Harry Potter and the Goblet of Love

Professor Snape stormed furiously down the hall toward the Headmaster's office, black robes flaring out behind him like an ominous cloud warning anyone who got too close.

What a bloody stupid time to schedule a teacher's meeting, he thought furiously as he reached the stone gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's lair.

"Butterscotch lime," Snape spat at the statue.

The gargoyle leapt out of the way and allowed the Potions Master access to the rising staircase. Once he reached the top, he rapped angrily on the large oak door. The door opened to reveal Professor McGonagall standing in the frame, looking a bit perturbed at his louder than necessary knock. The rest of the teaching staff could be seen standing behind her.

"Severus," she said, a bit coldly. "How nice of you to join us."

The sneer that was ever present on his face did not falter as he stepped past her into Dumbledore's office. The rest of the teachers were already gathered around Dumbledore's large desk, with the exception of the Headmaster himself. The seemed to share the same disgust at Snape's rudeness as he had for being at the meeting. The only difference was, Snape voiced his thoughts.

"Would anyone care to tell me why we're here?" he snapped.

"I believe I would carry that responsibility, Severus," came an elderly voice from the back of the office.

Dumbledore appeared, walking toward them and beaming at all the teachers. He sat down in the high-backed chair behind his desk, and placed his hands on his desk.

"I am sure you are all wondering why I have called you here this evening," he began. "Well, I will keep you waiting no longer. This is a dreary time for the wizarding world, as Voldemort is still at large and more powerful than ever. Therefore, I believe we need something a bit more cheerful to occur here at Hogwarts. In addition to the ongoing battle against Voldemort, it is my opinion that some of them are still fighting another battle-a battle within themselves."

By now, Dumbledore had the entire group of teachers looking completely baffled. He simply smiled in return.

"Allow me to elaborate," he continued. "I recently received an owl from my good friend Harry Houdini, one of the finest wizards on earth. He has recently discovered what he calls the 'Goblet of Love'."

"I don't like where this is going," Snape muttered under his breath.

"What is it, you ask?" Dumbledore went on. "Well, it works much like the Goblet of Fire. We will have every student in the school write their name on a slip of paper and place it into the goblet. Once everyone has placed their names in, I will speak an incantation, and the goblet will determine the soul mate of each student based on their personalities. It has been charmed to then send the slip of paper with the name of each person's soulmate too that person on the night of February 13, after everyone has gone to bed. Then, on Valentine's Day, everyone will awake to find their soul mate's name by there bedside. And of course, we will have the Valentine's Day Ball that evening."

When he finished his explanation, the Headmaster looked around and received mixed expressions from his colleagues. Professor McGonagall was rubbing her chin in thought, Professor Flitwick appeared a bit disbelieving, but Professor Sinistra seemed intrigued by the idea. Snape, as always, appeared repulsed.

"Why would we want to do this, Headmaster?" he asked with a disgusted tone, yet still trying to act respectful.

"For the students, Severus," replied Dumbledore. "They deserve a little contentment in their lives, a little bit of Love, as Valentine's Day suggests."

"Well, I think it's a splendid idea," chirped Professor Sinistra, ever the optimistic.

Snape shot here a scathing look. He detested the Astronomy teacher more than any other, often sarcastically calling her "the bloody Astrology nut". She simply returned his glare with one of her own, which happened to be equally unnerving.

"I'm glad you approve, Agatha," said Dumbledore. "Does anyone else have any inquiries, quibbles, or quarries?"

None of the professors spoke anything more, though Snape still appeared as though he'd swallowed a hinkypunk whole.

"Well, then," said Dumbledore. "I'll ask for approval by voice of vote. All in favor say 'fiddledeedee!'"

Eleven voices sounded out in approval; it was without question the identity of the twelfth one who did not. Snape had his arms crossed and sneered at all of them.

"C'mon, Professor," said Hagrid. "Have a heart."

"Really, Severus," said Professor Sprout. "Don't be such a party-pooper."

He hissed at both of them.

"Fine!" he snapped. "Go ahead and do the stupid goblet! But I will have no part in it!"

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Dumbledore smiled. "Because your name is already in the goblet."

Snape gaped at him with a mixture of shock and horror, but before he could say anything, Dumbledore addressed the other professors.

"So it's settled then. I will make the announcement at breakfast tomorrow, and we will set up the goblet before dinner. It will be open to all students, and they will know the results by Valentine's Day."

Dumbledore stood and beamed at all of them.

"Thank you for your time, everyone. Good night."

