Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Yuletide Blessing in Disguise	By : Gandalfs-Beard Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Harry/Hermione Views: 123768 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 10
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any related properties--all rights belong to Rowling. Nor do I make any money from the production of this work.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
The Yule Ball

Harry was the first to spot Hermione in the common room. She was hard to miss - she was wearing the exact same jumper as him, a woolly green sweater with a fairly good likeness of the Hungarian Horntail knitted into the pattern. Harry grinned, reckoning that Mrs Weasley had believed the Daily Prophet’s article from a few months ago, even though he himself hadn’t recognised what must have been obvious to Rita Skeeter and many others at Hogwarts for ages.
“Merry Christmas Hermione,” Harry called out cheerily.
Hermione turned around and beamed at him. Harry suddenly noticed that despite the smile on Hermione’s face, her eyes were puffy and red, as if she had been crying. He swallowed guiltily.
“Merry Christmas Harry,” Hermione squeaked, before flinging her arms around him and squeezing him tightly.
“Er... Are you alright Hermione?”
“Never better!”
“Your... er... presents were alright then?” Harry asked nervously.
“They’re lovely Harry!” Hermione assured him, still clinging tightly to him; though Harry noticed that her voice seemed a bit quavery, sounding as if she might cry again. “Thank you ever so much! Nobody’s ever given me anything quite as beautiful as that before.”
“You... you really mean that? It... it’s just I’d never seen you wearing jewellery before, so I wasn’t really sure... and the book, well, I knew you really wanted it, and I wanted you to have what you really wanted... But I don’t want you to get the wrong idea... I’m not expecting anything, or trying to pressure you - I just wanted you to have something special - make up for all the stupid presents I’ve ever given you...”
Hermione shut Harry’s anxious babbling up with a kiss, pressing her lips to his briefly, which was as long as she dared to in public. It seemed to be enough. The luminescence returned to Harry’s bright green eyes and his features began to relax. Hermione gave him a slightly bemused smile, feeling strangely fluttery inside to see him as nervous about giving her the presents as she had felt receiving them.
“The pearls are exquisite Harry, really! ... You’re right, I’ve never really worn jewellery before, but only because nobody’s ever given me anything like that before - unless you count my baby ring. Mum and Dad aren’t really big jewellery wearers. And the Shakespeare - it really is amazing, like owning a museum piece.”
“I’m really glad you liked them,” said Harry, feeling more relieved. “I was worried it all might seem a bit too much, but I couldn’t resist getting the Shakespeare for you.”
“Mum named me after the Queen in A Winter’s Tale,” said Hermione. “Did you know that, then?”
“Absolutely no idea,” Harry admitted with a grin. “The only Shakespeare I’ve read is A Midsummer Night’s Dream in primary school...”
“Oi, You two in the matching sweaters coming to breakfast or what?” Ron grumbled, standing near the portrait hole impatiently. “I’m famished.”
“Okay, we’re coming,” Harry retorted. “Keep your hair on.”
“Where’s your jumper Ron?” Hermione asked as they made their way to the Great Hall.
“I’m going to give it to Dobby later,” said Ron airily. “He popped in to wish Harry Merry Christmas, but he vanished before I thought of giving it to him. ... It was maroon again anyway...”
Breakfast at Christmas was usually a quiet affair, as most students usually went home for the holidays. But not this year, and the atmosphere in the Great Hall was boisterous and exuberant, pregnant with anticipation of the evening’s special event, the Yule Ball. Chatter and laughter filled the air.
Indeed, a few chortles and sniggers were directed at Harry and Hermione for wearing matching sweaters, though surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly) not coming from Fred and George, who were also wearing matching sweaters.
“You’d think she’d knit us totally different jumpers,” George said with a grin. “Or at least put our initials on them and jinx them so we couldn’t switch...”
“...considering she’s always complaining how she can’t tell us apart,” said Fred. “Personally, I think Mum doth protest too much. I think she secretly likes having a pair of Twins.”
“Well it’s not so secret if she’s knitting you matching jumpers, is it?” Ginny pointed out reasonably.
“Too true, little sis,” Fred amiably agreed. “Though I should think you and Ron are lucky that Mum isn’t knitting you two matching jumpers. People might start asking uncomfortable questions.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and Harry chuckled; sniggers emanated from Seamus and Dean, and Neville looked a bit bewildered. Ginny snorted with amusement and flung a piece of jammy toast at Fred, but the rude insinuation seemed to fly right over Ron’s head.
