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"So Romilda and Daphne are already taken," Ron groaned, sinking into the chair opposite of Harry and Hermione.
"You realise this is a library, not a place of gossip, right?" Hermione replied, scratching away at a piece of parchment. Ron shrugged.
"How d'ya even know this?" Harry asked, "I never thought you to be the center of Hogwarts gossip."
"Lavender," Ron replied.
"Oh," Harry said. The Yule Ball was undoubtedly one of the most talked about events for as long as he could remember, and the rumors of who was going with whom were swirling around. He was slightly worried at the rate that people seemed to be finding partners -- at this rate, he'd have no one left to go with, and, being a champion, it'd be a much larger issue for him than for Ron.
An exasperated sigh came somewhere from his left.
"Oh, honestly! Professor McGonagall announced the ball yesterday. You have two weeks to find a partner. Plus, there's students from Drumstrang and Beauxbatons. And finally, Harry, you're a champion, you'll have no problem finding a partner," Hermione said, and turned back to her work.
"Well, I suppose I should start looking before all the good looking ones are taken," Ron said, getting up from his seat. Hermione shot him a dark look, but he had already departed.
Harry stared into the distance. He knew, deep down, who he wanted to go with. The person who had helped him since they met, the person who had been the most loyal and caring friend, the person who had stood by his side even when the entire school hated him . . . the person who was sitting just an arm's length to his left.
What would that mean, though? Would she think he meant it just as friends, or more? He didn't want to risk complicating their friendship. But she would understand, right? She always did, sometimes so well that he thought she was reading his mind. His mind dissolved into a pool of possibilities, trying to predict that would happen.
Footsteps in the shelves snapped Harry back to reality.
He was a Gryffindor. He could summon the courage to ask. He ran through the words in his mind several times, feeling out the motion of them Hermione, would you like to go to the ball with me?. Deep breath. Deep breath.
"Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Hmm?" she said. After a beat, she put her quill down and looked up.
"Er -- I was just wondering if," Harry began, when suddenly, the towering figure of Viktor Krum materialised across from them. Harry's brain spun into overdrive -- he certainly couldn't ask in front of the international Quidditch player and champion -- he'd have to ask later.
"I was just wondering . . . what you wanted for Christmas," Harry finished lamely. Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Really, Harry, you looked like you were asking the hardest question in your life. You know you can get me anything you want," Hermione replied.
"Excuse me," Krum said. Their eyes shot toward him, but Harry noticed he was looking at Hermione.
"Hello Herm-oh-ninny, I vus vondering if you vud . . . like to be my partner for the Yule Ball," Krum said. Harry breathed in sharply as he watched Hermione, who shot a quick look at him before looking back to Krum.
"Oh -- yes, of course!" Hermione said, in a most un-Hermione like squeal. Harry's head spun, and he suddenly felt light-headed. Did she like Krum? Was he nothing but another amateur Quidditch player to her? His wildest dreams of Hermione and him, together, in school and beyond, completely destroyed by Viktor Krum . . . .
Harry took several deep breaths. He knew he was overreacting. He had no say over who Hermione liked or didn't like, and he needed to stand by her decisions the same way she stood by his. He sighed again, and got up to pack; he didn't think he could stand being in their presence for longer.
"So, vot is Christmas?" Krum asked as Harry left the area. He gritted his teeth. He resolved to get Hermione the best Christmas gift that she'd ever have, something that would blow whatever Krum may get out of the water.
A week later, Harry had made little progress. He stared at the ceiling of his four-poster bed, gritting his teeth. Christmas was only a week away, and he was empty handed. Whatever he got, it had to be better than Krum's -- or as he'd called him now -- He Who Should Not Be Mentioned. It wasn't like the Wronski feint was that hard, Harry was sure he could do it with enough practice . . . he shook his head, Wronski feints wouldn't help him here.
Hermione loved books, of course, but that worked against him, as he was sure she'd already have every book she wanted. But wait -- a memory struck him -- hadn't Griphook mentioned something during his initial visit to his family vault? Among the sprawling mountains of gold and silver, Griphook had pointed out a copy of Hogwarts: A History, signed by the one and only Bathilda Bagshot. Harry jolted upright immediately. Hermione would surely appreciate that. He made a quick mental note to send an owl to inquire later. Pleased with his work, he rolled out of bed and headed for some breakfast.
"Hiya," Harry said to Ron as he sat down next to him.
"ell-oh," Ron replied, his mouth full.
"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked as he spooned food into his plate.
"Class," Ron replied, having swallowed his food. "You alright mate? You came down late." Looking around, Harry realised most of the Hall was already finished with breakfast.
"Just a bit tired," Harry said, and began eating fast to make up for lost time. A piece of parchment caught his eye. A copy of the Daily Prophet lay open across the table.
Need the perfect gift for her? Try Sleekeazy's newest hair potion, guaranteed to work, or your money back. Give the perfect person the perfect gift for Christmas! Start the New Year off sleek and shiny.
Harry snorted. Hermione definitely wouldn't want something like this. He pushed the paper away when he saw He Who Should Not Be Mentioned filling out the same form at the next table.