Sunlight steadily streamed into the east windows of Gryffindor Tower as dawn graced the countryside. The streams of golden sunshine crept across the hardwood floor of the dormitories, past the four-posters and eased up the leg of the small, cluttered desk in the corner of the room. Finally, it settled of the sleeping form of a skinny teenage boy with messier-than-usual black hair, and round glasses.

Harry Potter slept atop a disorderly pile of parchment left over from a late-night homework assignment. He had completed around midnight with a powerful yawn, but had never made it to the bed and had fallen asleep atop the desk. Now, as sunlight streamed across his face, he squinted and his eyes eased open, adjusting to the light. It took a moment for him to register exactly where he was, but he finally sat up and wiped the sleep out of his eyes.

Glancing around the room, he saw that his roommates were still asleep, and checked his watch. It was a quarter past seven; class started in an hour and fifteen minutes. He groaned at the thought of double Potions and History of Magic that he would have that day. As a matter of fact, it was an essay for Snape that had kept him up late. Perhaps he should start listening to Hermione a bit more about not putting off his homework until the last minute. He was often reluctant to admit that Hermione had been right about something, but it seemed to be happening more and more often. Lately, he had found himself to be more subject to do what she told him to, almost as if she had him mesmerized. The truth was, he was mesmerized, no dazzled by Hermione Granger. It had happened to so suddenly...

It had been a dreary afternoon. The Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw had been cancelled due to torrential rain and wind. Prior to the last stormy game, nothing stood in the way of Quidditch. But after Augustine Phillips had received a concussion after being blown of his broom, Dumbledore had declared a weather restriction on Quidditch. And this weather fell under it.

But more to the point, Harry had been very distressed at the news. With nothing else to do, he had tried to contend himself by playing a game of chess with Ron, who too was feeling depressed. His best friend was playing so absentmindedly that Harry was actually winning, although the entire game had been rather dull.

That's when Hermione had walked in, coming in after a late study session in the library. At first, neither of the boys noticed her arrival, but then she spoke.

"Hi, guys, still glum over the match?" she said, in a much better mood than theirs.

Harry nodded.

"Yeah, well-"

He stopped short. That moment felt like a freeze-frame in time, for when he looked up at her he felt the air sucked from him like a vacuum. For whatever reason, Hermione Granger no longer appeared to him as a bossy, bushy-haired, bookworm; she was a woman. It appeared as though those hair-styling spells she'd been using from Witch Weekly were finally paying off. Gone were the messy mounds of brown hair that normally complemented her brilliant mind. They had been replaced by beautiful curls of chestnut brown cascading down around her beautiful face, which had become more stunning since Lavender had shown her how to apply make-up. And her body, oh, where did he begin? All he could say is that it was enchanting. A summer of tennis training (a game Ron was still trying to figure out) with her aunt, Maria Sharapova, had taken its toll. She was fit and lean, having an athletic form that Harry admired in women, which included a great pair of legs that made him go weak at the knees. In addition, she had gained a rather generous set of-assets-which had caught the attention of more than one boy since she had returned to school. And it certainly didn't help that she had a thin white shirt stretched tightly over her endowments, in addition to a short blue skirt and black high-heels.

Ron's hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.

"Mate, you still with us?"

"Sorry, what?" Harry said, trying to keep his composure in front of Hermione.

"I asked you how you were feeling about them game," she replied, a concerned look on her face.

"Oh, yeah," he said calmly. "I'm bummed out."

She smiled that famous smile that was now making Harry's stomach churn.

"Don't worry, you two. It'll be all right. Want to go for a walk?"

"Sure," Ron said dully. He seemed unfazed by Hermione.

Harry reluctantly agreed; he didn't know if he'd be able to think straight next to this new-sexy Hermione that had suddenly grabbed every ounce of his attention...

It wasn't until then that Harry realized he was in love with her. Looking back on it, he knew that he had loved her all along, since she had walked into the Great Hall after being revived in second year. But, somehow, seeing her looking so beautiful had triggered something inside him that had opened his eyes to the truth.

The only problem was, he knew it could never be. He knew Hermione loved him; she had said so herself. However, it was a "best friend" type of love. A "we've been through a lot together" type of love. She was in no sense "in love" with him, like he was with her. Besides, he would not allow her to be put in danger by having a relationship with him. If they were to become a couple, she would be Voldemort's primary target to get to him. He could not have that on his conscious.

So he had tried in vain to push her out of his mind, to fight back his feelings for Hermione, but they were too strong for him, and he often felt himself daydreaming about her. This only made matters worse by making Snape deduct points from Gryffindor for his inattentiveness. Harry felt like he was in a hopeless situation. Little did he know, his hopes and dreams were soon to be realized.