“I just wish she’d quit knitting me Maroon sweaters,” moaned Ron. “I bloody hate Maroon!”
The rest of the morning was spent in the common room, everyone admiring each others’ presents. Lavender excitedly showed off the silver and gold filigree necklace that Viktor Krum had given her.
“Viktor had it on the ship, and gave it to me during breakfast,” Lavender squealed when Harry asked. “That’s probably why the House Elves didn’t know about it to put it in my stocking.”
Harry was pleased to see that he’d been right about his present for Ron; it was indeed a rare book which captured Ron’s attention. Ron was sitting on the sofa by the fire, engrossed with The Makings of a Champion: Winning Quidditch Techniques for All Ages.
Everyone returned to the Great Hall for lunch, which was a magnificent feast with hundreds of golden roast turkeys and all the trimmings, supplemented with sausage rolls, mince pies, and Christmas puddings.
The afternoon was spent outside in the snow, which had fallen heavily again during the night. After flying around a bit with Viktor and Cedric, Harry built a snowman with Hermione, then had a snowball fight with the Weasleys, Neville, Seamus and Dean, and Ginny’s friend Luna. By five, dusk had already fallen, and Hermione departed with Lavender and Parvati and Ginny to get ready for the Ball.
Ron shook his head in amazement. “Three hours to get ready for the Ball? They’re mad! See Neville - what’d I tell you? ... Girls - completely barmy!”
After another hour and a half, it was too dark too aim, and Harry headed back to Gryffindor Tower with the others to begin getting ready for the Ball themselves. The Fat Lady and her friend looked like they were already smashed, drunk off the chocolate liqueurs they had been eating all afternoon, and it took the Fat Lady a while to remember the new password herself.
“I’m telling you, it’s Fairy Lights,” Harry yelled after the third attempt. “You changed it three days ago, remember? How did you forget already? You’ve been letting people in all day haven’t you?”
“Oh, right, Lairy Fights,” the Fat Lady tittered drunkenly. “I do remember now.”
Harry gave up trying to work his head around how it was possible for a portrait to get drunk after showering and changing into his dress robes. But as usual, Harry’s efforts with a wet comb were for naught. Intensely glowering at his hair in a mirror, Harry was shocked when it suddenly changed, shortening at the back and sides, laying down neatly on top, parting evenly, his fringe sweeping dashingly across his forehead from one side to cover his scar.
“Hey, Ron, you’ll never believe what I just did without a wand,” he said excitedly as he shut the bathroom door behind him.
But Ron was too busy fiddling with his Maroon vintage robes and cursing at the lacy frills to pay attention.
“Bloody hell! I look all stupid and girly in these,” Ron muttered sourly. “Between this and being with Luna in her butterbeer cork necklace and radish earrings, I’ll look a right idiot.”
Ron took out his wand and attempted to use a severing charm to cut off the frills, just making the robes look even worse, ragged and frayed edges of lace peeking from the folds of the lapels and cuffs. Harry finally took pity on him, even though he was in a bit of a rush himself now, as he had to meet Hermione with the other Champions and their dates to make a “Grand Entrance” together.
“Here Ron, let me,” he said kindly. Harry muttered, “Diffindo,” and carefully ran his wand along the edges until they were all smooth and completely lace free. Then, for good measure, Harry cast a Colour-Changing Charm, and Ron’s robes turned royal blue.
Ron’s jaw dropped. “Blimey! Thanks Harry! Hermione’s right - you really are brilliant at Charms.”
“I’ve just been focusing a bit more lately,” said Harry, flushing slightly. “Anyway, I gotta go Ron, Hermione’s probably already waiting with the others.”
“Yeah, alright Harry - see you a bit later then. Thanks again.”

~o0o~
Ron trailed behind Ginny and Neville as they in turn followed Dean and Parvati, and Seamus and Padma, down the marble stairs to the Great Hall. Ron looked around nervously, finally spotting Luna Lovegood when they reached the foot of the stairs. His eyes widened, pleasantly surprised to see that the distinctly dotty girl - whom he barely knew, beyond seeing her with Ginny on occasion - didn’t look half-bad.
