December 16th, 1994
December 16th, 1994
Most students had been either studying or eating breakfast in the Great Hall when Nigel Wolpert, a blond Gryffindor first-year, had made a spectacle of himself as he entered the Great Hall. The student’s arms were occupied with a large parcel that was wrapped in brown packaging paper and twine and was almost as large as he was tall. As he clumsily walked down the aisle between the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables, Hermione noticed Nigel squirm when he realized so many pairs of eyes were on him. She watched as Nigel continued further down the tables and then he stopped, right in between Harry and Ron. The Weasley, who had been busy studying Ancient Runes, turned around in his seat and smiled. What was this all about?
“Parcel for you, Mr. Weasley!” a proud Nigel had exclaimed. Ron took the package out of Nigel’s hands gratefully.
“Ah, thank you, Nigel!” The redhead placed the package on the table and went back to his Runes work. But Nigel didn’t leave. Instead, the younger wizard pivoted to the right so that he now faced Harry. The blond boy looked like he was about to faint or hyperventilate. Hermione cleared her throat and gestured to the boy with her chin. Ron looked up, took the hint and leaned over, whispering to Nigel.
“Not now, Nigel. Later.”
Whatever this meant to Nigel, he seemed to understand and with a last look of admiration towards the Chosen One, he left the way he had come. When he was out of earshot, Hermione cleared her throat again to get Ron’s attention back on her. When his light green eyes met her brown, he straightened in his seat.
“What?” he asked after a moment. “I promised I’d get him Harry’s autograph.”
Hermione and Harry both sighed at the same time. Then Hermione ducked her head a little closer to Ron’s, the tips of her hair brushing against the table’s surface.
“If you ask me, using your best friend as bait to get the younger students to do your bidding isn’t right. Besides, Harry has enough on his plate without you using him – signing autographs, please,” Hermione scoffed.
In reaction to be chastised, Ron crossed his arms and appeared smug.
“Well, thankfully, no one asked you,” he retorted. Hermione rolled her eyes (which Ron ignored) and watched as the redheaded wizard lifted up his parcel and shook it. Whatever was inside seemed bulky as it moved around with a thud. She watched as Ron’s eyes scanned the outside of the parcel to look for any sign of who sent it. The Weasley’s face lit up when he spotted his mother’s signature and the stamp of the Weasley family crest.
“Mum must have sent something!” he exclaimed. Hermione watched as Harry smiled, too. They all knew that it was rare for Mrs. Weasley to send something just for Ron to use. They watched as their best friend pulled at the twine and wrapping, excited. When the box was sufficiently stripped of its outer layers, Ron lifted the upper flaps of the box and reached inside.
That’s when Ron’s smile disappeared.
With shaking hands, the redhead slowly pulled out a jumble of assorted cloth from the depths of the parcel. Hermione’s nose wrinkled in disgust. Whatever it was, it smelled of mothballs. She watched as Ron got up from his seat at the Gryffindor table to stand in the aisle and laid the item of clothing against his lanky frame. His head dipped down, chin to chest, as he tried to examine the item further. It was long, almost touching the floor and had many layers.
Ron was aghast. “Mum sent me a dress!” He held the lacy monstrosity away from him as if it were a rabid animal or a poisonous substance.
“Well it does match your eyes,” Harry goaded. To Hermione’s amusement, Harry had looked inside the book and pulled out something laced and frilly. “Is there a bonnet? A-ha!”
“Nose down, Harry,” the redhead grumbled. Hermione watched as Ron walked a little further down the table to where his little sister sat. Ginny Weasley stopped eating her porridge and slowly looked from her meal to her brother and then down to the garment in his hands.
“Ginny, these must be for you,” Ron said after a moment, seeing his sister’s hesitation.
Ginny looked as though she might be sick. “I’m not wearing that, it’s ghastly,” the youngest Weasley replied.
