Olivia
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Hoezell Cadarn✂️✨|🐙
@Hoezell
I like things. Daywalker. Fell down the rabbit hole.
Joined April 2011
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@AmanogawaShiina It's just another evolution line from the DLC
@ShekaiGoto I feel kinda cheap
@d_linkski A true hero.
Is your aunt single, tho?
Slytherin robes out of stock at my Walmart. Probably nothing.
@CoreOfMidas Blink twice if you are not being forced to write this
The fact that people think Harry Potter is pureblood despite Aunt Petunia going on a whole speech about how Lily Potter got her Hogwarts letter in the first movie is insane.
@animetrends Cat guy will win.
@AmanogawaShiina It's funny seeing people finding you, your gifs, your memes...
Welcome to the cookie tin, everyone! There's no way out!
@Pippu_Paladin @AmanogawaShiina @kayakrat_ Shiina has thick skin with these people already, no worries
*The following is a rewrite of the Yule Ball, found in Chapter 23 of Harry Potter and The Goblet of Fire, and spring boarding off the premise of this wonderful comic.*
The common room looked strange, the usual mass of black robes now an assortment of colors that ranged from yellow to blue to red and everything in between. Draceana was waiting for Harry at the foot of the stairs, a clear gap between her and the rest of the crowd that didn’t dare approach. Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere to be seen, much to Harry’s surprise, but he supposed that they were ordered to keep watch from somewhere else.
He stopped upon stepping through the crowd.
Amidst the mass of frills and lace, Draceana’s dress robes were sleeker, more elegant. They were the color of white, bordering on silver, trailing up to wrap around her neck, yet keeping her shoulders bare. Her silver eyes were distant, bordering on cold as she stared beyond where her gaze rested rested under a veil of blonde hair, the rest of which was tied into a neat bun. When he cleared his throat, her eyebrows rose for a moment before furrowing at him with irritation.
“You’re late.”
Harry frowned and looked at the clock which was five minutes before their agreed time. “You said eight.”
“And you should be at least half an hour early for something as important as this..”
“Then why didn’t you-”
“Because you should have known.” Draceana circled around him, humming to herself. “You clean up nicely, Potter. Your robes are shabby and it looks like you’ve gone and hacked away at them with dull scissors, but it is an improvement, I suppose.”
Harry looked back towards Ron for support, only to find that he had been dragged away by Pravati. His friend was casting his attention everywhere but towards him, both on purpose and no doubt looking for Hermione.
Draceana snapped her fingers. “Pay attention, Potter. I wish you had arrived on time so we had more time to go over things, but we’ll have to make due.”
“What are you-”
She flicked out her wand from her robes and tapped the frayed edges of his robes, whispering the spell under her breath. Small slivers of cloth fell from the frayed ends, leaving the sleeves sharper and cleaner. She ran a hand through his hair as well to swipe it to the side, but he brushed it away.
“Will you stop?”
She pressed her lips thin. “No.”
He heard snickers off to the side and caught Fred passing them by. Their eyes met for only a brief moment, and the twin gave him a wink before turning away.
Draceana had noticed the whole thing and focused on Harry’s deepening scowl, the sight bringing a smirk to her lips. “Upset that you’re a galleon short?”
Harry’s brows shot up and he looked down at her. “You knew?”
“You made a bet in the middle of the hallway, Potter, of course I knew, and I will not have you lining your pockets at my expense.” She tapped between his shoulders. “Now straighten you back, champion or no, I will not be seen standing next to a sloucher.”
A firm wish to stay in the common room settled in Harry’s mind, but it remained unanswered as he was pulled towards the entrance hall. This chamber was packed with students as well, all milling around and waiting for the clock to strike eight, when the doors to the Great Hall would be thrown open. Those who had partners from different Houses edged through the crowd to find one another, though most had sequestered themselves amongst their own House.
Off towards the Gryffindor side, he could see Parvati guiding Padma towards Ron, who was still looking everywhere for Hermione. The twins, indistinguishable aside from their dress robes of pink for Parvati and turquoise for Padma, looked at Ron with frowns. Parvati’s partner, a boy from Gryffindor who Harry hadn’t spoken with much, started to chat the both of them up. He seemed like a nice enough fellow, enough to make the twins smile, which eased some guilt Harry had for changing plans at the last minute.
