Asking Hermione to the Ball

Hermione and Harry laughed.

Ron and Hermione had no time to continue their argument, largely due to the amount of noise that filled the classroom. Ron was glad. He was in no mood to get into a squabble with Hermione about balls and partners, especially as at every mention of balls brought back painful memories of their tumultuous row of fourth year in which Hermione had rebuked Ron for not having the sense to ask her first.

Completely missed the point, Ron thought, glancing at Hermione as she chatted merrily with Lavender Brown. It wasn't my fault she already had a date before I asked her.

The memory of seeing his best friend in the arms of Viktor Krum suddenly ignited in Ron a furious and unpleasant feeling, somewhere in his stomach. He found hf glaring at Hermione, just as he had done whilst watching her dance at the Yule Ball.

Bloody Vicky. Slobbering over Hermione like some no-hoper git. What does he know about Hermione? What does he know about how cool, smart, wonderful -

'Ron!'

'W-what?

Hermione had caught Ron staring at her, and had punched him lightly on the arm to break his reverie.

'Cheer up,' she said, moving past him into the Potions classroom. 'You look like you've got a stomach ache.'

Harry, Hermione and Ron took their usual seats at the back of the classroom and took out their parchment and quills.

'At least we've got the satisfaction of knowing that neither Crabbe nor Goyle have a hope of getting dates at all,' Harry muttered nodding towards Malfoy's cronies, who were staring blankly into space.

'Yeah,' Ron sniggered. 'Even if they had enough sense to distinguish between a girl and a boy.' Ron drooped his face in an expression of dopiness. 'Excuse me Professor Binns? Do you want to go to the ball with me? Oh, yeah, you're a man. And oh, yeah, you're a ghost.'

Harry chuckled and gave Ron a pat on the back.

'Nice one, mate.'

Hermione, who had been listening intently to the conversation, simply stared at Ron, a look of disbelief etched on her face. Ron, aware of her gaze, turned to her, amusement still in his eyes.

'What -?' he began to say, when Hermione's accusatory voice rang in his head.

Well spotted. Just because it's taken you three years to notice Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl.

The sudden realisation of his hypocrisy suddenly hit Ron like a slap on the face and he quailed under Hermione's stare.

'Um...I mean...' he muttered.

But he couldn't continue. He simply stared back into Hermione's eyes. Something stirred in him; something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He felt a blush slowly creep into his face, yet he couldn't break the eye contact with Hermione. He didn't want to. It was as if something was hanging in the air between them, some tangible thing, which made the air suddenly difficult to move to Ron's lungs. Looking into her deep hazel eyes, Ron could trace the change from incredulity to a swift searching penetrating stare, to what was unmistakably pity.

'It doesn't matter Ron,' Hermione said, in a voice so soft it was hardly audible. 'Don't bother.'

She quickly looked down to her Potion notes laid out before her, a sad expression around her mouth.

'Settle down.' Snape's cold command rang through the already hushed classroom. 'Today, we'll be looking...'

Ron didn't quite understand what had happened. Hermione's quiet words had stung him deeply, and he felt a rush of regret of his crass comments about Crabbe and Goyle.

Maybe if I had thought of Hermione as a girl sooner, I would have asked her to the ball first. I don't want to not bother, I want to...

Realisation coursed its way through Ron's mind faster than Harry's Firebolt. He had an idea, and that idea was linked to the irksome feeling he had whenever he thought about Hermione and Krum and the approaching ball. With a quick half-glance at Hermione, who was already scribbling notes, he tore a piece of his parchment and scrawled a note to Harry.

I'm going to ask Hermione to the ball. What do you think? Crazy?

He pushed the note as discreetly as he could over to Harry, and watched in anticipation as his friend's eyes skimmed the piece of parchment, before widening and eventually looking up into Ron's.

A smile seemed to formulated on Harry's mouth, when -

'Potter, give me that note.'

Snape had silently floated to the back of the classroom, and was now towering over their table, his hand outstretched.

'Er...' said Harry, throwing Ron a deserate look.

'Give it to me, Potter,' Snape snarled in a dangerously quiet voice.

Ron felt his stomach plummet to the stone floor of the dungeon, and he watched in slow motion as Harry passed the note to Snape, who snatched it and began to read.

Ron screwed up his eyes. Please, feed me to a fire-breathing goose. Please, please...

'Ten points from Gryffindor.'

Snape whirled around and strode to the front of the class, after igniting Ron's note with a flick of his wand.

Ron opened his eyes in utter disbelief and slowly turned to Harry, who similarly was gaping at Snape's display at mercy. He received a sharp jab in the ribs from Hermione, who nodded toward the blackboard upon which was scrawled instructions for a very complex potion.

'Now that we are all paying attention,' Snape drawled, 'let's begin.'

*

Later that evening, Ron, Harry and Hermione were in the library making a start on the four-foot Potions essay Snape had given them about the correct way of brewing a Confusion Draught.

'You might as well start it now,' Hermione had recommended. 'That way you'll have all weekend to play chess, exploding snap, Quidditch or whatever you two want to spend your time doing.'

Harry and Ron had merely exchanged exasperated looks. Hermione would never understand the value of leisure time, and neither of them hoped to teach her now.

So, the three of them sat in a warm corner of the library, with books strewn out before them.

'Confusing Draught is right,' Harry whispered, flicking absent-mindedly through Potions You Can't Live Without. 'I've lost count how many times you have to alternate between simmering and boiling.'

'Yeah,' Ron agreed, not really listening to what Harry was saying.

He had said very little since Potions, and hardly felt in a state to write four feet about a Confusion Draught.

Yeah, confusing. That's what this is.