Luna was wearing a pale yellow gown with gold sparkles under her open lemon chiffon yellow dress-robes. And instead of butterbeer corks, her necklace appeared to made of delicate little seashells, and her earrings were silver seahorses which actually looked quite pretty. Luna grinned at the expression on Ron’s face.
“Hello Ronald,” she said boldly. “You look quite nice. Royal blue suits you.”
“Oh, er... yeah! You too,” Ron said lamely, his ears turning pink, mentally kicking himself as soon as he’d said it.
“Come on, let’s get seats then.” Luna took Ron’s arm and he let her guide him to one of the oblong tables at the side of the Great Hall with Ginny and Neville and the others.
Ron tried not to trip over his own feet as he glanced at the decorations, which had changed since lunch time. The Great Hall looked quite different without the long House Tables taking up most of the space. For the first time, Ron noticed that the floor was marble, unlike the stone of most of the floors in the castle.
The dozen Christmas Trees were gone; Poinsettias and Christmas Roses lined the sides of the room instead, broken at intervals by ornately carved ice-sculptures, and the walls were covered in frost. Glittering icicles and garlands of Holly, Mistletoe, and Ivy hung from the pillars and arches which reached across the vaulted ceiling, through which the clear starry night could be seen. The silvery glowing fairies which had been decorating the Christmas trees fluttered around the Hall. The overall effect was of a sparkling winter wonderland.
“Look out for Nargles,” said Luna as they took their seats, bringing Ron back to Earth.
“Nargles?”
“They tend to infest Mistletoe. Though I expect the Fairies will keep them in line. That’s probably why the Professors let the Fairies stay.”
Ron gaped at Luna in frank disbelief, not sure what to say. Ginny giggled and shot Ron a warning look.
“Er... Okay,” Ron finally muttered. “Watch out for Nargles then. Got it!” He peered around nervously, looking for Harry and Hermione. Luna seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.
“They’re probably in the anteroom,” she said. “Oh look, here they come now.”
Ron’s head swiveled. Sure enough, a beam of golden light from nowhere flooded the doorway of the anteroom. The Champions and their dates followed McGonagall through the entry in pairs lined up behind her. First up behind McGonagall was Krum and Lavender, followed by Cedric and Cho Chang.
Then came Fleur and her date, Roger Davies, captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, who appeared to be sneaking glances at her chest with a gormless expression on his face. Fleur looked slightly put out. Bringing up the rear was Harry, who looked more debonair than Ron had ever remembered him looking - almost as dashing as Cedric even.
But Ron didn’t recognise the girl with Harry. Nor did Neville apparently; he and Ron exchanged puzzled looks.
“I thought Harry was coming with Hermione,” Ron murmured at Lavender and Parvati. “Where is she?”
All the girls giggled.
“That’s her with Harry, silly,” said Ginny,
“That’s Hermione?” Neville was as stunned as Ron. He’d always fancied Hermione a bit, but that was mostly just because she was nice to him and helped him with his homework. He had never really noticed she was actually pretty before.
Ron and Neville both stared at Hermione, flabbergasted, not quite believing that she was the same bushy haired swotter who had kept them from failing utterly in Potions and Transfiguration.

~o0o~
Harry tried his hardest not to fidget as he entered the Great Hall under a quite literal spotlight. He grinned nervously at Hermione, concentrating hard on not stumbling, carefully placing one foot in front of another. Hermione blushed shyly as she smiled back, fluttering her eyelashes at him and biting her lip.
Harry knew Hermione was a knock-out - he had for a month now, ever since McGonagall had put her foot down and ordered him to go with Hermione to the Ball. But now everyone else could see how gorgeous she was too, looking more like a model than bookworm tonight.
Hermione’s dress robes were a pastel shade of periwinkle blue, made of some sort of floaty fabric. They were open at the front, trailing slightly behind her, and just the right hue to complement the mauve ballgown Hermione was wearing beneath.
Parvati had helped Hermione do something with her hair; half straightening it, pulling it back one side while letting a cascade of delicate ringlets free the other side to tumble over her shoulder like a tawny-brown waterfall which seemed to shine golden when the light struck it.
Hermione had only the barest hint of makeup, just enough to highlight her natural features; Harry hadn’t even realised she was wearing any until Hermione had told him.
The whole breathtaking effect was set off by the opalescent strand of pearls gracing Hermione’s neck, and the pearl earrings. Harry felt slightly intimidated - almost like he was walking into the Great Hall with a life-size Fairy Queen beside him. He was startled when she took his hand and squeezed it, whispering at him, sounding a bit breathless.
