#gofp10

HARRY JAMES POTTER!!!!

IT IS COMPLETELY NEEDLESS FOR ME TO TELL HOW WORRIED, HOW DISTRAUGHT, HOW UTTERLY WRETCHED I FELT WHEN I HEARD…HOW COULD YOU….TALK???? TO???? A???? FIRE BREATHING DEMON????????

Dearest Godson,

Congratulations on getting past the Horntail. Whoever put your name in that goblet shouldn’t be feeling too happy right now! Because I’m going to find them and use a conjunctivitis curse on every inch of them until they howl in pain and agony. I was going to suggest a Conjunctivitis Curse, as a dragon’s eyes are its weakest point, but how you handled that dragon was simply amazing. Don’t get complacent though, Harry. You’ve only done one task; whoever put you in for the tournament’s got plenty more opportunity if they’re trying to hurt you. Main you, injure you. Perhaps you should just drop out, quit Hogwarts completely. Remus and I will take you in. I’ve been learning to knit, and have started quite the quilt to wrap you in. Keep your eyes open, particularly around certain other headmasters, and concentrate on keeping yourself out of trouble. For the love of all that is holy keep yourself out of trouble before I have a panic attack.  

           Keep in touch, we will want to hear all about the Yule Ball. Please try to go with a Gryffindor. Slytherin children are notoriously difficult to raise. I should know. And I’m too young for grey hair in case someone impregnates you.

All our love,

           Sirius and Remus

P.S.

           Your father was one of the most supportive people I’ve ever known and would be very proud. He would have been the loudest person in the crowd for every task. Other than your mother.  

           Harry hoped that both of his parents would have been proud of him. As far as a date, Harry was starting to highly consider asking Myrtle if she would be willing to take a break from the bathroom and haunt the dance floor with him for a few hours.

           Ron, however, had set his sights a little more on the living side.

“Fleur? Are you insane?” Ginny had asked her shell shocked brother who was barely able to speak since he had done the unthinkable. They were outside at the scene of the crime, or as most people called it, the courtyard. Several people were gathered around a stunned Ron as he explained what had happened.

           “Shoot for the stars?” said Seamus Finnigan. “I sure did,” he said, gazing at Lavender Brown, another Gryffindor girl, who Seamus seemed to be newly smitten with. Dean, near him, seemed to choke on something slightly before excusing himself.

           “I don’t know, Harry, it just happened. I just looked at her, and then, BAM! I honestly didn’t even mean to ask her. I’ve been meaning to ask…”

Harry nodded.

           “It’s that she’s part Veela, her grandmother,” said Harry. “It’s not your fault. You probably passed her when I did. She was putting it on quite heavy for Cedric Diggory, I nearly got pulled in myself.”

           “Ah,” said Seamus. “But he’s going with Cho Chang I’m pretty sure.”

Ah, Harry thought, that made sense. Cute couple.              “But then whose Fleur going with?” asked Harry.

“I saw her chatting with that Ravenclaw Roger Davies,” said Seamus.

           “No,” said Ron, still looking out of his skin. “Worse,” he said, shaking his head.

“I don’t even know how he did it, but….oh, Harry, it’s so bad. And gosh, now, she’ll never agree to go with me when she hears about this…” Ron trailed off.

           Harry looked at his friend and tried to read his mind the way Millicent sometimes managed to read his, but he got nothing. Just then, Pansy Parkinson stalked across the grass of the courtyard looking so fierce that Harry thought she was going to hex him flat out.

           “Potter!” she hailed, and Harry nearly jumped out of his skin, looking for her cane on reflex because he was surely about to get hit in the shins.

           But when no hit immediately came, it was already too late to run.

“You’re going to the Yule Ball with me, I will be by your rooms later tonight to make sure that your dress robes are suitable. If they are not you will wear what I pick out and you will not complain. You will meet me for extensive dancing lessons until I can say with all certainty that you will not embarrass me.”