He had not been able to discuss what he had written to Harry, since Hermione had spent the whole day with them, and he needed to get some advice from his best friend before breaching the subject with the other. Every time Ron had turned to Harry when Hermione was chatting to someone else or busy taking notes in class, he had received a beaming smile, but before Harry could get any further, they were invariably interrupted. And so, Ron had spent the whole day with a swimmingly sick feeling. Each time the thought of Hermione and him going to the ball together sent what felt like jellyfish running through his stomach.

t color="Black">It'll be fun going with her. I mean, at least she won't be rabbiting on to dance and stuff like ruddy Padma did.

The thought of Hermione and he dancing sent thrills through his chest, and brought an inexplicable smile to his face. He glanced up at her, scribbling away. Her unruly hair was tucked behind her ears, but kept popping free, constantly sending her hand up to tame it again. He noticed the way her tongue traced her inner bottom lip whilst she read, before sticking in the corner as she jotted down her ever-flowing thoughts.

His parchment was still blank and he suspected would remain so, until he had this load off his chest.

No good Weasley. You need to ask Hermione.

'That's it.' Harry slammed his book shut. 'This is useless. I'm going to bed. And no, Hermione,' he quickly added with hiin the air in self-defence, before she could speak. 'I don't care if it means messing up my weekend. It never has before. I'm off.'

Harry started to pack away his things and Ron seized the opportunity.

'Yeah. Me, too.'

He jumbled his parchment and books away as quickly as possible and jogged after Harry so fast, Hermione had only opened her mouth to protest before he too had whisked away.

'Harry!'

Ron joined his friend as Harry made his way up the staircase.

'No. So, what do you think?'

'Of what?' Harry pulled a puzzled face, stopping to face Ron.

'Of what?' Ron shouted incredulously, startling two passing third year Hufflepuffs.

'Of me asking Hermione to the ball,' he hissed.

'Oh, yeah, that,' Harry smirked and continued up the stairs.

'Well?' Ron demanded, pulling Harry to a standstill. 'Aren't you going to say anything?'

'What is there for me to say? You want to ask her, she wants you to ask her, so I don't see -'

'What?' Ron asked, shaking his head as if he had misheard.

'I said -' Harry continued, exasperated.

'Yes, I heard what yu said, but what do you mean, she wants me to ask her? What has she been saying to you?'

Ron eyed Harry suspiciously.

'Ron,' Harry said patiently. 'She hasn't said anything to me.'

'Who then?'

Harry looked at Ron with the same expression Hermione had worn in Potions earlier that day.

'You, you twit,' said Harry, punching Ron playfully on the shoulder.

Ron considered this for a moment, desperately searching his memory for something he had obviously missed. Failing, he replied, 'When?'

Harry sighed.

'Need I remind you of a certain disagreement after the Yule Ball? Need I remind you what Hermione said, or rather screamed, at you?'

Ron stared into space for the briefest of moments.

Ask me before somebody else does, and not as a last resort!

'Ah,' Ron said simply.

'Yes, now he gets it,' Harry said, flicking Ron's forehead. 'So I suggest, you get back to the library and do what she and you both want you to do.'

With that, Harry bounced up the stairs, leaving Ron reeling from yet another realisation.

'Harry?'

Harry turned, and gave Ron a don't-chicken-out look.

'Yes?' he said slowly.

'Thanks, mate.'

Harry watched as Ron bounded down the stairs three at a time and rushed back into the library.

*

Ron was careful to make as little noise as possible in coming back to the library. He slowly crept along the bookshelves until he could see Hermione, just visible behind her stack of books.

He approached gently, despite his feet feeling ten times heavier than normal.

'Er, Hermione?' he said, silently cursing the evident squeak in his voice. He cleared his throat. 'Hermione?'

'Hi, Ron. Change your mind?'

It helped that she did not look up from her already-filled two feet of parchment. Ron was sure he would crumple on the spot if she looked at him now.

'Yeah... I mean, no,' he replied, already feeling heat creep to his ears.

'Hmmm...' she said, evidently not paying close attention.

Do it now. Now, before someone else does.

He took one deep breath.

'Hermione, do you want to go this ball-thing with me?'

Hermione continued writing for two seconds, before making the slightest of twitches and stopped writing. Ron watched her hand hover over her parchment. Her quill started to drip ink over the otherwise unblemished essay. She still was gazing downward, her hair obscuring all of her face. Ron didn't know whether he preferred this or not.

In what seemed like infinity of awkward silence, Ron had an overwhelming urge to take back what he'd just said and sprint from the library, up to his dormitory and under his bed covers as fast as he could.

'I'm sorry...I didn't mean...erm....Never mind.'

He turned to go, a deep flush now burning his face.

'Yes.'

It was if she had sent a stunning spell after him. He remained frozen, his back still to her.

Yes? Yes. Yes!

It seemed to take all his strength to turn back to face her, and even more to lift his face to hers. When he did, he saw the absolute terror there. He knew she would be seeing the same.

'You...you will?' His voice seemed strangely distant.

She fixed him with her stare and suddenly her eyes sparkled as she broke into a huge grin.

'Yes. Yes, I will,' she said more determinedly.

Ron couldn't help breaking into a grin as well and stared back at her. For a few moments, that's how they stayed. And once again, Ron was aware of something crackling in the air between them. He felt stupid just standing there with a goofy grin plastered over his face.

'Oh, okay then,' he said, suddenly serious. 'Good. Cool. Well, I'll see you later then.'

Hermione nodded emphatically. 'Oh yes, yes. I'll see you later, too.'

With one final flash of a smile, Ron pulled himself round and walked slowly out of the library, barely containing his delight. If he had turned, he would have seen Hermione watch him carefully, and then briefly lift her arms in silent triumph, before returning to her work.