They Shook Hands: Year Three (Original Version)

They Shook Hands : Year Three

An alternate (but realistic!) universe Harry Potter fic
by Dethryl

Chapter Twelve - Harry's First Real Kiss

Harry came back through the wall entrance to the Slytherin common room and joined the lads at one of the round tables. Crabbe and Goyle still had parchment in front of them, but Draco and Tim seemed finished with their homework. Harry was in no mood to finish the last of his own, so he left his books in his bag.

"Back already?" Draco asked in surprise.

"I don't know what I was thinking," Harry admitted. "Snape's the hardest taskmaster of all the staff, and he's drilling the prefects. He's the sort to keep them there all night. I can't keep up with that."

"Not for that spell, no," Tim concurred. "So what are you going to do?"

"Wait for Professor Lupin to have time," Harry said with a shrug.

"And you're okay with that?"

"I'm not happy about it, if that's what you mean. But there's no real third option, is there?" Harry wasn't about to go asking any of the other professors to give him private lessons.

"You know what it's called, at least. You can read about it."

"I'll be better prepared than I was tonight," Harry agreed, then decided to change the subject. "Where'd the girls go?"

"They didn't say," Tim answered. "Blaise just sort of looked at Jenna without saying anything for a minute. Then they both looked at Pansy, and all three of them rushed back to the dorm. Millie went after them, but she hasn't come back yet."

"Which one of you said something to offend them?"

"That's just it," Draco jumped in. "We weren't talking. We were all reading."

"That's very strange."

"Girls are strange," Draco corrected.

Before Harry could agree with that statement, he caught sight of Laine Slater emerging from the corridor that led to the girls' dormitories. She scanned the common room, spotted Harry, smiled, and made directly for their table.

"Hi, Harry," she said brightly, standing about three feet away.

"Laine, how are you?"

"I'm sad," she told him in a mournful tone.

"Sad? Why sad?"

"Because a boy promised to bring me a present from Hogsmeade and he hasn't." Laine sniffed dramatically.

Harry felt his face turn red. With all that had gone on in the last week, he'd completely forgotten about the presents he'd promised to the second year girls.

"Laine, I'm sorry," he said at once. "I didn't forget you, I swear. Wait right here. Draco, come on."

Harry and Draco quick-stepped to the dormitory, and Harry dug into his trunk to pull out the boxes. He handed Shawna's quill to Draco. "Pheasant-feather," Draco said, calling the gift to mind.

"Yes."

Back in the common room, Harry rescued Laine from Crabbe and Goyle, who were arguing about who had knocked over the ink bottle.

"May we pay you lovely ladies a visit?" Draco asked, making a lavish little bow.

"Bad form," Laine scolded him. "Ginny is there. What would she say if you just came in and handed out presents?"

"Michelle isn't getting a present. Not now, anyway," Harry added, remembering his bargain with her.

"Still."

"I thought you'd like your gifts in person, but that's fine," Harry agreed.

Laine smiled beatifically. "I am getting my gift in person."

Harry handed her the box. She opened it immediately and gasped at the eagle feather. "Harry, this is gorgeous! It must have cost a fortune!"

"Do you like it?"

"I do! Thank you!"

"You're welcome." Harry didn't know what he would have done had she disliked it. "This is for Sarrah," he said, handing over the bottle of butterbeer.

"She thanks you."

"I got this for Shawna," Draco lied smoothly as he handed Laine another box from Scrivenshift's. In truth, Harry had gotten it for him to give to Shawna, but that was proper; Shawna had only been in a position to ask a gift because Harry had asked a favour.

"She'll be delighted."

"How's it working out?" Harry asked curiously. "Is she turning into a good Slytherin?"

Laine giggled. "She's still very much a Gryffindor. But not to worry, we're working on her. Maybe by next Christmas she'll be fit to invite out in public."

Harry couldn't help but smile. "Thank you, Laine," he said simply.

"You're most welcome, Harry," she replied sweetly. "Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

The rest of November passed without Harry's notice.

Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff when their Chasers lost all sense of team spirit and tried to score all by themselves, making easy targets for Ravenclaw's new Beaters. Harry watched the match feeling almost embarassed for Cedric Diggory, captain of Hufflepuff's team -- almost. Harry would not soon forget how Diggory had lured him into a Wronski Feint during their match last year. The devious Seeker trick had caused heavy damage to his Nimbus 2000 that had cost him a pretty penny to have repaired. As it was, Harry cheered Ravenclaw on, marvelling at how good they were with four second year students on the team.

In practice, the Slytherins were working on all kinds of rough playing techniques, to rattle the wits of those inexperienced second years. Flint never let them forget that they played Ravenclaw in the middle of January. He'd been doing everything he could to learn about Ravenclaw's new line-up.

Harry was so busy with Quidditch practice, classes, and homework that he barely had any time to plan pranks to pull on Weasley. The haze of rain announcing the beginning of December took him quite by surprise. It was not long after that when Professor Snape came around to take the names of those who would be staying at the castle for the Christmas holiday.

Harry had accepted an invitation to Malfoy Manor. While Tim's father had also invited him back, Harry wanted to talk to Elan about girls and how complicated they all seemed to be. Harry was finding himself just watching Blaise going about everyday tasks. Then she would notice him looking, smile at him, and all the blood in his body would rush to his head. Face flaming, collar too tight, he would turn his attention to whatever else was at hand. He was looking forward to some time away from whatever it was she was doing to him so he could figure it out.

Blaise wasn't the only girl to give Harry cause for concern. Jenna approached him in the common room on the first Friday of December and asked for a word in private. Ignoring the hoots of laughter from his mates, he followed her out through the entrance wall and down the corridor to a Potions classroom. As she cast a Locking Charm on the door, Harry suddenly wondered what crazy idea Jenna might have come up with. This was a girl, afterall, who had thought to pour pink paint on a dementor.

"Despite what those lugs think they know," she began, "I didn't lure you here for a snog."

Well thank Merlin for that. "I'm crushed," Harry teased her. "That's why I came." Joking was safe. He knew where things stood when they were joking.

"Git," she snickered. "I actually wanted to ask a favour without the others listening in."

"What, you don't think they're huddled outside the door right now?" Harry snorted. "Alohamora!" The lock clicked open, and Harry pulled the door wide to reveal four grinning Slytherin third years.

"Lighting a fire under the old cauldron, Harry?" Draco asked impudently.

"Shut up, Draco."

Draco grinned. "Thank you. It's nice to be noticed."

He, Tim, Crabbe, and Goyle burst into laughter.

"Go on, get!" Harry burst out, waving them away. He closed the door and locked it again. He would have liked to cast a Silencing Charm, but that was fifth year magic.

"Those gits," Jenna laughed.

"Instigators is what they are," Harry grumbled. "So what is this all about?"

Jenna visibly waffled about how to express herself. "My parents are trying to break into wizarding high society," she said in a rush. "They want to throw a party on New Year's Eve, but they know all of the right people will be at a higher profile party."

"They need to raise their profile," Harry deduced.

"Yes. They've begged me to ask you if you would come." Jenna was turning a bit pink in the cheeks. "I didn't want to, but they insisted."

"What's in it for me?" Harry wanted to know. "You're not asking, they're asking."

"Well, that's just it. I am asking, Harry. My parents really want to be accepted, and I want to see them happy. I'm asking you if you'll allow them to use your name when telling people. I know you're not a fan of all the attention, but you can't tell people how to feel or not feel. And if they know you're going to be there, they'll want to go."

Harry chewed on that thought for awhile. Finally he responded, "Only because someone has to hold the party, and because I think it would be nice if everyone shared the responsibility. You're lucky I like you, Jenna."

His snarkiest friend had no witty comment now. She squealed with delight, bounced on her heels, and wrapped her arms around him, throwing him off balance as he awkwardly caught her. He groaned as she squeezed him around the middle.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she exclaimed. "Harry, this means so much to me. I'm your friend forever for this."

"You mean we weren't before?"

"Shut up, Harry," she dismissed his joke with a final squeeze that left Harry gasping for air and speculating about a cracked rib.

