The Next Dance

THE NEXT DANCE

BY AERIE22

CHAPTER 15

DANCING

Lakshmi Patil stood impatiently just inside the entrance of the Three Broomsticks. She knew what she wanted to say to Sirius Black, but wasn't sure how to say it without sounding like a fool. And she wasn't sure how she would be received. But she had to talk to him.

Suddenly, he was there, smiling that wolfish grin of his. Lakshmi had to admit that he had filled out nicely. She recalled the first time she had met the legendary fugitive, while visiting Parvati in the Hogwarts infirmary. He had an almost feral presence. Now, he still looked dangerous, but for other reasons.

"Miss Patil? I am at your service," Sirius said with a glint in his eye. "Provided, of course, you're not here to hex me into next week as I feared you would the last time we met."

Lakshmi chuckled uncertainly. "We shall see, Mr. Black."

Sirius took a good look at his luncheon companion. He was wary. She didn't seem angry. If anything, she seemed a little nervous. Quite unlike her self-assured younger sister. It was interesting to compare Lakshmi to her sister Parvati. She was fairly attractive, with long black hair like her sister. And there was a family resemblance. But Lakshmi's features were softer than Parvati's, and her bone structure wasn't as striking. And, as he had noted before, while Parvati was slim and athletic looking, Lakshmi was just a little rounder. Not that Sirius had any problem with that. He preferred the curves.

Sirius noticed that, as she had in his last meeting in the Muggle restaurant, Lakshmi was wearing tailored business attire, but in this case, more attuned to the Wizarding world. Her business robes were expensive but somewhat severely cut. And again, she was wearing a prim blouse with a fashionable scarf under her robes.

"Shall we sit?" he said with a smile.

* * *

Lakshmi proved to be skilled in the art of small talk, chatting idly about business, her family and Hogwarts. However, Sirius was not used to the niceties of the business lunch.

He stared intently at her as he caught her eye, which she seemed to be studiously trying to avoid. But once he had her full attention, he frowned. "You didn't ask me here to complain about the price of tea in China, did you?" he said with a cocked eyebrow.

She flushed a little and lowered her head. "No..." she said quietly. "There actually were a couple things I wanted to talk to you about."

Sirius intensified his gaze. "And they are...?"

She shifted as she poked at her Caesar salad. "Well, we would like you to come to our estate on Friday the 22nd, the same day as Parvati, Padma and Harry, and stay through Christmas," she said quietly.

Sirius nodded, suddenly pleased. When Parvati mentioned her family's holiday invitation, he had assumed it would be just for Christmas dinner, not for several days. "I would like that," he said quietly with a tentative smile.

Lakshmi then launched into a series of instructions about flooing to the Patil estate, insisting that Sirius write down her precise instructions.

Finally, Sirius nodded his head. "Okay, that's settled. Now, was there something else you wanted to talk to me about?"

Lakshmi again lowered her head, red spots forming on her cheeks. "I wanted to apologize," she said in a voice that could barely be heard.

Sirius tilted his head in confusion. "What?"

Lakshmi glanced up at Sirius anxiously. "I wanted to say I was sorry for the way I treated you the last time we met."

Sirius again tilted his head and waited.

She frowned in concentration. "Look, I get very protective of Shane and Janine. It's just my way. But I think I stepped over the line in talking to you. I never meant to hurt your friendship with Shane, okay?"

Sirius shrugged. "I don't think you did that," he said quietly.

Lakshmi toyed with her salad absently. "So why haven't you two worked together since our last meeting?"

Sirius shrugged. "I don't know. We have different agendas. He's an Auror. I have other reasons to ... well try to find out information."

Lakshmi sighed. "But you are after the same things. And Shane thought you two worked well together."

Sirius lowered his head. She was right. But he had felt, perhaps for the first time since his Marauder days, that he had in Shane someone to have adventures with. But he had begun to think maybe that it was time to leave those days behind and grow up, for Shane's sake as much as his own. If he ever did anything to hurt his friend's marriage, he'd never forgive himself.

Suddenly, Lakshmi reached across the table to grasp Sirius' arm. "He misses you."

Sirius gave her a puzzled look.

She sighed. "Do you know how hard it is for an Auror, especially one who works undercover, to find a friend? One who understands what he does?"

Sirius shrugged.

Lakshmi looked up at Sirius. "There's no one at work he can talk to...or trust," she said, giving him a serious look. "The Auror service is a snake pit. There are so many conflicting agendas that no one knows who to trust. You have the Fudge faction, the Masterson factor, the time-servers, ones who no one knows who they serve, possible Death Eaters, careerists looking for advancement, old-timers who think they're still battling Grindelwald, zealots who will turn on their comrades in a heartbeat if they think they step out of line, and nincompoops who never belonged in the Auror service in the first place. Somehow, Shane found in you someone he felt he could trust. Someone who he could talk to. And it's killing him that you aren't there for him."

Sirius lowered his head in sorrow. He had thought of Shane as a friend, and part of that was his ability to share his thoughts and to be able to listen to the young man's concerns. He simply nodded in understanding.

Lakshmi took a deep breath. "I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, or hurt your feelings. It's just that I run into so many wizards on the make in my job, sales types and customers who think I'm part of the service provided by the firm, that I can get a little...intense. Sometimes I assume someone like...well attractive and smooth...is out for only one thing. And won't think twice about corrupting...well bringing their friends along for the ride," she said with a frown. Then her look softened. "I'm sorry. I don't think that about you. Not any more."

Sirius frowned, but then reconsidered. Lakshmi was blunt, maybe overly so. But she did have a point. And maybe she did have cause to be concerned. After all, he wasn't above a little mischief and didn't always give much thought to the consequences. It was only now that he was beginning to realize that he wasn't a teenager any more.

He gave a vague nod. "You were right in a lot of what you said. I guess I just overreacted a little, myself." Then Sirius looked up at Lakshmi with a glint in his eye. "And I guess I miss Shane, too. Who else will defend my honor in the face of the demimonde."

Lakshmi burst out laughing. "Demimonde? That's a Ravenclaw word! Where would a Gryffindor learn a word like that? I thought the you'd use something like 'tarts'."

Sirius chuckled. "I've always preferred 'round-heeled ladies' myself."

Lakshmi giggled. "Not 'the morally challenged'?"

Sirius shook his head. "Try 'fallen flowers'."

"Or 'women of easy virtue'."

Sirius shook his head with a grin. "How about 'women who are horizontally adept'?"

The two burst out in laughter, causing several of the other patrons to turn their heads in curiosity.

And somehow, the lunch that had started out tense and uncertain surprisingly turned into a delightful diversion for both of them. And Sirius began to realize that this was the first grown-up conversation he'd had with a woman in many years, if ever.

* * *

"Well, Potter, you asked for help. And now, Professor Flitwick has offered it."

Harry smiled as his gaze turned from Moody to the diminutive Charms professor. "Thank you, Professor Flitwick."

Filius Flitwick loved to teach. He saw in each new student the potential to become a great wizard or witch. In moments of reflection, he sighed as so few achieved the level of proficiency they were capable of.

And, for the past four years, Harry Potter was one of the students that brought more than his share of sighs. Then young Harry approached him after class last Monday with a series of questions about using charms in defense and dueling and Flitwick felt a spark that he often longed to feel as a teacher but he only rarely experienced. And so tiny Filius Flitwick was positively glowing to be down in the DADA classroom on a Wednesday evening to see what experience and knowledge he could pour into a suddenly willing and open young mind.

"You wished to know about charms and dueling?"

Harry nodded. "A few weeks ago, I was trying to show some students basic shielding spells. Luna Lovegood volunteered to demonstrate something. When I tried to hex her, she used a summoning charm to block the hex with a pile of trunks. I'd never thought of that. I've been wondering what else I haven't thought of. And Professor Moody mentioned you had been a dueling champion when you were younger ..."

Flitwick's smile became positively dazzling. And so he began to show Harry the wealth of things that the young Gryffindor never thought of before.

* * *

Harry sat on the podium of the unused classroom and gave a small smile. Here was the core of the group that taught Defense to the younger students. There was Hannah and Ernie from Hufflepuff. Kevin Entwhistle, Mandy Brocklehurst and Morag Macdougal, along with Luna Lovegood and the ever frowning Amy Hattan from Ravenclaw. There was Ron, Hermione and Parvati from Gryffindor. And most surprising, the was Blaise Zabini, who had proved to be an adept and intense student of Defense, from Slytherin.

And then there was Mike Gillespie. Gillespie had promised to get the sixth and seventh-year students involved in the project. Harry had feared Gillespie would overwhelm him as had happened the other times he had opened up these 'lessons' to newcomers. But Gillespie was nothing if not circumspect.

