Chapter 168: Two Girls, Asking Her Out (2/2)
Daphne glanced to her side at Ivy, waiting for her to say something, but the redhead gave her a fleeting glance before walking away while humming a tune.
'She's annoying,' thought Daphne and started her way towards the Slytherin common room. She had to talk to Tracey about this; Tracey would know what to do with this.
As Daphne reached the corridor just beyond the common room entrance, she heard.
”Daphne?”
The girl turned, and her eyes flashed with recognition.
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On the whole, Harry had to admit that even with the slightly intimidating prospect of opening the ball before him, life had definitely improved since he had got through the first task. He wasn't attracting nearly as much unpleasantness in the corridors anymore, which he suspected had a lot to do with his performance; the people who wore 'Support the Champions' lapel badges finally had smiles on their faces when they looked at him.
If he had to complain, it would be about Rita Skeeter's articles and Draco Malfoy's whispers subtly supporting them in the Hogwarts rumor mill. Malfoy might not show his displeasure outwards in public, but that didn't stop him from continuing in the back, where it wasn't visible to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.
The last week had become increasingly boisterous as it progressed. Rumors about the Yule Ball were flying everywhere, though Harry didn't believe half of them — for instance, that Dumbledore had bought eight hundred barrels of mulled mead from Madam Rosmerta. However, it seemed to be a fact that he had booked the Weird Sisters — something everyone who had grown up listening to the WWN (Wizarding Wireless Network) felt wildly excited about having the famous musical group at the ball.
Some of the teachers, like little Professor Flitwick, gave up trying to teach them much when their minds were so clearly elsewhere; he allowed them to play games in his lesson on Wednesday and spent most of it talking to Harry about the perfect Carpe Retractum Charm Harry had used during the first task of the Triwizard Tournament.
Other teachers were not so generous. Nothing would ever deflect Professor Binns, for example, from plowing on through his notes on goblin rebellions — as Binns hadn't let his own death stand in the way of continuing to teach, they supposed a small thing like Christmas wasn't going to put him off. It was amazing how he could make even bloody and vicious goblin riots sound as dull as Percy's cauldron-bottom report.
Professors McGonagall and Moody kept them working until the very last second of their classes too (McGonagall would let her hair down on and before the quidditch game day), and Snape, of course, would no sooner let them play games in class than adopt Harry. Staring nastily around at them all, he informed them that he would be testing them on poison antidotes during the last lesson of the term.
”Evil, he is,” Ron said bitterly in the Gryffindor common room, ”springing a test on us on the last day. Ruining the last bit of term with a whole load of studying”
”Mmm. .. you're not exactly straining yourself, though, are you?” said Hermione, looking at him over the top of her Potions notes. Ron was busy building a card castle out of his Exploding Snap pack — a much more exciting pastime than with non-magical cards because of the chance that the whole thing would blow up at any second.
”It's almost Christmas, Hermione,” said Ivy lazily; she was rereading Historical Witches Throughout The Ages for the tenth time in an armchair near the fire.
”No, it's not; there's still ten days remaining.”
”.. . That's almost Christmas, Hermione.”
Hermione sighed before looking at Harry severely. ”I'd have thought you'd be doing something constructive, Harry, even if you don't want to learn your antidotes!”
”Like what?” asked the fourth champion.
”The egg!”
”Come on, Hermione, he's got till February the twenty-fourth,” said Ron, setting the cards.
”But it might take weeks to work it out! You're going to look a real idiot if everyone else knows what the next task is and you don't!”
”Leave him alone; he's earned a bit of a break.”
And the arguing between the two opposites begun.
Harry, who was doing nothing, stared at them — well, he stared at Hermione for the most part. He had been part of such arguments with Hermione an n-number of times. In the past, he always thought of them to be oh-so annoying, having to answer about any ”fun” he had.
'Ah, the fun, huh,' thought Harry, 'those things aren't that fun now, are they?'
The day his name came out of the Goblet of Fire, all those little fun things were thrown out of his mind and life — he didn't have time for goofing around. And with that went away his and Hermione's bickering.
Then he saw it.
The constant taunts and gibes weren't out of spite but out of concern. That concern showed in earnest when he was struggling with a sudden crisis.
Suddenly, her voice — gentle, not irritating; her words — soothing, not cutting; her gaze — worried, not mocking. It was a brand new Hermione, a Hermione he liked.
”Hermione,” he said. Harry Potter wasn't one to be shy.
The girl got in a gibe before looking at Harry. ”Yes, what is it?”
”Will you go to the Ball with me?”
The group went silent, and the common room became attentive. Everyone watched in a complete hush as Harry gazed at Hermione, who stared back at him with a stunned and surprised face.
Ivy, who had been laying down in an armchair, her feet dangling off the sides, instantly sat up while Ron's hand holding cards stilled mid-air as he stared at his two friends.
”Are you serious? This isn't a prank,” asked the smartest-witch-of-her-age.
”Yes, I'm not serious, and this isn't a prank,” answered the Boy-Who-Lived.
”Why me?”
”You know me,” said 'Harry,' ”and I like to think I know you too.. . I would like to take you, who I know, with me to the Ball.”
”That's it?”
”That's it. Is that not enough?'
”N-no, it's enough.”
”So are you.. . ?”
”Yes.”
The room was about to erupt, but Harry spoke up, delaying it a bit.
”I would like you to be a bit more.. . articulate,” he smiled, leaning forward.
”Don't push it, Potter.”
'I'm a Potter too,' thought a redhead, but she stayed quiet.
”Please, I insist,” asked Harry, using one word he had picked up from an old man who loved socks.
The brunette with wavy hair pushed one side behind her ear. ”Okay, if you want it that much.. . I accept your offer; I'll go with you to the Ball. It's a date.”
”It's a date.”
Now the crowd erupted — cheers and hoots, the complete package. Everyone surrounded the champion and his date — festivity ensured.
Ronald Weasley looked to his side; he still didn't have a date.
”So.. . Ivy, should we go together?”
The reply came quick. ”No, thank you, Ron. I'll be fine.”
”Oh, come on!”
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Quinn West - MC - ”Uhm.. . hey, I guess. See you next time.”
Ivy Potter - Rival #1 - Got rejected. Now feels a little better.
Daphne Greengrass - Rival #2 - Missed her chance. Isn't feeling good.
Harry Potter - Protagonist (A/N: Pfft!) - Well, I got a date for the party. How about you guys? Yes, I'm asking you.
Hermione Granger - Still a champion's date - Oh boy, she's going in the lake again.
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