Unheard Of

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Notes: Firstly, I love my beta. Secondly, I love the dorm mates. Thirdly, I apologize for this being up so late for reasons I will not name since you wouldn’t believe me. Lastly, YOU WILL NEVER KNOW WHAT DRACO SAID. BUWAHAHAHAA.
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Chapter Three: All Hallows Eve

The following day, Hogwarts students noticed a slight alteration in decor: brightly coloured posters where enchanted to hover and shout at passing students. For a purpose, of course.

After the trio passing their first poster - fluorescent pink and feminine - right in the entry of the Great Hall, Harry nearly had a conniption. "A ball?" he moaned. "But we just had one!"

"Harry, a Ball will be good for the student body with all the - stuff - that’s happening," Hermione said as they all sat down. "Besides, I’ve been looking forward to another ball!" Harry noted that she blushed slightly as she said so.

"Without Viktor Krum around, thank God," Ron muttered. Only Harry heard him.

"But I don’t want to go," Harry continued to complain. "It’s so stiff and boring and stressful and stupid."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione sighed. "Come on - it won’t be that bad. You could ask Parvati again."

"Except that she’s going out with that bloke in Ravenclaw."

"Oh - yes, that’s right. Well, what about Lavender?"

"Hermione," Ron began impatiently, "haven’t you noticed yet? Lavender’s been oogling over Seamus for the past year."

While he could concede that this was true, Harry privately thought that Seamus was rather uninterested in Lavender Brown, and really quite interested in Ginny Weasley. Ron refused to see it.

As breakfast progressed, Hermione continued to rattle off all the names of girls she knew. All of them were either taken or very nasty.

"It’s no use," Harry told her. "I’ll just have to not go."

"O-o-h, I don’t think so, Harry Potter! You’re going to the ball - just like the rest of us!" Hermione got up and tugged on his ear.

"Ow - hey!"

"Hurry up, you two - Herbology class starts in a minute!"

As they walked out, Harry could swear he felt someone staring at him. Swinging around, Harry expected to see Draco Malfoy there - but there was no one. Harry muttered something about a stupid blonde before following Ron and Hermione.

*

Presently, Ron was humming and dancing around the room. He had already asked a certain female - Ron hadn’t yet disclosed who, but Harry had a damn good idea who - to the upcoming All Hallows Eve Ball, and received a yes as a reply. In short, Ron was driving Harry mad.

After much thought, Harry had decided he just wasn’t going to go - that is, until Hermione threatened to make him The Boy Who Will Bloody Go To The Ball Or Else He Will No Longer Be The Boy Who Lived. Now Harry was stuck. He had to go to the ball…but who would he go with? Cho was crossed off the list, obviously. She was still behaving murderously. Harry shuddered at the thought. Ginny Weasley was out of the question: Harry would leave Seamus - or anyone else, for that matter - to deal with Ron. Harry settled on going to the ball alone.

"You can’t go alone, Harry!" Neville exclaimed in the Common Room that night, mortified at the thought. "Think of how embarrassing that’d be!"

"I’d rather go alone than with a First Year," Harry muttered gloomily. A nearby group of First Year girls looked rather unhappy with this proclamation. "That way I won’t have to dance with anyone. I can simply drink Butterbeer and eat," Harry continued to explain, "I’d be perfectly happy with that."

Dean shrugged from across the table they were playing Exploding Snap at. "Whatever suits you. I’m going to ask Lavender. If she says no, then I might go by myself as well."

"Please do. I think she wants me to ask her out…" Seamus made a face as he lay down a card. "She’s nice and all, but I’m not attracted to her like that. I was actually thinking of asking a certain Weasley out…" he grinned. Dean, Harry and Neville looked at Ron warily for a reaction…

…but none came. Obviously, he was distracted by a particular female who was reading in the corner, placidly stroking Crookshanks.

"Ron?" Harry asked, grinning at the other three. "What’re you doing? Ron?"