           “Now, wait just a second….” Said Ginny Weasley, the only one brave enough in the crowd to talk to Parkinson that way. “Harry doesn’t have to go with you.”

           “Listen, Potter,” Pansy said, coming close so only he could hear what she had to say. “You promised me Draco Malfoy and since I helped you with your little flea problem, I suggest that you get on board or I will ruin you….” She stressed the word and Harry had no doubt that she meant it.

           Harry merely nodded, meekly.

Pansy smiled then turned on her heel.

           “Seven o’clock, Potter,” she said over her shoulder.

Harry berated himself for not asking Myrtle sooner.

           The night of the ball, the entrance hall was packed with students, all milling about, waiting for their dates and for eight o’clock to sound and the Great Hall doors to be opened.

           Harry had to be up early, but the rest of his house came up the stairs soon enough, Draco Malfoy at their head. He was wearing dress robes of black velvet with a high collar and his hair was jelled back in a slightly different way than usual. He looked… decent as he strode over to Fleur Delacour and took her hand.

           Pansy was next, she was wearing a pale pink dress and a rather delicate line of jewels in her hair. She took Harry’s arm forcefully, not daring to look at Draco who was chatting amicably with Fleur. Blaise had explained, saying that Draco had been working on this little coup all year.

           “She thinks you and he are best friends.”

“Me and Malfoy?” said Harry. “That’s a joke.”

           Harry had tried to get close to Fleur to tell her the truth, but every time he tried to get close, Pansy pulled heavily on his arm and Harry realized what a bad idea that was after all. All of the Weasley’s were dressed up nicely. Fred had somehow gotten Angelina Johnson to go with him while George had asked fellow teammate Katie Bell. Neither of the twins looked as happy as most of the other students. Harry had assumed that Fred and George would be shooting off more of those sparklers that they had at the Burrow, but instead, they barely seemed inclined to talk to one another.

           George kept glancing at Angelina Johnson with a longing sort of look that Harry thought matched Pansy’s non-looks at Malfoy.

           “What’s going on?” he had asked Ginny who had agreed to go to the ball with Neville.

“I’m not sure,” she said, though she too, noticed that something was wrong with her brothers.

           As the doors opened, and people started to file inside, Harry was ordered to stay where he was by Professor McGonagall. The champions would go in last. While neither Ron or Hermione had made an appearance.

           Harry was starting to wonder if he could get away with leaving Pansy for a few minutes to go and get the map and try to find them when Hermione walked down the staircase.

           She was breathtaking.

Harry had never known Hermione to be one who took too much time with her appearance. She was always neat and hygienic, but she had never employed the varied cosmetic charms that Pansy, Tracey, and even Lavender and Parvati from Gryffindor knew like they knew the back of their hands. But tonight she looked stunning.

           Then as if she could get any more beautiful, she smiled as Ron Weasley came down beside her, took her hand in his, and then escorted her to the Great Hall.

           “Wow,” said Harry, giving them both a hug.

“You guys look great,” he said.

           “You too, Harry,” said Hermione cheerily, smoothing down her blue dress. Ron said it too, but his eyes never left Hermione.

           And before Pansy could say anything cutting to Hermione, Professor McGonagall ushered Ron and Hermione into the Great Hall.

           “Good luck,” they echoed as they moved further and further away from him.

Everyone seemed to have their dates. Even Warrington with…Ely? Harry had wondered at first if they had just gone as friends until Warrington had bravely and quite proudly pulled his very handsomely dressed date into his arms and kissed him to the shock and awe of quite a few. Pansy however looked as if this was old news.

           “You knew about…” Harry gestured to the two boys who were now holding hands and waiting to be let into the Ball.

           Pansy nodded.

“Old news, Potter, we all go through that phase, don’t we?” she asked. Then, “But for some it’s more than just a phase, sometimes it lasts until seventh year.” Pansy sighed. “And sometimes a good pureblood goes to rot on a hot blonde.” Harry thought that comment was a bit brusque when he heard someone whistle at him.