He hadn’t expected to be with the one at his side, ever.
So distracted was he by that fact that he barely even noticed Fleur Delacour passing by, looking stunning in robes of satin, a deeper silver than the ones Draceana wore.
The Slytherin girl snorted upon seeing who accompanied Fluer, Ravenclaw’s Quidditch captain, Roger Davies. “Look at him. The least he could do is not walk around with his jaw hanging open. Right, Potter?”
“Hm?” Harry paused his own looking around.
“What was that?”
Draceana gave him a side eye. “...nevermind.”
He gave a once over of the room again, unable to find any trace of someone who should be there. Where was Hermione?
Draceana clearing her throat caught his attention again, but this time he noted that it was not to pull his gaze. She was staring over to a group of other Slytherins, composed of Crabbe, Goyle, and some other boy that Pansy Parkinson clutched onto, adorned in very frilly robes of pale pink. Draceana’s usual lingerers were both wearing green, resembling moss-colored boulders. Neither of them, which Harry noted with a small amount of pleasure, had managed to find a partner. Rather, they were looking over towards them with shadows over their eyes, but another cough from Draceana and a shooing motion from her hand forced them away.
The oak front doors opened, their aged creaks drawing the eyes of everyone as the Drumstrang students entered with Professor Karkaroff. Krum stood at the front of the party, accompanied by a pretty girl in blue robes that Harry didn’t know. The sight of her sharpened Draceana’s gaze, but he didn’t know why that was. Over the lead couple’s heads, the lawn of the front castle revealed itself. It had been transformed into a sort of grotto, one filled to the brim with fairy lights. Most of the fairies who fueled this luminescence -hundreds, from his guess- were to be seen, which meant that they were most likely sitting in the rosebushes that had been conjured through the lawn. The rest, a small handful of them, fluttered over the statues of what appeared to be Father Christmas and his reindeer.
Professor McGonnagall’s voice echoed through the hall, its tone too calm for the volume it possessed. “Champions over here, please!”
Draceana held out her arm, a bemused look on her face upon seeing the uncertainty on his. “Scared, Potter?”
Harry frowned and rolled his shoulders back. “Of course not.” He looped his arm around hers, and she pulled herself closer.
He took one last glance at Ron, who was staring wide eyed at the girl next to Krum, much to Padma’s dismay. There was little time to process what that was about, for the eyes of the parting crowd felt heavy upon him as he and Draceana made their way through.
“Them, together?”
“Must have lost a bet.”
“I don’t know, they look good together.”
Draceana’s grip tightened on his arm, but nothing made itself known on her face.
They met up with Professor McGonnagall, who was in dress robes of red tartan and had arranged a rather… unique wreath of thistles around the brim of her hat. She raised an eyebrow upon seeing Draceana around his arm, but said nothing beyond directing them to wait on one side of the doors while everyone else went inside. The champions were to enter the Great Hall in procession when the rest of the students had sat down.
Fluer Delacour and Roger Davies stationed themselves nearest to the doors, with Davies looking so stunned by his good fortune in having Fleur for a partner that taking his eyes off of her proved to be an impossible task. Cedric and Cho stood close to Harry, and beyond the brief smiles they shared with one another in greeting, he looked away from them to avoid conversation. Draceana studied his face then, her own expression unreadable. What was she planning? He distracted himself by taking a closer look at the girl next to Krum, and his jaw dropped.
It was Hermione.
Except, she didn’t look like Hermione at all. Something had been done to her hair; what was once bushy was instead sleek and shiny, twisted up into an elegant knot that sat neatly at the back of her head. Her dress robes were made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and the air about her was almost wholly unfamiliar. Perhaps it was the absence of the twenty or so books that were usually strung over her back, or maybe it was her smile - the reduction of her front teeth more noticeable than ever. Harry couldn’t understand how he hadn’t spotted it before.
Her smile turned to a beam upon noticing him. “Hi Harry!” Her mouth hung upon seeing who was at his side. “And… Draceana?”
His partner clutched herself closer to him. “What of it?” Her tone had lost the smug edge it held with him, and rather than the disbelief on Harry’s face, there was a sharp look about her features that was almost a glare.