Snapping out of his reverie, Ron looked at the others, blushing to the roots of his hair. "Er - just thinking, you know."

"About who you asked to the ball, right?" Seamus teased.

Dean joined in. "Is it who I think it is?"

Even Neville didn’t want out of this brand of torture. "Could it be -"

"- Hermione?" the four boys chorused, all teasing grins. Ron was blushing so hotly that he looked like he was about to catch on fire.

"Shut up," he muttered. "Come on, let’s get back to Exploding Snap…"

"All right, lover boy," Dean grinned. They returned to their game with Ron flushing madly, and all their thoughts were on the upcoming Ball.

*

"I think it’s a splendid idea," Nearly Headless Nick exclaimed during supper. "They haven’t had a ball during October for a little less than a decade. Have you asked anyone to be your dancing partner, you three?"

Ron and Hermione blushed at the same time, shyly avoiding each other’s glance. Nearly Headless Nick got the drift. "And you, Harry?" he asked politely, hiding a smile.

"I’m just going to go alone, Nick," Harry said as he helped himself to Yorkshire pudding. "I don’t feel like going through all that nervousness and awkwardness."

"Well, I must say that is very unconventional, Harry." Nearly Headless Nick sounded disappointed. Harry merely shrugged in response.

"I really don’t feel like even going, but someone -" he shot Hermione a look, but she was too busy not looking at Ron to notice. "- is making me go."

The pearly ghost beamed at her. "Good on you, Hermione."

"Hmm? Oh - yes, of course," she said dreamily, propping up her Defence Against the Dark Arts book upside down. Harry shook his head. Hopeless.

Very suddenly, that watched feeling came over him. Slowly and uneasily, Harry looked over his shoulder…and he saw Murderous Bastard Malfoy heading straight for him.

"I forgot - I need to get something from the Common Room!" Before Hermione or Ron could say anything, Harry took off.

Running as hard as he could, Harry stopped around the first corner he turned. After he covered his mouth to conceal heavy breathing, Harry listened for footsteps. For five minutes, Harry waited. None came. Sighing in relief, Harry turned and ran smack into Draco Malfoy.

Before he could even react, Draco dragged him into the closest classroom. "Hello, Potter," Draco whispered with his mouth very close to Harry’s ear.

"What is it, Malfoy?" Harry demanded angrily. One of Draco’s arms was tightly wrapped around Harry’s waist; the other was still clutching the back of Harry’s robes. The position was quickly making him uncomfortable.

"We need to talk, but not now. Yes, we do," Draco growled, seeing Harry’s mouth open in protest. "Either we meet in Hogsmeade - next visit this Saturday - or we talk during the Ball." Harry blanched. "That’s what I thought," he smirked. "You can give me your answer by Owl for tomorrow morning." Slowly, Draco slid his arm across Harry’s waist, his fingers trailing over Harry’s robes delicately. "You have all night to think about it. Au revoir." Shoving Harry as he let go of the Gryffindor robes, Draco departed.

Harry stared after him for several moments before leaving. "I must be mental," he muttered, closing the classroom door.

*

After not much thought, Harry settled on talking to Draco during the Ball. He wanted to have a good time in Hogsmeade, and Harry was sure he wouldn’t be able to do that with Draco breathing down his neck. (Harry shivered at the thought.)

He sent a one-phrase response:

I’ll see you during the Ball.

Harry figured that would do. He set off to the Owlery where Hedwig was happy to finally be doing something. She was off with a couple treats from Harry.

When he came back, Harry found all the boys - minus Ron - sitting in a cross-legged circle in their Sixth Year dormitory. "What’re you all up to?" he asked curiously.

"Trying to figure out how Seamus should ask Ginny Weasley to the Ball," Dean answered. "It’s not going to be easy - Ron keeps hovering around her. We think Seamus should just send her an Owl."

"But I couldn’t woo her with a letter!" Seamus protested while Dean rolled his eyes and Neville shook his head. "My writing is terrible!"