* * *

When the Hogsmeade weekend came, Harry was extremely glad for the term to be over. With their big tests over with, there was nothing for the third years to do but relax, goof off, do some Christmas shopping, and have a few butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks. They would have to pack up their trunks later, but for now, they had a day off. Despite it being Saturday, everyone was up early and up to breakfast quickly. They passed a scowling Filch at the huge front door to the castle; he was checking off names on a list as students scampered past.

Snow was still lightly falling, and everyone's spirits were light as they made their way down the path to the front gates. As they approached the exit from the Hogwarts grounds, Harry felt the awful coldness creep into his body. He frowned, for it seemed further to the gate than he remembered. Each step grew harder and harder. Harry looked up ahead, and what he saw filled him with dread.

Two dementors stood guard outside the open gates. Harry called to mind Professor Lupin's words. "The more there are, the more difficult it becomes to resist them." Already he could hear him mum's pleading, begging Voldemort for Harry's life. He wanted to be sick. He wanted to spill his breakfast all over the path.

He stopped walking. He stared at the dementors vacantly, imagining them staring back through their black hoods. His knees started trembling. Beads of sweat burst out on his forehead. His teeth began to chatter.

"Harry!" Blaise said sharply, grabbing him by the front of his robes and shaking him slightly. "Harry, look at me!"

His eyes were totally unfocused.

"Harry! Quick, get him away from the gate!"

Goyle and Crabbe, the biggest boys in the third form, lifted Harry up by the arms and quick-stepped him fifty long paces back towards the castle. They sat him down on the ground, and Blaise dropped to her knees to look in Harry's eyes again.

"Blasted dementors," she muttered. "Harry, can you hear me?"

There was no response.

"Someone give me some chocolate," Blaise demanded. "Now!"

"You don't bring sweets with you to the sweet shop," Crabbe pointed out. "It's rude."

"Shut up, Crabbe," Draco snapped. "Go get some."

"I'll go," Millie said, setting off to the castle in a dash.

"Harry, stay with me!" Harry's eyes hadn't rolled back in his head, so he was still somewhat conscious.

Draco also knelt down to try to break through the haze. "Harry, Weasley's coming. You need to get up and hex him."

Despite that lovely invitation, Harry didn't even blink. Goyle crouched down to the ground and picked up a double handful of snow. He packed it in his hands, forming a spherical object. With precise aim, he landed the snowball in the middle of Harry's forehead with a loud smack!

"Goyle, you cretin!" Blaise snarled, turning wrathful eyes on the boy.

Harry, though, came back to reality instantly. He shook his head and blinked rapidly. He clambered to his feet and wrapped his cloak tigher. He looked long and hard at the dementors, his eyes filled with loathing. Why did the Ministry even have dealings with these things?

"Harry, come away," Blaise urged him, pulling at his arm. "Millie's bringing some chocolate."

Harry shook his head again. "I don't need to be taken care of." He crouched down and scopped up a handful of snow. "I need to have a good laugh." Professor Lupin had told him that dementors fed on happy memories, so perhaps making some new ones and having a right laugh would make this awful feeling go away.

The smacking sound as Harry's snowball impacted on Goyle's head was very satisfying. "Have at you, fathead!"

"My head's not fat!"

The snowball fight quickly escalated to include the others, and they forgot all about Hogsmeade and the dementors as they ran, laughing, back towards the castle. They met Millie, who was running out of the castle with two Chocolate Frog boxes in each hand. Harry practically swallowed them whole, and the warmth that spread through him could have melted the snow.

The girls turned on the boys, and the boys responded by pouring snow down the backs of the girls' cloaks. Then Crabbe and Goyle decided to take on all comers and used their wands to direct a steady stream of snowballs at anyone who tried to challenge them.

When they were all so exhausted from throwing and laughing that they could barely stand, they found an unblemished patch of ground and made snow angels. Millie suggested digging under one of the snow drifts, but that seemed like far too much work when they'd be leaving the castle tomorrow.

They went inside for lunch and some hot tea. Most of the others left for Hogsmeade shortly thereafter. Though all of them expressed regret at having to leave Harry behind, there was Christmas shopping to do, and Harry found himself alone.

