Enchanted

Part 3

A Very Fine Line

(Between Friendship and Love)

Did you ever lay your head down

On the shoulder of a good friend?

And then have to look away somehow?

Had to hide the way you felt for them?

Have you ever prayed the day would come

You'd hear them say they feel it too?

Did you ever love somebody

Who never knew?

Harry couldn't catch up to Hermione after she dashed off, but he suspected he knew just where she had gone. It wasn't as great a hiding place as one that she might be able to find on the Marauder's Map, like a completely unknown empty classroom or secret passage, but everyone expected for her to go to the library that they'd never think of looking for Hermione here anyway. It was her secret spot, the one she had told only Harry about. Now he understood why. It was sacred to her, the place where she got away from anything and especially anything that was troubling her. And boy, was she troubled right now. He ran out the main doors outside and down the hill. He saw the large tree by the lake, and sure enough, a figure was silhouetted sitting on one of its lofty, large branches. He silently crept up to it and tried to climb up unnoticed.

"What do you want, Harry?" a sniffling voice asked. "I've caused you enough trouble."

"Yeah, you have," he called up to her, settling on a low branch.

"Gee, way to make me feel better," she said cynically, bringing her knees up to her chest, hugging them, and staring distantly out at the shimmering Black Lake.

"Well, it's the truth," he admitted. "A wise wizard once said, 'it is my belief that the truth is generally preferable to lies.' Even if those lies can be pretty harsh."

"When Dumbledore said that, he had a much more serious reason for doing so," she said automatically.

Harry rolled his eyes, although she couldn't see. "I know that, but it sounds so much more intelligent when you quote things from other people," he said with a shrug. She just scoffed and ignored him. "Just so you know, I'm not mad at you," he told her, deciding to get this conversation started and over with.

"Isn't that comforting," she said quietly, with traces of sarcasm that were only in her voice when she was feeling very upset. "I suppose that'll make everything that happened the past week all better, won't it?"

He continued on like he hadn't heard her. After all, he really wanted to tell her how he was feeling about the whole thing, whether she cared to listen or not. "I'm shocked, though. I never thought -- I never knew that -- I figured it had been the enchantment -- if you told me I would never have believed -- I still don't, in fact--" He rambled, but none of the sentences seemed to fit. "This has been a strange few days."

"Thanks to me," she said darkly.

"Hermione, I already told you, I don't mind. Like I said, I'm just really amazed -- and well, flattered," Harry replied, looking up at her.

"Cut it out, Harry, I already know you don't like me," she muttered. "Do you think it gets more clear? You basically ran away any time you saw a girl with bushy brown hair. You've been avoiding me for ten days, but I guess you have a right to that. You didn't look particularly flattered at all that I liked you -- so maybe I overdid it, but still. It's obvious you don't look at me that way."

"Maybe I don't," he answered honestly, "but what does that matter? There's a thin, but distinct line between friendship and love. Right now, you're definitely treading on it. I'm just standing back, where I believe we should stay... Hermione, you're my best friend, and that's all I need."

"Wonderful metaphor usage, but unfortunately, that isn't all that I want."

"You can't get everything you want. But maybe..." He paused, thinking something over in his mind. "I got it Hermione," he said brightly. Feeling this was something he had to do face to face, he scurried up the tree expertly, and sat on the branch nearest to her. Hermione looked at him for one second, and he caught a glimpse of her face and eyes, shining with tears, before she turned away. He placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her back around to face him. "I haven't got a date yet, so you can come with me to the Valentine's Ball."

"As a last resort?" she asked wretchedly.

"No, a first choice," he replied. "Even though we both know I don't feel...that way about you, that doesn't mean we can't go to a ball together. I'm not very keen on asking girls like Parvati who get all excited about balls and dancing and going with me just because I am who I am."

She laughed, even though she still felt horrible. "Then I'm afraid you have the wrong girl!"

"Oh well, then, if you don't want to, I guess you can always go with Ron." Harry didn't want that to sound mean to Ron, but it just came out that way. "Well, no offense if you like Ron...because it seemed that way in fourth year..."

She sighed. "Key word: it *seemed* like it. But it really wasn't. I guess I was just confused. I knew I had started to have feelings for one of my best friends... I just figured it was Ron, since he liked me back...and you... You just seemed to be too good for me, up high on your pedestal" --Harry opened his mouth quickly to protest, but she kept on going-- "not to mention that you were gawking at Cho Chang the entire time."

His face flushed, even if he didn't like Cho anymore. How could he after what had happened at the end of the Triwizard Tournament? But even if he had liked Hermione, it wasn't like he could have done anything -- "You had Viktor," he pointed out.

"I didn't want Viktor."

"You didn't like Viktor?" he asked in astonishment. "But he was always going on about he had never felt that way about another girl, asking you to visit him over the summer, proving you were the person he would miss the most, and telling how he was so in loff with you..."

"Shut up," she said, wiping the back of her hand furiously over her tear-streaked face.

