Written in the Stars - The Yule Ball

The Yule Ball

Fenrir says that times will soon be changing, that he can smell it in the air. Fortune will soon favour us, my son, and soon, we will no longer be forced to live in exile…

The ominous words his mother had penned to him had left Cain feeling confused and concerned.

Things did not simply change for his kind, something he had accepted long ago.

If truth be told, he did not want them to change.

Despite being looked down on by society, he was content with his lot in life. He never went hungry, he had a roof over his head, and he was part of the strongest pack in Europe.

Cain was safe, and he could ask for no more than that.

What these implied changes were, he knew not, and Cain found he already did not care for them.

His gaze passed over the friends he had made whilst they ate their breakfast, the notable absence of Harry being felt more than ever.

If he was here, Cain would speak with him.

Harry always knew what to say or do to make him feel better.

Nonetheless, he was still a werewolf, and the good of the pack would always have to be priority.

He swallowed deeply as Summerbee offered him a smile.

“Something on your mind?” she asked.

Cain shook his head as he returned the gesture, his attention shifting to each member of the group, and he realised something he had not even considered until this very moment.

They too were his pack.

Along with the other werewolves he spent time with at Durmstrang, the vampire, the half-elf, the disgraced pureblood, the son of the hag, and the half-bloods were his pack.

He snorted lightly at his thoughts.

Even so, he may be the wolf among them, but the role of alpha was not his to claim.

No, that honour belonged to Harry.

It was him that held them together, that looked out for them, that kept them safe from the many threats around the school.

Even in his absence, he was ensuring they were not victimised for what they were.

The boy would not appreciate Cain’s observations, but they were undeniable, as was the need to protect each of them that the werewolf felt.

Whatever changes were on the horizon, they did not matter to him.

So long as his pack was safe and thriving, Cain could not find it in himself to become excited or care for them.

(Break)

“That’ll teach you for being a nosy little shit,” Harry muttered as he shut the door to the broom cupboard on Mrs Norris.

The cat had attempted to follow him as he explored the castle, something he wouldn’t have noticed unless he was consulting the map.

The caretaker’s pet really was rather crafty.

With a snort of amusement, he removed his cloak from his pocket and draped it over himself before checking the map once more, tracing the path he had walked with his forefinger.

With Hogwarts being perhaps the most secure building in Britain, there were a lot of secret entrances that could be used by those that knew of them.

Harry had spent much of the past days investigating them and putting the ones that were a serious risk out of commission.

He left the one that led to the basement of Honeydukes, casting several detection charms and triggering charms should any other than himself attempt to use it, but all the others his father and his friends had discovered were no longer active.

If Wormtail did indeed attempt to enter the castle, he would find himself trapped until Harry came to collect him.

The thought brought a grin to Harry’s lips, though he frowned as he remembered there was much that the Marauder’s had not discovered, including the Chamber of Secrets.

He knew that the entrance was located in a bathroom, and the fact that Voldemort had possessed a girl to do his bidding a couple of years prior would suggest it was in a girl’s one.

Harry, however, had not searched them as yet.

Being found in one was not something he could explain away.

Still, he was determined to locate it, if only to ensure the monster within the chamber posed no threat to the students here.

He may even find other useful things, though he doubted it.

What knowledge Tom Riddle had gathered throughout his life, Harry had access to much of it, even if he did not always understand the information he possessed.

With another shake of his head, he cleared the map and began asking his way towards the dungeons.

Thus far, he had only attended one of the classes under Professor Snape, and though he would rather avoid being in the man’s company, Harry could not neglect the subject for an entire year.

That simply would not do to begin with, but he had another reason be there.

Stowing his cloak within robes along with the map, he reached the entrance hall, his pace quickening as he spotted Pansy exiting the Great Hall with some of her housemates, the group in deep conversation.

“Can I have a word?” he asked, startling her.

The girl offered him a bright smile as she nodded.

“I’ll catch up,” she said dismissively to her housemates.

They left, and Harry led the way into the courtyard where the rest of the students were passing through to head to their respective lessons.

“What is it?” Pansy asked.

Harry released a deep sigh.

“Well, they announced the ball last night, and I was wondering if you would go with me?”

Pansy’s face fell, an expression of irritation and guilt marring her features.

“I can’t,” she replied.

“Why not?”

“Because Draco already asked and I couldn’t say no to him,” she explained. “You know how the politics here work. If I would have snubbed him, it would have reflected badly on my family.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“I get it,” he sighed. “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” Pansy countered, “but unless you’re going to announce that you will be the Lord Black, there’s nothing that can be done.”

“I won’t be doing that yet,” Harry muttered. “Honestly, it’s okay.”