He turned to see Millicent walking up the stairs from the dungeons. Wow, Harry thought. Millicent was wearing a deep green almost black suede strapless dress that fit her incredibly well. Her hair was beautifully done in loose waves to one side, the jewels she was wearing only exemplified the fact that she was definitely shining.

           Harry waited to see if anyone else was coming up the stairs, but when Harry saw neither Crabbe, Goyle, or Blaise in her company, Harry wondered if she had decided to come alone after all. Blaise had said that he was going stag, maybe they just planned to dance together and or make fun of everyone else’s dancing skills or lack thereof.

           Then, Viktor Krum moved past him, walked up to Millicent, took her hand in his, gave a low bow, and kissed her hand.

           “No flipping way,” said Pansy beside him, her eyes wide as “big, burly, broad shoulder, butch Millicent Bulstrode” was taken into Viktor Krum’s arms and led to the line of champions.

           Millicent winked at him as they passed.

“What company you keep, Potter,” said Millicent, tsk’ing him. “Oh, and Pans,” she said, as Professor McGonagall started to count them in. “I’d shut your mouth if I were you. You’re already inclined to premature wrinkles, and that expression is only going to give you more lines.”

           Harry had to pull a shocked Pansy into line because it was time.

Harry was never more amazed by magic than in moments like this. Flying, spells, those were one thing, but the Great Hall for the Yule Ball was spectacular. Snow drifted from the ceiling, glitter and shine had replaced the dark wood and boring paint.

           Everything was silver and white. It looked like a fairytale. Too bad Harry couldn’t properly appreciate it as he was about to vomit. Pansy tugged on his arm sharply.

           “Mess this up Potter, and even a niffler won’t be able to find your body even with all my jewels shoved down your throat.” Harry eyed the rather large expensive looking jewels and that didn’t help his stomach at all.

           “Don’t worry,” Pansy whispered as the music started. “I can always buy new ones.” Then the doors opened and Harry followed one obnoxiously proud Warrington and his immaculately dressed boyfriend to his death.

After spinning him around like he was a dog on show, the rest of the school joined them in the first dance. After a few dances, it was less traditional and more just everyone and their partner or partners just moving together and having a good time, the strict moves that had been drilled into Harry’s head nearly forgotten.

           Harry thought he’d be free after the first couple of dances, assuming Pansy would abandon him for greener pastures, but she had stuck to him like glue. “You are the hot commodity, Potter,” she had said. “So, don’t think I’ll be letting you go to dance with other girls.”

           But as he and Pansy engaged in their third dance of the agreed seven of the evening, the memory of Pansy’s cane kept his feet in line and his body on beat. Harry was about to call for a break as some of the other couples had done, filtering off and on the dance floor. Tracey Davis had gone with Crabbe after some very fine begging and a very nice, antique necklace that Crabbe had bribed off his mother for the occasion. Too bad the way that Tracey kept looking at it in every reflective surface meant that she wasn’t getting it back anytime soon. The two were one of the few couples who hadn’t left the dance floor for a break. Ron and Hermione were the other pair who just couldn’t get enough….dancing.

           Harry was happy for his friends.

Ely and Warrington were also doing their fair share of dancing and mingling. Ely was treating the ball like he treated everything else, like a politician you always forgot was one until you were in the voting booth.

           Neville and Ginny looked like they were having the time of their lives, dancing and eating the little cakes that had been made for the occasion. They were like two kids at a carnival, enjoying all the lights and sounds, and Harry thought it was brilliant. Other couples weren’t having the same fun.

           While Millicent and Krum spun around the dance floor looking like a very fine couple, Fred and Angelina Johnson kept stepping on each other’s feet while George Weasley was barely content to dance with his date at all. Draco and Fleur were also going the politician route and since Malfoy had gotten what he wanted in taking Fleur to the Ball and having been seen with her, he seemingly had his fill of the fierce champion and part Veela. She was turning on the charm though as several boys surrounded them, suiting her and Malfoy both just fine.