Hermione, having realized what it was all along, burst into giggles. Her left hand flew to her mouth to stifle the sounds and she turned away hoping that Ron wouldn’t see but it was quiet in the Great Hall as most students and staff were watching the amusing display and Ron whipped around to look at her, annoyed.
“What are you on about?” he accused as he walked back over to where she and Harry sat.
Hermione tried to speak through her giggles. “They’re not for Ginny, they’re for you!” she insisted. “They’re dress robes!”
The other students who were in the Great Hall burst into small fits of laughter. Even Fred and George were amused at their brother’s expense. Having to wear those to the Yule Ball? Ron would look a right mess! Hermione chanced a glance down the table to where the Weasley twins sat and raised her eyebrow when she caught the eye of Fred, as if to say, “Really? You too?” Fred shrugged and kept on grinning, watching his little brother turn several shades of red and pink.
Hermione turned her attention back to Ron, who had laid out his dress robes flat on the Gryffindor table to further examine them. The fabric of the main dress robe itself was dark brown and looked to be made of the same material as Mrs. Weasley’s dining room curtains. The robe was trimmed with coral lace. His waistcoat was made of a brown fabric that was lighter, the colour of brown sugar, and it was a tight plaid design. But the accent of the entire outfit was the cravat, which had been the item that Harry had pulled out of the package earlier, thinking it was a bonnet. It was large, white in colour although the edges had yellowed over time and was made entirely of scratchy lace. The cravat also boasted green velveteen buttons, again what Harry had spotted earlier, and came with a matching green velvet bow. The whole outfit was loud and muted at the same time. Nothing matched. Nothing looked great.
“Weasel-bee, you’re going to be the prettiest girl at the ball!” Malfoy teased from his place at the Slytherin table. Hermione shot a look over her shoulder to glare at the blond, who raised his eyebrows and smirked in her direction. When she looked back at Ron, the redhead had packed his dress robes back into the parcel. As she watched him retie some of the twine around it, she twirled her quill thoughtfully in her fingers. She wondered if Ron would ever get something new for himself, besides his wand that had had to be replaced. Most of things were hand-me-downs from his older brothers.
When he seemed to be satisfied with packaging up his parcel, Ron threw his Ancient Runes homework into the box as well. “I’m just going to run this upstairs,” he said quietly, gesturing with his chin down to the parcel. Hermione and Harry both nodded softly and watched their best friend exit the Great Hall.
The students seated in the Great Hall returned to their work now that the amusement was gone. Hermione did the same and had been writing her assignment for all of ten minutes when Harry tapping the top edge of her parchment distracted her. She sighed. I’m never going to get anything done at this rate. She looked up from her parchment to her best friend’s green eyes.
“Can I help you?” she asked cheekily. “We’re kind of busy, you know.”
Harry smiled as he spoke. “Have you bought your dress for the Yule Ball yet, Hermione?”
Hermione thought of her dress that sat in Madame Malkin’s in Diagon Alley, almost complete. The floating sleeves, the layers in the skirt – it was everything she had dreamed of. She smiled at the fantasy of her dancing the night away at the Yule Ball. “I do, actually” she replied. “And honestly, Harry, I feel… Well, I feel really pretty in it.”
Harry grinned at her response. “Great. I can’t wait to see it.” He gave her an encouraging smile and they both resumed their studying.
As Hermione thought over how she wanted to frame her wording in her assignment, she continued to twirl her quill in her fingers, as she had done earlier, spinning it back and forth. Every once in a while, the top of the quill would brush against her lips. And, for the remainder of that morning, Hermione would catch Fred staring at her as if she were the only other person in the room out of the corner of her eye.
