."

The words hurt as he spoke, just as much as the ones that were replaying in his mind. Dumbledore moved, the soft rustle of his sleeves making Harry jump. Harry didn't want to see whatever expression Dumbledore had on his face, so he closed his eyes, rocking forwards a little on his chair.

"So… so I made it clear to Hermione that I want to go to the party with her because I want to, not to make Ron mad or make people think that we're a couple… I'm not using her like that. I would never." He shook his head. "Despite what he thinks of me."

He fell silent, feeling a little pressure ease from his shoulders. He opened his eyes cautiously, peering across at Dumbledore.

"You care about her a great deal," Dumbledore said softly, his eyes twinkling as he observed Harry so very intently. Harry swallowed, his mouth feeling suddenly very dry.

"I do," he said clearly, not ashamed to admit it. "I know… I'm not the easiest person to be friends with. We have our fair share of arguments but… but really, there's nothing I wouldn't do for her. There's no one I trust more." As he spoke, his mouth curled in the corners, his thoughts turning away from Ron's hateful tirade. Instead, he thought of how Hermione sought him out after hearing of their dispute, how she had worried about him.

How she cared.

Dumbledore considered him quietly for a moment before speaking.

"A friendship of such strength is a rare thing indeed and it comforts me considerably that you are able to appreciate its value. So much, in fact, that you defend it so very passionately. You learned so very young, after all, the value of love and friendship, having been deprived of both due to no fault of your own."

Harry shifted awkwardly at the too casual mention of his loveless childhood.

"Many people take such things for granted, and it is not always their fault for not valuing what they have. They simply don't understand what they have is so precious, no monetary amount can match it. It is only when they are without it that they realise what they have lost. And it is a very painful lesson to learn."

Letting out a breath, Harry sighed softly to himself and gave a small nod to show that he understood.

"That's what I thought would happen with Ron, but he didn't learn."

"I think he has, Harry," Dumbledore calmly said, "and as happens when we are in pain, he is lashing out. In time, he will come to see what matters most in this life. I do believe that you have chosen well to distance yourself and allow him to come to this understanding in his own time."

Harry looked up at Dumbledore, brow furrowing. He was doubtful that Ron would pull his head out of his arse, but then again, he managed to come around in fourth year with the Goblet of Fire. Perhaps he would grow up and apologise to Hermione… and maybe even apologise to him.

"In the meantime, Harry, do your best to not focus on what you have lost but rather on what you have gained. While your friendship with Mr Weasley is damaged at present, your companionship with Miss Granger has never been stronger. Cherish it, Harry. For as painful as love can be at times, it can also be so very wonderful."

Harry's breath hitched at the mention of the word love. Instinctively, he went to deny that he didn't feel that way about Hermione. She was his friend, his best friend. He wasn't interested in her as a love interest. But as the counter arguments rose up, they became tangled and confused. His eyes darted around as he thought then rose up, settling on Dumbledore's wise, blue eyes. Of course, Dumbledore was all too aware of the turmoil he was experiencing. He patiently watched as his words got to work.

"If… if it is that, if I do feel… more strongly," Harry gazed a little beseechingly at the Headmaster, "what do I do? I… I don't want to ruin what we have. These feelings… it's what made us all fall out in the first place."

Dumbledore gave a soft chuckle in response.

"We are all fools when it comes to love." His smile then lit up and he leaned forwards, his eyes warm and proud. "However, I am certain that between your brilliant heart and Miss Granger's brilliant mind, you will both work it out."

While it was clear to Hermione that Harry didn't want to make a spectacular entrance to lunch, the rest of the school weren't as aware. Only a few stragglers were yet to arrive for the Christmas luncheon. As they showed up, they embarrassedly squeezed into spaces between their friends. Neville shared a nervous look with Hermione when they realised that Harry was the last to show, as was Dumbledore. She knew that the absence of Dumbledore wasn't a coincidence and the rest of the school were starting to realise it as well. The whispers picked up, making Hermione agitated.