The doors to the Great Hall opened to allow the students to funnel in. Krum’s fan club from the library stalked past, their expressions swapping between adoration for their chosen champion and the deepest of loathing for Hermione. Such looks were on Crabbe and Goyle as they walked by, though Draceana didn’t seem to notice and only shared a small smile with Pansy, who looked all kinds of excited… almost too excited for just going to a ball. Ron stomped by without a word, his eyes locked ahead as Padma hurried after him.
Once everyone was settled in the Hall, Professor McGonagall organized the champions and their partners to form them up into a line of pairs behind her. They followed the professor into the Great Hall, the applause that greeted them so loud that Harry nearly stumbled when it began. Draceana’s back stiffened as they passed through, and he straightened his out of reflex upon seeing the calm she possessed. She allowed a faint, knowing smile to quirk up the corners of her lips, one that Harry took for confidence, but the briefest of trembles to it had given him pause. He ignored the questions that brought and stared ahead to keep the large round table at the top of Hall, where the judges sat, in his sights.
The walls of the Hall were covered in sparkling silver frost, with countless garlands of mistletoe and ivy threaded across the starry black ceiling. Gone were the House tables, replaced by smaller, lantern-lit ones that must have numbered at about a hundred. Each looked to be big enough to sit a dozen people comfortably, but such was the density of the students that it was indistinguishable from a crowd, one that had all their eyes on them.
The weight of their attention pressed upon Harry’s shoulders, and he concentrated on keeping his feet from tripping over each other. Draceana remained calm, clearly still enjoying herself, but the tightening of her arm around his told him where most of her attention lay. At first, he thought it a reminder to keep his posture straight, an urging that made him feel as if he was some show dog for her to show off, but the more they walked, the more he could feel her leaning against him.
There was no tremble to her, but by the time they were halfway across the Hall, he felt as if he was the one holding her up, though no one seemed to notice. Except Crabbe and Goyle, who continued to glare daggers their way. Pansy was also focused upon them, her expression the exact opposite. Harry spared a glance at Ron, who was watching Hermione pass with narrowed eyes. Padma was sulking in the seat next to him.
Dumbledore wore a bright smile as the champions approached the top table, its calm air unchanged from the one he had always had in private. Karkaroff, however, was of a similar disposition to Ron’s as he watched Krum and Hermione draw nearer. Ludo Bagman, tonight in robes of bright purple and garish yellow stars, clapped with the same enthusiasm the students possessed, perhaps even more. Madame Maxine, who had switched out her usual uniform of black satin for a flowing gown of lavender silk, held a more polite air to her applause. Mr. Crouch, Harry suddenly realized, was not there. No, the fifth seat at the table was occupied by Percy Weasley.
When the champions and their partners arrived at the table, Percy drew out the empty chair beside him, the gesture accompanied by a pointed stare at Harry. He took the hint with a sigh and took the seat, noting that Percy was wearing fresh, navy-blue dress robes that amplified his already insufferable smugness.
“I’ve been promoted.” Percy spoke before Harry could even ask. From his tone, he might as well have been announcing his coronation as king of the universe. “I’m now Crouch’s personal assistant, and I’m here representing him.”
Harry raised a brow. “Why didn’t he come?” He regretted the question as soon as he asked. No doubt this was going to lead to lectures on cauldron bottoms all through dinner.
“I’m afraid to say Mr. Crouch isn’t well, not well at all. Hasn’t been right since the World Cup. Hardly surprising - overwork. He’s not as young as he was - though still quite brilliant, of course, the mind remains as great as it ever was. But the World Cup was a fiasco for the whole Ministry and then, Mr. Crouch suffered a huge personal shock with-”
“The misbehavior of his house-elf, correct?” Draceana leaned over to make herself known past Harry.
Percy nearly jumped.
Draceana pursed her lips together. “Blinky?”
Harry shook his head. “Winky.”
‘“Ah, that’s the one. I was told that Mr. Crouch dismissed her right after that fiasco with the wand. Of course, he is getting on and still needs looking after. Without a house-elf, one tends to have a definite drop in home comforts.” She tapped Harry’s shoulder as she spoke.
He said nothing in return.
She snorted. “With the tournament to arrange and the aftermath of the Cup to deal with-” she clicked her teeth and sucked in a quick breath, “not to mention that Skeeter woman buzzing around, I think the poor man has earned himself a well earned, quiet Christmas.” She rested her cheek in her hand. “Of course, anyone who is anybody would know of these things, would you not agree?”
