Chapter 1
Harry Potter was yet again wondering why he seemed to catch all the bad luck. And good luck. Really, it was mixed. Yes. He survived a killing curse, but here he was, fourteen years later, barely survived a dragon and is now expected to ask someone to perform some traditional dance with him when he didn’t have the first idea what a single traditional dance would be like. Cedric, Fleur and Krum would be more than ready for it, but Harry didn’t even know any muggle dances, let alone magic ones.
“I vill dance vith Harry Potter,” Viktor Krum declared, interrupting Ludo Bagman’s monologue on why the traditional dance must still take place with three starting couples, not four. Harry’s lips parted in shock. He stared at Krum, then turned to Bagman. Bagman would of course protest.
“Er…” Ludo glanced at Fleur. “Are you sure? I’m positive Fleur would -”
“No. I vill dance vith Harry Potter.”
“Problem solved,” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “I see no reason not to accept Mr. Krum’s solution.”
“Albus, two boys cannot -”
“I believe, Mr. Bagman, that this is my school and as such, I have the final say as to what is appropriate or not. Thank you, Mr. Krum, for such a quick solution to our issue!”
Ludo shifted his weight, still clearly uncomfortable, and really, Harry thought, what did he have to be uncomfortable about? No one bloody well asked him what he thought about the situation. He knew what the wizarding world thought of gay people. He knew what the muggle world thought and, besides, he wasn’t.
Dancing. Opening the dance with a famous quidditch star… Harry groaned and dropped his head. Rita Skeeter was going to have a field day.
“Are you ok?” Cedric muttered to him while Bagman went on about dance practice and the name of the dance they’d be performing. Krum was watching Bagman, thankfully, which gave Harry time to pull himself together.
“There’s been worse said about me,” Harry answered. “At least I don’t have to ask someone now.”
“You could say no,” Cedric said.
Harry was struck anew that Cedric was a great guy. He felt a flicker of guilt for being a champion as well, which was ridiculous since he didn’t even want to be a champion. Harry glanced over at Krum. Krum was still appearing to listen to Bagman but he straightened slightly and his ears went pink as Harry looked at him.
“No, I… No,” Harry said decisively. What he said was true. At least he didn’t have to ask someone else.
Bagman finished up his spiel and turned to Harry, but before he could say anything, Krum spoke up. “A vord, Harry?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure.”
Ludo Bagman looked a little disappointed but let Krum sweep Harry away. “I apologize. I should have asked you first, and not in front of the crowd.”
“No that’s… Well. Yeah. You should’ve,” Harry agreed. “But it’s fine. I mean, why? Bagman clearly expected one of us to dance with Fleur.”
Krum's eyes glinted with mischief and he said, “Karkaroff will dislike it if I go with you. It is fun to upset him when I can.”
Harry grinned. That he could get behind. He’d do the same thing if it bothered Snape. “All right. Yeah, but just so you know, I don’t know how to dance.”
“Ve vill practice,” Krum said instantly. “Vhen do you have free time?”
“After dinner tomorrow? We could use an empty classroom.” Harry hesitated then, feeling as if maybe he shouldn’t, he said, “And I’m not gay. Just… I mean, just so we’re on the same page.”
Krum’s stoic expression didn’t falter. “Vizards never are,” he said. “After dinner, I vill you see then.” And Krum strode away.
Harry walked back to the Gryffindor common room and collapsed onto his favorite seat beside Ron. Ron stared at him, curiosity written plain across his face. “Well?” he prompted when Harry continued to sit in silence.
Harry tried to find the words, but it was hard. Despite what he’d said to Cedric, he was sick of the negative things being written about him. Sick of having to defend himself on repeat. He’d only just gotten Ron back as a friend. Did he really want to… But it was too late now. “I’m going to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum.”
Ron gaped at him. Hermione gasped from her arm chair and snapped her book shut. “Harry!” she whispered and looked around furtively. “You can’t!”
Nausea swirled in his stomach. Ron’s face was white with shock. Hermione looked… afraid? Of him? He hurried to explain what happened. Hermione’s fear didn’t abate, but Ron’s shock vanished and he snorted. “Good one, mate. Can’t say I blame him. Could you imagine getting to do that to Snape? Hey, maybe I’ll end up getting an autograph after all.”
Harry’s heart warmed, but Hermione hadn’t relaxed. “Harry, the wizarding world is… It won’t just be Karkaroff who has an issue! You’ll be getting so much hate for this.” To his horror her eyes began to glimmer with tears. “You can’t Harry!”
“It’s too late Hermione. Besides, they can’t really say anything worse, can they? Plus, it’s not like I really am, y’know, gay. So it won’t matter what they write. It won’t really effect me, will it?”
Hermione didn’t look convinced. “This is a different level,” is all she said and opened her book with a troubled expression on her face.
Harry frowned and picked at the cushion he was sitting on. It was just a dance. And maybe Harry could get some flying pointers from Krum. The two of them likely had enough in common that it would all be fine.
Harry stared into the fire and listened to Ron’s quiet chuckles as he again pondered if his luck was good or bad. He glanced at Hermione’s still expression, her eyes motionless as she stared at the page in front of her. Bad, he decided. Definitely bad.
Krum’s Wronski Feint flashed into his mind. His flying at a skill that Harry knew far exceeded his own, but Krum had a couple years on him. And really, this was a great way to get to know him, to learn some flying tricks. It was a good thing. Probably. Probably good luck.