When Harry did show up, he arrived with Dumbledore, as expected. The sight of the Headmaster with his apparent apprentice set the Hall buzzing. Harry, however, appeared oddly unfazed. He said something to the Professor before looking down the Gryffindor table, searching for his place. As he did, Hermione lifted her bag from the spot that she saved for him. He caught her eye and, rather than smile as he would usually, he ducked his head down as if embarrassed. He made his way towards her, lifting his head when near. Now he gave her a small smile, but his face was noticeably flushed. He ruffled the back of his hair as he approached, quickly launching his bag under the table before scrambling into place. Neville shifted to give him more room.

"Nice dramatic entrance, Harry," Ginny remarked once he had settled, her eyes taking in his appearance with a slow study that made Hermione bristle. Harry either didn't notice or care.

"And here I thought I was being subtle," Harry responded, trying to laugh it off. Hermione could see how flushed his neck was under his collar.

Whatever he and Dumbledore were talking about, it's clearly upset him, she thought, watching his downcast gaze and awkward fidgets. They didn't have long to wait. Dumbledore did his usual well-wishing for Christmas and congratulating them all on a good term. After a short speech, he gave the customary call for them to 'tuck in'.

Plump turkeys, towers of roast potatoes, boats of rich gravy and large platters of vegetables all appeared down the lengths of the house tables. Harry was eagerly helping himself to the nearby plate of pigs in blankets, shooting Hermione a furtive glance as he did.

"You were right," he said quietly under his breath so no one other than she could hear him, "it was nothing serious. Just about my plans for the holiday."

Hermione knew Harry better than anyone. She knew that he was hiding something, but she knew better than to pry, especially when he was so noticeably unsettled.

"We've got a few hours to kill before the party," Ginny was saying, her gaze flickering up to Harry before moving to her boyfriend. Dean smiled good-naturedly at her.

She always looks for Harry's reaction before Dean's. Hermione observed as she cut into her turkey.

"What do you have in mind?" Dean's voice dropped low. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Not that ," she said, then her hazel eyes flashed over to Harry again, first, then to Hermione and Neville. "Why don't we all go out and enjoy the grounds? Snowball fights are always fun."

Hermione winced at the thought of having a snowball fight. While Ginny was of course used to messing around with her brothers, the thought of having snow pelted at her was certainly not Hermione's idea of 'fun'. Especially when she was hopeless at throwing, and dodging.

"Fun at someone else's expense," Harry's voice interrupted her thoughts. "I remember that Christmas when Fred charmed snowballs to constantly hit Percy in the back of the head."

Ginny released a cackle of a laugh that made Hermione scowl. Then she saw Harry's grin. Of course, he would find the idea of a snowball fight fun. Harry was naturally agile and annoyingly good at any physical activity.

"Well? We don't have to spend our free time in the stuffy Common Room while my brother performs his best impression of a human plunger." Ginny's scathing remark was directed down the table where the person Hermione was doing her utmost to completely blank was feasting with Lavender practically on his lap.

"Do we have to spend it out in the cold though?" Neville posed, looking out the window anxiously. "I lost my gloves…"

Hermione glanced over to Harry, noticing that he was watching her. His brow was furrowed as he studied her carefully.

"What do you want to do, Hermione?" He asked, then he leaned towards her, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "Please don't suggest we work on Snape's assignment." He added under his breath, his mouth quirking up. Her eyes lingered on the dimple on his cheek before realising that it wasn't just him waiting for her response.

"Actually, I need to get ready for tonight so you can all have fun in the snow without me," she said, giving a slight sniff. Harry stared at her. She frowned at him, puzzled at his stunned reaction.

"Hermione… the party doesn't start until six."

"I know that," she replied at once.

"You need that long to get ready?" He asked, incredulous. Hermione glanced over to Ginny and Dean, seeing that they were listening in. She flushed.

"Well, maybe not all that time, but it does take a while for my hair." She cleared her throat, tucking a strand of her unruly, wild hair behind her ear. "It took hours when I treated it for the Yule Ball." She glanced over at Harry, who she noticed was looking intently at her hair.

"Oh…" He looked a little dazed for a moment, as if hit unsuspectedly with a confundus charm. "Well… I suppose I should be flattered that you're going to so much effort." He then lifted his hand up to his own hair, his gaze turning thoughtful. "Maybe… I should actually try to tame mine for once."