Percy struggled to find his words. “I…well… of course!”
“Yes, and how fortunate is Mr. Crouch to have someone so reliable to take his place.” Draceana’s smile widened. “Tell me, does he still call you Weatherby?”
“What?”
“Your name, that is what he was calling you, was it not? I suppose carrying around the mark of Weasley may earn you a few odd looks, so I can see why you would forgo correcting a man who so clearly cares about you. At least you have your brothers to carry the name properly, warts and all.”
Harry looked at Draceana in confoundment. Had she actually defended the Weasleys?
Her demeanor was so casual, so without venom that it was as if she was unaware of the daggers that hid behind her words, but he knew better. Draceana may have been full of hot air most of the time, but so aloof was her tone in this moment that the contrast revealed the cold steel beneath. Her expression remained neutral, however, despite the looks that the others at the table had thrown their way.
Thankfully, they were spared further conversation as people began to order food. The golden plates glittered in front of them, empty aside from the small menus that lay on top of them. Harry picked his up with uncertainty and looked around, wondering where the waiter was to take his order. Dumbledore, however, looked carefully down at his own menu, then spoke clearly to his plate.
“Pork chops!”
And pork chops appeared. The rest of the table followed suite, placing their orders on their plates as well. Harry glanced up at Hermione, who was only a few seats away from him, to see how she felt about this new and more complicated method of dining -surely it meant that house elves were in for plenty of extra work?- but for once, his friend didn’t seem to be thinking about S.P.E.W. Past her initial shock at Draceana, she was deep in conversation with Viktor Krum, hardly aware of what she was even eating.
Draceana tapped her menu against the table. “I would choose the venison.”
Harry looked over at her. “What?”
“For your order. It is the simplest meal, easiest to get down when you’re nervous.” She gave him a look that he couldn’t quite read. “I will not have you sitting next to me looking sick because you cannot handle your food.”
He scowled. “Maybe you should order that for yourself. Don’t think I didn’t notice you clutching onto me for dear life as we walked in here.”
Draceana scoffed and brought her lips closer to her plate. “Salmon.” The fish blinked into existence and she gave him an expectant glance.
He almost ordered something else out of spite, but the twisting in his stomach was already bordering on too much. “Venison.”
His meal appeared on his plate. Draceana gave him a satisfied pat on his shoulder, but said nothing else as she started to eat. Harry absentmindedly cut at his food and shoved a piece of it into his mouth. The taste was simple, but pleasant, and he could swallow it with ease. Draceana continued to remain silent when he looked over at her, but he could see the smug quirk to her lips. He glowered away from her, listening back in on the conversation between Krum and Hermione, and it occurred to Harry that he’d never actually heard the champion speak before. He was certainly talking now, and very enthusiastically, at that.
“Vell, ve ‘ave a castle also, not as big as zis, nor as comfortable, I am thinking.” He was surprisingly animated as he spoke. “Ve ‘ave just four floors, and ze fires are lit only for magical purposes, but ve ‘ave grounds larger than even these - though in vinter, there is very little daylight, so ve are not enjoying zem. But in summer ve are flying every day, over the lakes and the mountains-”
“Now, now, Viktor!” Karkaroff’s laugh didn’t reach his cold eyes. “Don’t go give away anything else, or your charming friend will know exactly where to find us!”
Dumbledore smiled, a twinkle in his eyes. “Igor, all this secrecy… one would almost think you didn’t want visitors.”
“Well, Dumbledore…” Karkaroff displayed his yellowing teeth to their fullest extent. “We are all protective of our private domains, are we not? Do we not jealousy guard the halls of learning that have been entrusted to us? Are we not right to be proud that we alone know our school’s secrets, and right to protect them?”
Harry sank further into his seat. Draceana covered her mouth to barely hide her giggle.
Dumbledore raised a calming hand. “Oh, I would never dream of assuming I know all of Hogwarts’ secrets, Igor.” He had taken an amicable tone. “Only this morning, for instance, I took a wrong turning on the way to the bathroom and found myself in a beautifully proportioned room I have never seen before, containing a really rather magnificent collection of chamber pots. When I went back to investigate more closely, I discovered that the room had vanished. But, I must keep an eye out for it. Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Only it may only appear at the quarter moon - or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder.”