“You look really handsome Harry! ... a bit like James Bond even. How did you manage to tame your hair? And who gave you that haircut? ... Parvati helped me with mine - she used something called Sleakeasy’s hair potion and styled it for me.”
“Oh, er... I dunno really,” Harry murmured back as they continued across the marble floor. “I just sort of stared at myself in the mirror - I was feeling really cross that it wouldn’t do what I wanted it to. And then it just sort of happened - my hair just shortened and styled itself.”
“Really?” Hermione looked surprised. “Without a wand?”
“Yeah, it was amazing! I’ve never even tried transfiguring myself with a wand, much less without one.”
“Hmm...”
Harry recognised that pensive frown and, “Hmm...”
“What?”
“Well,” Hermione began slowly, “It is possible to do wandless magic of course, but extremely difficult - especially transfigurations. And the only wizards I’ve heard of who can do self-transfigurations without wands are called Metamorphmagi - they’re extremely rare and they’re born with the talent.
“Though the talent has to be trained to be used to its full advantage once the wizard has discovered it. Is this the first time you’ve done it?”
“Er... second actually.” Harry felt a thrill run up his spine at the possibility of having discovered a new hidden talent. “I did it once ages ago - before Hogwarts. Aunt Petunia practically shaved all my hair off once, leaving me with only a bit of fringe to cover my scar. I looked a bit like those weird friars from the middle ages with the stupid haircuts.
“I was really upset about having to go to the school next day looking like a freak, and when I woke up the next morning, my hair was completely regrown and back to normal. ... The Dursleys locked me in my cupboard-under-the-stairs for a week after that, even though I didn’t know how I’d done it.”
Hermione blanched slightly in horror. Harry had been so excited, that he’d let a bit more of his past slip without realising. She couldn’t believe that his awful relatives had kept him locked in a cupboard. “His cupboard,” Harry had called it. Had they actually made him live in the cupboard? Hermione recovered herself quickly though, focusing on the bit that was making Harry happy.
“That’s amazing Harry!” she exclaimed, excitement creeping into her own voice. “I think you really must be a metamorphmagus to be able to do that. We’ll have to find a book to help you train it up - I’m sure there must be one in the library...”
“I can’t wait,” said Harry, his anxiety completely forgotten. They were almost at the staff table when Harry spotted Draco Malfoy sitting slightly apart from a group of Slytherins, apparently dateless. Harry grinned...

~o0o~
“That can’t be Granger,” Draco muttered in stunned disbelief. “It can’t be...”
“What’s the matter Draco?” Pansy hissed from the table next to his, a hint of a smirk on her lips. “Granger looking good to you now?”
“Shut it, Parkinson,” Draco snarled. “Like I’d ever fancy a Mudblood, no matter how good it looked! Watch your mouth!”
Pansy flinched slightly.
“Whatever you say, Draco!” she retorted, her voice taking on a frosty tone. Pansy turned back to her date, a strapping lad from Durmstrang with closely cropped hair.

~o0o~
Harry was pleased to find that he’d made it all the way to the staff table without tripping and falling flat on his face. As he and Hermione took seats with the other Champions, Harry was startled to see Percy sitting next to Ludo Bagman, where he had expected to see Crouch instead.
Percy drew out the empty seat beside him, and gestured to Harry. Taking the hint, Harry sat down next to Percy, feeling a bit awkward. Bagman grinned at Harry and gave him a sly wink.
Hermione flushed as she took the seat next to Harry. The last time Hermione had seen Percy, she had been in a flaming row with him over Winky the House-Elf. She could remember it as if it were yesterday.
When Percy had insisted that a high ranking Ministry Official like Mr Crouch deserved “unswerving obedience from his servants,”Hermione’s enraged retort that Winky was a slave, not a servant, had been cut off when Mrs Weasley had brought Ron his “new” dress robes to pack. Having apparently forgotten all about it, Percy bore an almost insufferable expression of smugness on his face.
“I’m working for the Senior Undersecretary now,” Percy boasted, as if announcing his ascension to the Throne. “I’m her personal assistant. She sent me to cover for Crouch as he’s been ill lately - so I’ll be filling in as judge from now on.”
“Oh, er, that’s cool,” said Harry, looking slightly puzzled. He shot a quick look at Professor Moody before returning to Percy. “So, er... what’s wrong with Crouch then?”