"We’ve been over this about a hundred times now," Neville explained. "Seamus just won’t go for it."

"You could explain the situation to her," Harry offered. "And tell her you’ll meet her someone secret, or something. Girls seem to like getting very giggly about that."

Seamus’ eyes lit up. "Great idea! - Any of you have some parchment?"

The other three rolled their eyes simultaneously as Ron came in the room.

"What’re you guys doing?" Ron frowned.

Dean raised an inquiring eyebrow. "I think we should be asking you that, dear Ron -"

"- as we haven’t seen you -" Seamus added.

"- or Hermione -" Neville interjected.

"- the entire evening," Dean finished, watching Ron turn a fire-engine red.

"I’m going to bed," Ron muttered at the four grinning faces. They all went to bed, shooting candid remarks - and various objects - in Ron’s direction. Harry grinned as his head hit the pillow, glad to have these four boys as his roommates.

*

Harry was quite happy to go to Hogsmeade on the 21st with all the rubbish that was going on. The piles of homework were beginning to get to him. Harry thought it was a well-deserved day off.

"I’m ready to go down quite a number of Butterbeers," Ron announced and Hermione instantly tut-tutted him.

"We still have homework to do tomorrow," she pointed out, "so you had better not get too smashed."

Ron looked at her, obviously puzzled. "Smashed?"

"You know - drunk. It’s a phrase my Muggle friends use."

"You have Muggle friends?" Ron asked in bewilderment.

"Of course I do!" Hermione snapped. "What - you don’t think I can handle a life outside of Hogwarts and you two?"

"Er, well -"

Harry desperately searched the crowds for anyone he knew, so he could escape before Hell froze over. Luckily, he spotted Ginny with a couple of her friends. Without bothering to interrupt Ron and Hermione’s argument, Harry rushed over to them with a question in mind.

"Hi, Ginny - I wanted to ask you about something," he said, leaning against the wall of the Three Broomsticks. "About Seamus," he added.

Ginny blushed suitably. "Er - okay."

"Did you get his letter?"

Ginny stared. "He sent me a letter? I wouldn’t know - Ron’s been acting very weird lately, and he won’t let me look at my post unless he reads it first."

Harry blanched. Seamus had been right! "Oh - well, you probably didn’t get his letter because of that, then. Listen, Seamus really likes you -" (Ginny was a nice shade of scarlet now.) "- and wants to go to the ball with you. Since Ron’s acting like a mother hen, Seamus figured you two would have to meet somewhere - in secret, you know."

Ginny gasped and her two friends squealed suitably. Harry sighed. Typical.

"W-Where does he want to meet?" Ginny asked, still blushing.

"If I remember correctly, it’s in Zonko’s Joke Shop - at the end of the Filibuster’s Joke Toys aisle. Today, of course -" (The two girls squealed as Ginny gasped again.) "- at about two-thirty." Harry looked at his watch. "That gives you about an hour."

Ginny smiled through her blushes. "Thanks for telling me, Harry - I’ve been looking forward to going to the Ball this year…"

"I know," Harry grinned. "See you later!" he called as he walked back to Ron and Hermione.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked.

Uh-oh, Harry thought, you’d better think of something. Fast.

"Er - I just wanted to talk to someone while you two were - busy - that’s all." Harry could see that they had, in fact, made up in the time he had been talking to Ginny. One of Hermione’s newest fads was wearing a pink-tinted lip gloss, which Harry could see glinting on Ron’s cheeks.

"C’mon, let’s go in Three Broomsticks," Ron said gruffly. "I’m dying for some Butterbeer."

Hermione nodded, a soft pink tingeing her cheeks. Harry grinned at the pair of them and walked in the Three Broomsticks.

They were immediately greeted by a cherry Madam Rosmerta who pointed to an empty table in the corner. "Be with you in a minute, my dears," she said, smiling warmly, carrying four Butterbeers.