Harry snorted towards his plate. Percy frowned, but a glance at Draceana kept his lips sealed. Harry could have sworn Dumbledore had given him a very small wink.
At the same time, Fluer Delacour was offering her critique of the Hogwarts decorations to Roger Davies.
“Ziz is nothing.” She gave a dismissive wave as she looked around the sparkly walls of the Great Hall. “At ze Palace of Beaxbatons, we ‘ave ice sculptures all around ze dining chamber at Chreestmas. Zey do melt, of course… zey are like ‘uge statues of diamond, glittering around ze place.”
Draceana leaned in. “That sounds lovely. We have such things around Hogwarts as well, just not in the dining hall. There are too many rowdy types here, especially those Gryffindor people, rather uncouth they are.”
Harry looked beyond the table towards Crabbe and Goyle, then at Draceana. “I think casting stones is unwise in glass houses.”
She smirked. “Not when I know a wall is not in my way.”
Fleur giggled. “You keep good company.”
Draceana shrugged. “Adequate, I suppose.” She took a small bite of her salmon, which Harry noticed she had barely touched. “What do you think of our food?”
“It is good, but ours seemply superb, ze finest in France. And we ‘ave choirs of wood nymphs, ‘oo serenade us as we eat. We ‘ave none of zis cold armor in ze ‘alls, and eef a poltergeist ever entaired into Beauxbaton, ‘e would be expelled like zat.” Fluer slapped her hand onto the table and gave a quick nod to herself.
“Very interesting indeed. I am quite curious to know more, perhaps over tea?”
Fleur titled her head back and forth. “I don’t see why not, we will discuss details later.”
Draceana smiled. “Wonderful.” She looked over to Fleur’s partner. “Oh and Roger, it would do you well to make sure your fork ends up in your mouth. Entracing as Fleur is, I’m sure she would be even more enchanting with someone that doesn’t have food on his face.”
Roger shook himself out of his stupor and wiped his face. “Right, sorry.”
Fleur flashed a grateful smile to Draceana from across the table, and she gave one of her own back.
Harry barely registered the food in his mouth as he watched the exchange. There was always some expectation that Draceana would be adept in affairs such as this, but to see it in action, compared to the pompous air that she always held everywhere else, created too sharp a contrast for him to be able to process all at once. Despite everything she had put him through, he had to admit that it was impressive.
He’d never tell her that to her face, but there was no sense in refusing to notice it.
Harry looked around the Hall to clear his thoughts. Hagrid was sitting at one of the other staff tables. His horrible hairy brown suit wrapped around his massive frame, but he almost looked small gazing up at the top table. The groundskeeper waved, but it wasn’t at Harry, who looked around and that Madame Maxine was returning it, her opals glittering in the candlelight.
“Oh my… him?”
Harry turned to Draceana, who had a calculating look in her eyes. In the end, she shrugged and struck up another conversation with Fleur, who was happy to engage.
Hermione was now teaching Krum to say her name properly. He kept calling her “Hermy-own.”
“Her-my-oh-nee.” Her voice was slow and clear.
“Herm-own-ninny.”
She caught Harry’s eye for a moment and giggled. “Close enough.”
When all the food had been consumed, Dumbledore stood up and asked the students to do the same. Once no seats were filled, the headmaster waved his wand and all the tables zoomed back along the walls, leaving the floor clear. Another flick of his wrist conjured a raised platform into existence along the right wall. Set upon it were a set of drums, several guitars, a lute, a cello, and some bagpipes.
The Weird Sisters trooped up onto the stage to applause that tread the line between enthusiastic and manic. They were all extremely hairy, adorned in black robes that had been ripped in torn in places that somehow made them look stylized instead of ragged. So focused was Harry upon them picking up their instruments that he’d almost forgotten what was coming up. It was only after the lanterns had all gone out and the other champions stood up that he remember.
“Come Potter.” Draceana held out her hand. “We’re supposed to dance.”
He could feel his meal start to rise from his stomach as he stood up. So dulled were his thoughts from dread that he took her hand more out of seeking anything to hold onto. She glanced at his face, her eyes narrowing, but guided him onto the dance floor with a gentleness that nearly shook him from his stupor. They walked onto the brightly lit dance floor, a slow, mournful tune flowing across it from the instruments of the Weird Sisters. He avoided catching anyone’s eye (he could see George and Fred waving at him and sniggering), fixating on his hand intertwined with Dracaena's. She took hold of his other one and guided it to her waist while keeping a firm grip on the one she was already holding. He always expected her skin to be cold, but she was warm.