“Overwork, I expect,” Percy replied dismissively, a hint of contempt in his tone. “He’s not as young as he used to be, you know. That fiasco at the World Cup took a toll no doubt, and losing his house-elf didn’t help...”
“He didn’t lose Winky - he sacked her,” Hermione hissed crossly, unable to help herself.
“Er, well, yes - of course he did,” Percy suddenly seemed to recall the fight he’d had with Hermione, and some of his smugness evaporated.
Clearly thinking better of saying any more, Percy turned to Bagman for conversation instead, but not before Harry caught a slightly odious expression on Percy’s face which wasn’t altogether unlike Malfoy’s. Harry’s puzzlement grew stronger, and Hermione frowned at him questioningly, seeing the look on his face.
“Later,” said Harry, with a little shake of his head, and a warning glance toward Bagman and Percy.
Hermione took the hint, and pondered the unusual dinner setting instead. Golden plates glittered before them, surrounded by silvery cutlery and sparkling crystal goblets, but the platters, bowls, and dishes which usually held the feast were nowhere to be seen. At each place setting was a scroll of parchment. Hermione and Harry didn’t have long to ponder though.
Seeing everyone settled in, Dumbledore unrolled his scroll of parchment and perused it, then peered down at his plate and said, “pork chops.”
“It’s a menu,” Hermione gasped, then she frowned slightly.
“Huh!” said Harry, his own gears spinning as he considered the new, more complex dining procedure. He glanced at Hermione. “Seems like a bit more work for the house-elves, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does,” Hermione muttered. “But I’ve decided to table S.P.E.W. for the moment. ... At least until we’ve reconsidered how to go about it, and got you through this tournament safely Harry.”
Putting thoughts of S.P.E.W. aside, Harry and Hermione both ordered from their menus. Harry went for roast beef and mashed potatoes, and Hermione picked the chicken coq au vin and gougère. When bottles of Champagne appeared on the table, both understood why the Yule Ball had been reserved by and large for fourth years and above.
Harry and Hermione engaged in a bit of amiable small talk with the other Champions, and caught snatches of the dinner conversations around the table. Fleur seemed very uncomfortable with Roger Davies. Roger was too busy ogling Fleur to take in a word she was saying, his eyeballs glued to her cleavage, and she didn’t seem happy about it at all. Fleur began making some mildly disparaging comments about the Christmas decorations at Hogwarts to draw Roger’s attention away from her bosom, to little avail.
Cho and Cedric seemed to be making a lot of goo goo eyes at each other, when not being drawn into other conversations. Harry stifled a grin, suddenly imagining Ron miming throwing up into a bucket and sniggering if he were bearing witness to the scene. Hermione smirked at Harry, covering it with a sip of champagne.
Lavender and Viktor were getting on splendidly, clearly smitten with one another, if not quite as overtly displaying their affections as Cedric and Cho. Still, there were quite a few giggles and blushes shared between them.
Igor Karkaroff glowered at the happy couple, interjecting when Viktor began chatting about Durmstrang during the summer, admonishing him not to give away the secret of its location. Viktor reddened, sharing awkward looks with Harry, Hermione, and Lavender, having given up that information the previous week.
Noticing the discomforting moment, Dumbledore drew Karkaroff’s attention back to himself, a twinkle in his eye
“Ah, Igor - have you heard the one about the sorcerer, the hag, and the leprechaun?”
“Excuse me?” Karkaroff was slightly taken aback.
“The sorcerer, the hag, and the leprechaun... One evening at dusk, the three of them strolled into a tavern...”
“Really Albus,” snapped McGonagall, “I hardly think that one is appropriate for the dinner table.”
Moody, Bagman, Hagrid, and Madame Maxime all chuckled, and Percy frowned primly. Snape’s expression almost suggested a rare agreement with McGonagall’s sentiments. But Dumbledore’s work was done, as Karkaroff had been thoroughly distracted from Lavender and Viktor.
Finally, after polishing off dessert - a sherry soaked trifle in Harry and Hermione’s case - dinner was concluded. The candles hovering above dimmed, and the bright magical spotlight shone once again on the other end of the Great Hall, where a platform had shimmered into existence, replete with lute, guitars, drums, cello, fiddle, and bagpipes. The Weird Sisters marched onto the stage and took up their instruments to polite applause.