Pansy scowled and shook her head.

“It’s not like I want to go with him, and he doesn’t want to go with me, not really,” she said heatedly.

“Then why did he ask?”

“To piss you off, Harry,” Pansy grumbled. “He asked as soon as the announcement was made. If he wasn’t so petty, he would have asked Daphne first. Not that she would have accepted.”

“Wouldn’t politics dictate she had to?”

Pansy snorted amusedly.

“Daphne’s father could sign a contract with Lucius Malfoy for the two of them to be married, and she would either murder him or be exiled. She despises him, but he seems to think that she’s just playing hard to get.”

“Interesting,” Harry mused aloud. “Draco is still a prick, and I’m sorry you got dragged into it.”

“Honestly, I would have ended up having to go with him anyway,” Pansy shrugged. “Daphne would have rejected him and he would have insisted I go.”

Harry nodded his understanding.

“Well, I’m sorry either way. I’ll try to be more considerate for you in the future, but if Draco wants to be petty, then I will beat him at his own game. I’m not beyond pettiness you know.”

Pansy rolled her eyes, though she could not hide her own mischievous grin.

“What do you have in mind?” she asked.

Harry wagged a finger at her as he shook his head.

“I think we should head to Potions,” he suggested. “All will be revealed in due course.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re going to just cause more trouble?”

“Because that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Harry said with a grin as they made their into the depths of the castle.

Entering the Potions classroom, Snape shot them a look of irritation, but as Harry was not a student here, he could not deduct him points or give him a detention, and he certainly wasn’t going to dock points from his own house.

“Parkinson, to your seat,” the instructed. “Potter, if I am to tolerate your presence in here, you will work with Mr Goyle.”

Harry merely nodded and began unpacking his things by the burly boy who had quite the uncanny resemblance to a troll when looked at in certain angles.

“Today, we will be brewing a Strengthening Solution,” Snape announced. “You will find it on page 44 of your textbook. What is it, Potter?”

“I don’t have a copy of the book, Professor,” Harry explained.

“You will find spares in bottom drawer of the cupboard,” Snape replied, pointing towards where he stored most of is ingredients.

“But sir, this is much more advanced than anything else we have done,” Hermione pointed out.

“It is,” Snape agreed, “but you will be sitting your OWLs next year. If you can brew this, then you can brew anything required at that level. Not that I expect many of you to succeed. Now, get one with it. Potter, have you gotten the book?”

Harry held up the copy of the textbook as he placed another more interesting one he’d found in his robes.

He had no business looking at the copy of Advanced Potion Making, but it had caught his attention, nonetheless.

He hadn’t managed to look at it much before Snape had addressed him, but it appeared to be heavily annotated.

Harry had learned since being at Durmstrang that annotated books could provide him with some excellent pointers, or they could simply have been tarnished by a careless owner.

Still, it was worth the risk to pocket it.

At worst, he’d added another book on potions to his collection.

“You should be slicing the slugs vertically, Goyle,” Snape murmured as he leaned over the duo only a few minutes into their brewing. “You foolish boy,” he added as whatever Goyle had done began burning through the table.

With a wave of his wand, Snape vanished whatever concoction Goyle had managed to create.

“Potter, move next to Zabini and Nott.”

Harry did so, the former of the pair greeting him cordially with a nod.

“My sister told me to say hello to you,” he sighed.

“Your sister?”

“Alessia.”

“Alessia is your sister?” Harry asked, surprised by the revelation. “I suspected you were related, but with her being at Durmstrang and you here, I didn’t want to pry.”

Blaise chuckled.

“No, she just chose to go there,” he explained. “She always talks about you and the duels you have.”

Harry smiled fondly.

“She’s not bad,” he acknowledged. “She’s given me more than a few cuts and bruises.”

“She hasn’t beaten you though,” Blaise pointed out. “That really bothers her, but I think she has the hots for you. Whenever someone else mentions you at home, she blushes.”

Harry shook his head.

Viktor had said the very same thing to him.

“Well, she hasn’t said anything to me.”

“No, she said that you’re always hanging around with other girls. Is it true you have a vampire as a friend?”

Harry nodded.

“Lucinda,” he confirmed. “She’s great when she’s not trying to cave my skull in or threatening to bite me.”

Harry frowned as Malfoy muttered something incoherent under his breath.

He chose to ignore it, already plotting to get under the boys’ skin in a way that would irritate him more than a verbal rebuttal.

“Sometimes I wish I went to Durmstrang,” Blaise whispered, shooting Malfoy a look of disapproval.

“If you did, you wouldn’t have an expert like Professor Snape teaching you potions,” Harry replied as the potion’s master passed them.