Dean choked out a laugh at Harry's words, glancing over to Neville, who tried to hide a grin.

"It's taken us years to convince you to sort out your hair and all it took was a date with Hermione Granger?" Dean gazed at Harry, shaking his head disbelievingly.

Hermione dipped her head at the casual mention of Harry taking her as his 'date'. Under the flash of embarrassment, she felt a flare of pleasure and something else. Something that made her want to smugly grab Harry's arm and show the vapid airheads that practically drool over Harry that she's the one who he trusts the most to be at his side.

"I… well… it's not fair if Hermione has to go to all that effort and I just… show mine a comb…" Harry blustered under Dean's teasing. "Although, to be honest, I don't know if anything will stop it sticking up."

"Freezing charm?" Dean suggested helpfully.

"Well, I think it looks fine as it is," Ginny offered, her eyes lingering on Harry's spiked up mess of raven-black locks. The compliment set off a spark of indignance. Harry flushed, uncomfortable, then he looked over to Hermione.

"Er… well… it would be nice to… spend some time with you before going to get ready. No charmed snow balls, I swear," he said, then eyed Dean. "At least, not directed at you."

Hermione stared at Harry. He really wanted her to be there. He wanted to spend time with her. Her thoughts went back to when she found him in his dormitory after his fight with Ron, how he wanted to clarify that his intentions with the Party weren't purely strategic and that he truly wanted to spend it as her date. She studied his face, mostly his eyes, searching for any deception, but he was truly sincere.

"Okay… I'll join you out in the grounds for a bit," she said, smiling up at Harry. He smiled back and then looked away, his smile suddenly turning shy. Her head was in a spin and she zoned out of the rest of the conversation, distracting herself with eating the rest of her lunch.

Once plates were cleared and the conversation in the hall started to turn rowdy, Dumbledore gave the dismissal for the students to be free to their own devices. Naturally, most students gravitated towards their respective Common Rooms. Some choosing to stay in the Great Hall and mingle with classmates from other houses. Luna was quick to make her way to where they were sat, taking the place next to Neville that had been vacated.

When they finally made their way out of the castle to enjoy the wintery pursuits that snow offered, Hermione nervously checked the time. She hadn't been completely exaggerating the amount of time it would need to tame her hair. The bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion that she ordered especially for the night was still in her bag where it had arrived that morning with the owl post, along with other items she had requested. Her thoughts were fixed on the laborious ritual she would have to muddle through later when Harry slipped back to walk in pace with her. She then noticed that they had each fallen into groups of pairs. Dean and Ginny led the way and she only then saw the agitated hand gestures Dean was making as the two stormed off ahead into the icy courtyard.

"Oh dear," Hermione remarked when she caught sight of Harry's awkward expression. He then glanced over his shoulder to where Neville and Luna were talking. Hermione could hear the dreamy lilt of Luna's voice. Of course, the reality was Luna doing all the talking and Neville listening, unsure what to do or say.

Hermione noticed Ginny and Dean stopping. Dean flung his hand in Harry's direction, looking very unhappy. Ginny was shaking her head.

"I have a feeling I know what they're arguing about," she said quietly. She dug her hands under her armpits, feeling the chill all of a sudden. She understood Neville's reluctance then. It was very cold.

"You do?" Harry asked her, amazed.

"Wasn't it obvious, Harry?" She raised a brow at him. "Ginny was flirting with you."

Harry's face appeared to freeze and turn to stone with shock. Then his eyes widened, clearing as he put all the pieces together. He gazed at the arguing couple in front of them, their heated words just out of earshot.

"I thought she got over it… her crush on me, I mean." Harry said softly.

"I… may have given her some advice a while ago to take it easy around you." She admitted. Harry looked at her in surprise.

"So you're why she started to actually talk to me?"

She nodded. "And I thought that she had actually grown out of her fixation with you, but recently… I don't really know why she's been coming on so strong."

Harry then shifted around, looking at her instead. Hermione frowned, wondering why he was giving her such a look.