“Come on Harry,” Hermione said quietly, beaming at him and taking his hand. “It’s time to dance.”
Nervously, Harry let Hermione lead him to the dancefloor, trying to avoid looking anyone in the eye as they followed the other Champions. The Weird Sisters struck up a lilting waltz, and the Champions began to dance.
Harry started to relax when other students began to join in. Dean shot Harry a thumbs up and a smirk as he waltzed by with Parvati. Ginny dragged Neville from his seat, grinning at Harry and Hermione when she passed them. She giggled when Neville kept stepping on her toes and apologising.
Ron groaned, offering mild resistance as Luna pulled him onto the dancefloor. Ginny gave Luna a wink and grin; Luna beamed back in response.
“Just one dance, Ronald,” Luna insisted. “I don’t care if you’re a horrible dancer - I’m dreadful too. But there’s not much point in coming to a dance, if we don’t dance together at least once.”
“Oh alright,” Ron grumbled. “Let’s get this over with!”
As soon as the first waltz was over, Ron shot back to his seat, followed quickly by Neville. Unperturbed, Ginny and Luna began dancing together, eyeing each other smugly.
Hermione uttered one of her patented, “Hmm,”s.
“What’s that ‘hmm’ for?” asked Harry, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“Well, if I had to place a bet, I’d almost wager that Ginny and Luna planned it this way. They’re both third years, and the only way they could get to the Ball was with a fourth year.”
“Oh!” said Harry, then his eyes widened as he cottoned on to Hermione’s implication. “Oh!” he repeated as he peered at Ginny and Luna.
Seamus managed to escape from Padma after the second dance, joining Ron and Neville at the table. Padma rolled her eyes, then spotted one of the Beauxbatons boys she had been keeping an eye on, looking all alone and a bit forlorn. Moments later, she was happily dancing again.
Malfoy tried to cut into a few dances, then gave up on the Slytherin girls after Zabini, Warrington, and Marcus all told him to piss-off. He had another crack at a couple of the Beauxbatons girls, then he stormed out of the Great Hall, passing by Ron, Seamus, and Neville who all sniggered at him.
The three of them sat and watched for a few more minutes before Seamus pulled a flask from his pocket and waved it at Ron and Neville, careful to keep it low and out of sight of the professors.
“Right lads, me da sent me a bottle o’ Firewhiskey. What say we all go have a nip, eh?”
“Blimey!” said Ron, his eyes lighting up. “Firewhiskey? Really? Isn’t your dad a muggle though?”
“Yeah, but tha’s one of the advantages of being married to a witch,” Seamus chortled. “It may’ve been a bit of shock at firs’ the way he tells it, but Da’s never regretted livin’ a magical life. So ye in mate?”
“Yeah, I’m in,” said Ron eagerly. “What about you, Nev?”
“Er... I’m not sure,” said Neville, looking anxious.
“Ah, go on mate... ye only live once!” Seamus raised his eyebrows.
“Er... okay, I guess,” Neville mumbled, glancing around the Great Hall nervously.
The three boys slipped into the Entrance Hall, then out through the front doors of the castle into the Courtyard. Snow crunched underfoot, but they were all dressed warmly enough for the time-being. They found a bush behind a bench which hid them from prying eyes, and leaned back against the stone wall of the castle.
Seamus took a hefty swig from his flask and passed it to Ron. He grinned when Ron coughed on the burning liquid.
“Bloody Hell!” Ron gasped, “No wonder they call it Firewhiskey!”
“An’ there I thought yeh were an experienced drinker Ronny boy,” Seamus chuckled, “Have another sip, then pass it t’Neville. It’ll smooth out soon enough.”
Neville nearly choked on his first sip too, but after the third, it began to seem alright. As the trio of young wizards shared sips from the flask of Firewhiskey, Hagrid and Madame Maxime plonked heavily on the stone bench with a slight cracking sound in front of the bush they were all hiding behind, apparently taking a breather from the dance. The boys silently groaned when Hagrid began to whisper sweet nothings in Olympe’s gigantic ear. It looked like they might be awhile.

~o0o~
Harry felt a surge of boldness in the dim light on the dancefloor, and he held Hermione closer as they moved in time to the rhythms of the waltz’s and folk songs. Hermione shivered delightedly when Harry’s lips brushed against her cheek, gradually tracing a path to her own.