There was a Daily Prophet laying in the middle of the table. Automatically, Hermione picked it up and read the front page. She tsk-tsked, and shook her head. "He was being stupid!" she muttered. "Look at this, you two" Hermione lay the paper on the table so Ron and Harry could read it. A large picture of Cornelius Fudge was beside the column.

MINISTER OF MAGIC SACKED
Cornelius Fudge, the former Minister of Magic, was kicked out of office in an almost unanimous vote.
"He was acting very foolishly," Arthur Weasley, from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, commented early this morning. "Fudge refused point-blank to admit He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was regaining power. We had to do something."
Other wizards do not agree with Mr. Weasley’s crowd. A certain wizard, who wishes to remain unnamed, comments that "Fudge was behaving how anyone might act in this situation" and that "Weasley has no idea what he’s talking about."
A vote for the new Minister of Magic will take place on November 9th.

Ron looked at them both. "Dad’s thinking of running for Minister of Magic. He said so this summer," he reported quietly. "I think he’s got a good chance at it."

Nodding, Hermione added that she would much rather have Mr. Weasley as a Minister of Magic. "Right, Harry?"

Harry assented absentmindedly, watching Madam Rosmerta. She was heading towards them with the Butterbeers she anticipated they would want. "There you go, kids. Anything else you’d want?"

The trio shook their heads. "No thanks, Ms. Rosmerta," Hermione said, smiling. "Thank you for the Butterbeers."

"You’re welcome," Rosmerta smiled in return, her heels clicking as she turned to the table behind them. Harry watched her long after she gave them Butterbeers. He got up to go to the bathroom, and had almost made it when suddenly, a voice very close to his ear said, "I’ll bet you’d like a bit of that, wouldn’t you, Potter?"

Whirling around, Harry exclaimed, "You! What do you want?"

"I just want to make sure, Potter, that you don’t bite off more than you can chew," Draco said airily, shrugging his shoulders with a trace of a grin. He ran a hand over his hair and suavely tucked a stray into place. "I also came over because those two -" he waved a hand towards Crabbe and Goyle "- are far too dull for my tastes. I just wanted to indulge in a little repartee from my favourite Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes. "As far as I know, I’m the only Potter you know."

Smirking, Draco remarked that that was the exact reason why Harry was his favourite. "Besides," he added, "I thought we’d chosen this time to talk."

"Malfoy," Harry exclaimed in exasperation, "didn’t you get my letter? I said I’d talk to you at the Ball, not here!"

"Oh, yes, that’s right…well, I still want to talk to you here. Come on." With that, Draco grabbed Harry’s sweatshirt and began tugging him out the back door.

"Hey! Where are we going? Malfoy, I’m here with my friends, you know!" Harry hissed, pushing away from him.

"I know that!" Draco snapped. "They’re a little busy snogging right now, so they won’t notice you’re gone."

Harry’s jaw dropped. "Again? Honestly! I wonder if it was a good idea for those two to get together…"

"Of course it was," Draco barked. "Now come on. I want to talk. Now." He gave a huge pull on Harry’s sweater which elicited a large ripping sound.

"You stupid prat! This was my favourite sweater!" Harry shouted, fingering the rip in the shoulder.

"I don’t care!" Draco snarled. "You can fix it later! Come on!"

"I’m not talking to you! Goodbye!" Harry yelled, racing back into the Three Broomsticks. He didn’t realize Draco just stayed there, and something remarkably like angry tears slid down his face.

"Fuck you, Potter. I promise you’ll regret that." Draco stormed over to a crowd of surprised Third Years and made an startling announcement…

*

"Don’t forget, the Ball is this Thursday! The 31st!" A poster hollered at the Trio.

"Shut up!" Ron yelled back in annoyance "Honestly, those stupid blithers. It’s Tuesday already."

Harry nodded absently. He was still thinking about seeing Draco in Hogsmeade…

"Harry! Honestly, pay attention, will you?"

Looking up, Harry suddenly realized he was about to pour milk on his sausages. "Oops." He quickly directed the milk into his glass instead.