She looked at him, her face softer than it usually was. “Just let me guide you.”
And so he let her. He had no experience with dancing, but it was clear that Draceana did as she steered them across the dance floor, murmuring in low tones that only he could hear, telling him where to step and how to move with her. He kept his eyes fixed over the heads of everyone watching, but he could tell most of them were looking at them, the two people who they never could have imagined together dancing in front of them. That shock soon wore off, and soon many of the crowd took their steps onto the dance floor. His shoulders relaxed one the champions were no longer the center of attention, but his eyes still wandered.
Neville and Ginny were dancing nearby. He could see her wincing frequently as Neville trod on her feet, but she seemed happy overall. Their eyes crossed once, but he looked away before he could see her reaction.
1/2
Harry loses a bet and asks Malfoid to the Yule Ball.
It started, as many of Harry’s worst ideas did, with Fred and George Weasley.
"You haven't asked anyone," Fred said, as if this were news.
"He hasn't asked anyone," George agreed, "because the only person he wants to ask is going with Diggory.”
Harry told them to shut up. He was in the common room. Ron was practising looking like a person who would rather die than wear dress robes. Hermione had a book open and was not reading it.
"Tell you what," said Fred. "A Galleon says you won't ask Malfoid."
"Which Malfoy?" said Ron, alarmed.
"There's only one at school, Ronald. Do keep up."
"I'm not asking Malfoy," said Harry.
"Malfoid," said George, pleasantly. "That's the bet. You don't. We collect. You do — well. Then you've got a partner, haven't you? Everybody wins. Except you, probably."
"She's not going to say yes."
"Then you've lost nothing," said Fred. "Go on. Champion's privilege. The worst she can do is hex you, and she does that on Tuesdays anyway."
Harry should have refused, but he was anything but a coward.
He found her in the library, after asking around a bit, which would have been embarrassing were it not assumed he was looking for a fight. She sat at a table in the corner by a window. Her pale hair was pulled back so tightly it seemed to lift the pointed bones of her face. She was alone. That was the first piece of luck. The second was that she looked up before he could lose his nerve.
She sighed and rolled her eyes. “What do you want, Potter?”
"I lost a bet," Harry said. "So let's get this over with. D'you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?"
She looked at him for a few seconds without changing her expression. Then she looked to the side. She appeared to be blushing.
“You must be desperate.” She attempted a laugh. “Is this some kind of joke, Potter? Me, going to the ball with a half-blood like you? Get real.”
“Alright, good,” he said firmly. He turned to leave before she could humiliate him any further.
“Yes,” she proclaimed with an upward lilt, as if she had surprised herself.
He stopped in his tracks. “What?” He almost raised his voice too loud for the library before turning around to look at her again. She had a mischievous smile.
“Yes.”
“Why,” Harry asked, exasperated. This was not what he expected.
“Why? Because I can’t resist the opportunity to torture you. I am going to embarrass you, if you are even brave enough to follow through.”
Harry sputtered. “What? You can’t find a date?” It was his best attempt.
“Oh I could. I have been asked many times already. I have no interest in those inferior specimens. The Malfoys have standards, you see. But I will make an exception for you, because this is just irresistible.”
He stood there, speechless. He looked out the window. Before he could come up with a response, she picked up her book and stood up. She walked over to him, grabbed his tie, and pulled him close, staring him down with malevolent eyes.
"Eight o'clock on Christmas Day. Dress robes. Not a Muggle dinner jacket. Not whatever the Dursleys think is formal. If you arrive smelling of broom polish I shall hex your shoes together and let you open the dance like that. Do we understand each other?"
Before he could come up with a response, she walked away.
…
"You asked her."
"That was the bet."
"You asked her and she said yes."
Ron was pacing around the room. Seamus and Dean were laughing it up.
"She's going to hex you," Ron said. "That's the game, that is. She says yes, you show up, she hexes you in front of four schools and tells her father you begged."
"She already said she'd hex me. That part's settled. It's only if I step on her toes or dress like a Muggle."
"You are Muggle-raised," Ron said, as if this had only just become legally relevant. "What does she think dress robes are? You can't wear trousers from the Dursleys, Harry. She'll know. They've got a look.”
