Chapter Text
Hermione watches at a bit of a distance, as Harry, the boy she saw march through an enchanted fire to go fight a grown wizard when he was eleven, who stabbed a basilisk through the head with a sword, who stood over her, trying and trying to cast a patronus against a hundred dementors, among many other daring things, including staring down a full-grown dragon, sees a crowd of giggling girls round the corner, panics, and dodges behind a suit of armor in an alcove.
She’s laughing to herself as she goes down the rest of the flight of stairs she was on, still laughing as she goes down the hallway, but comes to an abrupt stop when she considers that she is, in fact, being a hypocrite.
She sticks her head into the alcove, stamping down the renewed urge to laugh at the wide-eyed look of fear that he gives her as she peers around the armored arm. His immediate long sigh of relief at her appearance proves too much for her and she snorts.
“Oh shut up.” Harry mumbles, looking over her shoulder to see if the hallway is clearing out.
“Scoot in.” Hermione nudges him further against the wall, making him step back, giving her room to hide in there with him, mostly covered by the armor’s long shield.
“Any reason you are now also back here?” Harry’s staring out through the gap between the armor’s arm and side.
“This seems like as good a place as any to have a small panic about the Yule Ball.”
Harry flinches back more into the corner as a different group of girls goes the other direction. They aren’t giggling, but instead have their heads together as though they are plotting battle. He watches them go by with narrowed eyes. “Why are you having a panic about the ball? You aren’t going to be dancing in front of everyone with any imaginary date.”
He relaxes once more as the hallway empties. Hermione leans back against the wall with a sigh. “Viktor Krum asked me, I completely lost my head, sputtered a bunch, said I already had a date, then ran away.”
Now he’s giving her his full attention, his green eyes wide. “Viktor Krum?”
She nods, narrowing her eyes at the disbelieving look on his face. He shakes his head. “I didn’t know he knew you existed, has he ever even talked to you?”
Crossing her arms over her chest, she shrugs. “A very little. He’s always in the library. He’s asked me some questions about where to find things before. We were always interrupted by his fan club though.”
Harry leans his head back against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. “Huh. I just never put you two in the same thought before, really. Who asked you already?”
Hermione shakes her head and bites her lip. “I - nobody. I just -” She shrugs, a little uncomfortable. It occurs to her that she’s never talked to Harry about boys before.
He’s looking at her again. “You don’t like him? He’s a bit older, I suppose-”
She shakes her head, her reasoning coming out before she’s considered it. “No, I like him well enough. I mean, I don’t know him at all, but he was always very polite when he asked for help. He seemed to take his studies seriously, too, which is refreshing after hanging around you lot.”
Harry snorts. “You would like that.”
She ignores this, going on, “But he is a bit older, and that popped into my head right after he asked. I imagined what it would be like to tell my mum that I’ve gone on a date with an eighteen year old professional footballer, or something, and how well that would go over. Then I thought about how famous he is and how everybody would be looking at us at the ball and I just-”
“Panicked.” Harry nods.
She sighs, resting her head against the wall, looking up at the spider web in one corner. “I’m an idiot. I think I was just more surprised than anything. If I had even the notion he might ask, some sort of heads up, I think I would have been calm enough to say yes.”
There’s a glum silence for a beat, then Harry speaks, his voice dry. “If it makes you feel any better, I just asked Cho and she told me that she’s already going with Cedric.”
Hermione considers Harry’s disappointed face, the redness in his cheeks, and smiles. “If I were a better friend, I would say no, and I’m sorry that didn’t work out, but honestly? Yes. That does kind of make me feel better.”
Harry scoffs. “Cheers.”
They grin at each other for a second before hearing a classroom door close and then a second of silence. Both of them have study hour at the moment, and most of the rest of school is now in class. Harry sticks his head out from the alcove and then looks back at her. “It’s as clear as it’s going to get, I suppose.”
They both slide out from behind the suite of armor, brushing down the robes as they go up the now empty hallway. “I saw you, mighty Gryfindor, hide from that group of girls, by the way. Why are you avoiding all of them if you need a date so badly?”
Harry groans. “They keep daring each other to ask me, that group. At least half of them have done it at this point. I think if I said yes to one of them it would start a brawl between them.”
She tsks, patting his shoulder. “It’s rough, being you. Starting fights between friend groups just for a date with you.”
He flicks her hand away. “Ha. Says the girl turning down professional athletes.”
Huffing, she climbs on to a moving staircase that seems to be going the right direction. Harry steps on after her. She flips her hair over her shoulder. “I’ve already called myself an idiot, so you don’t get to as well. That’s the rule.”
Harry laughs outright. “Then I think you owe Ron a few apologies, if that’s the case.”
She laughs too, shaking her head. “Ron’s an exception. He needs to hear it a few times between us for it to sink in.”
Harry goes to the short cut behind a small door in the middle of the hallway. He holds it open for Hermione, stepping in behind her, moving down the long dark hallway only lit by a few torches. They walk in silence for a bit, until around halfway down the hallway, Hermione can’t help herself and asks again. “But really, why not say yes to someone and be done with it? This seems to be stressing you.”
He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his robe. “I guess. I mean. I think if someone from the quidditch team asked, or someone from our year, I don’t know. I’d probably say yes now. I mean, I had Cho in mind before, but. I don’t know, obviously, so I have to rethink. But that doesn’t mean I want to go with some random who’s going to be weird about everything the whole night. They don’t even know me at all. A lot of them have these different ideas in their heads, because of the Boy-Who-Lived stuff, you know?”
They leave the hallway, not having gone up any stairs, but somehow two floors higher. They blink in the comparative brightness of the Scottish mid-winter sunlight filled corridor. Hermione looks over to him, his tense shoulders, and feels a stab of sadness for him, the same way she does whenever she really considers what he’s famous for. “I guess. I mean. Don’t take this the wrong way. But, since you don’t have anyone in mind anymore and I’ve bungled up my chance, should we just go with each other?” She feels her stomach tighten in embarrassment as the words leave her mouth.
Harry’s face snaps over to hers, his eyes wide. Her embarrassment is nearly suffocating, but she still manages to roll her eyes. “You know I don’t mean it like that. What’s that face for? It’s just an idea. If you want to think of someone else who you want to have a real date with, that’s fine. Perhaps I can mess this up with a third celebrity somewhere, call it good, and go stag.”
Harry grins, shaking his head. “I mean, yeah, if you don’t mind then, will you go to the Yule Ball with me? As friends?”
Hermione holds out her hand. “Only as pining star-crossed lovers, I’m afraid. Deal?”
He lightly smacks it away with a smirk, shaking his head.
Smiling, they go down the hallway. Hermione bumps her shoulder to his. “Yes, as friends. I think it will be fun.”
They are going up the hallway to the Gryfindor common room. Harry lets out a long breath. “I think it might. Thanks Hermione, that’s a real weight off my chest.”
She nods, says the password to the fat lady and crawls in, her mind already going to her Arithmancy homework.