Just One Night

***************

Chapter 1: In Your Mind

I love you

But you don't love me

So my feelings just stay

In that horrible way

Bottled up, seeking a way out...

A way that will never come to be

Because I love you

But you don't love me

***************

Harry glanced over at Hermione and Draco. They were dancing. Again. What had it been? Nine times now? He sighed. He'd waited too long, once again. He wished Ron weren't dancing with Padma. Who would have guessed that those two would hit it off? Especially after the Yule Ball fiasco in their fourth year.

It was now their seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And he had no one. He'd never had anyone. The first two years, he hadn't been interested in girls. The next three had been spent pining for Cho. And then last year had been the busiest year of all, with Hermione panicking about not making Head Girl - therefore studying more than ever, if that was possible - and, of course, the final defeat of Voldemort. The aftermath was still going on, but that didn't involve Harry as much. He just had to make sure no Voldemort supporters, still holding out hope about another return, tried and succeeded in killing him.

Ginny wasn't interested in him anymore, and he'd never really been interested in her anyways. Neville had grown up quite a bit since his fourth year (Professor Snape had a hard time making him sweat anymore - let's just say that the boggart incident really helped), and he and Ginny were obviously in love.

There were always the other girls who 'loved' him - but he didn't want an adoring fan who agreed with everything he said. That was one of the reasons he'd been attracted to Hermione. She challenged him constantly, and, to top it all off, she'd grown up quite a bit. He'd first noticed at the Yule Ball their fourth year, but she'd grown up even more by the beginning of seventh year.

And now she was Draco's. He'd barely even gotten an explanation. They'd just shown up with each other at the last ball. Afterwards she'd explained - to both Harry and Ron - that she had really gotten to know Draco, what with them both being the Heads, and that they should make an effort as well, since she had a feeling this wasn't a fling.

And while Draco's attitude toward Hermione's best friends had changed, his overall one had stayed the same. He'd mentioned something about keeping up appearances when they'd asked. Harry supposed he was telling the truth, but it didn't make much sense, since he had supposedly broken every rule in his father's book. Dating a Muggle-born witch. Becoming 'friends' with Harry Potter and poverty-stricken Ronald Weasley. Being on speaking terms with the Muggle-lover Dumbledore. Needless to say, Draco and his father had not spoken in a long while.

Harry glanced around the room again. It was nice, he had to admit. The Great Hall was sparkling, the Weird-Sisters were rocking (or whatever it was called in the Wizarding world), and everyone was dancing. He wished he could identify more people, but the only ones he knew well enough to identify without a face were Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Padma, Neville, and Draco. That was the annoying thing about masquerade balls.

***

A young girl - woman, really - watched him from across the room. He never glanced her way. He never had. Not in the six long years they'd both been going to Hogwarts, and not in the partial one that was not yet over. She supposed she couldn't blame him. After all, why would he look at her? She was everything he was not. He was everything she was not. There was no hope for her infatuation, and she knew it.

She'd fallen the first time she'd seen him, no matter they'd both been eleven at the time. He had, of course, not even looked her way. She'd had a boyfriend later on, so she supposed she couldn't blame him that much. But she didn't now. That made for a lot of possibilities...

She shook her head to clear her thoughts. But they didn't want to go. Just one night! her mind screamed at her. One night is all you need, then you can go back to craving him in peace. It was so tempting. It would be so easy. It was a masquerade, after all. He was obviously wallowing, still. She had watched him long enough to realize his feelings for Hermione, even if the girl herself had been too dense to notice. But she's got Draco now, so I suppose she's happy, anyway.

One night. Just one night. He's wallowing... he needs to let out his frustration ... just offer a way to do so. A very tempting way, if she did say so herself.

***

Harry swirled the glass of butterbeer absentmindedly. He honestly had no idea what to do. At this point, he'd generally been talking to Ron about Voldemort or some equally important thing. But not this year. This year had been almost ... boring. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around. He smiled. He couldn't help it. The girl was simply beautiful. She smiled back.

Glancing down her figure, he fought to keep a grin off his face. He might have been in love with Hermione, but he had to admit, this girl was simply stunning. "Would you like to dance?" he blurted out before he could change his mind. Luckily, he didn't sound at all stupid.

The girl nodded her head and he took her arm. Just as they got to the dance floor, a slow song came on. They set themselves up, then simply stared at each other. At least, that's what Harry assumed the girl was doing. He couldn't quite tell, with that mask. As the song came to a close, the girl smiled seductively and led him back to the doors, where they slipped out. She placed her mouth near his ear and whispered, "Do you happen to know of a place where we won't be disturbed for a few hours?"

Harry shivered. He knew what the girl was asking. It was just - he'd never - well...

She leaned back and smiled in an understanding way. "So you've never done it, have you?"

Harry pulled at the collar of his robes nervously. "Er..."

She nodded her head, still smiling. "You never answered my question..."

Harry's mind blanked for a second. What question? Oh, right, that question. He cleared his throat. "Well, there is this one place - the third floor corridor. The one that was forbidden first year. I don't think anyone goes up there anymore."

"Lead the way, Monsieur."