"I just thought you felt the same way... How could he say all those things about you if you didn't return his feelings?"

Hermione shrugged. "I think he was sort of suspicious that I didn't like him the same way. Anytime I mentioned another boy's name, he would go all quiet and get that sullen, brooding look on his face -- okay, well he always had that expression -- but I could just tell he was almost jealous or something..."

Harry suddenly remembered something. One of the first times when he had actually had a real conversation with the teenaged Quidditch player... "I never told you, did I?"

"Told me what?" There was a sort of eager note to her voice that made Harry think that he shouldn't have chosen those words.

"The night when all the champions went down to the Quidditch pitch to see the maze they had started making... After Bagman explained what we were supposed to do, Krum asked if he could 'haff a vord vith me.'"

"Cut it out with the accent," she told him.

Harry obliged. "In this sort of angry voice, and the accent, he said he wanted to know what there was between you and me. Like I was his rival or something... But I just told him--"

"'Nothing,'" she said glumly, reading his mind. "That we were just friends... We've never done anything. I'm not your girlfriend, never have been, and never will be..."

Until that last part, she had been spot on, like she had been there, eavesdropping... "I never said that last part," Harry said.

"But you were thinking it."

"I --" he opened his mouth and then found himself without any words to say. Instead, he changed the subject. "So you never visited Krum over the holidays?"

She glared. "As I told you and Ron countless times, I never visited Bulgaria, nor do I ever intend to. But would either of you believe me? No... You still had the notion that I was completely in love with him, and until now, I've never even told you the truth..." She paused and sighed. "Harry, not only was I never in love with Viktor, I never even really liked Viktor. You heard what I said about him -- he's not even good-looking -- not that looks are everything. But girls only like him because he's famous. You knew how I despised his fan club and sort of even him. I only agreed to go with Viktor to the Yule Ball, because I knew -- I thought no one would ask me. I was wrong, but it was good that I did instead of going with Neville. I mean, he's really nice, but he's..." She trailed off.

"Neville," Harry finished, thinking along the same lines.

"Exactly. And then Ron.." She stopped and bit her lip. What about Ron? What should she say? That he was a ridiculous, jealous prat? That he was too stupid to ask her to the ball as soon as possible, waited until the last minute, found that she was already taken, and tried to ruin her night? No... "It took him three years to figure out that I'm a girl."

Harry had another question. "Why did you act like you really liked Viktor in front of Ron?"

She sighed. "I don't know why I acted like I liked Viktor with Viktor himself. I never thought he really liked me, I mean, he was a famous Quidditch player, and he's four years older than me. You saw the way I ignored him after the Second Task. I didn't even like being the person he would miss the most. I know he told you that he was suspecting us together because I talked about you way too much. Now that I think about it, that should have been a dead giveaway that I liked you, not Ron...but I didn't see it." She shook her head sadly and went on.

"Well, Viktor thought I was serious about him also, but I wasn't. I learned by being around him a lot that he was really nice, and I gained this sort of respect for him, because Durmstrang sounded horrible, and Karkaroff, well we know about him...but I just never felt that way about him. As for Ron, I knew that he had developed a crush on me that he was only subconsciously aware of. It's a good thing that I didn't act on what I thought were my feelings, or we'd probably be going out right now, and I'd be unhappy. Maybe I sensed this...so I pretended to be really interested in Viktor, and it was actually kind of amusing to see Ron jealous. I guess with all my book smarts, I'm a bit stupid when it comes to matters of love."

"You could say that again," Harry muttered, all of the last week's experiences rushing through his mind.

Hermione continued on with her monologue in a dejected tone. "When I was finally aware of my feelings for you, I just tried to hide it away and act like everything was normal. But I suppose everyone saw right through me. They knew how I felt before I even realized it. That's why Rita Skeeter wrote those articles. That's why Mrs. Weasley even believed that I was your girlfriend. But I erased the thoughts from my mind and dismissed them as nothing. This year, however...it reached the point where I couldn't deny it anymore.

"I got really desperate to find a way to be close to you, but I couldn't really find any. We were just friends, and if I ever tried anything, it would ruin that. So I had to figure out a way where it didn't seem like I really had a choice... The past week proved how insane I went just to do *something,* anything. I actually was considering a Love Potion, but Malfoy found out my secret and gave me the chance. We weren't working together or anything, though," she added, seeing Harry's wide-eyed expression. "I was just so desperate that I jumped at the opportunity. Looking back on it now, though, I can't believe I degraded myself like that. It's really humiliating...when people find out that I wasn't under an enchantment..."

"They don't have to," he said nonchalantly.

She stopped and stared. "What?"

Harry just looked at her like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Well, it's not like I'm going to go prancing around the school and telling everyone, and neither will you."

"Flitwick--" she began.

"--can probably keep a secret. He's a professor, what business do they have gossiping about students' personal lives?" That was kind of a lie, considering Flitwick had told them the things teachers really talk about in the staff room.