Hermione, when they took it downstairs, pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Fred and George," she said.
"Fred and George," Harry agreed.
"And she said yes."
"She said yes, and then she said a lot of other things."
Hermione was quiet for a moment.
"Wear your green dress robes," she said at last. "The ones from Madam Malkin. Not a tie. Not Dudley's anything. If she tries to pull something nasty don’t let her get away with it."
“Right,” he replied. He had no idea what that meant.
Fred and George, passing the portrait hole with the satisfied air of men who had invented Christmas, flipped him a Galleon.
"Don't spend it before she kills you," said Fred.
"Buy a card," said George. "Something tasteful."
Harry told them to get stuffed. He put the Galleon in his pocket anyway.
….
The green robes made him look, he thought, like a Christmas tree that had learned shame. Harry checked his shoes three times. They were the same shoes.
"If she hexes you," Ron said, struggling into maroon velvet and a quantity of lace that history would not forgive, "I'll — I'll do something. I don't know what. Don't look at me like that. I'm in this."
By ten to eight the entrance hall was a crush of dress robes and panic. Parvati went by in shocking pink and gold and did not look at Harry at all, which he deserved. He had spent two weeks looking as if he might ask her and then asked the worst person in Slytherin for a Galleon.
"Potter."
He turned.
Malfoid was on the marble stairs.
She wore a black dress. Her hair was down. She even had makeup on. Harry’s stomach did a flip. The weirdest part was, she was smiling at him. And it wasn’t a mischievous grin, like her usual sadistic glee. She looked like she was happy to see him. But she quickly changed her expression, as if she remembered, to one of disdain.
"Green," she said. "Acceptable. Not Muggle. You may keep your toes for the present."
She stepped down and took his arm, with surprising ease. "Do not grin. You look simple when you grin. We are going in. If you tell anyone this was a bet I will kill you."
"It was a bet."
"I know it was a bet, Potter. I would not have said yes to a sincere request. Do not flatter yourself.”
…
The house tables were gone. In their place stood a crowd of smaller ones, each with a lantern that burned without smoke. The walls were covered in silver frost. Overhead the usual black, starry ceiling had been crossed with garlands of mistletoe and ivy.
It seemed like everyone turned to look as they came in, and whispered to each other.
Malfoy’s fingers tightened once on his sleeve and then went loose, as if she had remembered an audience.
"Breathe," she said, barely moving her mouth. "If you faint I shall leave you on the floor.”
"I'm not going to faint."
McGonagall met them before they could sit down. She looked at Harry. She looked at Malfoy. Several decades of House warfare passed behind her eyes and sat down, exhausted.
"Potter. Miss Malfoy. You will line up with the other Champions after the meal. I expect decorum."
"Yes, Professor," said Malfoy, with only a slight hint of sarcasm.
McGonagall's mouth thinned.
"The robes will do," she told Harry. "Try to remember, a waltz is not a tackle."
She swept off.
"She likes you," Malfoy said. "How unaccountable."
They were seated next to Cedric and Cho of course, at the Champion’s table. Starting the torture already, Harry thought. Krum arrived last with a girl Harry did not recognise for three full seconds as Hermione. Periwinkle blue. Hair up. Ron looked at Harry with wide eyes. Harry just shrugged, as if to say: “What of it?”
Cho smiled at Harry as if she were sorry and not sorry. Cedric poured pumpkin juice like a man determined to be decent.
"Didn't know you two were—" Cedric began, and stopped, which was why people liked Cedric.
"We aren't," said Harry and Malfoy together.
They looked at each other.
“I lost a bet,” she said suddenly, smiling. Harry just shook his head. She stole his excuse. Typical.
Neither Cedric nor Cho seemed to know if she was serious, or how to respond.
Dinner arrived and passed without a major incident, besides that Malfoid was making faces across the room, playing it up.
"You're enjoying this," Harry muttered.
"I enjoy winning. It is not the same as enjoying you." She narrowed her eyes as she set the goblet down. "Do not look at Granger like that. It is a hair potion and a neckline. We manage it before breakfast."
"She's my friend."
"I know. It is one of your more baffling hobbies. It is quite beneath you.”
Was that a compliment? Harry just sighed. There was no point in arguing. She only wanted to get a rise out of him.