Well, not exactly alone. Draco was there, still unable to visit the village, but he was a wet blanket. Harry could only tolerate Draco's surly complaining for so long before he had sharp words of his own, but it was pointless to quarrel with his best mate. Draco had risked his own father's wrath to rescue Harry after his first year at Hogwarts; that counted for a lot. So he listened to Draco's rant for as long as he could and then he headed to the library.

Now this was not a place he would normally go to when looking for a fun time, but his morning encounter with the dementors had reminded him that he had not done his research into the Patronus Charm. He pulled down The Standard Book of Spells: Grade Seven and flipped to the index.

The afternoon passed without Harry's notice as he was absorbed by his reading. He was considerably startled when Jenna found him and said that the others were gathering in the Great Hall for dinner.

After dinner, they began packing their belongings, for there would be no time in the morning. With that task complete, Harry sat before the common room fireplace, staring into the flames.

"I always hate to leave this place," he said to Goyle, who had simply shoved his clothes into his trunk and sat on the lid to latch it. "Nowhere else has ever felt like home."

"But you're looking forward to Christmas, right?" Goyle asked.

"Yes. Last year was so much fun."

"My parents are looking forward to meeting you again. They asked me to pass on their regards in their last letter."

Harry honestly didn't remember meeting Mr. and Mrs. Goyle. Try though he might, he could not call their of their faces to mind. "I'd like to meet them again, too. We didn't get much of a chance to say much more than hello last year."

"Dad was quite impressed with you, you know. Said he liked the look of you, whatever that means."

"Compared to who?" Harry asked with a laugh.

Goyle's response was interrupted as Blaise dragged a beanbag chair over. "'Whom', Harry, compared to whom."

"Yes, Professor Dictionary," he teased her.

"That'll be five points to Slytherin for your cheek," she threw right back.

"Thank you, Professor."

Blaise rolled her eyes at him. "So what colour shirt are you wearing to the Christmas party, Harry?"

"I don't know."

"Why not?"

"Because it's not Christmas Eve, and I'm not getting dressed," he told her.

"He's got you there," Goyle laughed.

* * *

The next morning on the platform, Harry tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the train to stop moving. He grabbed the handle of his trunk and wheeled it towards the door, but stopped in his tracks. Exiting the train was someone Harry hadn't expected to see.

"Elan!" Draco cried out, delight at seeing his older brother plain in his voice.

"Draco!"

"What are you doing here?" Draco cocked his head questioningly.

"I came to see you, of course," Elan responded, sounding as if it were completely obvious. "And Harry, you're looking well. I've come to see you through the Floo network."

"Not to see your girlfriend?" Harry teased. Elan had needled Percy about Fawcett in Diagon Alley, so bringing up Jamie seemed to be the thing to do.

"Yes, well," Elan said noncomitally. "I'm always delighted to see Jamie. All aboard, then?"

Elan helped them all to stack their trunks in one compartment and drew his wand to cast a few Enlargement Charms to give them all enough room to spread out in another compartment. He sat down in the corner and stretched his legs out.

"Who's the best Potions student this year?" he asked casually.

"Definitely Blaise," Harry replied. She was his partner, so he was in a position to know.

"Harry's not so bad himself," Blaise giggled.

"I scored higher than both of you on the last quiz," Tim protested.

"By a point," Blaise scoffed.

"A point's a point. You could win the House Cup by a point."

"He's right, Blaise," Draco said, coming to the defence of a fellow bloke.

"Nobody asked you, Draco."

"Draco, am I right?" Tim asked.

"Naturally." Draco ran a hand back over his hair.

"Will you gits stop admiring each other?" Pansy sneered. "Who cares about Potions? Elan, tell us about your classes. What's Astronomy like there? Is the teacher as good as Professor Sinistra?"

So Elan talked about Durmstrang and his experiences there. Thanks to numerous complicated questions by the academic Tim and Blaise, Elan spent much of his breath in describing his N.E.W.T.-level classes. He taught them a few phrases in German. He made note of the important families he'd been making contacts with. Elan was an entertaining storyteller, and before it seemed possible, the train ride back to London was over.

