GOF: Part 9
“Viktor Krum is staring at you,” said Harry.
“Is he?” questioned Blaise, sounding bored. Malfoy had soundly corned Krum and most of the other Durmstrang students, but Krum and his friends who had at first looked fascinated were now looking quite bored with Draco and his lofty rantings. A few had already plead incomprehension and more than a few had slunk over to other house tables as the three schools blended more and more with one another.
“He’s probably just admiring my perfect complexion and bone structure. Completely normal thing to do, Potter. Please stop being so judgey.”
Millicent laughed.
“It is perfectly normal for someone to stare when you have that thing wrapped around your neck.”
Blaise touched the gift from his mother. The object of discussion was a rather large diamond choker and chain that Blaise’s mom had sent after Blaise had “forgotten” to reply to a few of her letters since he came back to school. Blaise kept each of the letters in a neat pile on his desk unopened and collecting dust. The stack was a good five inches tall, and Blaise was getting letters nearly every other day.
Still, he seemed in no hurry to reply hence the bribe.
And somehow he still managed to look masculine, Harry thought, even with the rather large necklace he was currently wearing. Girls from every house seemed to flock to Blaise and unlike other members of his house, Blaise didn’t much care for dating only Slytherins. And unlike his mother, Blaise liked to keep his “relationships” discreet. The most Harry had heard about Blaise’s relationships before the “incident” as Harry called it was merely a collection of distinct longing filled sighs that erupted when Blaise walked down the corridor and a few teary eyes and red faces as both girls and guys stared daggers into Blaise’s skull at meal times. Blaise, of course, always seemed unaffected.
In fact, Harry had only ever heard about one of Blaise’s “dates”.
Last year, Blaise had come to Harry asking for his help in dealing with a rather overzealous Ravenclaw. But in that instance, it couldn’t have been helped. After Blaise broke it off with the Ravenclaw she then turned on him with several quite painful stinging hexes. Harry had thrown his invisibility cloak over the two of them and took off towards the dungeons.
Harry had felt those curses for a week. He felt them now hoping Blaise’s beauty wasn’t enough to attract Krum. Harry was a good flier, but he highly doubted he could catch Blaise’s fine form if Krum decided to toss him off his broom mid-flight.
Whatever it was, Krum caught them staring and quickly looked away.
***
That evening, Snape stopped by the common room, gathering everyone. He had to make an announcement. It was rare that Snape was seen in the Common Room. If someone needed him or if they were in trouble, it was always encouraged for them to go by his office during office hours, only. Snape didn’t like to be disturbed, unless you had a very good reason. And what a good reason was to Severus Snape constituted blood or death, nothing less.
Millicent did say he was always good for a potion if you didn’t feel up to walking all the way up to the infirmary. Harry had blanched, knowing that he wasn’t likely to drink anything offered him by Severus Snape.
“The Yule Ball is approaching, and as a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament it is an important opportunity for Hogwarts to socialize with our foreign guests. The ball is only open to fourth years and above although if you wish to invite a lower year as your guest then you are free to do so.”
Snape ignored the excited twittering of a few.
“Dress robes are mandatory. The ball will start at eight o’clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. The ball is to be a fun occasion,” Snape nearly cringed at the word. “But it is not an excuse to be lax in the standards which we expect from the students of Hogwarts. For those of you who may be unfamiliar with the customs surrounding formal events and or have not had the proper training in the art of movement, you will be receiving a notice from your prefects about special mandatory lessons. Be aware, that if you do not attend, I will know, and your next mandatory event will be in detention with me.”
Snape nodded once then dismissed them with a flurry of his robes.
Harry really shouldn’t have been surprised when he got the notice that he was one of the selected few assigned to the special lessons.
Harry remembered laughing as Fred and George had told him about Ron’s dance with McGonagall, and he really, really regretted it right about now.
Pansy Parkinson now paced the length of the empty classroom they had conveyed in, eyeing each of them with stern disapproval. And since apparently all Slytherins were born with “unique grace and the innate style and knowledge of ballroom dancing” as Pansy had put it, Harry had been sent to dance lessons.