After she put down her fork, Hermione leaned across the table to Harry. "You’re not still thinking about what Malfoy said in the library the other day, are you?"

His cheeks flushing, Harry exclaimed that he wasn’t, that he had resolved not to think about that ever again, and furthermore -

"All right, all right," Hermione said hastily. "I’m sorry I brought it up. You just look preoccupied, that’s all. Right, Ron?"

Ron nodded as he chewed. "Yeah, you do look a bit out of it today, mate. Maybe it’s just the weather," he shrugged, referring to the recent torrential rain. "It’s been rubbish lately." Suddenly, Ron was looking a bit uncomfortable. "Hey - Hermione? Can I - talk to you about something?" Ron had graduated from blushing to the roots of his hair; he was now an expert at going red all the way past his neck.

Blushing almost as madly as Ron, Hermione nodded. "Oh - yes, of course." She looked anxiously at Harry, who immediately got the message.

"I need to talk to Seamus about something. Talk to you two in History of Magic." Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and walked to where Seamus and Dean were talking.

*

It was the evening of the 31st. The Sixth Year boy’s dormitory was in an uproar. Clothes were flying everywhere and accusations were being made.

"You met Ginny in secret?!" Ron hollered at Seamus, who winced upon voice impact. "You’re going to the ball with her?"

"Calm down, Ron!" Harry shouted. "Ginny wants to go with him! Honestly, will you please behave like you’re going out with the most intelligent girl in school?!"

Ron’s eyes seemed to glaze over with that comment. He immediately quieted down and began sliding his new dark blue dress robes on.

"Well, now we know what to do when Ron’s acting mental," Dean commented, pulling on his scarlet robes. "Just talk about Hermione." He grinned.

Harry looked down at his own robes which were a bright emerald green - the colour Mrs. Weasley insisted looked best on him. "It brings out the colour in your eyes, dear." Harry could remember her smiling warmly at him whenever she said this. His mother’s eyes…

It took the boys a few more moments to be fully satisfied with their apparel. (This process involved throwing random things at Neville and Seamus, who had somehow purchased nearly the same, sky blue dress robes.)

"Ready, men?" Seamus asked, wary of Ron’s rejuvenated glare.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Let’s just get out of here." Harry couldn’t have agreed more. As they descended the staircase, however, Harry felt a little envious of Ron and Seamus: Hermione and Ginny looked very pretty. Hermione was dressed in elegant blue dress robes and her hair was expertly styled - Harry guessed with more of Sleakeazy. Ginny had opted for soft mauve dress robes which complemented nicely with Seamus’ outfit. Her hair was up in a complicated-looking bun.

Harry was suddenly wishing he’d asked Lavender to the Ball.

…And he immediately brushed off that wish. He had to talk to Draco at the Ball; he couldn’t have brought anyone with him. Sighing, Harry trudged out of the portrait hole and made his way to the Great Hall.

On his way down, Harry noticed that the people he passed seemed to be whispering and pointing at him. He tried to shrug it off; it was probably just his imagination. But they all seemed to stop talking when he passed…or start talking.

By the time he had gotten downstairs, however, Harry was positive: people stopped talking normally and began to whisper behind their hands when he approached. The first thing Harry did when he entered the Great Hall - now converted into a Dance Hall - was look for Draco Malfoy. He strode in and out of the dancing crowd, looking at the startled couples.

Suddenly, a thought struck him - why should he look for Draco? It was Draco, after all, that wanted to talk to him. Harry couldn’t care less. He could ignore stares; he was used to them. Thinking thus, Harry plopped himself in one of the large, squashy purple chairs around the walls the Great Hall was now equipped with. He waited.

While he was waiting for Draco to appear, Harry observed who came in and out of the Ball. He noted several couples seemed to be sneaking off somewhere to snog. Shaking his head, Harry tut-tutted and thought himself to sound remarkably like Hermione. Some of them looked far too young to be doing things like that, for his taste. A number of girls - and some boys as well - approached Harry for a dance. He said yes to an elegant Fourth Year girl and a pretty Fifth Year boy that Harry had thought was a girl. The boy had turned out to be quite the dancer.