She seemed relieved for a second, until the horrified expression returned. "And *Malfoy*--"

"Will have his memory erased before you can say 'Obliviate.'"

"Technically, that's impossible... You must say the Memory Charm first for the person to have their memories wiped away..." she said matter-of-factly. Normally, this complete attention to details and technicalities bugged the hell out of Ron and Harry -- but now, it meant that she was back to herself.

"So that is a yes to go with me to the ball?" Harry brought the subject back up, grinning.

"Of course. I don't know why you asked me after what I did -- " She cut herself off. The tears weren't entirely gone; a few of happiness fell down her tearstained cheeks. "Thank you, Harry," she whispered.

"I think I owe you after you embarrassed yourself so much. But remember," he looked into her misty brown eyes, "to everyone else, you were under a spell."

"I definitely agree with that," she said, her spirits looking considerably lightened.

"Then it's an official deal." He stuck out his hand. Hermione hesitated for a second, looking down at it, and then brought her eyes back up to Harry's brilliant green ones. He just grinned at her, and her face broke into a smile. She shook his proffered hand.

"And Hermione?"

"What?" she asked, letting go of his hand.

"Don't ever, ever act like that again," he added, looking entirely serious.

"Deal." They shook hands again. As they were letting go, their eyes locked on one another's for a brief moment. They just smiled and settled back into their spots on the branch.

For the rest of the day, they stayed up in that tree, relaxing and talking, and everything was just the way it had been before all that Entrancement Enchantment mess.

* * *

Harry smoothed out his emerald green robes, the ones he had used at the Yule Ball. After all, they did match very well with his eyes, even if he had grown a bit more and the sleeves and hem were a few centimeters too short. He looked at himself in the mirror and tried desperately to fix his hair. ("That's the best you're going to get it," the mirror squawked at him.) He had used a ton of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion to make it lay flat, and it worked somewhat, but it couldn't defy heredity. His jet-black hair looked all right, yet he was still nervous. "It's only Hermione," he reminded himself.

"I can't believe you asked her to the ball," Ron replied, with the same look of wonderment he had gotten when Harry and Hermione had admitted it to him. "I thought you hated her stalking you."

"Well, she was under a spell!" It wasn't really necessary that Ron knew the truth, best friend or not. They hadn't even told him that Hermione liked Harry, and it was erased from Malfoy's memory forever after Harry performed a very useful charm that he had picked up from Gilderoy Lockhart.

Ron shrugged, too busy with other matters to continue. He was frustrated with trying to fix his dress robes. Luckily, there wasn't any lace, and it was in pretty good condition. Unfortunately, it had been Percy's, the one he had worn to the Yule Ball (Fred and George had not followed up with their promise to buy him new robes). The navy blue with his hair made him stand out even more, but he lived with it.

"Who'd you ask anyway, Ron?" Seamus asked. He was going with Lavender Brown once again, because they had become somewhat of an item since the last ball.

"I didn't," he answered automatically, tugging at his collar. "Dean did, and he intends to keep it a surprise."

Dean grinned widely; maybe a little too widely? Seamus, as his best friend, could tell there was a lot more mischief in that smile than there should have been. "And you can thank me for everything." He pulled a Lockhart, talking and showing all his teeth at the same time. Harry also noticed how devilish his grin looked, but spoke nothing of it.

"Kind of funny, how you got a date for Ron, but not yourself," Seamus taunted.

"Shut up," Dean said loftily, the grin still present, "I didn't want a date. That doesn't leave me committed to stay with only one girl."

"Dean Thomas, the Ladies Man," Ron said, laughing. Everyone snickered.

"And you, Neville, who are you going with?" Seamus turned to the last boy in the dormitory.

"No one," he said in what he thought was an indifferent voice, but it was with a sort of shameful look on his face. He concentrated a lot more than needed on fixing his robes, which refused to fall in place properly. "I didn't ask anyone."

"Yeah, and Ginny's going with Colin this year," Ron informed them, shooting a look at Harry. "Perfect couple or what? The two Harry Potter fanatics. Have I ever told you about WELHPS?" he asked the boys, sniggering.

(A/N: That's from HP and the Tapestry of Fate, part 4 [http://www.fanfiction.net/cache/read_45015_4.html], so you have to read it to understand this (but I'd rather if you didn't, because it's terrible). The two stories really aren't connected otherwise, so don't think it.)

"Well, we should go find our dates now, shouldn't we?" Harry suggested quickly, trying to avoid the subject Ron was trying to bring up. "The ball starts soon." He was glad he wouldn't have to open the ball by dancing this year. Everything was just normal, and he was sure to have a good time.

The guys all nodded, and they walked out of the room. Boys, especially fourth years going to their first ball, were running down the corridors fretfully or pacing back and forth and muttering rehearsed lines they would say to their dates under their breaths. A whole bunch of girls were waiting at the foot of the stairs of the girls' dorm. Lavender, in her expensive-looking, lace and silk robes, went off in Seamus' arm, and Dean and Neville tagged along, teasing them.