Thankfully, he was not alone.
Goyle had been sentenced too, as well as a couple of fourth years who Harry assumed had dates with upper years, and a girl in the year above him named Cordelia. Harry had seen her in the library studying fiercely, like her hair was about to be set alight if she didn’t finish reading or writing what was in front of her in that moment. Harry had witnessed her shake down seventh years for books, but even she fell in line when Pansy started barking orders.
The sound of a whip cracking caught Harry’s attention. Pansy lowered her wand and then started speaking, “You are here because Professor Snape demands the best out of Slytherin House in all areas and that means that we need to be good representatives at all times. And to make sure that you do not besmirch your house with all the grace and class of illiterate monkeys, I am here to ensure that you can go to the ball and not make utter fools of yourself.”
She flicked her wand and then a long cane appeared in her hand. The cane came to about Pansy’s hip. It was oak and maybe only over an inch in thickness, but it looked painful nonetheless.
Pansy swung the cane in what looked like a jazzy fashion, but to Harry it looked like a very threatening order to behave. She then instructed everyone to partner up. Harry immediately went for the older girl assuming she wouldn’t be as much of a target as some of the younger years and by extension he wouldn’t be as much of a target himself.
He had made it nearly to her side when a force pulled him back by the collar of his robes.
“Oh, no, Potter, as the only major special case in this group, you’re mine.”
Harry gulped, suddenly knowing what it felt like to be Malfoy. He didn’t like it.
“Put your hand on my waist, Potter.”
Harry hesitated and Pansy’s enchanted cane stalked toward him where it had been whacking Goyle’s legs because he wouldn’t move them far enough apart. He had been trying to dance with his legs shut, hoping to avoid the canes blow on that other part of his anatomy if he could.
“Pay attention, Potter. This isn’t some simple Muggle two step.”
Harry nodded, dividing his attention between Pansy and her death stick. Not bothering to tell Pansy he didn’t know how to do one of those two step things either.
Harry put his hand on her waist, and allowed her to lead him around the room.
“You’re going to have to learn this, Potter, if you’re going to represent Slytherin house in front of the whole school.”
“The whole what?” Harry asked. “What are you talking about?”
Pansy gaped at him.
“Didn’t you know?”
“Know what, Parkinson?” They were on a brief five minute break and instead of chatting with Pansy, Harry really needed to chug about a liter of water. Harry had thought that Quidditch practice with Flint had been challenging. Yeah, well, that had nothing on dancing lessons with Pansy Parkinson.
“The Champions, and you are one, Potter, and their date start the ball with a dance. It’s traditional.”
“It’s not going to happen!” Harry said. “I’m expected to make a fool out of myself in front of the entire school.”
Pansy rolled her eyes.
“Don’t be so dramatic, Potter. It won’t be that bad. Besides your date will help you, I’m certain. Merlin knows she won’t want to look like a fool either.”
Pansy stood and with a bright smile and her cane dancing, waiting, happily by her side, she clapped her hands, and urged them all up. Goyle was nearly passed out on the other side of the room. The two fourth years each had one arm trying to pull him up, but the floor seemed to need him there at the moment. While Harry was still stuck on what Pansy had last said.
How on Earth was he supposed to find a date?
***
In Slytherin, negotiations were in full swing. The Yule Ball was quickly approaching and every day the news about who was going with who took over more and more of everyone’s conversations. Harry had never known so many people to put their names down to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas.
Harry had never quite noticed how many girls Hogwarts held until giggles erupted every time a boy passed a group of girls in the hall. Ron was equally as confused about how they were supposed to get dates.
“How’re you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?” Harry wondered aloud.
While politics in Slytherin were clearly defined, Gryffindor was more of a free for all, and Harry didn’t envy them at all.
“Lasso one?” Ron suggested. “Got any ideas who you’re going to ask?” Ron said.
Harry didn’t answer. He had assumed that he and Millicent would go together, but when he mentioned it, she had said that she was already going with someone else, though she wouldn’t tell him who.
“Still in the negotiation stage?” Blaise had asked.