"Probably because she's jealous," he said, "of us."

Hermione blinked.

"It's the only thing that makes sense, right?" Harry continued.

"It… is," Hermione quietly said, "but she knows that we're friends. It's platonic… and always has been."

Harry fell silent and she looked over at him, seeing the furrow in his brow. He sighed and rubbed his hands together to keep them warm.

"I think we should leave them to it," he said, then turned, seeing Neville and Luna approaching. "It turns out Neville is right. It is pretty cold."

"Perhaps starting Snape's assignment isn't sounding so ridiculous now?" Hermione said, shuffling towards him, giving him a playful nudge in the ribs.

"Ugh… no way," Harry jerked his thumb over to the benches in the east corner of the courtyard were covered in ice and snow. "Let's sit over there with some of your flames like the old times. Neville and Luna can join us. I think I might have a pack of exploding snap in my bag."

While Dean and Ginny hashed out their disagreement, Harry called over Neville and Luna. Between them, they cleared the snow from the stone benches. When the reconciled couple sheepishly rejoined them, they were huddled up, nestled in a pocket of warmth heated with some of Hermione's signature bluebell flames. The round of snap ended with an explosive crack, sending Neville sprawling on his back.

Hermione nervously announced that she'd only play two more rounds. Ginny waggled her eyebrows questioningly at her, but said nothing, her mood noticeably subdued. Harry met Hermione's look opposite her. He gave her a conspiratorial smile.

Conversation was awkward and stilted as they played. Hermione begrudgingly felt a relief that she had an excuse to leave. As she swept up, muttering her apologies, her eyes fell on Harry and her words died on her lips at the sight of the disappointment in his green eyes as she went to leave. He rose up, trying to cover up his feelings with a smile and a sudden hug. Harry very rarely initiated physical contact and his hug was clumsy. He stepped back, his nose and cheeks still pink from the cold.

"I… I guess I'll see you at half five. In the Common Room."

"Yes, of course," Hermione gushed out, rattled at his public show of affection. "See you later, Harry."

The next hours passed in a haze. When Hermione applied the first dose of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion to her hair, she knew precisely why she hadn't resorted to the product since the Yule Ball. It was far too much effort. Not only was the potion expensive, but it took hours to liberally lather it into her hair and then wait idly with her hair bound up in a turban, waiting for it to do its work before adding the next dose. She combed it through her locks, alone in the dormitory bathroom, watching her reflection as she eased the comb slowly through her hair.

It was dawning on her as she watched her hair slowly straighten why she was putting in so much effort. It wasn't for vanity's sake. Hermione was far from vain and cared very little about appearances. As much as she wished she could deny it, she wanted to look her best for Harry. She wanted him to see her at her best and, as she combed through her hair for what felt like the thousandth time, she wasn't sure why. She knew he cared for her and loved her as a friend. She had nothing to prove to him and yet she had leapt at the chance to give them both the finest robes. She'd gone as far as ordering jewellery, make-up and even heels. And Harry…

Her thoughts would not stop dwelling on Harry wearing a suit. She couldn't explain why she kept thinking about him smartly dressed for a change. His remark earlier about putting effort in with his hair for her sake kept playing on her mind. His black hair, tamed, sleek and shiny… then her imagination lingered on his form, no longer scrawny and awkward but lean and lithe, accentuated by tailored clothes, his casual grace captured in coloured cloth. Fine cloth at that. If his robes were anything like her own, they would be fine indeed.

A clatter outside the bathroom from the dormitory wrenched her attention away from her hair. She took several steps back from the mirror, looking through the open doorway to see who had arrived. She braced for an awkward meeting with Lavender.

Instead, Ginny waved from the doorway, holding a bundle of midnight blue cloth in her arms. Her broad smile chased away the foreboding in Hermione's gut.

"I thought… we could get ready together. Harry and Dean are so… why not us girls too?" As she spoke, Ginny put what had to be her dress robes on Hermione's bed. She then entered the bathroom, her eyes widening as she took in Hermione's hair. She approached, her smile turning into one of awe.