"So you don't know who your date is?" Harry asked Ron, looking for Hermione, but she wasn't there.

"Not yet," he said, looking anxious. "But I will in a few minutes. I gotta dash, but I'll meet you two later, all right?"

Harry nodded, as Ron hurried out of the portrait hole, trying not to trip over his dress robes (the only item of clothing that wasn't several inches too short). "Have you seen Hermione?" he asked a fourth year girl he only knew by face, as a friend of Ginny's.

It appeared the girl was just as taken with Harry as Ginny was. Hadn't he seen her wearing a WELHPS badge before...? "Yeah, she's upstairs," she replied, her face glowing to match her magenta robes.

"Is she all right, or just getting ready?" he asked, concerned.

"I think she's fixing her hair," she said, and then she looked up at him and then to the ground. "Speaking of that, your hair looks really great too." She blushed even more.

"Thanks," Harry called back offhandedly over his shoulder as he ran up the stairs.

"Where're you going? Boys aren't allowed up there!" she yelled with her hands cupped around her mouth, but Harry was gone.

He knocked on the door, after smoothing his hair down automatically. As another part of his routine, he pushed his glasses up on his nose, and that flattened his hair again.

"Who is it?" came undoubtedly Hermione's voice, sounding somewhat stressed.

"It's me!" Harry said loudly, trying to speak over the chatter of the overexcited girls running out of their dormitories and hastening back inside, claiming they forgot something. Harry knew Hermione could take up to three hours to get ready for a ball, but he hoped that wasn't the case today. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," she said, "let me just add the finishing touches to my hair." Harry waited, somewhat impatiently, until the door opened about five minutes later. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting. True, she had looked exquisite in fourth year, but since she was his friend, he could never properly think of her that way. That changed when she stepped out of the room and into the hallway.

Hermione was wearing light violet robes with glitter shimmering off it. She had silver rings, bracelets, and an amethyst necklace, and a lot of lavender colored barrettes in her hair. Her chestnut hair was pinned back and rather sleeker, shinier, and wavier than usual. Harry suspected this was thanks to Sleakeazy's Hair Potion once again. He even thought he saw traces of eye shadow and lip-gloss on her face, but since when did Hermione wear makeup? Not that she really needed it...

What was he thinking? *Blame it all on hormones,* he thought. *I'm a teenaged boy, after all.* Yet, he could do nothing but gape at her for a long time. "So we're ready to go?" he asked, after he gulped a few times when words wouldn't come out.

She smiled a beautiful, and a little worried, smile and slipped her arm through Harry's, albeit unsurely. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Then let's go." He led her down the corridor, where eyes were peeking out through doors jealously, and descended the staircase, not talking. The common room was still buzzing, but completely hushed when Harry and Hermione came to the landing. As everyone stared, time seemed to pass by in slow motion.

"You'd think this was some kind of fairy tale," Hermione whispered, eyes shining.

"It's only the beginning," Harry said softly back to her. Though the thought hadn't crossed him earlier, since the only ball he had ever attended was a disaster, in his eyes, the night looked very promising.

When they left through the portrait hole, everyone began to instantly talk about them. Their dress robes (girls' conversations), how wonderful a couple they could be (also girls), what about Rita Skeeter's articles? (both genders), and bets on how far they would get before the awkwardness of friendship hit (boys, of course). The Fat Lady, decked out in a frillier, fancier, and more violently pink dress, smiled at Harry and Hermione as they stepped out into the corridor. "Have a good time!"

What seemed like hours later to Hermione, and only mere seconds to Harry, the two of them reached the Great Hall, still arm in arm, joining the large mob of other students making their way there. Now they were conversing normally about subjects with nothing at all to do with the ball, not even realizing that people were still staring at them.

The Great Hall looked amazing. It wasn't terrible and cheesy the way Lockhart had decked it out to be in their second year. It wasn't horribly pink or really glittery. It was full of what might be considered 'girly colors,' true, but not enough to make you want to throw up and jam your wand in your eye just so you wouldn't have to see it. Decorations with hearts or Cupids on them were hung up where House banners usually went. The one long table was down the center and was already seating lots of people, but the stage area that had been set up where the Head table normally was empty.

"I wonder who's going to sing," Hermione mused, eyeing it.

Harry nodded, but then another thought popped into his mind. "Let's go find Ron; I want to see who his date was!"

Ron's bright Weasley hair stood out easily, even in the swarming mass of people, but to their dismay, he was alone. He stood by the magnificent, crystal, pumpkin juice punch bowl, with his hands in the pockets of his midnight blue robes. "Hey, Harry," he said, looking up as they approached. "Hey -- Hermione?" He didn't believe it was really her. With the reaction Harry had had, and any other typical boy would, his jaw dropped.

"It's me," she confirmed with a nod, her brown eyes sparkling. A trace of bitterness could be detected if you paid enough attention, but neither of the boys did. "It takes you three years of friendship to realize I'm a girl, and now after five, you've just learned to recognize me?"