Only a handful of upper-class students wandered into the seventh floor classroom, looking furtively around. Harry bit his tongue as they gathered. It was less a who's who of the sixth and seventh years as it was a Quidditch meeting. There was Fred and George Weasley, along with Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Lee Jordan from Gryffindor. From Hufflepuff, there was Andy Stebbins, the seventh-year beater, and Alex Summerby, the sixth-year chaser who Gillespie had beaten out for the seeker position on the team. Only the Ravenclaws seemed to stray from the Quidditch mould. John McKinnon was a seventh-year prefect who was from one of the great old Wizarding families that had suffered horribly during Voldemort's first rise. Jake Prewett, a sixth year, had family with a similar experience. Finally, there was Stella Fawcett, who was at the top academically of the sixth-year class, who Harry knew only from her ill-fated attempt to age herself prematurely to qualify for the TriWizard Tournament last year.

George smiled at Harry. "Angelina said she couldn't come because she had to tend to Head Girl duties. Mostly, I think, that means she's keeping everyone off this floor to give us cover," he said with a wink.

The group exchanged pleasantries when finally, McKinnon stepped forward. "Harry Potter. Nice to finally be able to shake your hand," he said solemnly. Harry blushed and took the proffered hand.

Then McKinnon's frown deepened. "I heard about your fight with the Dark One from our Quidditch team," he said levelly. "They said you were powerful, and I believe them. But mere power isn't enough in a duel. You think you have things to teach us?"

Gillespie shifted and frowned at John McKinnon. "I believe this is an opportunity where we all can share what we've learned."

McKinnon nodded. "I'd just like to see what he has," he said quietly.

Harry knit his brows. "You're talking about a duel?"

John nodded and gave Harry a narrow smile. "A friendly duel. No curses or serious hexes. Nothing that hurts beyond a basic stinger. You game?"

Harry looked around the room. Several of his regulars from fifth year were scowling or raising quiet objections, Hermione being the most vocal. After all, John McKinnon was known as one of the best, if not the best, duelist at Hogwarts.

But Harry turned to McKinnon. Slowly a predatory smile crossed his face. "I'm game. There's a couple of defensive spells I've wanted to try out."

McKinnon nodded, with his own tight-lipped smile. The rest of the group cleared away desks and chairs as Harry took a careful look around the room. Finally, he nodded to himself.

He turned to face McKinnon, who had taken a position about 20 feet away. Harry slowly brought his wand, which he was holding in both hands, up to his lips. "Mândan," he whispered. He then turned sideways to McKinnon and nodded again to start the match.

"Protegere!" McKinnon exclaimed, putting up a shield charm. "Expelliarmus!"

Harry felt the wand jump in his hand, but then settle back into his grip. He gave a small smile to a surprised McKinnon.

Harry flicked his wand at a canvas drop-cloth in the corner and then pointed to McKinnon. "Operire!"

Suddenly, McKinnon was engulfed in the canvas. As he fought to uncover himself, Harry pointed to several desks on the side of the room. "Semper interpellarus!" be muttered, pointing at McKinnon, who finally had banished the canvas.

Just as McKinnon shot a stinger, eight wooden desks suddenly interposed themselves between the Ravenclaw and Harry, intercepting the hex. McKinnon darted to the side, only to have the hovering desks follow his movements, always keeping themselves between him and Harry.

Harry stepped back and looked up at the ceiling, which was smooth stone. "Resilere," he muttered, waving his wand at the ceiling, before shooting a stinger at an angle at the ceiling. The spell rebounded back down over the hovering chairs and at John.

"What the hell?" McKinnon exclaimed, just as Harry tried again.

"Ow! Damn!" McKinnon shouted.

Harry then pointed his wand at the carpet that covered most of the room. "Volvere!" he exclaimed, making a quick sweeping motion with his wand from behind him to about where John McKinnon was standing beyond the hovering desks. Suddenly, the carpet began quickly to roll itself up, with Harry jumping over the rapidly moving rug. It continued to roll forward, passing under the hovering desks, hitting McKinnon's feet and knocking him over.

Harry heard McKinnon's wand clatter across the floor. "Accio wand!" Harry exclaimed.

Harry heard a growl as he banished the desks.

"Damn! Damn! Damn!" McKinnon kept muttering. Finally, the seventh-year looked up as he rubbed his left knee. "Well? Don't just stand there looking. Give a man a hand, will you?"

Harry smiled and helped McKinnon to his feet. The Ravenclaw shook his head. "Not exactly what I'd call proper dueling, but it did the trick," he said with a look of new-found respect slowly forming on his face.

The rest of the group surrounded the duelists, with several laughing and others looking on in surprise and awe.

McKinnon kept shaking his head. "I figured on a straight up duel," he muttered. "I wasn't ready for all that," he said with a chuckle.

"Why didn't the expelliarmus spell work?" Hermione asked in wide-eyed amazement. "Were you shielded? I never heard your shield spell."

Harry looked around and shrugged. "It's something I read about. It's a foil for a disarming spell. I figured that would be the first thing John would try. It's a standard dueling tactic to test your opponent's strength and reaction time. The spell works as long as you are at least as powerful as your opponent, letting you keep your wand. I didn't know if it would work, but I guess it did in this case."

Everyone was babbling now, asking questions and rendering opinions, with Fred and George off to the side challenging each other to an expelliarmus contest.

Again, Hermione frowned as Harry explained the spell. "Mândan? That's not Latin, is it?"

Harry shrugged. "It's very ancient magic that I read about in some notes somewhere," he said, with an uncomfortable look on his face. He couldn't tell her it was from Richard Burton's notebooks. "I think it's Arabic or something."

After some discussion, including some probing questions to Harry by Hermione, the group settled down to compare notes and plan the training of the student body.

* * *

"Dean?"

Dean looked up from his bed. He had been sulking for the better part of two weeks. First Angelina had turned him down for the Yule Ball in favor of George Weasley. Then Megan Jones of Hufflepuff declined in favor of Sam Lacey, a sixth year Ravenclaw. He shook his head sadly. There was no way he would ask Sandy Johnson to the Ball again this year after last year's fiasco.

He didn't know what else to do. He thought Parvati and Padma Patil were two of the prettiest girls in his year, but they were going with Harry and Terry Boot, respectively. And he couldn't seem to work up the courage to approach, much less ask, Amy Hattan, who seemed angry and remote most of the time. And then he heard she was going with some sixth-year Hufflepuff who was notorious for his Muggle-style dancing.

He looked up to see Ron walk over to sit next to him. "What's up, Ron?"

Ron sighed. "You going to the Ball?"

Dean shrugged.

Ron fidgeted for a few moments. "You know, no one has asked Ginny yet."

Dean turned and gave his roommate a suspicious glance. "Gee, I wonder why not," he said sarcastically.

Ron gave him a pained look. "Listen, I know I've been a prat. But she's upset and wants to kill me. And she likes you well enough. Thinks you're kind of cute. Don't ask me why. But if you're not going with anyone else, why not?"

Dean frowned. He did think Ginny was pretty. But he carried a lot of baggage from growing up Black in a White Muggle world. Still, going with Ginny would be better than sitting around the common room with the youngsters. He was tired. Tired of being an outsider. And Ginny was a lot of fun. Why not, indeed?

Dean simply nodded and rose and left the dorm.

An hour later, Hermione walked up to Ron in the common room. "I guess I'll be going with you to the Ball after all," she said with a smirk.

* * *

There were rules against girls coming up to the boys' dorms, but this was an emergency. A fashion emergency.

"I am so bloody sick of green!" Harry exclaimed.

Parvati, who was sprawled on Harry's bed, sighed. "So don't wear green, okay," she said in exasperation.

Harry rolled his eyes, looking at the bottle green formal robe Parvati had him buy. "But this robe cost me sixty Galleons! You were there," he said in equal exasperation.

Parvati threw her hands up. "Oh, spare me. The reason it cost so much is it's a Richardson AdaptaRobe. I must have told you a million times. Come here," she said as she got up.

Harry walked over to the bed with a frown.

She reached out and opened the clasp. "Look. Here, here's the panel," she said, lifting a small patch of cloth inside the inner breast area of the robe that seemed to resist her pulling slightly as if attached with Velcro. "Touch your wand to it."

Harry obeyed, and saw a palette of 24 colors appear.

Parvati nodded. "Now, what do you want? How about powder blue. That really isn't your color, but if that's what you want..."

Harry looked inside the robe at the panel. "What are these other pieces of cloth in here?"

Parvati leaned forward and touched her wand to each. "Okay, this one is the style of piping and ornamentation. Everything from plain, to single line, to 'admiral of the ocean sea'," she said as she touched the last option.

Harry stepped toward the mirror and chuckled as there was now an elaborate gold braid covering his lapel, epaulets, sleeve cuffs and the robe's hem. "Oooo, I like it," he said in a falsetto voice.

Parvati giggled. "It's fine if you're planning to play the lead in H.M.S Pinafore, but I wouldn't be caught dead next to someone wearing that."

