Mother, Mother, Mother

Mother, Mother, Mother

Chapter 1 - Like a Veela

Harry took a surreptitious glance at Hermione's wristwatch; he had a little over three hours until the Quidditch match against Ravenclaw, the first of the season. It was to be his first match as Gryffindor team Captain, a position he was voted into unanimously by his teammates, much to his dismay.

Ron nudged him and pointed to the parchment they had hidden beneath their desk. He had just added some additional scribbles and arrows for Harry to ponder over for the impending match this afternoon. The scribbles were moving. Harry felt like he might be sick.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley!" a stern voice came from the front of the room.

A 'humph' sound came from his right elbow, which was Hermione's way of saying "I told you should have been busying yourselves with turning your pumpkins into punch bowls". Hermione had managed to turn her pumpkin into a magnificent crystal punch bowl, complete with what looked like delicately etched swans. Ron's punch bowl was a bit orange, and Harry's still had seeds stuck to the inside, but at least it didn't still have a lid with leaves and a stem like Neville's.

"As I was saying," Professor McGonagall began again, apparently, "due to the popularity of last year's Yule Ball, the staff has voted to make it a yearly tradition."

Lavender Brown and Pavarti Patil squealed. Ron groaned. Harry sighed. Not again. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan started whispering and shooting furtive, almost scared looks in the general direction of Lavender and Pavarti. Hermione looked pensive; Harry briefly wondered if Viktor Krum would be making the trip down to accompany her to the ball.

McGonagall pursed her lips and then continued, "I hope you all will be on your best behavior. Professor Snape tells me there were some..." McGonagall cleared her throat, "inappropriate activities taking place in the rose bushes out in the courtyard last year. I myself caught two students hexing a Slytherin with the Jelly Legs Curse whilst he was asking a young lady to dance."

Harry thought that must have been the handiwork of Ron's brothers, Fred and George. Ron looked over at Harry and they both stifled a chuckle. Harry hoped it was Malfoy they were making a great big prat of. He could just see Malfoy smarming up to some poor girl, totally making a fool of himself as his knees wobbled out of control...

"I would really hate for points to be taken away from Gryffindor on what should be a fun..."

The bell cut off Professor McGonagall's warning. "I want four rolls of parchment on transfiguring members of the gourd family into vessels of glass by next week!" Professor McGonagall yelled over the din of scraping chairs and books being crammed into bags. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, I need to see you before you go."

Harry and Ron looked at each other quizzically (and perhaps a bit guiltily) as they approached Professor McGonagall's desk.

"I just wanted to wish you both luck and congratulate you, Mr. Weasley, on making the team," she said, her face breaking into a rare smile. "I saw you practicing the other night, and I think you will make a fine Keeper."

Ron stared at his feet and turned bright red.

McGonagall's eyes went a bit misty and her gaze a bit distant, "I don't know if the two of you are aware or not, but I played Keeper for Gryffindor once. We won the Quidditch cup all four years I played..." she trailed off, and then suddenly broke out of her reverie. "Mr. Weasley, may I see the parchment?"

"Uh, of course Professor."

Ron dug around in his robes for the piece of parchment he had been drawing moving, squiggly lines on earlier when he should have been turning his pumpkin into a punch bowl. He handed the parchment over to Professor McGonagall. She looked it over and nodded her head appreciatively. "Ah yes, good strategy... quite good, but I'm afraid it is 5 points from Gryffindor."

"But...?"

"As much as I appreciate yours and Mr. Potter's efforts to win this year's Cup for Gryffindor, I can't have you neglecting your studies. Now off with you!"

As Harry and Ron walked out the door, she added, "And win that match!"

Hermione was waiting for them outside in the corridor. She looked a bit preoccupied about something as she absentmindedly fiddled with her Prefect badge.

"Are you ok, Hermione?" Harry asked, forgetting his own apprehension about the upcoming match for a moment.

"I'm fine," she said, then forced a smile. "Actually... I was a bit concerned about you... about the match, and..." she trailed off.

Ron interrupted, "Oh Hermione, Harry's fine. We're going to kick some Ravenclaw arse." He clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Aren't we Harry?"

"Yeah..." But Harry wasn't so sure.