“Deal’s almost finalized,” Millicent had said, with an uncharacteristically bright smile.
So far Harry had been asked to the dance by a third year Hufflepuff he had never spoken to, out of his surprise he had said no before he could even consider it. The next day, two more girls asked him to the ball as well as a sixth year boy from Ravenclaw. Harry had been so surprised then that he wasn’t sure that he had said anything at all, just shook his head then partly down the hall he had shouted, “Thank you,” then ran to find Blaise.
“Well,” said Blaise. “You’re not particularly hot, Potter. But you are a champion and famous which means quite a lot to some people.”
Then noticing the look on Harry’s face added, “Don’t get me wrong, you’re handsome in a very traditional plebian sort of way. Though,” he considered Harry. “The dark hair is quite nice and you’re getting less gangly every year, not my type but I think you’d definitely be…..”
“Thanks, Blaise,” Harry said.
“The point is, Potter, that all of your already good attributes, your history, and new status have all culminated in you attracting a lot of new attention from both sexes.”
“But don’t people look down on…”
Blaise shook his head no.
The only things Harry knew about all of that was what he had heard from Uncle Vernon, and that hadn’t been pleasant at all.
“Harry,” said Blaise. “I don’t know what kind of backward things you’ve learned about homosexuality from those Muggles you live with, but people in the Wizarding World don’t think that way. Two men, two women, they simply don’t care,”
“But the law,” said Harry.
“The law,” said Blaise, “needs an update. Prejudice was more prevalent decades ago then it is now. Same sex couples are allowed to live together, but not marry, the wizarding way, at least. Muggle style marriages are still valid though, as well as name changes…”
“Then why don’t they just change it?”
“Because no one angry enough or powerful enough has went against the Wizengamot to try to.”
Harry thought about this.
He had, or at least everyone said he had, some pull in the wizarding world. Could he make it possible for Remus and Sirius to get married properly? What about Blaise, if he fell in love with a man? Ernie Macmillan? Or even himself?
He didn’t want to box himself in. He had never really felt anything serious for a member of either sex, but there had to be reason he never noticed any of the girls at Hogwarts before, but could still remember what Bill Weasley was wearing the first time they met.
Blaise touched his shoulder.
“You don’t have to know right now, Harry.”
“You do,” Harry said.
“Yeah, well…” Blaise said, shrugging.
“I’m just more mature than you, Potter,” he said, but for a moment Harry thought he was going to say something else. He let it go though. Blaise was a little like a piece of hard candy, bite to hard and hurt your teeth, wait awhile and getting to the center becomes a lot easier.
In the library that day, Fred and George came over to where Harry, Hermione, Millicent, and Ron were sitting and grabbed a seat.
“Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?” George asked.
“No, he’s off delivering a letter,” said Ron. “Why?”
“Because George wants to invite him to the ball,” said Fred sarcastically.
“Because we want to send a letter, you stupid giant git,” said George.
“Who do you keep writing to, eh?” said Ron. “Is it the same person you’ve been exchanging letters with all summer?”
Ron turned to the table.
“He’s been waiting in the kitchen all summer to get their letters faster. Writes them back right then and there, but then saves it a day or two to send it back. So, he doesn’t seem desperate, I think. Mom thinks it’s a “special someone”.”
Then Fred quickly changing the subject said, “So…you lot got dates for the ball yet?” Ron glanced at Hermione who had just set off to find another book and said, “Not yet,” then “What about you two?”
Fred seemed to blanche though he had been the one to bring it up.
“Georgie has his eyes set on someone.”
“But not you?” asked Ron. “What about your special someone?” Ron teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
Fred fiddled with the hem of his jumper, ignoring everyone’s eyes as Harry, Ron, and Millicent stared at him and waited on an answer.
“That’s nothing,” he said. “Just something to keep me entertained. I was thinking about taking someone from the team, I think…”
George stared at his twin like this was the first that he had heard of this, but then again, Harry guessed they couldn’t tell each other everything.
“Well,” said Millicent loudly. “Despite this scintillating conversation, I’ve actually got work to do.” She stood from the table then followed Hermione after a book or two. Fred watched her as she went.