Harry pressed another option and simple gold trim replaced the scrambled-egg braid. He turned to Parvati. "How about this?" He pressed a panel and the gown turned a navy blue.

Parvati leaned back and frowned. "Try black."

Harry nodded and pressed the panel. The gown turned black.

Parvati frowned again. "How about dark gray?"

Harry pressed the panel, and the robe changed to a deep charcoal gray.

Parvati nodded, then walked over to check under the left lapel. She paused, and then pressed her wand a couple times to the panel she found under there, and the lapel and high collar changed from dark gray silk to black velvet. "That's better," she murmured.

She stepped back to look Harry up and down. "Try the silver trim again."

Harry reached into the robe and pressed another panel and a thin silver line appeared along the hems and accent lines of the gown.

Suddenly, Parvati stopped. "Wait, what color are your accessories again? Red enamel on gold, right?"

Harry blinked. "Accessories?" he asked in anxious confusion.

Parvati rolled her eyes. "The studs and cufflinks that came with the dress shirt."

Harry blinked again, this time in relief and recognition. "Oh, those things. You mean the buttons. Why can't the shirt just have regular buttons or close using a charm or something?" he complained, reaching into a small wooden box on his dresser.

Parvati nodded. "Red and gold. That means the trim will have to be gold....oh, forget the trim..."

Harry sighed in frustration at all the little details for something as simple as getting dressed. He pressed the panel to eliminate the trim.

Parvati nodded in satisfaction. She stepped back to Harry and grabbed the robe to see how the shape fell on his frame.

Harry squirmed. "It fits fine," he complained.

Parvati rolled her eyes. "Look here," she said firmly.

Harry glanced down inside the robe.

"See how these panels along the seams are a little thicker? That shows you that this is adjustable. When they say this is the last dress robe you'll ever need, they mean it, as long as you keep going back every couple years to get the charms refreshed." she said with a chuckle.

"Yeah, at ten Galleons a visit," he muttered.

Parvati rolled her eyes for about the fifth time. "So, if you were to gain a couple hundred pounds, you would still be able to wear this robe at formal occasions by holding your wand against the panels to adjust them to expand the robe. Of course, you'd have to find someone else to go out with, but at least you'd be well dressed," she said with a smirk.

After making minor adjustments, she sat back on Harry's bed. As he took one last close look at his reflection in the mirror, Parvati casually reached down to the floor with her wand and, unnoticed by Harry, touched each of his shoes and uttered a quiet charm.

As Harry turned to face her, she smiled at him. "Now, everything is perfect. Don't you dare fool around with those panels until after the Ball. Understand?"

Harry pouted. "Yes, Mum."

Parvati smiled and, as Harry turned to take off the robe and hang it up, Parvati reached over to his dress trousers and uttered another quiet charm. "I'll leave to preserve your modesty," she said lightly and ducked laughing as Harry made a playful grab at her.

* * *

"Well, that problem's solved," Ron said with a grin.

Harry looked up curiously as his best friend entered the dorm. "What problem?"

Ron flopped down on Harry's bed. "I got Ginny a date. Dean asked her. Now Hermione agreed to go to the Ball with me again." Ron reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a quill from Harry's nightstand and began to twirl it casually in his hand.

Harry grinned. "There," he said with a smile. "That wasn't too difficult, was it?"

Ron frowned. He had never felt so humiliated in his life, apologizing to Velazquez. But the fourth year had simply nodded and, with a small shuffle, changed the subject to some Quidditch plays he had read about. Soon, the two were arguing and chuckling like two old mates. And when Regina Bowen saw the two, she joined them, warily at first, but seeming to accept that a truce was in effect. The thaw in relations had begun.

Ron frowned again, this time more thoughtfully. Not that everything was sweetness and light. But at least he felt a reduction in tensions. Maybe Harry was right, Ron thought. Who would have believed it?

* * *

Harry scowled at his reflection in the mirror of his dorm room. "Do I look all right?" he asked his four roommates, making another face at his reflection. He had kept his promise to Parvati and not touched the robe after she had styled and fitted it to her satisfaction. Unlike most of the other boys' robes, his was more stylish, more like an overly long morning coat with a swallow-tail back rather than the more traditional cassock-like look. And his had a somewhat higher collar, that opened to show off the starched, white collar of the Muggle-style button-down dress shirt that he wore underneath, along with a Galleon-sized red Gryffindor lion medallion on a solid background at his throat, which he wore in lieu of the traditional formal flowing silk bow tie.

"You look wonderful. Good enough to eat," the mirror answered. "Now fix your hair!"

Harry rolled his eyes and looked at the pandemonium around him as four 15-year-old boys tried to get into their formal robes for the Yule Ball. Seamus and Neville were struggling with their formal black robes, Seamus's with green and gold trim, and Neville's with silver trim. Dean was listlessly pulling a plum-colored dress robe over his head. And Ron sat thoughtfully on Harry's bed in an elegant deep green robe bought by his brothers with, unbeknownst to Ron, part of Harry's TriWizard Cup winnings.

"Is this how it goes?" Neville said, walking over to Harry and the mirror.

"No, the collar goes down, like this," Harry said, fixing Neville's robe.

"Do you think Moira will like it?" Neville said nervously.

Harry smiled at Neville fondly. "Are you kidding. She'll be thrilled. You look great."

Neville smiled. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry turned to Ron, who was now pouting. "Awwww, what's wrong with the big red rascal?" he teased. "Come on, Ron, you look great. Hermione will love it."

Ron made a face. "I wanted orange, but Fred and George made me get this."

At this, the rest of the boys in the room burst out laughing.

"Hey, come on, guys," Ron whined. "Orange is my favorite color. It makes a statement. This makes me look like a Christmas tree," he said scowling.

Seamus was rolling on his bed, laughing. "Yea, but Hermione will make a hell of an ornament hanging on your tree."

At that point, Harry and Ron threw pillows at Seamus while Neville just scowled.

Harry slipped on his shoes and stood again. He paused for a moment, noticing they felt a little different. Not bad. As a matter of fact, they felt pretty good. He shrugged. Maybe this was a good sign for the dance. He smiled to himself.

Then Ron turned to ask something of Harry and stopped, looking puzzled. "Did you grow or something?"

Harry looked at his friend in confusion. "Uhhh, no?"

Ron looked down at Harry's shoes, then back up. "Well, you're almost as tall as me. That's a first," he muttered

Harry shrugged and turned to Dean. "What's taking you so long?"

Dean shrugged, too, as he straightened the robe and yanked on his collar.

Ron, Seamus and Neville filed out of the dorm, but Harry hung back with Dean.

"Dean, what's the matter? Ginny has turned into one of the prettiest girls in school. You should be walking on air," Harry said.

Dean just shrugged again, then looked up. "Look, between you and me, this is going to be an ordeal for both of us. I don't think Ginny wanted to go with me. But Ron scared off just about every boy who wanted to ask her. He talked me into taking her only because he didn't want Ginny to kill him. And I guess she agreed only because she didn't want to miss the dance," Dean said miserably.

"So, is that so bad, being forced to go on a date with a pretty girl?" Harry asked.

Dean made a face. "It shouldn't be. But Ron's been on my case all week. It's to the point where I'm afraid to even look at her or Ron'll beat the tar out of me."

Harry shook his head. "Look, I'll take care of Ron. Maybe give you two a chance to get to know each other, to have some fun."

Dean shrugged again. "Thanks, Harry."

But as Dean started for the door, Harry stepped in front of him, with his arms crossed and a stern expression on his face.

Dean stopped and stared wide-eyed at Harry.

"One thing, though, Mister Thomas," he said in a serious tone. "Miss Weasley happens to be a good friend of mine, as well. So let me give you a word of warning: No shagging on the first date."

Dean stared at Harry, then burst out laughing. "Yes, dad," he said as the two boys exited the dorm laughing with their arms around each other's shoulders. It barely registered on Harry that Dean didn't seem as much taller than him as he had in the past.

* * *

As usual, the wait for the girls was interminable. The common room was a mass of impatient, overdressed adolescent boys, fidgeting nervously. Even Fred and George, wearing chartreuse and fuschia robes, respectively, were bantering nervously as they paced. They only stopped pacing to smirk at Harry as he came down fom the dorm and cryptically remark that his dancing shoes made him look ten feet tall.

Harry frowned, wondering what that comment was all about. "At least I'm not dressed in pink," he said with a small smile.

"It's fuschia," George exclaimed. He then took out his wand and touched his chest. Suddenly, circles of black on his gown began radiating out from the spot he touched as if they were ripples of water, then fading slowly, drawing chuckles from several of the boys in the room.

Harry went back to waiting. He and Neville seemed the only calm ones in the room, although Harry was quietly climbing the walls, waiting for Parvati to make her appearance. Neville, on the other hand, just sat quietly and unobtrusively in the corner.