It wasn't just the match or being Quidditch Captain that was so nerve-wracking, but having to face Cho on top of all of that... He could hardly look at her without feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt and sadness over Cedric's death. She was not only the Seeker and his direct competition, but also the Ravenclaw team captain this year as well. He would have to face her, shake her hand... it was just too much to face after all that happened last year. McGonagall announcing the Yule Ball had only made things worse. He had asked Cho to last year's ball, but Cedric had beaten him to it. He had felt so much jealousy and resentment towards Cedric. Unjustified. More guilt. If he had known...

Hermione gave Harry an encouraging smile. "I've got some things to do before the game. I'll be watching you guys," She hugged both of them quickly for luck and bolted down the hall.

"Wait, Hermione," Ron called out. "I had something I wanted to ask..."

She was gone.

Harry didn't have time to find out what Ron was about to ask Hermione. Fred and George Weasley were bounding up the stairs, talking excitedly with Angelina Johnson following behind. Fred and Angelina were almost doubled over with laughter.

"What's with you three?" asked Ron.

"Just got back from Potions..." managed Angelina, between fits of giggles.

"What did Snape do, poison you with Laughing Potions?" asked Harry.

"No!" gasped Fred, "It was Fleur!"

"Fleur gave you Laughing Potions?" asked Ron, looking at George. Fleur Delacour, the part veela Triwizard Champion from Beauxbatons had been brought on as Professor Snape's apprentice and teaching assistant.

George rolled his eyes, "It's nothing, Ron."

"No, it's something," said Fred. "Fleur gave George a recipe for a Luuurrrrvvvee Potion!"

"A very special Veela Love Potion," giggled Angelina.

"It is not a Love Potion," sighed George. "It is an Irresistibility Potion. It makes you irresistible to the opposite sex -"

"Or the same sex," said Fred, "If you swing that way."

George rolled his eyes.

"Not that there is anything wrong with that," said Angelina.

"Anyway... it makes you irresistible," said George. "Like a Veela."

"Aren't Love Potions banned?" Harry asked.

"This isn't a Love Potion, you don't give it to other people," said George. "You take it yourself. I'm just using it to enhance my natural charms." He flashed a large smile, vaguely reminiscent of Gilderoy Lockhart.

"George made such a huge prat of himself asking random girls to the Yule Ball last year, he was hoping to have them queuing up to ask him this year," said Fred.

George punched Fred in the arm. "Anyway, the ingredients are pretty easy to come by except for 'ze 'air of Veela', and I nicked that when Fleur wasn't looking. I've got enough for two draughts," he said, giving Harry and Ron significant looks. He was holding up two long, silvery strands of hair between his thumb and forefinger.

"I think you should give the other to Ron," said Fred. "He needs all the help he can get. Harry's got those roguish good looks and that international celebrity thing working for him."

Before Ron could respond, Harry stepped between him and his brothers, "Why don't we head out to the changing rooms and talk about the game strategy? Ron's got some really good moves planned out. I just need to get my broom and - "

"We'll go get Katie and Alicia," interrupted Angelina, grabbing hold of Fred's arm, "I saw them headed over to Professor Figg's office earlier. We'll meet you there!"

***

"Aphrodite," said Ron.

"You're not so bad yourself," said the fat lady in the pink silk dress, winking.

The tops of Ron's ears went red. "Just open up," he grumbled, studying his shoes.

Harry laughed. Ron had been getting a lot more feminine attention lately, sending the third and fourth year girls into fits of giggles every time he walked by. It looked as if that attention extended to the subjects of enchanted paintings.

The fat lady's portrait swung open, but before Harry and Ron could crawl through, Hermione's head appeared.

"Hullo," she said, as she crawled out. "Shouldn't you two be getting ready for the match?"

"We just came to get our brooms," said Harry, as he watched Hermione nervously straighten her robes and try to stuff an envelope into her overfilled book bag. "Where are you going?"

"I was, um..." she trailed off, making a futile attempt at smoothing down her unruly hair. Her cheeks were flushed. She looked as if she may have been crying.

"Going to the library?" Ron suggested helpfully.

"Um, yeah, the library," she said, not meeting their eyes.

"Well, don't lose track of time and forget about the match," said Ron, looking more nervous now than he did earlier whilst drawing squiggly lines on a piece of parchment.

"Of course not. I wouldn't miss it for the world," Hermione said.

She had definitely been crying, Harry thought. He had a sudden urge to comfort her, protect her. Maybe even hug or her something. But, "Are you alright?" was all he could manage.

"Fine," she forced a smile. "Well, I best be off. Wouldn't want to keep you two from getting ready. Bet you have lots of stuff to talk about with the team. The game plan. All that."