Although he did not like the man, he could not deny that he was a more than exceptional potioneer, even if his teaching methods were lacking.

The man stood a little taller as he went on his way.

It wouldn’t hurt to not have him as an enemy, no when Harry needed to continue studying the subject.

“True,” Blaise conceded, “but I wouldn’t have to put up with as many prats.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Harry muttered. “Durmstrang has more than its fair share, but I would rather put up with them than some of the ones you have here,” he added, his gaze shifting towards Malfoy, and then to another Slytherin as she headed towards the cupboard. “Would you believe it,” he sighed. “I need more fig leaves.”

He followed the girl, checking that no one was attempting to listen in on them before speaking.

“Greengrass,” he greeted her.

“You made me jump!” the girl huffed, evidently not having heard him approach. “What do you want?”

“Your assistance with pissing Malfoy off,” Harry replied without preamble.

“I’m listening,” the girl returned interestedly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Do you have a date for the ball?”

“No,” Daphne answered with a frown. “Why, are you asking me?”

“I will, but I think a more public display would be suitable for a young lady of your station, don’t you?”

A grin of amusement tugged at her lips as she peered towards Draco, but nonetheless, she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Fine, but there will be no funny business from you,” she warned, “and you will owe me a favour of my choosing.”

“Within reason.”

“Naturally,” Daphne replied with a nod.

Harry offered the girl a smile.

“You won’t regret it.”

“I already am,” Greengrass muttered as Harry returned to his table where he continued to work on his potion.

He wanted to at least have something to submit by the end of the lesson, even if it wouldn’t meet Snape’s approval.

Harry had no doubt that he could submit a flawless potion and the man would somehow find fault in is work.

For him especially, there would be no pleasing the man.

“You should all be at the stage where your potion needs to be left to simmer for ten minutes,” Snape spoke quietly, though his voice carried to every corner of the room. “Use this time to begin clearing down your stations.”

Harry disposed of the remains of his ingredients, and scrubbed his section of the table down, and with a few minutes to spare, he put his plan into action.

Walking over to Greengrass, he cleared his throat and the girl turned towards him, raising an eyebrow in evident surprise.

“Miss Greengrass, I was hoping you would allow me the honour to escort you to the Yule Ball,” he said confidently.

Daphne’s look of interested curiosity morphed into a bright smile, her blue eyes twinkling as he nodded.

“The honour would be all mine,” she replied enthusiastically.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see the watching Draco purpling with rage, and he took no small amount of satisfaction from it.

With a smug grin, Harry took her offered hand and bowed, pressing his lips to her knuckle.

“This is not the lonely-hearts exchange!” Snape snapped. “Potter, get back to your station.”

“I look forward to our date,” Harry murmured before doing so, the frantic whispering of most of the other students following him.

“Greengrass?” Blaise chuckled.

“Why not?” Harry questioned.

“No reason,” Blaise returned with a shrug, “but Draco looks like he might explode.”

“Good,” Harry declared. “Bollocks to Draco.”

Blaise nodded his agreement.

“What are you up to, Potter?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Harry said innocently.

Blaise hummed in disbelief.

“Whatever you say, but did you not think of asking someone else? I’m sure Alessia would have loved to be invited here for Christmas,” he added with a wink.

Harry frowned at the thought and pondered the possibility of having done so.

No, it would have been no good.

Perhaps he would have been able to get Eleanor approved for a visa, but neither Lucinda nor Ana would be.

Even Summerbee would be a stretch with the reputation of her family for being traitors.

Were it not for her being from Beauxbatons, Harry doubted Fleur Delacour would have been granted entry into Britain either.

Alessia Zabini would have been, but the two of them had barely shared a conversation.

Most of the time spent interacting, they had been aiming to incapacitate one another.

“It’s done now,” Harry sighed, not regretting his decision.

Daphne was a nice enough, undoubtedly beautiful, but rather closed off.

She wasn’t cold towards others as such, but she was certainly reserved.

“Daphne is a good choice,” Blaise pointed out, “and a close friend. Make sure she has a good time, please.”

“I will,” Harry assured the other boy. “We are both getting something out of this.”

Blaise’s eyes shifted towards the still angry Draco, his lips quirking as he looked upon the blonde.

“I see,” he said amusedly. “Very clever, Potter. Daphne is in on this?”

“Why else would she agree to go to the ball with me if she wasn’t?”

“Maybe because it makes sense,” Blaise pointed out. “You’re of a similar standing, both smart and annoyingly charming in your own ways. You suit each other quite well.”

Harry frowned as he looked at the girl cleaning up the remnants of her efforts to brew the Strengthening Solution, her honey-blonde hair tied in an elaborate braid and showing of her delicate and high cheek bones.