Moira was the first to appear, in a pretty cream-colored gown with baby pink roses dancing around her high collar. As Neville stood up, she rushed over, blushing, and jumped into his arms in excitement.

Neville flushed. "Wow!" was all he could muster at first. "Wow, you look...you look...beautiful!" he gushed.

Harry smiled. Moira was a mousy looking girl with medium length ginger hair, but tonight she did look wonderful, all dressed and made up. And now her normal devilish grin was replaced by a positive radiance. She even got wolf whistles from Maura, her sister in first year, and Maura's pal, Willie Peters.

Suddenly, the stairway to the girls' dorm exploded into a rainbow of colors as the girls all came out to meet their dates. Angelina, who spent more time in her old dorm than she did in the Head Girl's room on the first floor, was in a turquoise gown with royal blue accents, while Katie Bell was in coral with red accents. They laughed and rolled their eyes at Fred and George's attire. Alicia Spinnet was eye-catching in a hot pink satin number. Regina Bowen came down to greet a beaming Severino Velazquez in a salmon silk gown.

Ginny and her best friend Rachel Weiss were down next. Rachel kissed Ginny on the cheek and became a blue and white blur as she scurried off out the entryway on her way to meet Tony Goldstein of Ravenclaw. Then all eyes turned to Ginny. Dean gasped as he saw her. She was wearing a pale green satin gown that hugged a budding young figure beautifully. And her hair was up in an elegant twist, showing off her fair peaches-and-cream complexion. She no longer was the gangly, coltish young girl of a year or so ago, Harry thought.

"I think Ron is going to kill me tonight, but I don't care. It'll be worth it," Dean muttered, still staring.

Ron scowled but remained silent.

Ginny, who heard Dean's comment, gained a little confidence in her unfamiliar high heels and strode over to Dean and gave him a quick peck on the cheek and led him out the portrait hole.

After a seemingly interminable wait for Seamus, Ron and Harry, there was the clicking of heels coming down the stairs from the girls' dorms and the three boys rose to greet their dates.

Suddenly, Hermione appeared. Her face was a mask of anxiety. She had reluctantly allowed Lavender and Parvati to help her prepare and make up her face. But she silently fretted that they would do something that would make her look...un-Hermione.

She was right. They had made her look un-Hermione. As she descended the staircase in a silk gown a little deeper blue than the one she had worn last year, Harry gasped and Seamus gave out a low whistle. But Ron's silent reaction was perhaps even more telling. He simply and slowly sat down, wide-eyed.

Harry shook his head. "Hermione, you look beautiful," he whispered.

And she did.

Her blue, empire-wasted gown showed off that she was, indeed, growing up to be a pretty young woman. Her hair was pinned up to allow a cascade of curls to spill down her back while allowing a few stray tendrils to frame her face. What makeup she wore gave her a positive glow without apparent artifice.

On hearing Harry's quiet comment, she blushed deeply and smiled.

Then Harry grabbed Ron's arm and yanked him back to his feet. "Ron," he whispered. "Close your mouth and say something."

Ron made a choking sound before regaining his composure. "Wow, Hermione. You look great."

Hermione slowly pulled her eyes from Harry to smile at Ron. "Thank you, Ron. You look nice, too."

Harry felt wistful as he watched his two best friends together when a movement caught his eye. Parvati and Lavender had finally made their appearance.

Lavender was wearing a simple but elegant pink satin gown, had her thick blonde hair up in a simple French twist and wore a minimum of makeup, strategically applied. But the effect on the standing Seamus was instantaneous, as he started to feel lightheaded that this vision of beauty was his date. He, too, sank back down into his chair and stared.

Parvati, on the other hand, had gone all out for Harry. She was wearing a scarlet silk sheath gown that clung to her with devastating effect. But what Harry noticed was her hair. She had cut her hair so that, for the first time since he had known her, she had a loose fringe falling over her forehead. But she had kept the rest of her hair long, and it was up in an elaborate coif held by gold and ruby pins. And her artfully applied makeup emphasized her dark, exotic eyes and light olive complexion. Harry just stood there and stared, open-mouthed in appreciation. Parvati, who looked at him with some anxiety, saw his expression and smiled in relief. She simply walked up to him and let her hand trail across his jaw line. "Coming with me, big boy?" she said seductively, and Harry could only nod an follow her out.

As the three couples began to exit through the portrait hole, they heard some giggling and sighing and saw a group of first, second and third year girls standing and sitting around the first and second years' areas near the portrait hole, enjoying the spectacle. Harry, the last one out, turned and made a face at the girls and left, smiling, for the ball.

* * *

Entering the Great Hall was the usual organized chaos. There where nearly 80 couples in unaccustomed finery in wildly varying colors and textures milling about, many of whom were looking for their dates from other houses. Almost all the girls were eyeing one another, assessing each others' gowns. On the other hand, many of the boys looked like they were heading for their own over-dressed executions.

When the doors opened at 8:00, there was a collective gasp. The house tables had disappeared and in their place were 24 round tables covered in white linen, with large floral centerpieces and elegant place settings for four couples each. Over each table was a modest crystal chandelier hung from impossibly long chains from the ceiling high above. Each had just enough candles to provide a romantic setting. The ceiling itself was charmed to present a nearly cloudless, star-lit night sky with a crescent moon hanging over the dais where the professors, in their finery, were sitting.

The tables surrounded a large circular raised dance floor. Unlike the tables, the circle was brighter, with four large chandeliers providing more than adequate lighting for the dancers, and those wishing just to enjoy the view.

Harry and Parvati took their places at a table to the left side of the hall, about where they would normally sit during regular meals. Lavender took the seat beside Parvati and the two girls motioned to Parvati's sister Padma to sit next to Harry. However, her date, the ever-unfocused Terry Boot, was talking with someone at the Ravenclaw table on their left. So Hermione managed to slip into the seat next to Harry, drawing a bit of a frown from Parvati. Padma sat down next to Ron and Terry slipped into the final seat at the table.

"At least we're next to the rest of our year," Terry said with a smile.

Padma turned to look at Terry. "These people are our year, too," she said with a roll of her eyes.

Terry turned and blinked. "Oh. I meant from our house."

She turned to her left to say something to Ron, but he was just recovering from the fact that he was with Hermione, a very lovely Hermione, and was not quite yet prepared for civilized conversation.

Padma glanced over to her twin sister. "I'll trade you," she said with a smirk.

Parvati chuckled, acknowledging that this might be a replay of last year's Yule Ball...at least for Padma. "Not bloody likely. But if you're good, I'll let you have a dance with Harry," she said with a laugh.

Harry chuckled, as well, knowing that he had better be on his best behavior with Parvati to make up for last year.

"I don't know, Padma. Do you think Harry can dance in heels?" Seamus said out of the blue.

Harry turned and frowned. "What is going on? Will somebody please tell me?"

Hermione giggled. "Parvati charmed your shoes..."

Parvati gasped and shook her head vigorously, but it was too late.

Harry turned to her with an annoyed expression. "What did you do to my shoes?"

Parvati blushed. "Well, I wanted to wear my dancing pumps...and..."

Harry frowned. "What?"

Parvati's shoulders slumped. "Well, in heels with my hair up...I didn't want to look taller than you."

Harry closed his eyes and shook his head. "So you charmed my shoes to make me look taller."

Parvati gave him an anxious look. "I didn't think it was such a big deal."

Harry shook his head in exasperation. "No, except for all the abuse I've been getting from everyone."

Parvati pouted. "I'm sorry. I guess..."

Seamus burst out laughing. "Should have saved that charm for Colin Creevey," he said, nodding toward the back.

Colin was standing there, looking uncomfortable in an unadorned dress robe with a high collar. But his date, Luna Lovegood, who was taller than he was anyway, was wearing what looked like a turn of the century lady's riding habit, with a tight blazer over a long dress in blue and white, complete with bustle. She was also wearing high-button shoes with heels. But to top it off--literally--she was wearing a high top hat wrapped in a delicate silk sash. Colin might as well have been a lawn jockey to her anachronistic lady sidesaddle rider.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle as he forgot his annoyance at Parvati and looked around the room. He glanced over at the next table to see Dean and Ginny laughing. Angelina and Katie were chatting amiably with the twins, as was Alicia Spinnet with her date, Edward Clendenon, the a handsome chaser from the Ravenclaw Quidditch team.

The group was enjoying taking in their surroundings when they heard a gasp coming from numerous people, mostly girls, at the back of the hall. They turned as a group to see what the trouble was. Draco Malfoy was standing in the entranceway, looking elegant if a bit stiff in a black velvet robe with a high collar. Harry frowned, thinking this may be the same robe he wore last year. However, Harry no longer thought of the outfit as making Malfoy look like a vicar. Malfoy was no Strowbridge, he thought with a silent chuckle. But that wasn't what the commotion was about. It was his date, Pansy Parkinson.