After studying all morning, Hermione spent her afternoon with Hagrid, which had been interesting. The half-giant had told her how he had asked Madame Maxime to be his date to the Yule Ball. The Headmistress of Beauxbatons had turned him down, of course, saying that she had to focus on her students over a potential love affair. That hadn’t shaken Hagrid’s confidence though. He was determined to convince Madame Maxime to dance during the actual event. Hermione asked Hagrid what he was doing to wear to the Yule Ball and upon seeing his brown furred suit and loud tie, she sighed, content. It was a typical Hagrid outfit but he seemed so happy with his choice and so enamoured by Maxime. It was sweet that he had a little crush.
In the dusk, Hermione trudged back up towards the castle along the steep slope in the snow, mindful of her footing. She didn’t have Fred there to catch her if she fell this time. The wind whipped her cheeks and Hermione unrolled her turtleneck to use it as a makeshift scarf. It went up past her nose, the woolen fabric touching just beneath her lower eyelashes. Much better. The Gryffindor successfully reached the top of the hill and continued through under the clock tower’s corridor. Snow had started to fall through the exposed stone windows of the corridor and little piles of the white sparkling powder had formed on the floor.
Hermione turned right and passed through the quad next, ducking and dodging the snowballs that were sent soaring by some seventh-years skipping dinner. The students used the stone benches, gnarled trees and boulders as cover. The fourth-year had almost made it through to the castle when one of the snowballs hit the back of her head. Hermione shrieked at the impact; the snowball already started to melt down her back in icy trickles. Furious, she turned around and drew her wand. The tip of her wand was alight and she peered past it into the darkness to try and spot the assailants. A seventh-year Slytherin, tall with short black hair, had come out of his hiding spot and stood proudly. He smirked.
“Wrong place, wrong time, Granger!” he goaded. Hermione almost snarled. She readied herself and held her wand handle more securely.
“Try it again.”
The Slytherin didn’t have to be told twice. He reached down to grab a chunk of snow from the ground, molded it into a ball with a roll of his hands and lobbed it at her. Hermione wordlessly cast a Shielding charm, a skill that wasn’t mastered as a fourth-year. The strength of her wordless magic caught the Slytherin off-guard. When his snowball rebounded off her Shielding charm, it hit him square in the face and he fell over with a groan. Hermione’s anger fizzled and she started to laugh as she tucked her wand away. The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students on the other side of the quad cheered.
Echoes of “Way to go, Granger!” and “Yes, Granger!” echoed in her ears as she left the older students with a little wave. She finally entered the castle and made her way towards the Great Hall. Students weren’t eating yet when she entered and she slipped off her coat as she walked into the great room. Ginny waved Hermione over to come sit beside her and the brunette had managed to squeeze herself between Ginny and Neville, The moment Hermione was comfortable, the redheaded witch instantly began to play with the ends of Hermione’s hair that were soaked from the snowball.
“What on earth did you do?” Ginny asked. “Your hair is starting to frizz already!”
Before Hermione could say anything, Fred’s voice came from a few seats down.
“Don’t tell me you fell outside again, Granger.” When Hermione swivelled in place to face behind her, she realized the Weasley twin was grinning. “What are we going to do with you?”
Hermione decided be aloof and added a casual tone to her voice. She fanned out in front of her as if she was examining her nails and didn’t even look Fred’s way. “Well, I guess someone had better keep a close eye on me… keep me company at all times – you never know when something might happen.”
A few of their Gryffindor friends tittered at her joke, not catching the double meaning of it. But Fred did. The left corner of his mouth twitched upward the slightest bit and he gave her a once over. The moment was broken when Hermione felt Ginny’s hands return to the ends of her hair.
“Really, Hermione, what happened?” Ginny demanded. “You look like the back of your head fell into the Black Lake.”
Hermione started to tell the story of the snowball fight she had chanced upon when McGonagall stood up and clinked her glass.
“Good evening, all of you. I would just like to say that I have been so impressed at how the Hogwarts students have continued to show a warm welcome to our esteemed guests. You are making this school very proud. I have no doubt that some of you have already made some lifelong friends.”