"So where's your date?" Harry asked Ron, trying to avoid another squabble between his friends, searching the area around them.

"I don't know," he said apprehensively, casting an eye around like Harry. "She's supposed to meet me here."

"Oh no, don't tell me it's you!" a voice groaned.

The three whipped around. It was a girl in mellow, sunshine yellow robes. Her dark hair was braided and twisted into a bun, and a buttery daffodil was tucked behind her ear.

"Padma?" Ron asked in shock.

"Ron," she said bitterly, glaring at him as if he was a pesky insect that wouldn't go away.

Hermione and Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing, not trying to conceal it at all. Ron and Padma stared furiously at each other for a second, before crossing their arms and turning away at exactly the same moment.

"Well, you two have fun," Harry said, leading Hermione away. Ron glared at him, avoiding his 'date' entirely.

"So are you going to ask me to dance this time?" Padma asked cynically, her dark eyes blazing.

Ron uncrossed his arms, and finding nothing to do with them, recrossed them. "Ha, ha," he said dryly. Sarcasm was heavy in his voice; fury abound in his thoughts. *I can't believe Dean would do this to me!*

Possibly sheer coincidence, or maybe not, Harry bumped into Dean right after they got away from Ron, whilst he and Hermione were still in gales of laughter.

"Does that mean Ron find his date?" Dean asked, smirking, craning his neck around them.

Harry nodded, sniggering, and Dean slapped him high five. "Well, I'm going to go and work my charm on the ladies--" Harry and Hermione had another fit of laughter, "--but guess what? I heard the Raging Ogres are playing!"

It was surprising Dean knew any wizarding bands, considering he was Muggle-born, but maybe he had gotten to listen to the WWN at Seamus' house or something. Harry had no idea who they were, but Hermione seemed to.

She shook her head. "Even if the Weird Sisters performed at the Yule Ball, they were more alternative, and whoever sets up these balls just wouldn't play hard rock music at one for Valentine's Day. What's the betting it'll be Celestina Warbeck?" she asked, continuing her Ludo Bagman betting streak.

"I say five Galleons against it," Dean said.

"You're on," Hermione said, shaking hands.

"Hermione Granger! Making a real bet, I'm shocked!" Harry said teasingly, in a very maternal voice.

"Hey, I'm going to get five Galleons," she replied. "What are you getting out of this?"

"A good time, I hope. And judging by everything that happens to me, probably a very important or embarrassing experience." It was true; if nothing unusual happened, it wouldn't be considered worthy as part of Harry's interesting life. "But right now, I'm getting some punch. Do you want anything?"

"I'll have a butterbeer," she told him.

Harry headed over to the refreshment table and saw that it was crowded with people. "What's going on?" Harry asked Lee Jordan, in outrageous orange robes, the tallest person he spotted who could see over the heads of other people.

"Someone's spiked the punch," he said solemnly, but then he burst out laughing.

"What is it?" Harry asked, trying to look over the crowd. "Must be strong... Can one sip of liquor really cause this much commotion?"

Lee shook his dreadlocked head. "Nope, not even wizarding alcohol can do that much damage. Apparently, it's an Super Energy Elixir, and this couple that drank excessive amounts are going mad. Ron, well, he just started to do a tap-dance, and the Patil girl began to yodel." He snorted, and Harry heard the shrill notes of Padma's indecipherable song.

"Ron?" he echoed in disbelief. He shoved a few people out of his way to try to get a closer look.

"Now, really!" a stunning lady said. Her wavy, dark hair was flowing freely to her waist, and she was wearing an elegant, dark red robe. Her face was painted and her lips were dark. Golden jewelry glimmered at her wrists and a large ruby was on a fine, gold chain around her neck. "What's going on?" she asked sternly.

A few seventh year boys catcalled and whistled. "Who is THAT?" Lee asked, his round eyes bulging. Had Harry not heard her scoldings many times before, he'd never have believed that it was her. But judging by the irritated tone of voice, steely glint in her eyes, her hands on her hips, flaring nostrils, and thinned lips, it had to be.

"What's going on here?" she asked the blonde Hufflepuff girl, Hannah Abbot, whose hair wasn't in pigtails like it usually was.

"Oh, it's horrible!" she exclaimed, clutching her face with her hands. "Somebody put something in the pumpkin juice, and that Weasley boy and Padma Patil -- they consumed a bit too much, and it was filled with an Energy Elixir or something... I'm not too sure what it was, but they're going crazy, and I wouldn't be surprised if they started climbing on the walls soon. You have to do something, Professor McGonagall!"

(A/N: I am aware that Professor McGonagall is about SEVENTY, and if we base her appearance on her movie counterpart (no offense to Dame Maggie Smith!), 'gorgeous' and 'stunning' aren't exactly the words that come to mind. Just -- use your imaginations, okay? Madams Hooch, Pomfrey, or Pince wouldn't quite work; Professors Sprout or Trelawny would be out of the question. I could have said it was Professor Sinistra or Vector, but since we don't know their characters, it just wouldn't have the same effect.)