It could never be said that the girl was unattractive.

If truth be told, Harry had seen very few girls that could hope to match up with Daphne Greengrass.

Perhaps the ball wouldn’t be so bad after all?

She turned to face him, her eyes trailing over his form before she met his stare with her own, a rather mischievous grin tugging at her lips.

Had she merely agreed to go to the ball with him to irritate Draco, or was there more to her reasoning?

Harry could not be sure, but it seemed that it was not as simple as wishing to assist him with his plan, even if she did know of it.

(Break)

The Dark Lord looked intently upon the three men gathered before him, only one of whom whose loyalty was not in question, though he kept his inner thoughts to himself on the matter, for now.

He was as vulnerable as he’d ever been, and though it irked him to admit it, he needed them.

Barty was the one whom he trusted implicitly, his loyalty not having wavered even after he’d learned of the Dark Lord’s fall.

Lucius was too intelligent, too cautious to devote himself once more to the cause with Voldemort in his current state.

Still, he was serving as he always had, even though the doubt in his mind was evident.

Voldemort’s gaze shifted to Wormtail.

The man was undoubtedly useful, but he was a snivelling coward who could never be fully brought into confidence.

Pettigrew was here merely because he had been found posing as a family pet.

Why he had done so, the Dark Lord could not fathom.

He could have fled Britain long ago but had chosen to stay and live an odd yet comfortable life as a rat.

He truly was the epitome of foolish.

Nevertheless, there were few so talented in the art of espionage, so he would live so long as he served a purpose.

“What do you have to report?” the Dark Lord questioned.

It was Wormtail who stepped forward first, his nervous, rodent-like mannerisms forcing Voldemort to maintain his composure, despite wanting to inflict pain on the Animagus.

“My Lord, I have made contact with Greyback as instructed,” he explained. “He is willing to join with you once more, when the time is right.”

Voldemort nodded.

He had no doubt the werewolves would resume their alliance with him.

The opportunities to feed and add to their pack was too tempting to ignore.

“Excellent,” he declared. “Barty?”

The man frowned.

At Lucius’s suggestion, the Dark Lord had kept Barty close.

Placing his father under the Imperius Curse, though beneficial was a risk they could not take.

Barty was too impulsive, and impulsiveness was not what Voldemort needed.

Were it not for Lucius arriving when he did, the suggestion made by Barty to use the tournament to his advantage may have been adopted, but as ever, the Malfoy lord was the voice of reason and had urged the much-needed caution.

“I am continuing to brew potions, my lord,” Barty replied. “I have begun making Polyjuice to add to the healing concoctions, and any other solutions I believe may be useful.”

“Excellent,” Voldemort declared.

Usually, he would only have Severus brewing potions, but the man was currently indisposed of, perhaps permanently.

He was another that could not be fully trusted, despite the most useful information he had been able to pass on during the war.

Snape’s loyalty was something the Dark Lord would have to ponder when it was the right time to do so.

“Lucius?”

The blonde stepped forward and offered a bow.

“I have been compiling a list of those that we will be able to use to our advantage within the ministry, and those that will create problems,” he informed his master. “I believe our main concern is Amelia Bones. She was an auror during the conflict, and as I am sure you remember, my lord, she lost most of her family. She is now the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.”

The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully.

“She will be dealt with,” he decided aloud.

“I think perhaps it would be best if you were the one to do it, my lord,” Lucius continued. “She is a talented witch, one that even Bellatrix would struggle to dispatch  on her own.”

“Do your fear Madame Bones, Lucius?”

The man shook his head.

“No, but I would not risk engaging her,” he said unashamedly. “She has quite the reputation, and with good reason.”

The Dark Lord appreciated the honesty.

“Fear not, I shall handle her,” he sighed. “What of Moody?”

Voldemort remembered the famed auror well.

He had killed several prominent Death Eaters during the war and had even managed to give him problems on the one occasion they had fought.

Moody had not left the fight favourably, but he had comported himself well.

“The man is old, crippled, and insane,” Lucius explained and Voldemort shook his head.

“Can he use a wand?”

Lucius nodded.

“He is teaching at Hogwarts.”

“Then he remains a threat!” the Dark Lord snapped. “However, with him in the castle, he will be an easy enough target when it is conducive to eliminate him. See that he remains in the post next year.”

“Of course, my lord,” Lucius replied with another bow. “With regards to Hogwarts, I received a letter from Draco and he mentioned Potter.”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the boy.

In the grand scheme of things, Harry Potter was irrelevant, a loose end he would need to tie up for his own peace of mind.

Nonetheless, despite this, his miraculous survival from their encounter made him exceedingly interesting.