When they'd all hustled off the Express and onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, Harry's friends all went their separate ways. Harry was sad even though he knew he would see them all in five days. Harry was looking forward to the Christmas Eve party and not choking on his dress robes this year.

Without incident, Elan led Harry and Draco down to Puddlemucker's sweet shoppe where they took the Floo to Malfoy Manor. The house elves were waiting in the parlor to take their bags up to their rooms. Elan snapped off a few orders regarding luncheon before he ushered the two younger boys into the dining room.

"Father had a business lunch," Elan explained as they started in on the food without preamble. "Mother went with him, and afterward they'll be going out on the town, so we're on our own until tomorrow."

"That's brill," Draco said around a mouthful of sandwich. "You can teach us how to make that death mask."

"Sure."

When lunch was over, Harry and Draco tagged along after Elan as the former prefect headed down to the basements of Malfoy Manor. In a room filled with weights, Elan removed his robes, revealing clothing suited to exercise. He performed a few stretches before picking up a dumbbell and curling it.

"Are you going to finally lift a weight, Draco?" Elan asked between repetitions.

Draco was looking at the weights with distaste. "If I want to build muscles, I'll take a potion."

"Those potions can have very nasty side-effects," Elan cautioned. "I keep telling you, someday you'll wish you did this. If you want to attract girls, there's really no magical shortcut."

"For finding girls to snog? I'm a Malfoy, what more could she ask for?"

"Girls are complicated, little brother. Trust someone older and wiser and more experienced than you." Elan somehow managed to sound patronizing even as he was breathing in sync with his curls. He switched the dumbbell to the other hand and continued to lift it.

"You've got a lot of experience, then?" Draco sassed back. "With Jamie?"

"Not that a gentleman talks about a lady that way, but yes." Elan acknowledged. "I've kissed Jamie quite a lot, thank you very much."

"What's it like?" Harry asked suddenly.

"What?"

"What's it like? To kiss a girl?"

Draco groaned and put his head in his hands. "He's lost," he declared to the empty air.

"Got a girl you want to kiss, Harry?" Elan asked, breathing in sync with his curling.

"Blaise wants to kiss me."

"Jamie's sister?" Elan had to stop lifting. His face had the widest, most surprised expression Harry had ever seen. "Oh wow, Harry, what a choice. If she's anything like Jamie, you're going to have a lot of fun. Jamie's very sensitive right behind her left ear, so remember that."

Harry listened in astonishment as Elan talked about the best places in Hogwarts to go for some private snogging, the need to go very slowly so as not to make the girl uncomfortable, and the "really good" places to try kissing and touching. Who knew there was so much to this snogging business?

When Elan had finished his lesson, he handed Harry a dumbbell. "Curl this fifty times then switch. If you can do that, I'll let you lift something else. Draco, if you're not going to lift, bugger off."

Draco had also listened in rapt attention to Elan during his exposition. Wordlessly, he picked up a dumbbell and began his repetitions.

Several hours later, after a lot of sweating and grunting, hot showers, and a cup of tea (for it was teatime), the boys headed out to Diagon Alley. Harry needed to do his Christmas shopping. Elan balked a bit about going out again so soon, but Harry cajoled him into taking the trip by promising to buy dinner in the Leaky Cauldron. Now, as he poked through the shelves in Flourish and Blotts, he was beginning to wish he could finished up his shopping in Hogsmeade.

The selection was dismal. All of the books had been thoroughly picked over. He couldn't get any of these for his friends. He wondered which of them he would be receiving from Draco; his friend was likewise browsing the stacks.

Maybe I should just give everyone a gift certificate, he thought as he rejected a roughed-up copy of Quidditch Through The Ages. Did wizards even have gift certificates? Gringott's had promisory notes, which were magical cheques. Surely some enterprising wizards had created Charms for store credit. Then they could get whatever they wanted.

But somehow that felt like cheating. He'd never gotten a gift certificate from any of his friends. If they all could put the thought and consideration into picking out something they hoped he would like, then he was perfectly capable of doing the same.

On the other hand, the whole purpose of the gift was to make the other person happy. What could be more tailored to that end than allowing the recipient to choose the gift?