Harry and Ron watched her dash off towards the stairs.

"Wait!" Ron called out. "You dropped something!"

Hermione didn't hear him; she was already gone. Harry watched Ron stuff whatever it was that Hermione had dropped into his robes.

"I'll give it to her after the game," he said, patting his robes and looking a bit green. He was definitely starting to show his nerves.

***

After an hour of strategizing, the team was pumped and ready to go. It had been over a year since their last match - a victory over Slytherin, securing the Quidditch Cup. Harry surprised himself at how well he was able to push aside all his worries - Voldemort, facing Cho, the prospect of procuring a date for the stupid Yule Ball - and focus on the game plan. He never really thought of himself as a leader. He was the youngest on the team, even younger than Ron, yet they all looked to him. Trusted him. They had trained hard, just as hard as they had when the single-minded Oliver Wood was captain, and they were ready to face whatever Cho and her Ravenclaw team had in store for them on the pitch. It was just Cho herself Harry was afraid to face.

"Hey Harry, it's time!" It was Colin Creevey, poking his head into the changing room. He was sporting a toothy grin and giving them the thumbs-up sign.

"Thanks Colin. Everyone ready?" He asked, looking around at his team.

"Is Snape a slimy-haired git?" asked George, a wicked grin on his face.

"Are the Slytherins a bunch of lacy-knickered salad tossers?" asked Fred, an identical smirk shone brightly on his face as well.

"We're ready!" said Katie, as Angelina and Alicia nodded. All three girls were grinning.

"Ron?" asked Harry.

Ron swallowed hard and nodded.

"Alright then... let's get out there," said Harry, shouldering his Firebolt.

They all started filing out ahead of him as Lee Jordan announced their names. The girls each hugged him before heading out, and Angelina gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. While Fred played shocked and outraged, Angelina squeezed Harry's hand and whispered, "It will be all right, Harry," in his ear.

One by one, the team members took the field.

Lee Jordan's voice boomed out through the enchanted megaphone, amongst the cheering crowd of fans, "And here he is, The Boy Who Lived! Best seeker Hogwarts has seen in over 100 years! Vanquisher of Dark Lords and feminine hearts everywhere; voted Heartthrob of the Year by Teen Witch Magazine, number two on Quidditch Illustrated's list of Young Rising Stars..."

"JORDAN!! Get on with it!" Professor McGonagall growled through clenched teeth.

"Sorry Professor...HARRY POTTER!"

Harry's stomach lurched as he walked out onto the field. It was a cool, crisp autumn day. The sky was free of clouds and turning gold around the edges. Perfect playing conditions. He approached the center of the field where Madam Hooch and Cho Chang stood waiting for him. A cool breeze picked up, sending Cho's long black hair flying. Her royal blue Quidditch robes billowed out behind her. Her chin was raised proudly, regally almost. As Harry drew nearer, she looked at him and smiled. Her eyes betrayed a soft kind of sorrow.

Harry was scarcely able to breathe properly. His whole body went tense. He put out his hand as customary and waited. Instead of taking his hand, Cho embraced him.

"Harry, I see the way you look at me," she whispered. "I see my own pain reflected in your eyes. It wasn't your fault, Harry. Cedric wouldn't want you to feel guilty. It is eating your soul. For his sake and, more importantly, your own sake, promise me you will let this go and live."

Harry was frozen for a moment. He didn't really know what he had expected or what to think. She didn't blame him or hate him. It dawned on him that probably more than anyone else, she understood what he felt. "Thank you," he said.

"Promise me..."

"I promise."

As she let him go, he could see that her eyes were filled with tears, but she was smiling at him. A genuine smile. He gave her a little salute as they parted and headed back towards their respective teams.

"Teams, mount your brooms!" Madam Hooch yelled. "On my whistle! Three - Two - "

And they were off. As Harry left the ground, he left behind all lingering guilt and doubt and worry. This is where he was most at home. For a short while, he forgot about the Snitch and just let the euphoria of being in the air, of leaving his worries on the ground, wash over him. He blocked out the noise of the crowd and Lee Jordan's excited commentary. He flew high and fast and let the world grow smaller beneath him. In that moment he was free.

After putting as much space between himself and the ground as he could, he turned back and headed down into the thick of the game in time to see Ron make an amazing save.