The one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord…

A sense of unease washed over Voldemort at the memory of the prophecy that had been spoken.

Divination was not a magic he truly understood, but it was still magic, and potentially dangerous.

He shook his head of the worry.

Potter would die.

Whether it came to a showdown between the two, the preferred method, or if he had to have his throat slit in his sleep, it mattered not.

Potter would die.

“What of him?”

Lucius swallowed nervously.

“It appears that he is proving himself to be rather skilled, my lord,” he spoke warily, “much more so than any his age should be, and ruthless to boot. He rather viciously attacked a seventh year Slytherin, a boy who is not without skill.”

Voldemort nodded thoughtfully.

“Have Draco continue to watch him whilst he is there,” he instructed. “Just because he is but a boy, it does not mean we should not learn all we can from him. He is the enemy, after all.”

Lucius nodded, though his expression of uneasiness remained.

“That is not all, my lord,” he continued. “I have it on good authority that he was seen in the company of Cassiopeia Black during the first task of the tournament.”

“Cassiopeia Black. Are you certain of this?”

The Dark Lord had heard of the woman and the reputation she had carved for herself.

Until she had met him, Bellatrix had idolised her Aunt.

“I did not see it for myself,” Lucius explained, his eyes darting towards Barty, “but I am inclined to believe it. It would make sense. She and the boy are related.”

Voldemort frowned.

He had forgotten of the connection between the Potter and Black families.

“It matters not,” he said dismissively.

Bellatrix had taught him how to defend himself against the magic of her birth family.

Even if she had been unable to teach him how to wield it, he was familiar with its use.

Lucius offered him another bow before stepping back.

“It seems that our plans are coming together,” Voldemort declared. “Continue as you are, gentlemen, and soon enough, we can truly begin our rise to the top once more. Now, leave me. I require my rest.”

The three men immediately left the room, and the Dark Lord sank back into the chair he was seated in, his immature body feeling fatigued from the meeting.

After only a moment, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep under the gaze of what appeared to be a pair of bright green eyes.

Not that he would remember such when he eventually woke.

He never remembered his dreams anymore, not since claiming this body for himself.

Still, there was something intense about the stare he was receiving, something rather unsettling, almost as though he was being promised reprisals for his past actions.

The thought amused him greatly, long after the eyes had vanished.

There would be no reprisals. Only his second and triumphant coming, and nothing could change that, especially a pair of judgemental eyes he’d imagined.

(Break)

Although Potter had only invited her to the ball to spite Draco, Daphne was oddly excited for the evening to come. So much so that she had written to her mother to send her best dress for the occasion.

She had not packed it before coming to Hogwarts, not believing she would have use of the garment.

With her father on the Wizengamot, she had been made aware of the tournament and subsequent ball, but she had not expected she would be attending.

Had Potter not arrived, Daphne had no doubt that Draco would have all but tried to insist she was his partner, something she would have flatly refused.

Having done so, she would have been partnerless.

Since they had arrived for their first year of schooling, Draco had somewhat laid claim to her meaning that no other would have dared ask her, even if he had chosen to take Pansy.

Perhaps foolishly, Daphne had rebuked the claim of the boy that they would one day be married, the very thought having sickened her to the core.

However, instead of deterring Draco, her hostility had only made him pursue her more.

It wasn’t that he truly wanted her.

No, it was that the spoilt brat had never been denied anything in his life and he believed he had a right to whatever it was that took his fancy.

Still, Draco had asked Pansy, and none were going to ask Daphne, not until Harry had formulated his plan.

He was certainly not intimidated by the Malfoy name.

She had been tempted to refuse his request, displeased by the idea of being used as a pawn for whatever stupid game he and Draco were playing but Daphne wanted to go to the ball, just not alone.

Besides, one look at Potter’s mischievous grin had caught her attention, and she found she didn’t care to what end he had asked her.

Daphne shook her head.

It was not like her to be taken in by such a trivial thing, but she could not deny that Harry Potter was handsome.

They had spoken often enough since he’d arrived with the Durmstrang contingent.

With how close he was to Pansy, none of her Slytherin year-mates could avoid interacting with him, not even Draco whom Harry took it upon himself to irritate at every given opportunity.

“Are you looking forward to tonight?” Daphne asked as Pansy entered the dormitory they shared.

The girl snorted.

“Why do you think I’m wearing this ugly dress?”

Daphne had not mentioned it out of politeness, but the light pink gown was not flattering on her.

“I should have known.”

Pansy offered her a weak smile as she took in Daphne’s appearance.

“You look as beautiful as ever,” she commented somewhat whimsically. “Harry is lucky.”

