Chapter Text
Hogwarts rose from the white landscape, surrounded by thick layers of undisturbed snow. For the Yule Ball, the castle lights seemed to burn brighter than ever, casting a warm golden glow against the winter night. Giant carriages lined the path for the visitors, while students streamed through the entrance, a parade of colorful silk and dress robes.
Inside, the Great Hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland. The walls shimmered with sparkling silver frost, and hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossed the black, star filled ceiling. It looked like a palace made of ice, a perfect, glittering backdrop for the end of a difficult task.
The Great Hall was buzzing with the music of the Weird Sisters. The crowd was alive with a sea of students letting loose, free for once from danger and pressure. Harry sat slumped in his seat, his eyes glued to the one couple he wished he wasn’t watching. He had gone numb to the surroundings and people on the floor, his expression neutral from outside.
Cho was laughing at something Cedric had said, the sight causing Harry to want to disappear right through the floor. Beside him, Harry was sure Ron was having a similar experience based on the expression on his face. He looked prickly and for some reason miserable, a mood that had already driven his date away.
Hermione came over and sat down in Parvati's empty chair. She was a bit pink in the face from dancing.
"Hi," said Harry. Ron didn't say anything.
"It's hot, isn't it?" said Hermione, fanning herself with her hand. "Viktors just gone to get some drinks."
Ron gave her a withering look. "Viktor?" he said. "Hasn't he asked you to call him Vicky yet?"
Hermione looked at him in surprise. "What's up with you?" she said.
"If you don't know," said Ron scathingly, "I'm not going to tell you."
Hermione stared at him, then at Harry, who merely shrugged, staring down at his untouched butterbeer.
"Ron, what are you saying?"
"He's from Durmstrang!" spat Ron. "He's competing against Harry! Against Hogwarts! You...you're ....." Ron was obviously casting around for words strong enough to describe Hermione's crime. "Fraternizing with the enemy, that's what you're doing!"
Hermione's mouth fell open. "Don't be so stupid!" she said, her voice rising over the music. "The enemy! Honestly, who was the one who was all excited when they saw him arrive? Who was the one who wanted his autograph?"
Ron chose to ignore this. "I s'pose he asked you to come with him while you were both in the library?"
"Yes, he did," said Hermione, the pink patches on her cheeks glowing brighter, turning from flushed to angry. "So what?"
"He's after information, Hermione!" Ron cried, leaning across the table. "He's trying to get to Harry through you!"
Hermione looked at Harry then, her eyes wide and searching. She was waiting for him to laugh, to tell Ron he was being ridiculous. But Harry just felt tired. The noise of the Weird Sisters was giving him a headache, and the image of Cho laughing was still burned behind his eyelids.
He didn't defend her. He just sat there, feeling like he was watching a play from a great distance.
"He's not," Hermione said, her voice trembling now.
"He is!" Ron shouted, his voice cutting through the nearby conversations. "He's a rival, Hermione! You're supposed to be on our side!"
Hermione stood up abruptly, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Her eyes were swimming with angry tears. She looked at Harry one last time, waiting for him to say something, anything to stop this. But Harry just stared at the table, wishing they would dismiss his presence.
That was the breaking point. She turned her fury back on Ron.
"If you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you, Ron?" she yelled.
"Oh yeah?" Ron yelled back, standing up to face her. "What's that?"
"Next time there's a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!"
She cast a fleeting, unreadable look at Harry.
She didn't wait for an answer. She spun around, her periwinkle robes flaring, and stormed off into the crowd, disappearing into the sea of students.
Ron stood there, mouthing soundlessly like a goldfish, his face bright red. He turned to Harry, looking for validation. "Well," he sputtered, looking entirely unconvinced. "That just proves...completely missed the point. She has gone mental, that one."
Harry didn't answer. He didn't feel like agreeing, but he didn't have the energy to argue either. The headache was pounding behind his eyes now, and the music felt like noise.