They boys' jaws dropped. "McGonagall?" they asked simultaneously, in horror.

"No, it can't be!" a boy Harry knew as Stebbins yelled (Snape had blasted his rosebush apart at the last ball). "You are not telling me that that's Mean Old, Moody McGonagall?"

She ignored the Hufflepuff boy and pushed her way through the crowd, and luckily Harry managed to get right behind her. Her high heels clicked on the tiles as she briskly walked forward. "Now where are they?"

She needn't even bothered asking. As if they were under the Imperius Curse, Ron was doing amazing back flips and Padma was running in circles, singing a Muggle pop song at the top of her lungs.

"Poppy!" McGonagall shouted over the crowd of amused children.

Madam Pomfrey, dressed in very ugly robes with a pattern that resembled one on Muggle nurse's scrubs, hastened over. "What is it, Minerva?"

"It's Mr. Weasley and Miss Patil. A Super Energy Elixir or something of the sort was added to the punch, and, unaware, they drank a bit too much. Now they're acting entirely out of hand."

Madam Pomfrey hurried over, grabbed the back of the dress robes of the two hysterical teenagers, and escorted them to the hospital wing.

Harry watched this all with a grin, but he still couldn't help worrying. "Quite a sight," someone said in his ear. He turned and saw Hermione behind him. He smiled at her, but she knew something had happened and quickly asked what had happened. When Harry explained it, she gasped.

"A Super Energy Elixir?" she asked in horror.

"Yeah. But it was pretty funny --"

"Harry, that's serious! A Super Energy Elixir is very powerful! Compare it to a strong drug that kicks in instantly and has effects about ten times worse. It is a lot like an Imperius Curse. Ron and Padma must be in a horrible state!"

He, still not understanding the significance, shrugged. "At least they had a good time."

Hermione groaned and probably would have reprimanded him, but just then, Professor Dumbledore stood up to the microphone on the makeshift stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention." The entire Great Hall looked at him expectantly. "It is my greatest pleasure to introduce our entertainer for this evening. They have achieved global fame, won several awards, and sang some of the greatest hits this wizarding world has heard. Indeed, who could ever forget that catchy Puddlemere United anthem? There isn't a morning when I take a shower and can't stop singing 'Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here' at the top of my lungs. And without further ado --"

The crowd waited with bated breath, but many music fans, sports enthusiasts, or readers of 'Quidditch Through the Ages' already knew who it was. Hermione leaned forward.

"Miss Celestina Warbeck!" he announced, followed by tumultuous applause and a deafening roar of screaming students; girls for her superstardom and singing capabilities, boys because of her attractiveness.

"Ha!" Hermione said smugly. "Now where's Dean?"

"Too bad Ron had to miss this," Harry remarked, remembering the Stunned look Ron always got on his face when he saw a pretty girl (Fleur Delacour comes to mind).

"Yes, he and Padma would have had a terrific time dancing," she giggled. "If Ron can even dance!" She and Harry both had a mental image of Ron clumsily tripping on his oversized feet. "You can dance, right?"

That weird feeling that came when anyone mentioned him dancing returned to him instantly. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. "I - I don't dance..." He stammered the same thing he had told McGonagall.

"C'mon, slow dancing's easy! You danced with Parvati last year," she pointed out.

"Only because I had no choice," he muttered, embarrassed.

"You have no choice now," she giggled, grabbing one of his hands and staring up into his eyes. "Please, dance with me?"

"I asked you to the ball, isn't that enough?" he asked despairingly.

"Please?" she asked, as music began and Celestina Warbeck's melodic voice began to sing. She looked at Harry with some hope in her eyes that he slowly nodded. Her face broke out into a smile as she gently took Harry by the wrist and dragged him to the dance floor.

"What have I done?" he muttered under his breath, as Hermione guided one of his hands to her waist, placed a hand on his shoulder, and entwined the fingers of their other hands together. Harry was glad she knew what she was doing. He was in no mood to try and steer.

"I love this song," she murmured, as they slowly swayed and moved around. "Don't you like it?" She looked into his clear, emerald eyes, but his gaze was on the singing sorceress, and not because of her looks. He strained his ears to listen to the lyrics (I chose to take some away, because I'm not very fond of songfics).

Did you ever lay your head down

On the shoulder of a good friend?

And then have to look away somehow?

Had to hide the way you felt for them?

Have you ever prayed the day would come

You'd hear them say they feel it too?

Did you ever love somebody

Who never knew?

He saw Hermione listening intently too. She seemed really absorbed in it, so he didn't say anything. He just listened to the song lyrics more and continued to dance. His eyes swept over the other pairs dancing, and he'd wave occasionally when he saw one of his friends, but he could hardly tear his eyes away from his own date. By looking at her, he could tell that this song was bringing back some memories, and maybe not good ones. Her eyes were closed, and she was paying a lot of attention. The song seemed to relate to her or something, because she looked near to crying. He understood why, after hearing the words.