Suddenly it was time for the dance.
Harry stood. His chair shrieked on the floor. Malfoy stood up smoothly, as if chairs had never misbehaved in her life. She put her hand in the air and waited for him to take it, sighing with irritation.
Her palm was cold in his hand.
They walked to the floor and waited for the music to start.
"If you make a mistake I will kill you. If you look at Chang I will kill you. If you count, count silently. If you talk, do not talk about Quidditch,” she whispered.
"You're nervous."
"I am Slytherin. I am never nervous. I am prepared."
Harry put his hand at her waist as the music started to play. He thought he could see a glisten of sweat on her forehead. He used to tease her about her forehead for being much too big. Undeniably, however, she looked absolutely beautiful that night.
Despite all his practice, it felt completely different in front of everyone, and with Malfoy no less. She was quietly counting as they stepped. Whether it was for his sake, or because she was afraid he would embarrass her, he wasn’t sure.
"You can close your mouth," she murmured. "You have fallen off a broom in front of the whole school. This is only dancing."
"You're counting."
"I am not."
They turned. Mistletoe swam. Ron's face went by, maroon and betrayed. Pansy went by, personally wounded. Snape, at the staff table, looked as if he had bitten a fork.
"Your Head of House wants me dead," Harry said.
"He wants a great many people dead. You will have to queue." A pause. Her voice dropped, unwilling. "You are not as catastrophic as I expected."
"Thanks."
"It was not a compliment. I am, against my better judgement, not hexing you."
"Yet."
"Do not make suggestions."
The dance ended before he had decided whether to bow. Cedric bowed. Krum nodded the way Krum did everything. Harry let go of her waist.
"Well," she said. "Your twins may keep their Galleon. I am going outside. I am tired of being stared at. Besides, it is much too warm here."
For some reason, Harry went after her.
…
He thought he had lost her, when he saw her through a frosted window.
She stood outside, leaning on the balcony, despite the fact that it was snowing and she was wearing only a dress. She clutched herself in her arms, clearly freezing.
"You followed me."
"You walked off before we had time to bow.”
"I said yes to a dance. I did not say yes to stay until midnight." She did not turn. "Go back in. Granger will want to lecture you on fraternising. She has her hair up. She will be unstoppable."
“It is freezing out.”
She didn’t respond, but her body was shivering.
He almost put his robe around her shoulders, but thought better of it.
"Why'd you say yes?" he asked.
"You asked."
"That's not a reason. You could've said no. You do that all the time."
She tilted her head up, looking up at the stars.
“I told you already. I like to see you squirm.”
She came up to him slowly, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He flushed, not knowing how to react. He could hear his heart beating in his chest. She just looked into his eyes, smiling with glee. For some reason beyond himself, he thought of kissing her.
“Besides, I couldn’t stand to see you go with that Patil-girl. Totally beneath you.” She remembered herself suddenly and added “For a half-blood, anyway.”
"You're a real piece of work, Malfoid."
“Don’t call me that!” she said, forcing a pout. She stepped back, pretending to be upset, but she could not hide from him the impression that she enjoyed it somehow. She went back to leaning on the railing, looking out, as if that would be the end of it.
He leaned against the railing right next to her. It was only fair that he got his revenge now.
"I didn't step on your toes," Harry said.
"Do not fish."
“Since I did a good job, I think you owe me another dance.”
She paused, and then burst out into laughter, almost maniacal. It caught him by surprise.
“I don’t owe you anything.”
Harry took that for a no. He turned to leave.
“Are you coming inside? You’ll catch a cold.”
Suddenly she grabbed his left arm and hooked her arm under it.
"You may have one more dance," she said. "After that I am returning you to that rotten Weasley boy. If you tell anyone funny stories about what happened tonight you will not wake up the next morning.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at her idle threats. The rumors about them were already spreading and there was nothing to do about it now. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they made the front page of the Daily Prophet. They made a striking couple, he had to admit. But he didn’t say anything about it, lest she change her mind.
When they got back into the ballroom, everyone was dancing. Thankfully, hardly anyone noticed them come in. She grabbed his hand, and put the other hand onto her waist.
They danced for a while without speaking. Harry hoped that nobody noticed when she laid her head on his shoulder and sighed.
“You are quite serviceable for a half-blood. I think I will keep you.”
the Malfoid Yule bet
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