           Pansy kept staring daggers. Harry kept wondering where she put her wand in that dress and just how quick she could get to it before he had the opportunity to get out of the way. Though, her plan was definitely working, Malfoy despite the crowd of people that he had around him, kept glancing at them before covering it up with a obviously fake laugh.

           Pansy excused him to get him and her a drink while she took Goyle up on his offer of a dance, and Malfoy stared even harder as Harry gave her away “to anyone but Draco”. Harry had nearly sprinted off to get himself some of the punch. As he was tipping some into a glass, someone bumped into his back.

           “Sorry,” the guy said shortly.

Harry turned around, ready to ask the guy what his problem was when he saw that it was Seamus Finnigan. He barely seemed to recognize that Harry was there at all. He was staring quite intensely at the dance floor where Dean Thomas danced with his date, a boy named Caleb from Durmstrang.

           They hadn’t cause quite the stir that Ely and Warrington had, but that could be because of Slytherins innate prejudice against anything not supporting pureblood values and not because Hogwarts students or staff as a whole were against same sex relationships. That, made Harry feel lighter than anything. No one seemed to care that the two boys were dancing together or that any other couple had decided to go together just because of their sex. Were they judged on what they were wearing? Yeah. If someone couldn’t dance? Of course. But nothing else.

           No one cared. But Seamus Finnigan.

The Irish fellow stared at Dean like he had personally AK’d his mother or tried to Crucio his cat, but all Dean was doing was having the time of his life, or at least that’s what it looked like to Harry.

           “All right, Seamus?” Harry offered loud enough so that the boy snapped out of his stupor.

           “Fine,” he said, shortly then remembering that he was actually friendly with Harry said, “You?”

           “Totally fine,” Harry replied. Then deciding that potentially being caught on fire was worth it, he said, “Dean looks nice tonight.”

           To his surprise, Seamus laughed.

“Dean looks nice all the time. But that other guy, you would think someone would put in more effort for something like this, but what do you know, foreigners, I guess.”      

           “Fleur’s a foreigner and so is Krum and they both look excellent tonight,” Harry commented.

           Seamus grudgingly looked at the two people that Harry mentioned. Fleur was now dancing with Roger Davies and several other boys at the same time until two girls from Beauxbatons gave her a dirty look. Fleur shot a look at Hermione as she entertained both Neville and Ron, twirling both the boys under her arms as Ginny went to get a drink then Fleur sent the other boys away leaving her with only Davies. Krum was listening as Millicent told him some story, laughing as loudly as Harry had ever heard the boy. Fred was trying to talk to his brother as Katie Bell was dancing with a Hufflepuff Harry was only vaguely familiar with.

            “I mean,” said Seamus. “I guess they look fine, but it’s just…”

“It’s just that you don’t like that guy because he’s dancing with Dean. It could be anyone and you wouldn’t like it.”

           “Well,” huffed Seamus. “He’s my best friend and he only deserves the best, and…and…that guy clearly isn’t it, that’s all.”

           Harry looked once again at the dancing pair who were laughing quietly as the music suddenly changed direction and they had to readjust their steps.

           “Where’s the light of your days and nights anyway? I thought you and Lavender have been getting on quite well these days.”

           Seamus sighed.

“She said that if I was going to be in a sour mood all night then she was just going to dance with Parvati, not that they don’t spend every waking hour together anyways.” Seamus chuckled lightly. “They’re a bit like Dean and I really, I had just assumed that we were going to go with them as a foursome, but then Dean had said that someone had asked him to go. When I asked him who, he had said a guy from Durmstrang. He had said that he had waited for someone else to ask him for awhile but since they didn’t seem like they were willing….he had said yes.. to this other guy.”

           Harry nodded, finally thinking that he had it all connected. But before Harry could say anything else, Pansy walked over and seized him.