What about the surprise factor?

What about the thought being all that counted?

In the end, Harry purchased gift certificates to the apothecary, Flourish and Blotts, Quality Quidditch Supplies, Gladrags Wizardwear, Zonko's Joke Shop, and Fortescue's ice cream shoppe. The Credit Charms, as the special parchments were called, involved a fair amount of wand-waving on the part of the clerks. The finished product was a work of art, with strange shapes drawn all over in multiple colours of ink. He had enough to distribute amongst his friends with one exception.

Draco, he'd decided weeks ago, would be given Harry's old Nimbus 2000. Though Draco considered hand-me-downs vulgar, it was because he'd come to Harry's rescue during the summer before second year that he had lost his chances at getting a new broom. Though he'd been on good behaviour since, his father still seemed to show no inclination towards such a present. Harry should know; Draco spent quite a bit of time whinging about it.

Now he turned down an unnamed lane that branched off of Diagon Alley. Harry had never come down this way at Christmas time, and the displays on the street were wildly fantastic. One of the shops was displaying wonderful, moving, wizardly paintings, and he marvelled for many long minutes before picking out a moonlit sky scene for Mr. Nott; for the Malfoys, he settled on a dignified-looking owl that flew all around the painting, never settling on any one perch for very long.

The last person on his shopping list was Elan. Harry browsed through Mortimer's Music and ended up picking out several music crystals of bands he'd never heard of. It was categorized under "rock", so hopefully that would be good. He gave a mental shrug and brushed off his worries. Either Elan would like it or not.

His guilt about the Credit Charms overcame him as he was waiting in line, so he headed back to the shelves and picked out some Celestina Warbeck and Christinia Drade for the girls and the Weird Sisters and Wand Smasher for the blokes. He'd heard his friends talking about these bands, so at least his gifts weren't going to be completely off the wall.

* * *

The Christmas party was in full swing.

Harry had been saying hello for what seemed like forever and was only finally starting to have some fun. He made a point to seek out Mr. and Mrs. Goyle, who were sitting at one of the tables and not dancing. Mr. Goyle seemed very stoic, but a light gleamed in his small eyes when his son brought Harry up to shake hands.

"Pleased t'meet'cha again," he rumbled in a deep voice. "Very glad to see Gregory making friends."

Harry made small talk for a few moments, but then Jenna came up and hauled him to the dance floor and twirled him around for a few songs. He took a break from the dancing to get himself a glass of juice. He gulped it down and refilled before parking his hips at one of the small tables that lined the dance floor. Blaise immediately sat down next to him, appearing from out of nowhere.

"Having fun?" she asked, her breath coming a tad heavy.

"Nice party," he said, trying to play it cool. In truth, the Zabinis threw a better party than the Parkinsons did. He didn't want to say that, though, and have word get back around to Pansy; it might hurt her feelings.

"Want to go get some fresh air? It's very warm in here."

A walk sounded like an excellent idea. "If I sit for too long, my legs are liable to cramp up," he admitted. "Lead the way."

Blaise took him by the hand and they made their way through the crowd. The Zabini house didn't hold quite the numbers that had packed into Parkinson Place to ring in the new year, but Harry had long ago lost track of keeping names straight nonetheless. They ducked out into the empty hallway and down to a painting of a man on a horse.

"Gailbraithe," Blaise said quietly as the man turned to look at them. He nodded, moved to the frame, poked in the corner with his staff, and the painting swung away from the wall to reveal a secret passage!

Harry was impressed. "Where does it go?" he asked.

"Get in and find out," Blaise replied with a giggle.

So he did.

Blaise stepped in after him and closed the painting behind her, plunging the secret passage into complete darkness.

Harry broke out in a cold sweat. Was this it? Was Blaise about to try to kiss him? He felt like she was standing very close to him. Should he try to kiss her first? He tried to say something, but his mouth was so very dry. It was quiet. His own breathing sounded incredibly noisy to his own ears. His heartbeat was racing immensely fast.

"Are you ready, Harry?" Blaised asked softly. Her breath tickled his ear.

"Uh huh," he managed to say.