"Don't add any more potion," Ginny said, reaching her and taking the bottle from the sink. Hermione scowled as she pulled the comb through to the tips of her hair.

"But it isn't straight."

"Hermione, it's gorgeous right now… the waves…" Ginny gazed up and down her golden brown locks. "Honestly, it's perfect right now."

The conversation she had with Harry about Ginny and Dean's argument was stark in her mind as she tried to puzzle out the motives for Ginny's praise. Was she lying to make her stop and sabotage her efforts? She checked for herself, looking back at the mirror, turning a little so she could see the length of hair straightening down her back. Her eyes widened. There were so many different hues of gold and browns, all catching the light where the hair curled in loose waves. She then looked up at her face, touching her cheek absently as she noticed how much difference her hair made to the shape and profile of her appearance.

"Are you going to wear your hair down?" Ginny asked her after a moment of silence fell between them. "Because I really think you should."

"I have a grip to put it up," Hermione said softly. "But maybe I should keep it down." She then looked at Ginny properly, noticing that her red hair was damp from a recent shower. "What about your hair?"

"I was thinking of leaving it long. Dean likes it long," she said, then bit her lip, putting the Hair Potion bottle back on the sink. Hermione glanced up at the mirror, meeting Ginny's gaze through the reflection.

"I take it you're both… resolved?"

Ginny guiltily sighed.

"Yes and… sorry about all that earlier."

Hermione gave her a smile and rested a hand on her shoulder.

"It's fine. I'm glad that you've made up," she said honestly, then went to gather her items, returning them to her washbag on the side.

"No… I mean… I am sorry about making things bloody awkward, but…" Ginny watched her for a moment, composing herself. "I mean about being all weird about Harry in front of you. I don't… it's not…" She let out a breath and laughed. "This all sounded better in my head." She admitted.

Realising that Ginny was trying to get something important off her chest, Hermione faced her and nodded in the direction of the dormitory.

"I feel like this might not be a discussion for a bathroom."

Ginny nodded and they both headed for Hermione's bed where Ginny had left her dress robes and vanity set. Hermione quickly checked the clock beside her bed and let out a sigh of relief. They still had over an hour. Enough time for Ginny to hash out whatever it was that was bothering her.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, Hermione waited for Ginny to speak. The younger witch leaned against her bed post, looking conflicted for a moment, but then she let out a sigh and looked directly at Hermione.

"I won't lie to you and say that I don't have feelings for Harry. Part of me will always love him, the part that sees the boy who saved my life and who is every part the hero I dreamed him to be." Ginny rocked her head back, resting against the wooden post. "But the greater part of me sees Harry for who he really is. The person I've got to know properly when I stopped seeing the Boy Who Lived and saw my brother's mate. He's not a… a legend, a name on the headlines, a champion of fame and fortune. He's just… a boy. Dense at times, awkward at others… just as real and human as any of my brothers."

Ginny smiled wistfully, causing Hermione to smile in return.

"I can't help but appreciate him. I have eyes, Hermione," Ginny's brows lifted and her mouth slashed upwards in a smirk, "and I know you do too. But for me… I see all that first, the fame, the scar and… I'm embarrassed by it, really… but I grew up on his legend. Many of us did. It's hard for us to see Harry as someone just as messed up and confused as the rest of us." Ginny gave Hermione a very direct look. "You, though, you see messed up and confused Harry before you see the other stuff and that… that's why Harry will never look at another girl when you're in his life. So… really what I'm saying is, yeah, I fancy Harry and always will, but I know it's not meant to be. The flirting… all that…it's playful and that's it."

Throughout Ginny's speech, Hermione felt sharp guilt at assuming the worst of Ginny. When she finished, Hermione immediately got up from her bed and yanked Ginny into a hug. Ginny let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden embrace, but her arms came around Hermione all the same.

When they parted, they both smiled at each other and laughed, not really sure what they were laughing at. Both felt a lightness.

"Now… how about we get ready for this thing?" Ginny said, then grabbed her bundle of robes. "You haven't said what robes you have for tonight… but if the Sleekeazy is anything to go by, I'm hoping you're going to one-up your periwinkle number. Harry Potter is a much bigger catch than Viktor Krum, after all."