           “We’re making a move, Potter. Keep up for full tilt.”

Draco had finally pulled another Slytherin girl into a dance. And as Harry and Pansy started to dance, Draco quickly maneuvered his date to be right beside them.

           At times, Malfoy got so close to them that Harry could feel his hot, labored breathing on the back of his neck. Towards the end of the night, he was sure he and Draco were wearing the same cologne.

           Still, the night wasn’t a total loss. When he was finally able to sneak away from Pansy on one of her “breaks” he had run into one Marcus Flint, chaperone extraordinaire.

           “Flint?” Harry had asked.

It was odd seeing Flint in this context, dress robes and nodding along to the Weird Sisters.

           Flint turned at the sound of his name, a slight smile on his face as he saw Harry. Harry almost turned away. He wasn’t exactly sure that he had actually seen Flint smile before. Maybe he’s drunk, Harry thought. He wouldn’t be the first to sneak in some Fire Wiskey.

           “Haven’t seen Wood, have you?” Flint asked distractedly, looking around the room.

“He’s here too?” Harry asked.

           Maybe Pansy had drugged him and this was all a hallucination.

“Yeah,” said Flint, answering Harry’s question, but not really.

           “What are you doing here?” Harry asked.

“I thought you’d be busy with the team? And Wood, too. I didn’t think professional athletes took breaks.”

           Flint leveled him with the old “Captain’s glare”. It almost made Harry feel nostalgic.

“It’s Christmas, Potter,” Flint said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “The league breaks for Christmas, every team.”

           Harry felt like he was making some sort of connection when up walked Oliver Wood dressed smartly in his jet black robes. Side by side, Harry thought Flint Wood made quite the pair.

           “Hello, Potter,” Wood greeted, much more amiable now that they weren’t on opposing teams.

           “I owled Flint here and asked if he wanted to have a little one on one at the old pitch and he accepted my challenge.”

           “Of course I did,” said Flint, looking rather fondly at Oliver.

Maybe he was feeling nostalgic too.

           Flint’s cheeks started to redden like they always did when he was about to start shouting at someone, so Harry quickly said goodbye to the former Captains. He looked back as the pair were heading to the door, but Flint didn’t look upset at all.

           Back on the dance floor, he and Pansy were interrupted. “I’d like a dance,” Malfoy said as soon as his partner excused herself for a moment. “Do you mind if I cut in,” he asked Harry. But before Harry could throw Pansy into his arms, he was thrust into Malfoy’s.  

“Sure,” smirked Pansy. “Keep him busy for me Draco, darling, while I get a drink. I’m famished.”

           Malfoy looked like he wanted to argue but the look on Pansy’s face dissuaded him of that quick enough. A sound like a whip cracking filled the air and reflexively Harry put his hands on Malfoy’s waist. Harry damned Pansy and her death stick both, praying that wasn’t going to be a permanent reaction.

           “Well, well, Potter, didn’t realize I was your type, domineering, in control, powerful. I could have pitched Skeeter a far more interesting tale than Granger.”

           Harry heard Pansy call, “Draco!” in what he had deemed her “teacher voice” and Draco’s hands were suddenly on his shoulders.

           “Really Malfoy,” Harry had laughed. “because it seems like I’m the one leading this dance.”

           “Yeah right,” said Draco, moving them back a step. “It’s a wonder Pansy doesn’t have bloody toes by now.”

           “Ha, Ha,” laughed Harry, tugging firmly on Draco’s waist so that he could lead. Malfoy pushed back, but instead of fighting they were each trying to outdo one another in a weird sort of dance battle.

           Harry only realized they weren’t actually fighting when Pansy tapped Draco on the shoulder.

           “If you are done trying to steal my date, Draco. I would really quite like him back.”

Draco flushed, pushing back from Harry quickly before scurrying off. Pansy then reclaimed her spot, and they finished out the rest of their allotted dances. The Great Hall was bright and hot, people’s bodies pressed together, and he still smelled like Malfoy. Deciding to break away from the pack, Harry moved to the edge of the dance floor where he saw something he never thought he would see. Fred and George Weasley arguing.