"Ron Weasley, in his first ever match, makes an incredible save," boomed Lee Jordan. "Gryffindor is back in possession. Angelina Johnson advances towards the Ravenclaw goal... she passes to Katie Bell... ooh, watch out for that Bludger! George Weasley knocks it out of her way just in time!! Katie passes to Alicia Spinnet, who I must say is looking more fetching than ever these days, whoever takes her to the Yule Ball will be one lucky -"

"Jordan!" growled Professor McGonagall.

"Sorry Professor...Alicia Spinnet scores! Ten-nothing Gryffindor!"

Time to find the Snitch, Harry thought. He did laps around the pitch, dodging the odd Bludger. He could see Cho hovering over one of the Gryffindor goals, watching him. She waved. He waved back; no sign of the Snitch for the moment.

Harry took up a vantage point a bit higher up over the main action in the game. Both teams were playing incredibly well. They were excellently matched. His chest swelled with pride watching his team. He was most proud of Ron. McGonagall was right; he was an amazing Keeper. In another year, he might be better than Oliver Wood even.

Suddenly, he saw it, the Snitch. It was hovering just above the ground, like a golden humming bird, weaving in and out of the bases of the Ravenclaw goal posts. Before he could even react, he caught Cho out of the corner of his eye. She was flat against her broom, rocketing towards it. She must have noticed it first. For one fleeting second Harry considered just letting her take it, but only for a second. He had made a promise: no guilt.

Harry sped off, his chest touching the shaft his Firebolt. He was gaining speed at an alarming rate, quickly catching up to Cho. The Snitch was so close to the ground, if he wasn't careful, he might crash right into it. Cho swerved back and forth, preventing him from passing her. They were almost there...

Suddenly, the Snitch flew straight up. Harry made a sharp turn upwards, and shot towards it. He could sense Cho directly behind him, inches away. The Snitch was just barely out of reach. He reached out his hand, and willed as much speed out of his Firebolt as he possibly could. Cho was almost right beside him, but just before she could gain any further on him, his fingers closed around swiftly beating wings.

He had caught the Snitch!

***

By the time Harry and Ron returned to the Common Room, the victory party was already in full swing. Neither boy could walk two steps without being given a slap on the back or a "Great save, Weasley!" or "Way to catch that Snitch, Potter!" A small knot of third year girls were talking and whispering about something as Harry and Ron approached the makeshift bar George was tending in the corner.

"What have you got there, George?" asked Ron, looking in better spirits than Harry had seen him in ages.

"Weeelllllll.... I've got Butterbeer, Pumpkin Fizz and a special Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes product I'm dying to try out as soon as someone unsuspecting approaches. Lee Jordan is supposed to be here any minute with something he picked up a recipe for in the States over the summer called 'Trash Can Punch'. Oh yes, and best of all, two very special Butterbeers, courtesy of the lovely Fleur." George took two bottles out from under the desk he was using as a make shift wet bar and winked, "Want one?"

"Uh... no thanks..." Ron said absentmindedly, looking anxiously around the crowded Common Room.

"I think I'll have a Butterbeer," said Harry, "a normal Butterbeer."

Harry felt something soft brush against his shoulder. Turning around, he saw it was Ginny Weasley. "Hey, George, can I get two Butterbeers please?" she asked sliding past him.

"Why certainly, anything for my favorite sister in the whole wide world," said George, placing two butterbeers on the bar in front of her.

Ginny laughed, "I'm your only sister."

"Well, that doesn't change the fact that you are still my favorite," said George, winking at her.

"Hey Ginny, have you seen Hermione around anywhere?" said Ron as he grabbed a Butterbeer off the bar.

"Um..." Ginny looked slightly uncomfortable. "Well, she's upstairs in her room."

"She didn't miss the game, did she?" asked Harry.

"No, she was there. We were sitting together," said Ginny, fidgeting. There was something she wasn't telling them. Harry suddenly remembered how Hermione had looked before the match. Like she had been crying.

"I need to talk to her. Give her something," said Ron, pulling out the envelope Hermione had dropped earlier that day. Harry saw that it was addressed to Viktor Krum.

Ginny snatched the envelope from him. "I'll give it to her."

"Hey, what is this, a fan letter to Viktor Krum?" It was Fred, snatching the letter out of Ginny's hand. "Won't Hermione be jealous?"

Ginny rolled her eyes, "Give it back, Fred. It isn't mine. Hermione dropped it earlier."

"Give it to me Fred," said Ron, sounding anxious. "I need to talk to Hermione about something anyway."

"She's up in her room, Ron, she's... she's not feeling well. She doesn't want anyone up there. I was just going to bring her up a Butterbeer, I can give it to her," said Ginny.