“Does it bother you that I’m going with him?”

Pansy shrugged.

“I’d be lying if I said it didn’t, but not for the reason you think,” she replied. “Harry is my best friend, and I would have liked to have gone with him.”

Daphne’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“So, you don’t like him like that?”

Pany’s expression shifted to a pained one for but a second before she deflated.

“I don’t know,” she answered irritably. “I think so, but I’ve known him since we small children. It’s confusing.”

“What was he like?” Daphne asked curiously.

Pansy smiled at whatever memories surfaced at the question.

“Harry has always been sweet, and kind, and considerate,” she answered. “He really is clever, and charming,” she added amusedly. “You’re lucky to be going with him.”

“He only asked me to annoy Draco,” Daphne pointed out.

“Maybe,” Pansy conceded, “but he will make sure you have a good time, and he will treat you with the utmost respect.”

“You really think highly of him, don’t you?”

Pansy nodded solemnly.

“I can’t say much about what I know, but Harry will change things one day. Maybe I won’t let myself feel the way I do for him because it is not something I can ever have. I wouldn’t want anything to ruin my friendship with him.”

“What do you mean?” Daphne asked curiously.

Pansy shook her head as she smiled.

“Forget I said anything,” she urged. “Just enjoy tonight. You’ll know what I do when the time is right.”

Daphne frowned, but she didn’t press the matter.

What information she had likely pertained to family business, something that was not divulged.

“I will,” she replied and Pansy offered her a final smile before exiting the dormitory, leaving a thoughtful Daphne in her wake.

The blonde shifted her attention towards the mirror she was standing in front of and made a few final adjustments to her hair and outfit before following suit.

The common room was full of couples preparing to attend the ball, and as the only Slytherin who was not going with someone from her house, Daphne left them to it, wondering just what the evening would entail.

After her conversation with Pansy, she was more curious than ever about the enigmatic Harry Potter.

Tonight, however, was the perfect opportunity to get to know him, and it didn’t hurt that she was able to irritate Draco in the process.

Daphne felt his eyes burning into her as she left the common room, and though it made her visibly grimace, she took no small amount of satisfaction from knowing that the boy was seething.

(Break)

“Bloody hell,” Harry muttered as he took in his reflection, scowling at the grinning Krum who was sitting on his bed.

He’d thought that his plan, although admittedly petty, had been a stroke of genius in his efforts to annoy Malfoy, but Harry had not considered the ramifications of what he had done until he’d written to Cassie explaining that he was taking Daphne Greengrass as his date to the ball.

The reply he’d received had come quickly but had not been a mere acknowledgement as he’d expected.

No, it had been one of many political lessons he’d received throughout his life, and the reality of his actions had finally set in.

It wasn’t that Cassie disapproved of his choice. On the contrary, she had praised him for it, but with it came the reminder of the significance of what he’d deemed to have been nothing other than a harmless jab at Draco.

Remember, the Greengrasses are a prominent family and you will treat one of their daughters with the respect that she should be afforded. This is your first public outing and I expect you to follow protocol at all times.

It would not do well to bring shame upon yourself or Miss Greengrass with a lack of decorum on your part.

Cassie’s words had firmly reminded him that what he had done was no joke, and that already he had slighted his date with only his motivation of asking her to attend the ball with him.

“Oh, shut up, Krum,” Harry huffed as Viktor laughed at him once more. “How do I look?”

“Like the epitome of what it is to be a pureblood,” Viktor replied gleefully.

Again, Harry scowled.

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do,” Viktor countered as he stood. “Look at yourself. You’ve got the high cheekbones, the fancy robes, and the annoying charm.”

Harry deflated as he realised the truth of the words.

He did look like a pureblood, something that would serve him well in the future, but now, he still quite despised the culture.

He’d met so few of them he truly respected let alone liked, and in his tailored, black robes trimmed with green accents, he felt almost like one of them for the first time.

“Did you get her a gift?” Viktor asked. “It says here that you should have,” he added, holding up the second piece of parchment that had been included in the reply he’d received from Cassie.

“Give that here,” Harry huffed, snatching the offending piece of parchment from the still-laughing Krum.

It had been written by Sirius.

A man he had never met giving him dating advice.

“He knows what he’s talking about,” Viktor pointed out.

Harry conceded the point with a nod, but it didn’t make him feel any better about the evening, even if he planned to follow the man’s advice.

Harry,

I may not follow pureblood traditions or protocols, but I can say with the utmost confidence, I know how to treat a girl on a date.

Let’s just say I had more than my fair of successes with the ladies at school, if you know what I mean.

Instead of boring you with a detailed explanation, I have written a list of things you should and shouldn’t do.