...or more accurately, it was Pansy's gown. Pansy was wearing the most spectacular gown anyone there had ever seen. It was a multihued silk that was colored to look like the feathers of some exotic bird. The feathering effect began with a subtle yellow at the neck, which rapidly turned to a red orange over her chest. Just below the chest, the feathering turned a deep indigo, which blended to become a bright aquamarine. The aquamarine gave way again to red and then faded to orange and then yellow at the hem. The feathering and the color shifts were subtly achieved by small wisps of black throughout the gown.

Hermione and Padma gazed in wonder at the gown, while Parvati and Lavender glared in pure hatred. "That gown must have cost twice as much as all our gowns combined," Padma muttered. Suddenly, Parvati's expression softened into a sly smile and she whispered something to Lavender. Harry thought he heard Parvati say something like 'Where's Pansy?' but that didn't make any sense, he thought. But Lavender and Parvati now were giggling quietly.

Harry turned to Hermione for an explanation. Hermione looked at him with a puzzled expression and then looked back at the gown, and a smile formed. She said something to Padma, whose frown turned quickly into a fit a giggles.

Harry, puzzled and impatient, turned to Parvati, but she had her head pressed up against Lavender's, giggling uncontrollably. So Harry squeezed Hermione's arm. Hermione turned to Parvati and Lavender with a grin, and then turned to Harry. "Oh, Harry, it's a girl thing. You just wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Harry said grumpily. "What did Parvati mean when she said 'Where's Pansy?' She's right there. You're all staring at her. I think you're all jealous."

Parvati began laughing delightedly. "See, I knew you wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Harry repeated with a serious frown.

Parvati grabbed Harry's arm and giggled. "What's everybody staring at, Harry?" she said with a devilish grin.

Harry shrugged, confused. "Pansy Parkinson."

"No, you ninny," Parvati said with an indulgent smile. "It's the gown they're staring at. Pansy's lost. The gown absolutely overpowers her. You don't notice her, you notice the gown. She might as well be a mannequin in Madame Malkin's robe shop." Parvati was now shaking her head in mock despair. "Boys!" she said, shaking her head again. The girls at the table all chuckled.

Harry shook his head and shrugged again.

Hermione sighed in exasperation. "Harry, there's not a half dozen girls at this ball who could wear a gown like that. Parvati and Padma could. Maybe Cho could."

Parvati gave Hermione a smile. "I don't know. Maybe we could. Cho's too small. But that would look great on Angelina, with her tall, willowy frame and dark complexion. Maybe Amy Hattan, too. She's tall enough to carry it off."

Harry looked at her. "Oh, come on. You'd look great in anything."

Parvati smiled and gave Harry a quick peck on the cheek. "You're sweet, Harry. The gown is beautiful."

Harry shook his head. "I still don't get it. Why shouldn't any girl wear a dress like that. What about Lavender...or Blaise Zabini?"

Parvati gave him an appraising glance. "Since when have you been watching Blaise Zabini?" she said in an arch tone. "No, Lavender's got a great figure, but you need to be tall and willowy to wear something like that. Like a fashion model. And with Blaise's light blond hair and very fair complexion, that gown would totally wash out her features."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin fifth year table. Blaise looked very pretty, in a remote, regal way. She was with a quiet, seemingly intimidated Aubrey Blythe.

"So what you think of Blaise's outfit?" he said. "Seems kind of plain.

Parvati looked at Harry and shook her head. "It's perfect for her." Blaise was wearing a plain loose flowing black velvet robe with a modestly high collar, accented by a simple string of pearls, that perfectly framed her face. And her hair tied back with a black velvet bow. "Harry, she's lovely, and everything she's wearing frames her face without drawing your eye from her best features."

Harry turned, still confused and casually took a closer look at Pansy. She was all made up, too much makeup for Harry's taste--more than even Lavender had used before she started dating Seamus--but he didn't think he was any expert. But she had a sallow complexion and a pug nose anyway, so he guessed that she needed more. And her dishwater blond hair was piled elaborately on top of her head, and she had a multitude of silver combs in it to keep it in place.

Harry shrugged. He disliked the girl but figured Pansy was doing her best. But the effect was not to his taste. Then he turned to smile at Parvati, who looked absolutely smashing. But Parvati's eyes were on Pansy. She had a devilish smile as Draco and Pansy made their way to one of the front tables.

Then he heard Lavender whisper. "Hermione, Padma, watch. Here it comes." Harry got an uneasy feeling. They weren't going to hex the poor girl, were they? he thought desperately. If they did, he would walk out of the Ball and not return, he vowed.

Again Lavender whispered. "Here it comes...a little closer. There it is!" she whispered triumphantly. "The 'S' in Pansy!"

He looked at Pansy, but he didn't see anything untoward. Pansy had just passed their table, looking haughty on the arm of Draco, who was looking bilious.

Harry leaned across the table. Ron, Seamus and Terry were looking totally confused, as well. "What are you girls talking about?" he said in an annoyed tone. The girls began laughing out loud.

Parvati leaned over to him. "Harry, take a look at Pansy."

He looked at Pansy, who was standing, chatting with Tracy Davis, another Slytherin fifth year, with her right profile to Harry. He shrugged.

Parvati smiled. "She how the gown hugs her chest tightly? That's the top of the 'S.' And how it's tight around the shoulders, emphasizing the arch of her back? That's the middle of the 'S.' And how it hugs her bottom, showing the flare of her bum? That's the bottom of the 'S'."

Harry looked closely, trying not to look like he was ogling Pansy. Then he saw it. It did look like 'S.' He turned to Parvati and shrugged.

"Mmmm. Now I see it," Ron said.

"Me, too," said Terry with a puzzled look.

"Looks good to me," said Seamus, and Lavender elbowed him.

Parvati shook her head with a quiet chuckle. "You boys are such dogs. Tight is fine for jeans or a dancing shirt. But never for a formal gown. It's one of the worst fashion mistakes a witch can make. And it's especially bad for a gown like that. Any gown with a pattern like that is supposed to flow loosely to preserve the illusion of feathers...or whatever the illusion is supposed to represent. Instead, Pansy looks like a brightly colored, overstuffed sausage."

Harry frowned. He looked at the girls around the table. They were all grinning, although Hermione seemed a little embarressed about it. Somehow, it didn't seem nice. Maybe Hermione was right. It must be a 'girl thing.'

* * *

The once the feast had ended, everyone settled back in anticipation of who would provide the entertainment.

Again, Harry glanced around the Great Hall to take in the scene. He was suddenly poked by Parvati, who motioned toward one of the front tables.

It was Hannah Abbott, who nooded to them, looking lonely and forlorn in a lovely pink satin and lace Cinderella-style gown, next to Roger Davies, who seemed to be holding court among his seventh-year Ravenclaw friends and ignoring her completely.

"Poor Hannah," Parvati whispered. "She didn't realize what a stick Roger was when she agreed to go with him."

In contrast, Luna Lovegood seemed to be having the time of her life, laughing loudly with a suddenly jovial Amy Hattan. Amy's date, a sixth-year Muggleborn Hufflepuff named Paul Generoso, but who everyone seemed to call 'Spike,' seemed to be amused by the discussion. But Colin Creevey seemed to be totally out of his depth, turning back and forth between the three chattering students.

Suddenly the chandeliers dimmed. There was a suddenly flash of bluebell lights and a young man in thick, shaggy brown hair wearing a robe but no shirt stepped forward.

"I was born in Knockturn Alley,

Been kicked 'round all my life.

With every gal I'd dally,

Fought Aurors and been through strife.

But then I met my Sally.

Yeah she turned around my life.

Then a fell in love with Sally.

Gonna make that witch my wife.

Oh, Yeah!

Gonna make that witch my wife."

The song was an all-time favorite: 'Knockturn Alley Sally.' The band was more than just a favorite. It was Darren Dare and Dark Secrets.

There were cheers and screams, particularly from the girls in the audience as Dare continued with the opening number.

Harry squirmed. Darren Dare was the wizard he had beat out to be named the 'Sexiest Wizard Under 25' by Teen Witch Weekly. He rolled his eyes as he saw his schoolmates, particularly the girls, glance back and forth between him and Dare and chuckle. As he glanced around the room, he saw Janet McDonald, his seventh-year Hufflepuff prefect patrol partner who, with Nymphadora Tonks, had teased him mercilessly about the article, nod knowingly and give him a smirking wave.

He was rescued from his thoughts by Parvati, who grabbed him and hauled him onto the dance floor. Thanks to their hours of practicing, Harry felt less foolish dancing than he had in the past.

Dark Secrets went through a broad variety of numbers and tempos, mostly adaptations of Muggle rock and rhythm and blues tunes such as 'Seekers on the Storm,' 'Funky Merlin Street,' and 'P-Town Woman,' which got Parvati and Padma, Portsmouth natives, standing on their chairs. The girls eventually had gotten the boys out on the dance floor a few times, particularly for the slow numbers. And they all seemed to be having good time. Even Ron, who groused about not knowing how to dance, allowed Hermione to drag him out on the floor and acquitted himself adequately, if not always admirably.