           “Not having fun with your date?” George commented.

Fred merely rolled his eyes, like the two had talked about this before.

           Angelina was now dancing with one of the guys from Durmstrang. After the first few dances of the night, Harry hadn’t seen Fred take her out once. Likewise, Katie Bell looked as if she was having quite the time with a pretty Beauxbaton’s girl.

           “I really don’t want to talk about this right now, George,” said Fred. He was eyeing someone on the dance floor, but Harry couldn’t see who in the mass of bodies.

           Fred stood to leave, but George grabbed his arm, whispering something in his ear.

“I know,” Fred said, jerking his arm away from George. “I know, but it wasn’t my fault that the plan went to crap. And it’s not my fault that you didn’t ask her when you should have done. You’ve practically been in love with the girl since second year.”

           “You’re one to talk. All the mooning you’ve been doing this summer put all the cows in Ottery to shame.”

           Fred went red in the face.

“You know it’s complicated.”

           George, normally the more reserved brother was starting to shout.

“It’s not complicated! YOU LIKE HER! Just admit it, she gets you like no one else does, she understands how your mind works, and she doesn’t put up with any of your crap. The girl is practically an evil genius and you have failed, Freddie, on the recruitment process.”

           Then realizing that he was perhaps talking a bit too loudly, and that some people were now staring. George said,” But you’re right. I should have asked her when I had the chance. And now that I do, I’m going to take it.”

           George then stalked off in the direction of Angelina Johnson, pulled a whisbee from his pocket, and promptly launched it at her dancing partner.

           A stunned and giggling Angelina was then pulled into his arms and the two took off where Angelina and her former partner who was now dealing with smoke coming from his pants left off.

           Millicent who had stopped dancing with Krum to watch the carnage of the scene before her gave one inscrutable look at Fred and then returned to her partner. Krum whispering something insistently in her ear. Millicent nodded then shook her head. “I can handle it,” Harry could almost hear her say.

           Fred, upon seeing everyone start dancing again, returned to his brooding, stalking off in the direction of the now spiked punch.

           Harry walked outside to get a breath of air and too cool down, but was instead confronted with Snape and Kararoff. Harry ducked behind a bush as he watched Snape call out random couples who had snuck off for a quick snog all the while keeping Karkaroff at bay.

           “We need to do something, Severus. Tell me that you haven’t noticed, that you aren’t concerned.”

           Snape huffed haughtily.

“I assure you Kararoff that you have nothing to worry about. Dumbledore has everything under control.”

           Kararoff continued to speak, but Snape silenced him. “He is gone Kararoff. Gone.”

The pair were heading toward him so Harry went off in another direction, not quite ready to go back inside in case Pansy decided on dance number eight.  

           Harry just turned around another corner when he heard something that sounded like a scuffle. With Fred and George’s fight still on his brain, he kept going, just in case others were letting the excitement of the night get to them.

           But as Harry got closer, he not only heard groaning as if someone was being punched, but moaning as if someone.

           The two who were supposed to be flying, but instead Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood were making out rather heavily against one of the stone corridor walls. Flint’s hand was inside Oliver Wood’s robes as Harry stood transfixed watching the two kiss passionately. Oliver was grinding himself against Marcus’ thigh.  

           “Marcus. Marcus,” Wood chanted in a breathy moan. Each time Wood said his name, Flint looked as if he was going to bust.

           Harry knew he had to leave. He knew that he shouldn’t be watching. So, he turned slowly. When he was away from the two lover’s he felt dirty. He felt like he had witnessed something that was off limits to him, and worse than that, he felt lonely. Harry wondered what it would feel like to kiss someone. What it would feel like to have someone say his name the way that Wood was chanting Flint’s. Then his mind wandered to Malfoy in his arms and how completely normal that felt verses dancing with Pansy.