Harry gritted his teeth. Two can play at this game, he thought grimly, grabbing a quill from his bag. Finishing his breakfast, he ripped out the advert and headed to the Owlery.
Several flights of steps later, Harry heaved open the door of the Owlery. He wasn't sure why he'd rushed all the way up here, it wasn't as if the gifts would be delivered earlier.
"Oh, Hi Harry!" Ginny said.
"Wha -- oh hey," Harry replied.
"Christmas orders?" Ginny asked knowingly, nodding at the parchment within his hand.
"Yeah," Harry replied.
"Same," Ginny said, nodding. Then a thought struck him -- Ginny was close to Hermione. She probably had some idea what Hermione would like as a gift. But he couldn't just outright ask her, that would raise some eyebrows. He'd have to be subtle.
"What're you hoping for Christmas?" he asked.
"A ton of things -- but mostly, a new broomstick. Mum keeps saying no," Ginny said, sighing.
A broom. Flying. Something Hermione also definitely wouldn't like. But he was going up against an international Quidditch player -- brooms would be right up his alley. Harry had no choice -- he'd also gift a broom just in case. Nothing too flashy, just a basic one for beginners and practice. Maybe Hermione would learn to love flying after all. He began writing out his three pieces of mail. Hopefully, he thought, she'd like at least one gift.
Harry awoke on the Christmas with a cold sweat. He'd dreamed that Hermione hadn't gotten any of his presents and had stopped talking to him. He took several deep breaths to calm down, then began working through the pile at the foot of his bed.
"Decent haul this year," Ron's muffled voice said.
"Yeah," Harry replied. But his mind was more concerned with the presents at Hermione's bed than at his own. Itching to find out how what she thought of his gifts, he headed to the common room, but she was nowhere to be seen.
"Hey -- wait up," Ron called from the staircase. "I'm not even that hungry yet." Harry shrugged, but waited for Ron to enter the Great Hall.
"Where's Hermione?" Ron asked halfway through breakfast.
"Oh, she's just taking her time with her presents -- she had a huuuuge pile this year," Ginny replied. Harry's heart beat into overdrive. Had He Who Should Not Be Mentioned sent a mountain of presents? Was his trifecta not enough? He flicked his eyes toward the staircase, but Hermione never came down.
Taking Ginny's word that Hermione was fine, he went with Ron to some snowball fighting during the day. Eventually, it was time for them to get ready for the ball -- and they still hadn't seen Hermione.
Hours later, Harry stood self-consciously in his emerald robes with Parvati Patel at his side and Ron at his other. The ball room was majestic -- but while other students were gaping at the decorations, his eyes were darting around, searching for some sign of Hermione. Pair after pair of students entered through the doors, until, finally, He Who Should Not Be Mentioned arrived, with Hermione by his side.
Their eyes locked immediately as if some magnetic force had pulled them together. Her eyes sparkled brighter than any light in the hall, glowing with a radiance he hadn't noticed before. She gave a small smile in recognition and he felt his heart flutter. Her hair was shiny and sleek, he realised with a jolt. Her blue dress flowed smoothly around her. She walked out of sight and he released a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Champions, to the floor please!" Professor McGonagall called from the front. He felt Parvati nudge him toward the dance floor and they began to dance to the music. Focusing on what he'd practiced, the minutes started to blur together. Other students had joined on the floor as he continued to twist and twirl with Parvati. He had to admit, dancing was more enjoyable than he'd believed it could be. It was Parvati, not him, who stopped for a rest. He took a drink, talked with Ron, hit the dance floor again, paused for another break, enjoying himself all the while but always looking for one particular brown haired girl.
The night was coming to an end, Harry observed as he sat on the sidelines once again. Students were trickling out of the hall, some into the bushes, giggling and laughing all the while. The music had slowed and the floor was emptying.
"Would you like to dance?" A familiar voice said. Harry smiled, grabbing Hermione's hand and dragging her to the floor.
A slow waltz had come on. They moved in sync, as if they were one. Harry's eyes gazed into Hermione's, and she his, as they swam through the waves of the music.
"How has your Christmas been?" Harry asked.
"Amazing. Yours?" Hermione replied.
"The same," he said.
After a beat, Harry finally asked the question burning in his mind.
"How were your presents?" he said.
"Fine," she said.
"What did He Who -- er, Krum get you?" he asked, nearly tripping.
"Oh, Harry," she said. She locked eyes and he felt as if he was being X-rayed.
"Were you afraid Krum would give a better gift than you?"
She twirled around once. He couldn't help but notice the way her hair flowed around her.
"Is that why you sent all those gifts?"
His eyes said the answer.
"Well you didn't send the right thing"
His heart fell.
"Because all I want for Christmas..."
She pulled him close, her chocolate eyes shining with emotion.
"Is you."
Their lips met for a brief eternity before they broke apart. The music had faded and a small crowd had gathered around, but Harry paid them no mind. With Hermione's hand in hand, they walked off out of the hall, goofy grins spreading across their faces. It was, a merry Christmas.