"Why isn't there a spell to teach these louts how to dance," Padma complained to Lavender. Lavender didn't respond, discovering that Seamus was a very good dancer, better even than she was.

Harry laughed. "That's not fair, Padma. There's no steps for these dances. It's mostly just jumping around on the fast dances and hugging on the slow ones," he said with a smile. "If I hadn't been dragged off to charm school by your sister, I probably would have been flat on my bum on the dance floor or hiding under the table myself."

"Ron, we'll have to get Hermione teach you how to jitterbug or something like that," Parvati said with a laugh as the redhead frowned and blushed. "You can dance, can't you," she said, turning to Hermione.

Hermione shrugged. "Three years of ballroom dancing lessons when I was a child," she replied. "Come on, Ron," she said, rolling her eyes as she dragged her protesting date back onto the dance floor.

The group sat out the last dance of the set, sipping punch or cider or pumpkin juice. Darren Dare thanked everyone and promised to be back with the band in 20 minutes. Everyone sat back in their chairs, relaxing and chatting, when Professor Dumbledore stood and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, all you lovely witches and handsome young wizards," he said with twinkle in his eye. "While you youngsters are taking a break from your exertions, some of us old timers thought we might like to try our hands at some music that was all the rage back when we were your age." Professors McGonagall and Sprout and Madame Pomfrey made faces at him and Dumbledore laughed. "Oh, all right, when I was your age."

Dumbledore waved his wand and an ancient gramophone, complete with a morning glory horn, appeared. "Poppy, you're more familiar with this than I am. If you would?"

Madame Pomfrey got up and took a quick look through a stack of old platters and selected one. Dumbledore nodded, and turned to Professor McGonagall. "Minerva, would you do me the honor...?"

McGonagall, in dark blue velvet and brocade dress robes with a red and gold Gryffindor pin similar to what Harry was wearing, smiled and nodded, and Dumbledore escorted her out on to the deserted dance floor. Dumbledore turned to the students, most of whom weren't paying much attention. "This is by Emil Waldteufel. Not quite Dark Secrets, but he was quite the rage in my time. It's a rather old recording by the Weiner Statsoper Orchestra conducted by Fritz Reingold, but still quiet a danceable tune." Dumbledore turned to Pomfrey. "Poppy, if you will?"

Madame Pomfrey waved her wand and the crank on the side of the Gramophone spun. A series of snaps and pops were heard, but Pomfrey waved her wand again and they disappeared and the music began, clear and loud.

Suddenly, Harry's head jerked around, his eyes lighting up. "That's a waltz! I know how to waltz! Come on, Parvati!" he said, grabbing his date by the arm and dragging her on to the dance floor.

"Harry, what's going on?" she asked.

"Come on, Parvati! I practiced all summer for this," he said, his eyes glowing merrily. "You know how to waltz, don't you?" he said with a smirk.

She returned his smirk. "Okay, Potter! I'll show you how ..."

Parvati didn't get to finish as Harry had already grabbed one of her hands and put his other hand around her waist. He caught the beat and he was off.

Parvati, surprised, struggled for a second and then picked up the rhythm and started to follow his lead. But this was no stately waltz. It was lively as well as elegant, and Harry began to picture himself during the past summer practicing the steps in his bedroom that Mae Strowbridge had taught him. His steps and movements began to get bolder, as he started to swing Parvati in graceful loops to the strains of the L'Estudiantina Waltz.

Parvati was startled and tried to keep pace. Then she looked up at Harry. It was a Harry she'd never seen, full of joy and enthusiasm...and love for dancing and for her, and her heart melted. Suddenly, the effort to keep up with him evaporated. She was dancing on air.

And Harry looked down at Parvati and saw this lovely vision of a young woman looking at him, her eyes sparkling and her face aglow, and he caught his breath.

Parvati had fancied she was in love with Harry. She had stood by his side during times of terror, and had held him through his tears and hers, his triumphs and hers. But this was something new and overwhelming to her. She simply threw back her head and laughed for the pure joy of it all.

And Harry had never known love before meeting Parvati. She was by turns annoying and exciting and frustrating and comforting. He knew he cared for her deeply, and loved having her in his arms. The more he seemed to be with her, the more he cared about her.

But in those few minutes, all those feelings shrank to a mere afterthought. For in those few minutes on the dance floor Harry and Parvati understood.

This was their perfect moment.

Harry and Parvati's dancing had no less a devastating effect on the other students. Slowly, in ones or twos or small groups, students, mostly the girls, started rising, drawn to the dance floor to watch the couple. Many of the girls sighed and leaned back on their dates, or put their arms around waists, actions too forward for many of them to take under any other circumstances. Many of the boys, puzzled, shrugged and enjoyed the contact. Others looked down a their dates, seeing them as if for the first time, and put their arms around them with smiles. Even some of the professors seemed mesmerized, including Dumbledore and McGonagall, who smiled fondly at the couple who were swirling around them on the dance floor.

By the time the waltz ended, Harry and Parvati were in their own world. As the last strains faded, Harry ended the step and gave Parvati a quick twirl before pulling her back into an embrace. Parvati looked up at him, starry eyed. Harry leaned a little forward and kissed her gently, for that's all they needed.

Harry and Parvati looked up to find the entire ballroom hooting, applauding or sighing. Their confusion was compounded when a nearby Hufflepuff fifth-year girl, the romantic dreamer Karen Holmes, collapsed, smiling, into the arms of her date.

Harry turned beet red, and Parvati looked flushed, and hand-in-hand, they scurried over to their table. Lavender was jumping up and down excitedly and Seamus was wearing a lopsided grin. Padma was simply smiling and leaning against Terry, who had a bemused expression on his face. Ron was laughing and shaking his head. And Hermione had a wistful look.

"Oh, you've done us all a bad turn, Potter," Ron exclaimed. "It'll been dancing lessons and charm school for the rest of our lives now," he said, slapping Harry on the back.

As Pomfrey put the next record on the gramophone, Padma grabbed Terry by the ear and dragged him on to the dance floor. "If Harry can dance like that, the least you can do is learn a simple box step," she said.

Harry had regained some of his composure and sat down laughing. He pulled Parvati down to sit next to him. She angled her chair so she could lean back against him, and Harry put his arms around her middle and kissed the side of her neck, eliciting a giggle.

He looked up to see Neville sit down next to him, with Moira holding his hand shyly. "Uh...Harry?" Neville started tentatively. "Uh...can you teach us to do that."

Harry looked over to see Moira practically bouncing with eagerness.

"Not right now, of course," Neville quickly added. "But we'd like to be able to dance together, Moira and I...uh, you know," Neville stammered.

"Sure Neville," Harry said, smiling at the couple.

He turned back to Parvati, nuzzling her again. "What have we started?" He asked her. She simply giggled again.

Suddenly, Lavender leaned over and whispered. "Watch out, you two. Your fan club is on the way."

Harry looked up to see several girls glancing in his direction and a couple, most prominently Blaise Zabini's little sister, Gina, making their way in his direction.

Harry leaned forward and nuzzled Parvati's hair. "What do you say we take a walk?" he asked.

"Okay," she said dreamily.

Harry got up and grabbed Lavender's arm. "If any of my 'fans' coming looking for a dance, tell them my dance card is filled," he whispered to her.

Lavender laughed and hugged him, then did the same to Parvati.

Harry and Parvati walked hand-in-hand out of the Great Hall. The great entrance doors were open, but the breeze coming in was warm, so the couple went outside to the dimly lit courtyard. Somebody had apparently used a warming charm on the courtyard, so Harry and Parvati walked to a nearby bench.

They had just sat down and began to embrace when a figure appeared out of the shadows. It was Darren Dare, smoking a cigarette.

"Potter?" The rocker asked, his head anged to the side.

Harry nodded uncertainly.

"I was a bit wound up about that whole TWW thing, you know," Dare said quietly.

Harry shrugged. "I didn't have anything to do with it."

Dare nodded with an absent look on his face, looking off into the dark. "Saw you dance there. I can see how they might choose you after all."

Harry snorted. "You can have it."

Dare smiled vaguely. "Go on, Potter. Enjoy it while you got it, 'cause you never know when it's gonna be gone," he said with a dreamy smile. "Miss...Patil? A pleasure to meet you both," he said and wandered back in to resume the performance.

Grinning, Harry turned to Parvati. "What was he smoking?"

"Now there's a match for Luna Lovegood," Parvati said with a smirk. Harry and Parvati looked at each other and laughed. Then they simply leaned into each others' arms, content. Neither gave the future a thought. There was no Voldemort. There was no Death Eaters. There was no danger. There was simply now.