Did you ever love somebody

So much that the earth moved?

Did you ever love somebody

Even though it hurts you?

Did you ever love somebody

Nothing else your heart could do?

Did you ever love somebody

Like I love you?

Like I love you?

Like I love you...

The song faded away and ended, and Harry looked at Hermione sideways. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, as he saw a distinct tear trickle down her cheek.

"Nothing," she murmured. "I'm fine, it's just -- I was thinking about...something." She raised her hand to wipe the offending tear away, but Harry reached up and beat her to it. His hand lingered longer than he intended to, but he avoided her eyes.

Gently, he asked her, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I just need -- some fresh air," she came up at the top of her head. "I'm going to go outside...."

"I'll come with you," he said, but she broke away from his embrace and started for the exit of the Great Hall. She pushed people aside and did whatever it took to get there as soon as she could. In a few seconds, she was nearly there. "Hermione, come back!" he called desperately as she fled so rapidly. "Why are you always running?" he muttered.

He was halfway towards the doorway when a throng of giggly fourth year girls ambled in front of his path. When he stopped, he started to think -- and he decided not to go after Hermione this time...or should she? It was getting pretty hard for him to keep going after her and breaking her heart again and again by saying that she was only a friend to him. His mind made up, he walked to the refreshment table, and helped himself to some butterbeer.

"Hey, Potter, where's your date?" Malfoy asked. His robes were velvety black again, and the inside was lined with red silk. This time, instead of a vicar, he looked like a vampire, especially with his silver-blonde hair slicked back with more gel than the bottle recommended. "Did she run away?" Pansy Parkinson, in ruffled and beaded coral robes, was clinging tightly to him like she was permanently affixed to his side. His arm was casually slung around her waist, and he had a very icy expression on his face.

"Wow, did you make that up all by yourself, Draaaaaaco?" Harry asked, in a high-pitched imitation of Pansy. "And don't think that my date ran away just because that's happened to you before."

Malfoy flushed angrily, but said nothing. Harry had made that retort up, but maybe it had been true...

"Where're you goons, anyway?" Harry asked coolly, craning his neck over the crowd. "Oh, there's Crabbe, dancing with Millicent Bulstrode. They're tripping all over each other -- did you teach them how to dance, Malfoy?"

He glared at him. "Oh, good one, Potter," he said irately, and lead Pansy away, who squealed that he was so brave.

"Great comeback!" Harry shouted after them. Even though he had effortlessly won that round, he received no sort of enjoyment from it. With a sigh, he sat down on an empty chair and gulped down some butterbeer.

Justin Finch-Fletchley sat down next to him a moment later. Since they had Herbology together, the two were sort of friends -- more of acquaintances. To make conversation, the curly-haired boy asked, "Hey, Harry, where's your date?"

"Off crying outside," he said shortly, and took another swig.

"Why?" Justin asked curiously. "Who is it, anyway?"

"Hermione," he answered dully. "I don't know what happened. We were dancing, everything was going fine, I didn't even trod on her feet once -- Celestina Warbeck was singing, and when the song ended, she ran off."

"Well, you have to go after her!" he told him imperiously.

"I guess," Harry said with a shrug. Maybe it was best if he did. He stood up. "Thanks." Then he shuffled off, with his hands in his pockets.

The entrance hall was empty, but a few students were outside, talking to each other by the fountain or snogging behind trees. He couldn't find Hermione, though, even when he searched her secret spot and the secluded rosebushes, which made a great hiding spot (he averted his eyes whenever he spotted a couple).

With a depressed sigh, he went to a place where he could be alone and fell into a sitting position on the shore by the Black Lake, not minding if his dress robes got dirty. He was deep in thought when somebody sat down next to him.

"Are you busy?" they asked him.

Turning, even though he didn't really have to, he realized that it was Hermione. "Where have you been?"

"I've been on a little stroll," she said in a detached voice. "Like I said I would... I was just thinking, you know."

"So why were you crying after the song?" he wondered, but didn't look at her when he said it; instead, he was staring transfixed at the surface of the lake under moonlight that gleamed like words written on a parchment in fresh ink.

"Oh, that," she said, her tone becoming more crestfallen. "Well, you heard the song. It just seemed a lot like the situation I had currently been in, and memories just came flooding back. Mostly the ones where we were fighting, and I was crying and feeling miserable. You know." She said it like it was no big deal, but of course, it was.

Harry was no good at moments like this, but he knew that he needed to apologize, at least. He forced himself to turn away from the lake to her. "Look, Hermione, I'm really sorry that it took me so long to figure it out -- and that I acted so insensitive when I did find out. It must've been hard."

Hermione nodded silently. It had been hard, very hard... Now she was staring into the depths of the lake, whose black waters were lapping against the shore. "The giant squid's out," was all she said.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, knowing that the giant squid's whereabouts hardly mattered to her.