Hermione swiftly turned, pushing Ginny in the hip, making her laugh. Her gaze went to her trunk. She had opened the package sent from Madame Malkins the day before and had seen the rich colours and fabrics before chickening out and shoving them back into her trunk. She knew that Harry's name on the order form would bring attention, but she never expected to receive something so fine. She also recalled how Harry, after they finished the forms, fetched his Gringotts key and sealed the form with the insignia set at the base. He had said something about covering any expenses and Hermione just assumed package and delivery. That was until she saw the gold cloth.

"Where did you get your robes from?" Hermione asked Ginny, wanting to avoid the reveal of her robes for as long as possible. Ginny looked awkward.

"Slughorn… ordered them for me," she said quietly. "Well, he gave me a form and said he would cover the cost and-."

"Oh, he did the same for me and Harry," Hermione said at once, looking to reassure her, "he gave us the forms and said that he didn't want us to feel out of place." Ginny's face relaxed.

"What are yours like?" Ginny asked excitedly, looking down at Hermione's trunk. "I… I never had new robes before. Not tailor made anyway."

Hermione knew she couldn't avoid the topic. She made her way to her trunk, lifting the lid. The package was at the top, the partially torn paper giving way to the vibrant colours within. She steeled herself. Ginny trusted her enough to reveal her very personal feelings towards Harry. The girl had shown her nothing but solidarity. She grabbed the parcel and carried it to the bed.

"To tell the truth, I haven't looked at them properly yet." She lifted her gaze to meet Ginny's and jerked her head over to the package. Ginny understood at once and between them, they tore away the paper.

Choosing a colour that suited both her and Harry had been a challenge. Harry suited blues and greens whereas she suited reds and browns. In the end, she chose to meet in the middle. Purple. Dark purple and gold.

The outer robe was a stunning rich purple. Hermione lifted it up, mute with astonishment. The richness of the colour took her breath away. It slicked over her hands, cool and sleek. Satin robes. It was a deep violet, plain save for the gold thread at the hems, sleeves and collar.

Ginny had also gone quiet as Hermione laid the robe on the bed, her gaze transfixed on the under gown. It was immediately clear why. The under gown was cloth-of-gold, short sleeves slightly off the shoulder. At the waist was a belt of deep purple velvet, clasped with two lions as a buckle.

The moment she saw the rich gold cloth, her heart stuttered. There was no way Slughorn covered the cost. She rummaged in the wrappings for some sort of receipt. She found one. A small slip of parchment.

Although the slip contained very few words, she had to read it several times. Especially the final line.

Payment received from V 387, owner H. J. Potter.

She stared and stared at it.

Harry hadn't covered the package and delivery. He had covered the whole thing.

"I am going to kill you, Harry Potter." Hermione seethed as she crushed the note in her fist. All the while, her heart leapt and fluttered as Ginny wore a rather smug smile.

"I don't think this is going to work."

Harry voiced his doubts to a stubborn and determined Dean Thomas for what had to be the tenth time. The pair of them were standing in the bathroom in front of a mirror, both partially dressed in their formal attire for the evening's event. While Dean's suit was smart and clearly valuable, Harry's was at a different standard.

Harry, Dean and Neville between them opened the package that contained Harry's outfit for the evening. When Harry caught sight of the rich satin and gold, he sat on his bed in mute shock. Neville explained the different parts of his outfit to him, but he barely listened, his head full of white noise. In his hands, he held a letter that the robemaker had sent to him personally, the words making little sense to him until Dean shook him forcefully.

"It's just clothes, Harry," Dean had said to him.

Just clothes.

Obstinately staring at his hair in the reflection, Harry was dressed in 'just clothes'. His dress shirt was brilliant white, the buttons gleaming, made from mother-of-pearl. It fit perfectly to his trim frame, tailored to his exact measurements. His trousers were a deep purple, pleated in the centre. Dean's were the same, only black. The rest of Harry's outfit waited for him on his bed. Neville was perched close by, his wand resting on his thigh, tense and alert. While Neville guarded their space from hostile threats, Harry and Dean busied themselves with a formidable foe.