Here, Hermione looked over to the Slytherin table to where the young wizards from Durmstrang had seated themselves. She caught Viktor’s eye and watched as he turned his head in her direction. He placed his hand over his heart and mouthed, “Thank you, my friend”. Her smile grew a little at that. She nodded her head once to acknowledge his action and then turned back round to focus her attention on the Transfiguration teacher.
“I would also like to say that I have been very amused by the dance lessons I’ve been teaching –“
Here, McGonagall looked to Ron and smirked. The young Weasley looked like he could melt into the floor. The Gryffindors, who had witnessed Ron’s humiliation, giggled or made soft whistles.
“And I am excited to see everyone put their best foot forward next Saturday evening.” The professor sat down, satisfied. Dumbledore stood up next and said a few words about students going home for the Christmas holidays after the Yule Ball. After that, it was time to eat.
Before dinner was finished, Hermione excused herself early and returned to the Gryffindor girls’ dormitory. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the showers were empty, save for her. Hermione spent several minutes underneath the water’s burning touch just to get the phantom chill of the snowball off of her neck. She tried using a charmed conditioner to smooth and heal her hair from the frizz and the damage the snowball may have caused. When Hermione exited the shower, towel wrapped round her body, she said hello to Lavender and Parvati, who had just returned from dinner themselves. She crossed over to the gilded mirror that the other two Gryffindors had used the other morning and checked her hair. Although still damp, it did appear considerably smoother. The witch was grateful that the snow hadn’t ruined it. She charmed her hair to dry and fashioned it up into a ponytail afterward, letting some baby hairs frame her face by her ears. In a hooded grey jumper that she had pilfered from Harry, and black joggers, Hermione slipped herself into bed that night with the intention of losing herself to her new Muggle novel that had been mailed by her parents a few days before. When she cracked her book open, she was startled by the shrieks of Lavender and Parvati. Hermione whipped her head round to see that an intricately folded paper butterfly had slipped itself under the crack of their dormitory door. Hermione set down her book and cupped her hands. The paper butterfly flew up from the floor towards her, gave her a butterfly kiss on the tip of her nose and then settled into her waiting palms. The transfigured note was about two inches wide and had slightly frayed edges, as if the notebook it had come from was worn or tattered. The charmed messenger’s wings had brushed against her palms with a feather-light touch and then unfurled. On the paper’s withered surface, scrawled writing appeared. Hermione had been intrigued. She held her breath as she read the handwritten note.
Meet me in the library for a study date? I’ll bring hot chocolate and a special treat! I have something important to ask you. 7 o’clock!
F.W xx
Hermione ran her fingers over Fred’s writing. He was asking her out on a date. A study date, but a date nonetheless. Ever curious, Lavender and Parvati moved forward to stand on the left side of Hermione’s bed. Hermione held the note close to her chest as the two other Gryffindors craned their necks like geese to try to see what was written on it.
“Oh, do tell us what it is, Hermione!” Parvati gushed. “Is it a note from a secret admirer?”
“Are they asking you to the Yule Ball?” Lavender squealed. “Oh, Hermione, are you going to have a date?!”
Hermione couldn’t help but grin as she tucked the butterfly note into her bookbag and charmed it to keep intruders out. “Not your business,” she said to the other Gryffindors, smug. Lavender and Parvati both seemed a little put out by her response.
“A secret affair! How romantic!” Parvati dramatically pretended to swoon.
Hermione laughed a little at the Patil twin. “Can you both just let me live in peace?” she asked. Lavender huffed, realizing they weren’t going to get any answers out of Hermione, and gently took Parvati by the arm.