* * *

Schmoo Baker scurried into the Tabula Rasa and took a quick look around, spotting Sirius almost immediately. "Black," he hissed. "He's here. He's outside. The guy."

Sirius nodded. He turned to his companion, Christy. Not that she was his companion when he walked into the bar. She was just another hanger-on, another barfly. A new one he hadn't noticed before. She was okay looking, he supposed. She was about average height, with dirty blond hair and gray eyes that sparkled when she talked. But she had a prominent hex scar on her left jaw line that had obviously been poorly healed by some quack wizard. That's probably why she tried to keep to his left at the bar, to keep her good side toward him. He didn't like that because he wanted to keep her between him and the front of the tavern so he could watch the door in case of trouble.

He wouldn't have given this one a second thought, but she seemed livelier than the others, who usually seemed to carry the weight of the world on their shoulders as they went through the motions of flirting. Christy, on the other hand, seemed to have unflagging energy and a sense of humor that was a welcome distraction as he waited to meet Schmoo's Death Eater recruiter.

Sirius turned to Christy and shrugged. "Gotta go," he said sorrowfully.

Then he blinked. Remus, once again dressed at his seediest, slid down the bar and whispered into Christy's ear. Sirius frowned as Christy turned to Remus and gave him a noncommittal nod. The werewolf wasn't supposed to be trolling for tarts, Sirius thought. Remus was supposed to be watching his back.

Sirius got up and began moving toward the door with Schmoo. He glanced back once to see Remus, in his Knockturn Alley disguise, suddenly grab Christy by the arm and begin unsteadily to make his way out behind him. Sirius shrugged. Maybe Remus's acting drunk and picking up the tart was a good smokescreen to get out of the bar after all.

Suddenly, Schmoo grabbed Sirius' robe. "Remember to remind him I was the one who got you," he whispered in his louder-than-necessary manner.

Sirius nodded as the passed through the entrance.

"This way," Schmoo hissed, and led Sirius off to the left toward an alleyway.

Sirius looked around and didn't see anyone at first. 'Where was Shane?' he thought. He fingered his wand and frowned. Then he noticed an old drunk with his hood up, sitting atop an old empty packing crate, rocking back and forth and humming an old Scottish ballad. 'Not Shane,' he thought. He looked further down the narrow street and saw another hooded wizard accost a passerby. Another 'frog' merchant, selling drugs to the desperate on this cold December night. That had to be Shane. He just hoped that Remus had set aside the tart and was following him. Sirius was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. He gripped his wand tighter as Schmoo turned him into the alleyway.

Then it all happened at once. Seven Death Eaters apparated around him.

"Got you, Black," the closest Death Eater growled as he grabbed and twisted Sirius' wand hand, preventing him from defending himself. "My master will enjoy killing you."

Suddenly, streams of light flashed around the alley as curses and hexes were shot at the Death Eaters who, in turn, responded with their own curses. Sirius was hit in the arm with a stray slicing curse. Grimacing, he suddenly grabbed the Death Eater who had taken a hold of him and yanked him to the ground, just in time to see a green flash pass over his head. Schmoo, who was squawking in surprise about what was going on and about his money was hit directly in the chest. Sirius managed to look up and see a second, angry Death Eater glance down at him and point his wand directly at him.

"Avada ..." the Death Eater started, when suddenly he was blown off his feet by a powerful stunning spell.

Sirius looked up, in wide-eyed terror as the Death Eater collapsed, only to see his savior -- Christy.

Christy suddenly turned and aimed another stunning spell at a masked Death Eater, but the old drunk suddenly appeared to take care of him.

In the mean time, the Death Eater who had had a hold on him grabbed Sirius around the neck. Sirius could see he had the Death Eater's wand arm pinned under him. Despite the pain from the gash in his arm, he pulled that arm up and slammed his elbow into his opponent's face once, twice, then a third time. He reached down and managed to wrestle the wand out of the wounded Death Eater's grip and uttered a stunning spell with the Death Eater's own wand. The spell had enough force, and was at close enough range, to knock his opponent out.

While this was going on, several more curses were traded as a couple Death Eaters were knocked out before the last two managed to apparate away. Sirius managed to wrestle his wand back, but not before one last Death Eater was bludgeoned by the frog pusher Sirius had seen in the lane--Shane Patil.

Sirius was grabbed by the old drunk. "Bind them up. We're taking 'em with us," Alastor Moody growled through his disguise. Suddenly, Moody was cursing under his breath and rubbing his arm. "Where the hell are Jordan and Shack?" he muttered.

Sirius blinked in surprise that Moody was there, then gave a quick nod. "What about Schmoo?"

Shane, breathing heavily, shook his head. "Nothing to be done for him. They'll find his body in the morning. Another victim of Knockturn Alley."

Moody grabbed Shane. "He comes too, you fool. He was seen leaving with Black. They'll wonder what happened and Sirius will be the prime suspect."

Moody grabbed a rope and tied it to the hands of the five unconscious Death Eaters and to Schmoo's body, then held it out to Sirius and the other three rescuers. "Portkey," he muttered.

Sirius then turned to Remus, who was leaning wide eyed against one wall of the alley. "Smart move bringing the girl," he said to the werewolf.

Remus didn't react. He simply looked at his friend. "Sirius?" he muttered in a strained voice, then slowly slid down the wall, leaving a blood trail behind.

"Remus!" Sirius yelled.

Moody turned, startled. He quickly stuck his hand into his ragged cloak and yanked out a handful of Muggle bottle caps. When he found the right one, he handed it to Christy. "You, gel! Portkey to St. Mungo's!"

Christy grabbed the bottle cap and clasped it against Remus' hand. She rapped her wand against their clasped hands. Suddenly, the two were gone.

"I've got to go with them!" Sirius yelled in a panic, but Moody grabbed him.

"Nothing you can do for him at the moment," he growled. "Come on, now. Grab the rope."

Shane grabbed Sirius's shoulder. "Let's go, my friend," he said in a low, ragged voice.

"He's my best friend..." Sirius said in a choking voice as he sunk to his knees. "It's my fault."

But Shane gently grabbed Sirius' right hand and guided it to the rope.

When everyone had a hold of the rope, Moody grabbed the end and tapped it with his wand. And they all disappeared.

* * *

Sirius sat in an overstuffed chair, his cut left arm heavily coated with a healing potion and bound with what seemed like yards of bandages. He simply sat there, as he had for over two hours, ignoring the pain of the curse and the sting of the potion, his head in his hands. He glanced up and looked around the room. It was a large holding area in an Auror substation, but he didn't know where.

All he could think about was Remus. How could he have been so foolish. Since leaving Hogwarts, his entire life had been a series of foolish moves. He had never been serious after graduating, letting any number of wonderful women pass out of his life. He had turned the Potters' secret keeper duties over to the traitor, Peter Pettigrew, getting James and Lily killed. He had allowed his grief and anger to overcome him, allowing Pettigrew to get away and get himself convicted in his place, allowing Harry to be cast into a horrible life with the Dursleys. And now, he had lured his best friend into something he thought of as an adventure, with potentially deadly results.

He was crying silently into his hands when he heard the door open.

He looked up to see the young tart, Christy, or whoever she might be, enter. She looked drawn and haggard, but she had a small smile on her face.

"He's going to be all right," she said quietly. "A few days at St. Mungo's, then a couple weeks to recover, and he'll be back on his feet."

Sirius leaned back in the chair and let out a ragged breath. "Thank you, God. Thank you," he said quietly.

When Sirius opened his eyes after a few moments, he looked absently at Christy. "Thanks for your help," he said softly. "You probably saved my life." He looked down and blinked, then looked up again at the tart. "And I don't even know who you are."

Christy blinked and looked down at her hands and felt her chest, then her face. Suddenly, there was a spark of a smile on her tired face. "Oi, dearie. Got time to give it a go now that yer doings is done?" she said in a thick cockney accent. Suddenly, she transformed.

"Tonks?"

Tonks let out a laugh that was a little louder than fit the circumstances, probably from the pent up tension of the confrontation. She was breathing heavily, but managed a broad smile. "Forgot I was still in disguise. Good thing you didn't take me up on my propositions. Not that you aren't a handsome specimen, but being cousins and all..." she said with a gradually more relaxed grin.

Sirius shook his head in amazement. "I had no idea..."

"You're damned right you had no idea," Moody growled as he entered the room, rubbing his own injured and heavily bandaged arm. "What the hell were you thinking, arranging a meet like that with just a couple of people to back you up? And going into a confined space like that?"

Sirius lowered his head. "I figured Shane and ... Remus could handle anything," he muttered.

"The boy can play dress-up well enough, but he ain't seasoned in combat. At least Lupin had the sense to let us know what you were up to so we could prepare as best as we could."

Sirius gave a vague nod. "So you two..."