There was a click, incredibly loud in the stillness, and then the floor gave way beneath his feet!

Harry shouted in surprise as he fell, then he landed on a sloping slide and zoomed at high speed down to a level stop. He stood up, breath heaving in his chest from the adrenaline rush.

"What was that?" he demanded shakily. "Can we do it again?"

"That's the secret passage," Blaise replied, just as breathless as him. "It's the fastest way down to the greenhouse."

"You couldn't warn me?"

"It's much more fun this way."

Blaise pushed on the wall, and the wooden panel slid to the side to let them into the greenhouse. Moonlight streamed in through the glass ceiling, casting shadows that took on strange aspects.

"Why are we walking through the greenhouse? I thought you hated Herbology?" Harry asked in what he hoped was a teasing manner. He had to cover his awkwardness at what might have happened in the secret passage.

"I abhor dirt," Blaise admitted. "But greenhouses do have their uses." She reached out and plucked something off a plant. "Here."

She handed him a perfectly plump strawberry. It was hard to distinguish the color by moonlight, but it looked plenty ripe to him. "It's not the season for this," he observed.

"Gee," Blaise smirked at him. "It must be maaaaagic."

Harry felt a bit sheepish when he realized the obvious answer to his question. "It's good," he said, taking a big bite.

"I'll tell Daddy you said so."

Blaise lapsed into silence. She stood leaning up against one of the tables, just watching him. He bit into the rest of his treat and swallowed it just to distract himself from the look she was directing his way. He placed the green on the table and wiped his sticky fingers on the back of his robes.

"Harry?" Blaise asked softly. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Harry's heart leaped back into his throat. He knew instinctively that his answer to this question was very important. "I do," he answered with a nod. "You're one of the prettiest girls in the third year."

Relief was plain on the girl's face. She let out a breath she'd been holding. "Do you ever -- think about me? Because I think about you all the time. I think you're handsome, and sweet, and kind, and noble. I think you're just wonderful, and I can't keep it to myself anymore."

Harry didn't feel handsome or sweet or noble. He felt like he wanted to throw up. He was so nervous that he was going to do the wrong thing or say the wrong thing or not do the right thing or not say the right thing. With an effort of will, he stopped his knees from shaking.

Blaise stepped out of the shadows. She stood very close to him, not touching, but mere inches away. She gazed up at him. There was a question there, a desperate hope swimming in her eyes. She hesitantly lifted one hand to the back of his head, slowly pulling his face down to meet hers. Their lips touched. Harry couldn't believe that it was here, it had happeend. He was kissing Blaise!

How long they stood there, connected at the lips, Harry could not have said. His brain was desperately recording every feeling, every sensation. Her lips were soft and warm. Her hand was tickling the hair on the back of his neck. Her eyes were closed, and Harry wondered if he should close his. He tried it and found that it was better.

Blaise broke the kiss first. She opened her eyes, catching the glint of a stray moonbeam twinkling therein. She looked anxiously at Harry, trying to read his face, to pierce through his eyes and into his soul.

Harry smiled at her. All the nervousness he'd built up in the moments before the kiss was gone. "So you finally plucked up the nerve," he observed.

She giggled nervously. "Yeah, I guess I did. I hope you're not upset with me."

Upset? Of all the things Harry was feeling and didn't understand, upset was not one of them. "It was very nice," he told her honestly.

"For me too."

Neither really seemed to know what to say. They stood together in the moonlight. Every one of Harry's senses was tingling. All of Elan's advice about girls had flown from his head; his brain had actually short-circuited. The silence was deafening.

"Do you want to go see Wand Smasher?" he asked, babbling the first thing that he could latch on to in his scattered brain. "With me?" By Merlin, had he just asked Blaise on a date?

A warm smile was his reward for such daring. "I would like that," she replied with a nod. "When is the show?"

"Tomorrow." He had to think about it.

"What time does it start?"

"Seven."

"That should be fine. Call for me at half six."

"Okay." Harry was incapable of more than one-word answers at the moment.

After several more minutes of silence, Blaise seemed to shake herself as if waking up. "We should get back. We've probably been missed."

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

to be continued...