Harry stood up, desperate to escape the noise and Ron’s muttering, but a shadow fell over their table.
"Harry," said a voice.
It was Cedric Diggory. Of course it was. He looked maddeningly composed, his dress robes perfectly straight despite hours of dancing. But Harry’s eyes drifted instantly to the girl standing beside him.
Cho looked breathtaking. Her silver robes shimmered like moonlight under the enchanted ceiling, and her dark hair was pinned back in a way that made her look elegant and older. She was so beautiful it actually hurt to look at her.
"Listen," Cedric was saying, leaning in closer so the people at the next table wouldn’t hear. "I owe you one for the dragons. About the Golden Egg... take a bath with it."
Harry blinked. "A bath?"
The word came out flat, confused. His brain felt like it was moving through treacle.
"Prefects bathroom. Fourth floor," Cedric said, leaning closer. "Trust me. Use the password 'Pine Fresh.'"
Harry nodded. The words slid past him like water off glass. Password. Fourth floor. Right.
But he wasn't really listening.
His eyes had already drifted past Cedric's shoulder to Cho. The enchanted ceiling cast shifting starlight across her face, catching on the silver embroidery of her robes. She looked like something out of a dream.
He couldn't stop staring. Couldn't stop imagining what it would feel like to be the one standing next to her, to make her laugh like Cedric did, to have her look at him the way she was looking at Cedric.
Cho's eyes flicked toward him.
Their gazes met.
Harry's stomach dropped.
Her smile wavered. Just for a heartbeat, something uncomfortable crossed her face ,recognition, maybe. Like she'd suddenly remembered something awkward.
The rejection. His fumbling attempt to ask her. Standing in the corridor like an idiot while she'd gently, kindly said no.
She shifted closer to Cedric, her fingers tightening on his arm, and gave Harry a small, apologetic grimace.
Of course. Of course this was happening now.
Heat crawled up Harry's neck. His throat closed.
He looked down at his shoes, jaw clenched. The scuffed leather blurred slightly.
"Right," he managed, his voice coming out strangled. "Thanks. I'll... yeah."
He didn't finish the sentence. Didn't trust himself to.
The walk through the grounds was a blur of shadows and hushed arguments. It seemed the drama wasn't confined to the Great Hall. They stumbled past Hagrid arguing with Madame Maxime near the rosebushes, catching snippets of a confession about giants, and minutes later, nearly collided with Snape and Karkaroff hissing at each other in the dark.
"It’s getting darker, Severus!" Karkaroff was saying, sounding frantic. "You cannot deny it.."
Snape cut him off, deducting ten points from Gryffindor the moment he spotted them.
Harry frowned as they hurried past. The words prickled at the back of his mind. Getting darker. That definitely wasn't good. Any other night, he would have stopped to listen, his heart racing with theories. But tonight, his brain was too full of teenage drama to process dark conspiracies. He filed the information away in a mental box labeled 'Tomorrow Problems.'
They reached the oak front doors, finally stepping out of the cold, but Ron stopped dead in the Entrance Hall.
"Look," he whispered, his voice shaking.
Harry looked. Standing just in front of the Great Hall entrance, away from the lingering crowd, were Hermione and Viktor Krum.
Krum was leaning close, saying something low and serious to her. Hermione was listening, looking soft and appreciated, entirely different from the girl who had screamed at Ron just minutes ago.
Krum took her hand, bowed over it, and kissed it with a formal grace that made Ron make a noise like a strangled cat. Hermione offered him a small, shy smile before Krum turned and walked back out into the night.
Harry stood there, watching the scene unfold like he was watching a play from the back row. He saw the fury rising in Ron, but he felt too far away to stop it. He knew he should probably intervene, say something to calm Ron down before the fighting started again, but he just didn't have the energy. He didn't want to pick a side. He didn't want to be involved.
"Come on," Harry muttered, his voice flat. "Let’s go."
He didn't wait to see if Ron was listening. He just turned and started walking toward the tower, leaving the drama behind him.