"We had Shacklebolt and Jordan at the other end of the lane for additional backup, looking as menacing as possible. Figured Death Eater scouts would see them and steer the action away from them toward us. Kingsley and Cyrus are policing the scene and covering any magical signatures. They'll be along."

Sirius leaned back, sinking into the chair. He looked up at Moody and was about to say something, when Moody shook his head.

"It was an strictly an MLE operation. You weren't there. Nor was Remus. Got that?"

Sirius lowered his head. "Remus is going to be all right?"

Moody scowled, then let his expression become mildly less fearsome. "Aye. Took a slicing curse to the gut, he did. Got him to St. Mungo's in plenty of time. But nasty business, that was."

Sirius nodded weakly. "Who were they?"

Moody squinted his normal eye. "Evan Rosier Jr. was the killer. The one you got was someone named Mercer, a local thug. The other three were no-names, recent recruits. Knockturn Alley scum who recently got the mark, no doubt."

Then Sirius noticed a new figure enter the room. He saw the burly man with the brush-cut mustache. He recognized him immediately. William Masterson, the Chief Auror.

"Alastor."

Moody nodded. "Bill."

Masterson sighed. "Rosier's the killer. Checked the wand. He won't talk. Neither will Mercer. We've been looking for him. Couple of robberies and a possible killing. The other three are small time hoods. They don't know much."

Moody nodded.

Masterson turned to Sirius. "Moody explained things to you?"

Moody grumbled.

Masterson scowled. "You were not involved in the doings tonight. Do you understand?"

Sirius nodded.

"You will not speak of this to anyone. You will not speculate on it when nothing shows up in the press about it. And you will stay away from Knockturn Alley until I say you can return. Do you understand?"

Again, Sirius nodded.

Masterson turned and opened the door and motioned with his head. Shane Patil walked in with wide eyes. Masterson indicated for him to sit in the chair next to Sirius. He gave the two an annoyed look. Then he sighed.

"Mr. Patil. We have allowed you to go undercover on Auror business. You have been very valuable as a resource on criminal gangs and drug trafficking. More so than I would have thought possible. However, your charge as an operative did not, and does not extend to infiltrating or battling Voldemort's forces."

Shane was about to say something, but Masterson cut him off. "I am not revoking your charter. However, I am ordering you to steer clear of Knockturn Alley until we determine when it will be safe for you to return. In the meantime, you will confine your activities to your home base around Portsmouth. In the future, when you learn something concerning Voldemort or his minions, you shall report them to Kingsley Shacklebolt or Cyrus Jordan. You will take no action on your own initiative."

Again, Shane seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but again, Masterson cut him off again.

"Let me assure you, those two can be trusted. As for anyone else in the Auror service interested in what you are doing, you can refer them to Shacklebolt and Jordan."

Masterson turned to Moody. "Alastor, I appreciate the help your organization has provided us. In the future, I hope your members will exercise a little more judgment. In the meantime, I would suggest that the activities of the 'Notorious Black Brothers' be curtailed, at least for the time being."

With that, Masterson turned and left.

Sirius looked up at Moody. "What about the Ministry? Fudge?"

Moody, his magic eye darting from Tonks, to Shane, to Sirius, frowned. "Like the man said. This incident never happened."

* * *

It was late. The Ball was finally over.

Ron was nervous. Being with Hermione, this very pretty version of his best friend, made him light headed.

She had been a lot of fun, even if she had nagged and teased him about dancing with her, and lectured the table about which of Dark Secrets' songs were covers of Muggle rock tunes.

But now, he wasn't sure what to do. As they walked back to Gryffindor House, he had hoped to steer her up to the Astronomy Tower, but she had declined. He had reached around her to hold her but she artfully avoided that, as well. Then, she grabbed his hand.

He blinked in surprise, feeling her warm, soft grip as they walked hand-in-hand back to the Tower. He sighed in contentment. Then he shivered to himself. Should he kiss her? What would she do? What if she got mad?

When they got to the portrait hole, she quickly gave the password and stepped through.

Ron frowned. If they were going to do any real kissing, it would have been out here, not inside in front of everyone. He sighed again, this time in disappointment.

There were about a half dozen couples on sofas and loveseats around the common room. Ron noticed Harry and Parvati with their arms around each other in the far corner in the first years' 'quiet chair.' Neville and Moira Duffy were sitting next to the fire, holding hands. For once, he didn't even think to look for Ginny.

Hermione made her way to the base of the stairs to the girls' dorms, with Ron following behind, then she stopped.

Ron grimaced anxiously. "Uhhh, you looked really nice tonight," he said uncertainly. "Really."

Hermione turned around and gave him a quick look, then stepped up to him and grabbed him in a tight hug, leaning her head on his shoulder.

Ron, startled, cautiously and gently put his arms around as he felt her against him, her head just barely coming up to his chin.

Slowly, he closed his eyes and reveled in her warmth, her presence.

Finally, he heard her sigh and looked down.

She looked up at him and smiled. "I had a really nice time, Ron," she said.

Suddenly, she let him go, stood on her toes and gave give a quick kiss on the lips. "Thank you, Ron," she said quietly, and suddenly she was gone up the stairs.

Ron sat down and leaned back, his eyes closed. He could still feel her lips, smell her perfume, feel her warmth. He smiled. It was a nice night after all.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was tired. The Yule Ball wasn't exactly a rousing success as far as he was concerned. Pansy had made a splash with her gown, but he had also heard the whispering. And the whispering had pretty much confirmed his own opinion of The Gown.

But he had spent a good portion of the night reassuring Pansy about how everyone was jealous of her. And she had been reassured and almost regal in her insistence that they had shown they were the class of Slytherin, which meant they were the class of Hogwarts. They were above such vulgar displays as put on by Potter and Patil and their ilk, she announced.

So now, as he lay in her arms in a bed in a room he had discovered in his wanderings around Hogwarts, he sighed. If nothing else, he had Pansy. She wasn't perfect. Far from it.

But she was there for him. He nuzzled her neck and slowly let his eyes droop. As long as there was someone like Pansy there for him, he could get by. As long as someone who believed in him, who stood by him no matter what, he could get through anything. He was a Malfoy. He would survive. He would succeed. He would triumph.

* * *

Pansy sighed in contentment. She had Draco. And he seemed so attentive and caring. And he was nice looking. Maybe not as handsome as many of the boys in his year, but he was striking and cut a dashing figure.

If only he could reconcile with his father. Or find some way to reclaim the Malfoy estates and fortune.

If it took going into service with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, well so be it.

Her father refused to join the Death Eaters, preferring to keep his options open. It was the smart course for him. But Draco had more to gain. Maybe she would talk to him about it again.

Draco had foresworn his father and his family. But if it meant losing his fortune...well, she would have to see.

In the meantime, he was here. But if worse came to worse ...

Macmillan was really good looking and, as recent events showed, easy to manipulate, she thought. But he wasn't rich enough. Too bad, she thought.

Potter would have been good. But he was arrogant and had been bewitched by that wog princess. And if the vague rumors her dad had been hearing about the Ministry and the Potter estate were true...well.

But there were always other options. She had heard that Finch-Fletchley was some sort of Muggle royalty. She wasn't sure how that all worked. But she knew that there had been successful Finches and Fletchleys in the Wizarding world for generations, so he really wasn't a Mudblood, was he? And Finch-Fletchley's family was supposed to be immensely wealthy. Something about Muggle transportation. Automobiles and engines for their flying machines. And Justin was so much more handsome than Draco. And she had heard that he was much less demanding and headstrong, as well. Well, if it came down to it, she could make a few sacrifices to be...what was the wife of a Muggle Earl called, anyway...?

* * *

Harry awoke with a throbbing in his scar. He was there with Him again. He was in Voldemort's mind.

And the Dark Lord was furious.

"You mean to tell me that they captured young Rosier?" he screamed. "And four others?"

Lucius Malfoy cringed. "Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort glared at his chief of staff. "How?" he demanded.

"Black had a dozen Aurors to protect him, according to the two who came back. They said they may have killed two or three of the Aurors."

Voldemort had left his heavily decorated throne, pacing painfully back and forth. "And all they were trained in was slicing curses?"

Lucius Malfoy lowered his head. "That was the most deadly, but simple, curse that our people could come up with to teach these ... individuals."

Voldemort ceased his pacing and returned to the elaborately carved chair that he called his throne. "Then we shall have to spend the time to teach them the true meaning of the practice of the Dark Arts," he growled.

Lucius lowered his head. "It will take time, My Lord," he said meekly.

Voldemort nodded. "I am patient...for now. But this fiasco with Black has tried my patience. You shall ensure that the scum we recruit understand what needs to be done, and know enough to ensure our success."

Harry shivered.

He could sense Voldemort shift in his thinking. "Well, Lucius. Perhaps it is time we considered other alternatives, as well," he said in a silky voice.

He watched Lucius intently. "What is that, My Lord?" the elder Malfoy asked.

"Azkaban."