Harry's hair.

"I do this all the time," Dean assured Harry as he rubbed styling wax into his hands. Harry embarrassedly allowed Dean to deal with his mess of a hair do. He'd never styled his hair in his life after all and Dean was the artistic spirit in their cabal.

"You haven't done this with my hair though," Harry said, hands resting on the sink, "my aunt got so fed up with me leaving a hairdresser looking the same as I did, she pretty much shaved it all off. Next day, it was just the same. It must be some weird magic."

Dean gave a snort.

"Well, I promise I'm not going to shave your hair off. Just… make it more controlled." He then went to work, simply running the product through Harry's black locks. Harry's brows shot up when he saw that the back of his hair didn't stick up. Dean grinned at his reaction. He took a step back from Harry and then went to wash his hands of the wax. Harry stared at his reflection, stunned. Cautiously, he poked the hair at the back of his scalp, expecting it to stick up again.

"You should flick your fringe up," Dean suggested. He pointed up to his own hair where he had a styled cowlick.

Harry pointed up at his scar. Dean let out a sigh.

"Oh… right. There are going to be plenty of people tonight who want to gawk at your scar."

"It is the star attraction," Harry said bitterly. He picked up his comb and checked over his hair before making the attempt to sort it out. He kept his fringe flopped over his scar, but the rest of his hair looked different. Shinier and… just different. He wasn't sure he liked it.

"Half an hour," Neville called from the dormitory. Harry shared a look with Dean, who went back to the dormitory to finish getting ready. Harry looked back at his reflection, a finger resting on the frame of his glasses. Other than the lightning scar on his forehead, he had a scattering of other scars: one small scar on his chin where he had fallen fleeing the basilisk, a knick on his left brow that he received during the battle at the Department of Mysteries and others that could be from anywhere, pre-Hogwarts or during.

He headed back into the dormitory to the sight of Neville helping Dean with his dress robes. Neville's strict upbringing under his grandmother had filled him with a surprising amount of knowledge about wizarding decorum.

Standing over his bed, Harry looked over the final items of his outfit, a mixture of emotions twisting inside him. Part of him baulked at the thought of dressing up in such fine fabrics, then another part of him wanted to impress Hermione. A part of him that was starting to get louder and louder.

He picked up the purple and gold waistcoat. Shrugging it on, he buttoned up the intricate lion-head buttons. He ran his finger over them, musing over how he had impulsively put his vault seal on the order form, knowing full well that it would mean he would cover the costs of his own robes and Hermione's. He had no regrets at all. In fact, he was relieved that such frivolity came out of his pocket. His rather deep pocket at that.

Harry took the outer robe last, pulling it on. It was closer fitting than he expected for a robe. He studied the sleeves, then caught sight of the tie on his bed. He sighed. A bow tie. Neville was there at once.

"Wow, they really meant formal dress with you, Harry. I can knot this for you. Don't ask why…" Neville quickly snatched the rich purple cloth from Harry's bed and stepped up close to him, flicking up the collar of his shirt as he went to sort out his tie.

Unlike a normal tie, the bow tie was close to his throat. Harry hoped he didn't look too ridiculous. He adjusted the unfamiliar garments, but they all fit him perfectly. Hermione really did remember his measurements. Lastly, he donned his school shoes, having nothing else smart enough. They were polished and unblemished thanks to a few spells.

Dean suddenly put his hands on Harry's shoulders and manoeuvred him back a few steps. He then retreated, Neville joining him. The pair looked Harry up and down, making him feel very self-conscious.

"What?" Harry asked. He put his hand up to his throat. "It's the tie, isn't it?"

Neville laughed, putting a hand to his head. Dean then joined in. Harry, baffled, watched them.

"You'll work it out soon enough, Harry," Dean said, sidling up to him, "but for now, I believe we have two girls to meet."

AN: This has been a work-in-progress over on AO3 for a few months. I'm posting it on here now that it's coming up to completion (hopefully!). I have 10 chapters finished so I'll be updating fairly regularly until it's caught up here and by then I should have the latest chapter finished.

Hope you enjoy :)