"A lot." She sighed, which would make that about the thousandth time one of them had sighed that night. "A pensieve would come in handy about now."

He stared at her. "What?" He had never told Ron and Hermione about Dumbledore's pensieve, or had he?

"Oh yeah, you probably don't know what it is. When you have too many thoughts in your head, you put it into this sort of bowl. It comes out as this silvery stuff. I read about it in 'Useful Magical Trinkets and Objects.' Well, when I looked at the lake, I remembered last year, the Second Task. When I found out that I was somebody that one of the champions would miss the most, my hopes went up. It couldn't be Cedric, certainly not Fleur... I thought I definitely knew who it was. But I was wrong. And when I found out it was Viktor, I sort of lost hope that you'd ever like me."

"Don't," he advised.

She dared to gaze back into his eyes as green as the dewy grass they were sitting upon. "What do you mean?"

"Never lose hope, that's what I'm saying. You know, some weird thing can come along, and maybe someday I'll like you back." Harry had no idea where these words were coming from, but they were just pouring out from his heart. At least it was reassuring, even if he wasn't too sure if he meant it all.

"I know you're only saying that to make me feel better, but thanks, Harry," she said, managing to give him a very small smile.

"You know what I really think, though?"

"What?" she asked him curiously.

"This love business is really a lot more than it's worth." He placed his palms on the ground behind him and looked up at the black backdrop of sky with millions of twinkling starbursts dotting it.

"I agree." Hermione copied him, her eyes coming to rest on Venus, which symbolized beauty and love.

"What is it really worth anyway?" he asked, now coming into a contemplative mood. "Is it even worth it at all?"

"I guess we'll find that out," she said distantly, as if she was floating next to those stars, light-years away from the earth.

That statement had the sort of finality that made conversation not needed. So they leaned back and continued their stargazing, not bothering to share the names of constellations with each other. Harry was not too fond of Astronomy, and Hermione could name every star by heart in a matter of moments, which really was not too romantic at all. Besides the muted din coming from the castle, rushing of water from the fountain and laps at the lakeshore, and a few crickets chirping, there was silence around them.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry cleared her throat and spoke up. "So do you want to go back to the ball? We still have time for a couple more dances." He got up and offered her his hand to help her up too.

"I thought you hated dancing," she said, taking his hand, pulling herself to her feet, and brushing herself off with her other hand.

"Oh, I do," he answered, his eyes twinkling. "Do you want to dance or not?"

She smiled now, a genuine smile without any of the misery. "Dance."

They walked back to the Great Hall hand in hand but didn't say anything about it, or anything else, for that matter. They just admired the bright fairy lights and enjoyed the peaceful night breeze.

The rest of the night went along smoothly. Harry and Hermione danced a few more times, which wasn't as bad as Harry had suspected, aside from him stepping on Hermione's feet twice. Ron and Padma showed up a while later, completely calmed down, and instead of continuing the fight it seemed they were in the midst of earlier, they danced too. Everyone was having a really great time, and the minutes just flew by. Soon, the last dance was there. Celestina Warbeck sang her biggest hit ballad, and everyone was sad when it ended this time. Professor Dumbledore gave a short, closing speech, and then Professor McGonagall instructed everyone to go back to his or her dorms. For once, no one protested her.

Harry and Hermione got lost in the crowd, so they didn't have time to talk to Ron or Padma and asked what gave them a change of heart. At the top of the marble staircase, Ron went off the other way to walk her to the Ravenclaw common room. Back in the Gryffindor common room, Harry and Hermione were paused in between the boys' and girls' stairways.

"Goodnight," he said awkwardly.

"Yeah," she said, looking at the rich, scarlet-carpeted floor.

"I had a good time," he told her, rubbing the back of his neck, which had gone slightly red. "I'm glad I asked you."

"Me too," she replied, and then the sadness returned. "...Even if we're still just friends and always will be."

"Maybe not," Harry said suddenly, taking the both of them by surprise. "Always look on the bright side. Maybe with some odd twist of fate --" (A/N: Why do I keep bringing in my other stories that have nothing to do with this???) "I just may fall for you."

"'I'll pray the day will come when I'll hear you say you feel it too,'" she said shyly, quoting from Celestina Warbeck's song.

"You do that," Harry said, grinning, giving her a quick kiss on the lips, which had not been the result of bad aim. "'Night, Hermione."

Hermione flushed happily all over. "Goodnight."

The two friends (for the time being) parted their ways, and went to their separate dormitories. In there, they chatted a bit with their roommates about the ball until it was early in the morning. Eventually they fell asleep, exhausted from the exciting night.

Hermione, who was now feeling a lot more optimistic as a result of Harry's kind words, paused before she closed her eyes. "I know that somehow, someday he'll like me as more than a friend. Even if it takes a Love Potion or a *real* Entrancement Enchantment to get him to." She smiled to herself and drifted off to sleep.

It still wasn't entirely over, but like Professor Flitwick said, it would all come out right in the end.

~The End~