Harry looked at his watch. Currently, it was a quarter past ten. He’d been here for an hour and fifteen minutes, and yet there was no sign of Malfoy. He was beginning to get very cross.

"Stupid git. Why isn’t he here? He’s supposed to be here. And will you quit staring at me?!" he yelled at some Third Years, causing them to scatter. "Honestly, some people," Harry muttered, slinging one leg over the chair’s arm.

"I know what you mean."

After rolling his eyes, Harry turned around. "Are you ever going to stop sneaking up behind me? It’s beginning to get really annoying."

Smirking, Draco shook his head. "No, I don’t believe I will. Now then -" he crossed his arms and leaned on the back of the chair "- have you noticed how people are acting towards you? Rather - funny, wouldn’t you say?"

Harry jumped up and glared at Draco. "You’ve spread another rumor about me, haven’t you?"

Draco shrugged. "Maybe I have." A shadow of a smile flitted across his lips. "Would you like to know what it is? I’ll give you a hint: It has to do with why five boys actually got the nerve to ask you to dance."

His eyes widened. "You…you’ve told someone I’m gay."

Draco smiled again.

*

Harry came into the waking world by the means of someone viciously biting his ear. "Ow! - Quit it, will you - Hedwig!"

Indeed, the beautiful snowy owl had been chewing on his ear in an effort to wake him. "Gah - Hedwig, it’s only six in the morning - all right, all right, be quiet - you’ll wake the others," Harry muttered, sounding as irritable as Hedwig felt.

Harry plunged his hand into the drawer of his beside table. After a moment’s search, Harry retrieved several owl treats. He held his hand out for Hedwig. "Here - can I have my letter now?" he asked politely. Hedwig hooted through a beakful of treats and stuck her leg out to him.

Delicately and slowly untying the letter, Harry got a glimpse of unfamiliar writing. He tore it open.

Potter:

I know you’re mad at me, but I could care less. You’ll find out how true the rumor really is soon enough. Besides, you might not be gay - just bisexual.

This is probably the part where I’m supposed to apologize: however, I really don’t feel like it. Should you think I owe you an apology, content yourself with pretending I’ve just apologized, and leave it at that.

I hope you’ve remembered all this, because the letter’s going to disappear or something as soon as you finish reading my name.

Draco Malfoy

BANG.

"What the hell was that?!" A sleepy, irritated Seamus exclaimed loudly.

Indeed, Draco was true to his word: Harry’s letter had exploded.

Harry sat stunned on his bed with scorch marks his sheets. "My letter…it…exploded…" he said dazedly.

"Who would send you a letter so bloody early?" Ron groaned, turning on his side to look at Harry.

"I don’t know who sent it; there wasn’t a signature," Harry lied.

Seamus’ eyes clouded over. "That’s probably why the letter blew up, then. Maybe someone’s trying to do you in - an amateur Death Eater or something."

Nodding, Harry encouraged it. "Yeah, just - uh - don’t tell anyone, okay, guys?"

They all assented. Neville had woken up; he was staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at Harry. "Wow, Harry…You’re always in danger!"

Harry was silent. He had, indeed, been furious with Draco the previous night. After all, who wouldn’t be? Rumors that he, Harry Potter, was gay! Harry snorted. Or bisexual? How false could you get? Harry was normal. Perfectly normal. For a fifteen-going-onto-sixteen year old boy. With a scar on his forehead. Who had been able to escape - if not almost defeat - the Dark Lord twice. Or was it three times? Did that time with the Basilisk count? Let’s not forget he’s the only survivor of the Killing Curse, Avada Kedavra…

After much thought, Harry concluded that he really wasn’t very normal. Quite suddenly, Harry found himself uneasily questioning things he’d never thought of before…