Trust me, I learnt some of these the hard way.

1.    Buy her a gift – It doesn’t have to be expensive, but something thoughtful at the very least. Maybe some flowers that remind you of her eyes. Girls like knowing that you have been thinking of them, and a thoughtful gift will show that.

2.    Compliment the way she looks – Girls spend a lot of time getting ready for a date and acknowledging that is one of the most important things to remember. Tell her how nice her hair is, or that how what she is wearing accentuates her beauty. She will appreciate it.

3.    Do not pay unnecessary attention to other girls during your time with her – Friendly conversation is fine but keep it to a minimal. This evening was set aside for your date, and your focus should be on her.

4.    Take an interest in her – ask about her friends and her family, but always have other topics of discussion on hand. Ask her about her interests, her dreams and aspirations.

5.    Escort her home/to her common room – Never leave a young lady unattended to make her own way home, and when you get her there, thank her for the wonderful evening you have shared.

I wanted to include other pieces of advice, but I was prevented from doing so by a witch that shall not be named.

For everything else, you’re on your own, kid.

Sirius

With the reaction from Cassie, Harry’s initial plan had already backfired and he now found himself having to navigate the political field.

“I swear if you don’t stop laughing, I’m going to slap you,” he warned the Bulgarian.

Viktor shook his head amusedly.

“Come on, it’s not that bad,” he comforted. “You must have taken a girl on a date before.”

“No, I haven’t,” Harry grumbled, “and I wasn’t planning on doing so tonight until I received this,” he added, holding up the letter.

“Well, you did it for yourself,” Viktor sighed. “You’ll be fine. Just follow that letter and it will go smoothly. Come one, you don’t want to be late. That would not make the best impression.”

Releasing a deep, calming breath, Harry followed Krum from the ship and the duo made their way towards the castle.

“Are you not nervous?” Harry asked.

“No,” Viktor answered, a smile tugging at his lips. “Hermione is not a pureblood and we have already spent much time together. We will dance, but other than that, it will be like any other time in the library.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Harry snorted as they entered the castle and he spotted the very girl they were discussing waiting nervously by the staircase.

She was wearing a dress of pale pink, and her usually untamed hair had been styled in an elaborate fashion, something Harry suspected had taken her quite some time, even with the assistance of magic.

“She’s much too pretty for a troll like you,” Harry murmured.

Viktor merely nodded in response as Hermione spotted them and made her way over.

“Hello,” she greeted them both, a slight blush forming on her cheek.

Harry shook his head at the dumbfounded Viktor.

“Well, since our Bulgarian friend here seems to have lost his voice, let me be the first to tell you that you look amazing,” he offered.

Hermione’s smile widened.

“Thank you,’ she replied shyly, and Harry scowled as Viktor elbowed him in the ribs.

“Save the compliments for your own date, Potter,” he chuckled, “and remember all the advice you have been given. I expect you will need it,” he added, nodding over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry turned to where the boy was gesturing only for the nervousness he’d felt on the ship to return.

Waiting for him by the entrance to the dungeons was Daphne Greengrass, her green, form-fitting dress matching the accents of his robes perfectly.

Her hair had been styled into an intricate bun, and she was wearing make-up, not so much that it was obvious, but a subtle blush and a few other things Harry knew nothing about to accentuate her features.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered, his mind drawing a blank as he tried to desperately remember the advice Sirius had given him.

Still, he could not keep her waiting, and it would be considered rude to continue staring as he was.

Approaching the girl, he did his best to offer her a genuine smile, and she nervously returned it.

“You look beautiful,” he complimented without thought as he reached into his pocket and removed the gift he had purchased for her that now somehow felt inadequate. “I got this for you.”

Daphne’s eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and awe at the bracelet he revealed as he opened the box.

It was delicate enough to not draw too much attention, but the craftmanship was exquisite.

It was wrought from gold and had small sapphires interspersed throughout the length.

“You shouldn’t have,” Daphne whispered as Harry fumbled with the clasp whilst he placed it on her wrist.

He offered her his arm as the students were shown into the Great Hall where they would eat before the ball was officially underway.

“I really should have,” he sighed, “and I owe you an apology.”

“An apology?” Daphne questioned curiously.

Harry nodded.

“My initial reason for inviting you here was not acceptable, and I’m sorry that I gave the impression it was done to suit my own needs. I made a mistake, and I want to make it up to you.”

Daphne was taken aback, but after a moment, she shook her head.

“I agreed to your reasoning,” she pointed out, and it is still a good enough reason,” she added, shooting a glance towards the seething Draco.

“Maybe,” Harry acknowledged, “but it shouldn’t be the primary one. I’m glad I asked you simply because I think we will enjoy each other’s company.”