The world fell away and time seemed to stop. Blissful peace washed over them both as they kissed, dancing under the cold starry skies of Yule.
Harry was startled when the lights came up as The Weird Sisters left the stage.
“Has it been a whole set already?” he asked.
“Yes... it’s been an hour Harry,” said Hermione. “I think the next band is going to liven things up a bit. They’re supposed to be a surprise though.”
Harry was stunned when a vaguely familiar looking pop band took over the stage and the Great Hall erupted into loud cheers. Hermione was equally astonished.
“Wait, is that...? No way!” Harry sputtered. “I thought they were a muggle band.”
“The Cure?” gasped Hermione.
“Oh come on...” said Fred, grinning as he sauntered by with Angelina, “looking like that - how could they be anything but wizards? Loads of famous Goth and Heavy Metal bands are...
“Course some of them are vampires and werewolves too,” chimed in George, swinging by with Alicia Spinnet.
As the loud drums, guitars, and keyboards rocked the Great Hall, Albus Dumbledore started to tap his toes and nod his head, his eyes twinkling merrily. It had been decades since he had frequented muggle nightclubs in London with his on again/off again partner Elphias Doge, but Albus felt the years fall away as the spirited rhythms lifted his soul. Perhaps he wasn’t too old after all.
Dumbledore raised his eyebrows at Professor McGonagall and held out his hand. Minerva pursed her lips and shook her head disapprovingly.
“I’ll take this dance, Albus,” giggled Madam Pomfrey as she took his hand instead.
Finally rising from the stone bench after a long snog, Olympe stumbled and giggled when Hagrid caught her. The three drunk boys hiding in the bushes behind them breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the two half-giants headed back to the Ballroom.
Thankfully the magical properties of firewhiskey had protected Ron, Seamus, and Neville from the freezing night. And fortunately for the three of them, they had arrived just in time to see The Cure perform.
Fred and Angelina were burning up the dancefloor during The Cure’s set, and people made way for the vigorously dancing duo. But Harry was caught off-guard when Moody appeared to be doing an ungainly little jig nearby with Professor Sinistra. Moody’s eye spun grotesquely, and he shot Harry an ugly grin.
“Nice socks, Potter!” Moody chuckled, his magical eye apparently seeing through Harry’s robes, as he clunked by on his wooden leg.
Hermione squeaked, quickly putting Harry between herself and Moody.
“That eye of his is so creepy,” Hermione muttered. “What was that about your socks, Harry? And wasn’t there something else you were going to tell me earlier.”
“Oh, er, I forgot - I’m wearing the socks that Dobby gave me.” Harry frowned. “And yeah, I don’t see how Crouch can be so ill like Percy says. I saw him twice more on the Map in Moody’s quarters, Hermione, just a couple of days ago. ... Something weird is definitely going on - I bet Crouch is here somewhere. He and Moody are up to something - I just know it.”
“Maybe there’s been some sort of Tournament security breach,” said Hermione, shivering slightly, as she let Harry lead her off the dancefloor by the hand, “and Crouch has been here staking things out undercover.”
“Maybe,” Harry muttered as he backed into a shadowy corner away from the crowded dancefloor, “But I’m going to find out once and for all,” he added as he reached into his dress-robes. “Keep an eye on Moody and Sinistra...”
“You brought it with you? ...the Map?”
“Yeah, I decided to start carrying it around to try and catch Moody and Crouch together at the same time. Then I had a really weird thought when Percy said Crouch had been ill and couldn’t come to Hogwarts...” Harry unfolded the Map and tapped it with his wand, muttering, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good,” under his breath.
There was just enough light in the corner to read the names on the map. Hermione glanced down at the map and back up to where she had last seen Moody with Sinistra, then back down again at the map, unable to believe her eyes. Her jaw dropped as she shared a horrified look with Harry, who had seen exactly the same thing.
“It’s him!” she hissed quietly, her heart pounding, almost sounding louder in her ears now than the drums, “...dancing with Professor Sinistra! He must be polyjuiced!”
“Yeah,” Harry scowled, feeling strangely vindicated, “Moody is really Crouch!”
“Harry, we have to tell Dumbledore - right now!” said Hermione, her voice urgent. “I can’t think of a single legitimate reason for Crouch to be impersonating Professor Moody! But we’ll have to do it quietly without letting anyone else know...”
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Yuletide Blessing in Disguise