"How about all three of us go up there to keep her company?" suggested Harry, taking the envelope from Fred and stuffing it inside his robes. "Come on, Ginny. We're her best friends. Why wouldn't she want to see us?"

Yeah, he thought, why wouldn't she want to see us? She had been acting a little... different lately. She hadn't volunteered much about her visit to Bulgaria with Viktor Krum over the summer holiday and patently refused to divulge anything when Ron needled her about "Vicky". Harry felt a slight pang of jealousy. Maybe she didn't really need them anymore now that she had Viktor. Then again, he wasn't even sure if they were really an item. That didn't seem right. He knew that Hermione knew everything about him, down to his favorite pair of socks, yet he didn't even know if her boyfriend was really even her boyfriend. Ron had chalked up her aloofness to being made Prefect, but if anything, she nagged them less about following the rules and staying out of trouble than before. She didn't even mention the five points they had lost for Gryffindor during Transfiguration that day.

Ginny sighed, "Ok, fine."

"What's wrong with her, anyway?" asked Ron very seriously, his voice falling to a whisper, "is it one of those girl things, like cramps or something?"

"RON!" Ginny smacked him in the arm. "If you must know..."

"Maybe we should let Hermione tell us herself if she wants. I mean, it's her business, whatever it is," interrupted Harry. He did want to know, but he didn't want to know just because they were needling Ginny about it.

"Did she break up with Vicky?" asked Ron. Harry thought he almost sounded hopeful.

Ginny sighed and looked at the floor. "Listen...yes. She broke up with Viktor. I don't know the details yet; she was too upset to tell me. I just know that she's upset, and she wants to avoid being down here tonight for the party."

"But...she didn't say she wanted to avoid us, right?" Harry asked. So they were an item...were being the operative word.

"No, she didn't say that," Ginny sighed. "Boys...you don't understand."

"Ginny, we totally understand," said Ron earnestly, "don't we, Harry?"

"Yeah, totally," said Harry, nodding his head. Well, maybe not totally, he thought, but we can give it a shot at least for Hermione's sake.

"Ok, fine...we can all go up there together," said Ginny, then looking at Fred, "Hey, hand me two of those Butterbeers."

"Anything you say, widdle-sissy," he said, rumpling her hair and handing her two bottles.

"If Hermione needs something a bit stronger, Lee just got back with the Trash Can Punch," George said from behind the bar. "It's purple."

"Ooh, I'll take some George," said Ginny brightly.

"Are you kidding?" said Fred, looking appalled. "Mum would skin us alive. Take your Butterbeers and get your naughty little tail-end out of here."

"Humph, you're one to talk naughty..."

While Ginny and her brothers argued about what Mrs. Weasley would say, and the difference between looking out for each other and being completely overbearing and unfair, Harry surveyed the Common Room.

Everyone seemed to be having a good time, talking loudly; a few couples were snogging in dark corners. He noticed Dean Thomas and Pavarti Patil shyly talking over a piece of parchment in front of the fire. Dean was putting the finishing touches on a portrait of her, and the drawing Pavarti was blushing just as furiously as the real Pavarti. Neville, who had grown extremely tall and skinny over the summer, was talking quite earnestly to a cute little blond third year on one of the overstuffed, red velvet sofas. Lavender Brown was sitting on Seamus Finnigan's lap. They were sharing an armchair. His arms were wrapped around her waist, and her lips were moving very close to his ear. Lee Jordan, looking uncharacteristically nervous, was approaching Alicia Spinnet with two glasses of the shockingly purple Trash Can Punch. She was smiling shyly at him. Harry suddenly felt very alone.

"Ron, Ginny, are we going, or what?" asked Harry, grabbing a glass of the punch, as well the Butterbeer George had set out for him earlier, thinking maybe Hermione would like that instead.

***

"Ginny, is that you?" Hermione's voice came from the other side of the door.

"It's me," said Ginny, "Harry and Ron are here too, if that's ok with you?"

"Harry... and Ron?" asked Hermione, her voice a little shaky, "I'll be there in a minute."

Harry heard Hermione moving around, opening a drawer, and then a few moments later the door opened. "Come on in," she said.

Hermione's hair was pulled away from her face and piled messily on top of her head. She was wrapped in a satiny periwinkle, kimono-style robe that came to just above her knees. Her eyes were a little red and puffy, but she was smiling at them.