Daphne met his eyes as though she was trying to determine if he was being sincere or merely offering her flowery words.

“I think we will too,” she replied as Harry pulled out her chair for her before taking his own seat at the table they had chosen.

Daphne seemed to be a little more content with their arrangement now that Harry had clarified it, even if they were receiving some questioning looks from some of the other Hogwarts students.

“Ignore them,” Daphne sighed. “I think most are just surprised to see me here with you. No one else would have dared asked me from fear of Draco retaliating.”

“He really is a despicable little shit, isn’t he?”

Daphne nodded.

“He is awful, and can be cruel, but only to those he knows wouldn’t dare retaliate.”

“A coward as well as an ass then,” Harry chuckled.

Daphne’s eyes suddenly lit up.

“He was turned into an ass once,” she whispered.

“I know,” Harry replied as he poured himself some water and slid one of the menus towards the girl. “I arranged for it to happen.”

“It was you?” Daphne questioned, grabbing him almost painfully by the wrist.

Harry nodded and took a sip of his drink.

“Well, that is something,” Daphne murmured, her smile not wavering. “How did you do it?”

“That would be telling,” Harry chuckled. “I think I’ll have the salmon.”

The plate before him filled with food, and Daphne followed his lead, ordering a Dover sole for herself.

They ate in a comfortable silence with Harry feeling considerably more relaxed than he had before arriving, and when their plates were cleared, it was only a short wait before Dumbledore stood to address the room.

“Would the champions and their partners please take to the floor for the opening dance,” the man requested.

The three champions did so and twirled around the dance floor in a slow waltz.

“How did you become such good friends with Krum?” Daphne asked interestedly.

The question brought a grin to Harry’s lips.

“We met during my first year,” he began. “Viktor had just been signed to play professionally and he needed people to help him out with his training. After my first flying lesson, I was roped in to help. I’ve been doing it since.”

“And you really beat him to the Snitch?”

Harry nodded.

“It means nothing,” he chuckled. “Viktor has beaten me to it hundreds of times before and since.”

“It’s still impressive.”

“What’s impressive is that the prat hasn’t fallen over his own feet,” Harry snorted as he watched the Bulgarian dancing with Hermione. “Shall we?” he asked, offering his arm as the floor began to fill with other students and even some professors.

Daphne nodded as she accepted the proffered limb and they joined the others.

Harry fell into step with the girl with practiced ease.

Growing up with Cassiopeia Black, he had been drilled extensively in dancing, something that was now paying dividends.

At the time, he had bemoaned the lessons, but now, he internally thanked the woman for confiscating his broom until he had gotten a good enough grasp on it.

“You dance really well,” Daphne complimented.

“You sound surprised,” Harry replied as he spun the girl and caught her in his arms.

“I am,” she admitted with a gasp as Harry dipped her.

The two shared a smile in the rather intimate moment until Harry pulled her back to her feet, dragging his gaze away from Daphne’s.

“Well, I appreciate it, even if Draco doesn’t,” the girl replied, nodding subtly to where the boy was fumbling through a dance with Pansy, his seemingly ever-present scowl fixed on Harry and Daphne.

“I thought we weren’t worrying about him,” Harry reminded the girl.

“We’re not,” Daphne assured him, “but I’m quite enjoying knowing he is not getting what he wants for once, and that there is nothing he can do about it. After what you did to Warrington, he wouldn’t dare come for you, not on his own, at least.”

“Shame,” Harry sighed. “I was looking forward to cursing him.”

Daphne smirked amusedly.

“You might not be able to curse him but there are other ways to get to him.”

“How?” Harry asked curiously.

Daphne hummed as she met his gaze once more, hers taking on an edge of nervousness.

“This would be a good start,” she whispered.

Much to Harry’s surprise, she pressed her lips to his in a lingering though chaste kiss.

“That could work,” he replied when she broke it, her cheeks reddening as she did so, “but I think half a dozen photographers just captured that moment.”

Daphne shrugged uncaringly.

“It was just an innocent kiss, wasn’t it?” she asked, the smile she wore turning quite mischievous.

“Was it?” Harry pressed.

Daphne nodded, though she didn’t seem so sure.

Nevertheless, they continued dancing, and Harry did his best to ignore the photos that were being snapped of them, not that it truly mattered anymore.

The next morning, the photos of him and Daphne kissing would be printed across the country, and perhaps the continent.

Of course, what had happened would be blown out of proportion, but as she continued to smile, undoubtedly aware of what she had done, Harry found he didn’t care.

He was having fun, allowing himself to just be a teenager.

Even if it was to last only a single night.