He felt someone grab his wrist.

"Come on Harry, don't just stand there!" It was Ginny, pulling him towards the door. "We brought you a Butterbeer, Hermione."

"We came to cheer you up," said Ron, grinning.

"We brought you something purple," said Harry, holding up Lee Jordan's punch.

"Thank you," she said, taking one of the Butterbeers from Ginny and letting the door swing open all the way.

Hermione's side of the room was very neat and tidy. Her four poster bed was beautifully made with loads of girlish pillows. Her books were stacked on a small desk beneath a large picture window. The school robes she had worn that day were folded neatly on the seat of a ladder-back chair. Crookshanks was curled up on an ottoman in front of a patched armchair beside a small fireplace. Twelve enchanted candles hung in mid-air, giving the room a soft and inviting glow.

"Well," she said, taking a sip of her Butterbeer and gesturing towards the fireplace, "take a seat."

Ginny flopped down on her stomach in front of the fire. Ron picked up Crookshanks and sat down on the ottoman. Crookshanks purred as Ron scratched his ears. Hermione smiled at this, and took a seat in the old, patched and frayed armchair. Harry picked up Hermione's school robes off the ladder-back chair (they smelled of tuberose and autumn sunshine), and placed them on her bed. He pulled the chair up close to the fire, joining the others.

For a while, they just sat there, drinking their Butterbeers. Harry didn't really know what to say, and by the looks of it, neither did Ron. Hermione gazed into the fire, its flickering glow casting her face in sharp relief. Her face was beginning to lose the softness of childhood. Her jaw was sharper, her cheekbones more prominent. She didn't really look any different than she did everyday, but still, no denying it, there was something... different. She looked, well, pretty.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, "Something the matter?"

"Um, no, nothing," stammered Harry. He could feel his cheeks burning.

"Hey, aren't we here to cheer you up?" asked Ron.

"You know... what really cheers me up is just having you here with me," said Hermione, patting Ron's hand and smiling.

Harry felt his chest inexplicably tighten.

"Hey, Harry," said Ginny "What was Cho saying to you right before the match today?"

"Oh..." Harry wasn't sure he wanted to talk about that, even with his friends. There was a kind of unspoken understanding about all of the things that happened at the end of last year with Cedric and the tournament. Still, they didn't know about how he had felt about Cho and they didn't know just how guilty he felt about Cedric. Sometimes he thought Hermione might have some idea, but he just couldn't talk about it. Not yet, anyway.

Ginny seemed to sense his reluctance. "Well, anyway, that was some catch. When I saw Cho zooming for the Snitch, and I was sure you wouldn't catch up with her in time. Really amazing, Harry."

"Hey, what about me?" protested Ron

"You were great too, Ron. I was so proud. Though it was really icky the way Mary and Jeannette were going on about you."

"What do you mean, going on about me?"

"Well..."

Hermione cut in, "You may not have noticed it, Ron, but you seem to have acquired quite the fan following since making the Quidditch team."

Ginny giggled.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, real funny, Ginny, Miss President of the Harry Potter fan club."

Ginny turned scarlet and chucked her empty Butterbeer bottle at Ron. He managed to catch before it hit him square in the face. Harry pretended not to hear what Ron had said.

"Hey," said Harry, clapping Ron on the shoulder, "at least you are guaranteed a date for the Yule Ball."

Ron didn't say anything.

"Have you thought about whom you might ask?" asked Hermione in a conversational tone, getting up from her seat and collecting empty bottles of Butterbeer.

Before Ron had a chance to answer, there was a knock at the door.

"Who is it?" asked Hermione.

"It's George."

"Come in."

George opened the door a crack and poked his head in. "Hey, I had these two Butterbeers sitting on the..." he looked at Hermione, her hands full of empty Butterbeer bottles. His eyes widened. "Um... can I take a look at those bottles?"

"I guess... I was just going to throw them away," Hermione shrugged.

George grabbed the bottles from her and started frantically turning them over, studying the labels. He loudly chucked one and then another into an empty waste paper bin beside Hermione's desk. The last two he held, one in each hand, staring in disbelief.

"Um... what's going on?" asked Ginny, picking up the forgotten punch sitting on the desk and taking a swig.

"Is something the matter, George?" asked Hermione, looking perplexed at why George Weasley would suddenly show up in the fifth year girls' dorm, obsessing over empty Butterbeer bottles.

Something suddenly dawned on Harry...

George slumped to the floor. "Oh bugger..."