“Come on, Parvati, we will go see if any of the Durmstrang boys want to take us to the Yule Ball,” she said. The two girls left the dormitory, leaving Hermione to her own devices. The brunette witch picked up her Muggle novel once more and snuggled back down amongst her bed covers, cracking the book open. She had about two hours of free time until she would need to head to the library to meet Fred. She managed to read several chapters in her short time-frame and then left the fourth-year Gryffindor girls’ dormitory. As she headed down the stairs towards the common room, she passed Ron. The embarrassment of the dress robes had lasted with him all day and he had remained in a sour mood, even during dinner. She was surprised to see him smiling now. He was halfway through eating a Chocolate Frog.
“Hello you,” she greeted gently. “You seem better.”
Ron nodded and held up an envelope. “I’m going to write to Mum about possibly exchanging the robes or having her let McGonagall transfigure some of it so that it’s not as hideous. I mean, you saw those things! I reckon I’ll die if I have to wear them, Hermione. Honestly. I can see the headline now! “Student Dies of Embarrassment on Christmas Eve; Family in Shock at Losing Their Favourite Son.”
Hermione laughed. “You think you’re their favourite?” she asked through her giggles. This caused Ron to shove her playfully.
“Alright, well, I’m going upstairs to get some money for Errol,” Ron said, holding up his letter again. “Wish me luck, I’ll see you later!”
The two friends parted with the redhead ascending the stairs and taking the left fork to the boys’ dormitories and the brunette descending, continuing down to the common room. As she entered the scarlet and gold room, she spotted George Weasley with Lee Jordan. The older wizards sat on the scarlet couch by the fire, which crackled and sparked happily. Hermione neared the older Gryffindors and the warmth from the flames reached her. She sighed with contentment and leaned forward to get a little closer, resting her hands on the back of the couch for support. George and Lee turned their heads to smile up at Hermione.
“How’re you, ’Mione?” George asked in greeting. “Sorry I haven’t said hello before now. I did see you in the Great Hall this morning but Fred and I were studying for our Apparition license this morning. Lee was helping us but I think he thinks it’s hopeless.”
From his spot on the other side of the couch, Lee groaned. “I’m telling you, I’m scared I’m not going to be able to do it and that I’m going to leave something behind.”
George snickered. “Oh, I know exactly what you’re afraid to leave behind,” he teased.
In response, Lee picked up the nearest pillow, brandishing it as Id it were the sword of Godric Gryffindor itself, and swatted his best mate on his left arm. This earned a shout from George.
“Oi! Jordan, relax! I was only taking the piss! I promise you, you will not lose your knob when you try to Apparate.”
Hermione fought the urge to laugh. “Lee, you’re that scared to lose your, um… appendage?” she asked, an amused grin on her lips. Lee Jordan’s eyes snapped upward to her and he visibly seemed worried.
“Granger, I can’t just leave all of these helpless witches date-less and shag-less for the Yule Ball. If we do our Apparition test this week, and I do lose my knob, I will be mortified and the girls will be so, so sad. It would be an extreme disservice.”
George scoffed and tried to divert the attention away from his dramatic friend. He looked from Lee to Hermione.
“Who are you going with then?” he asked, eyebrows rising. “Surely, you’ve been asked on a date by now. It’s not my brother, is it?” He smirked.
Hermione squirmed. That depends on what brother you’re talking about. “Um, no - Ron hasn’t asked me. I’ve been asked, though, by someone... but I haven’t said yes. I’m hoping someone else will ask me.”
Lee had stopped pouting and now patted one of Hermione’s hands, as if soothing her. “Oh, come on, Granger, don’t turn Longbottom down – “
“Yeah, he’s such a sweetheart,” the Weasley twin added, smirking.
The brunette laughed and pulled her hand away from Lee’s. “I am not going with Neville,” she replied after a moment. “He is taking Ginny, actually.”
George’s smirk faded. “Ginny? As in my sister?”
Hermione nodded. “Yes, do you know another one?” she teased.
George grew visibly upset. “That git! If he puts one hand on Ginny, I’ll -”
Lee started laughing.
“George, mate, you just called the kid a sweetheart. How can he go from a sweetheart to a git in seconds? And, if he does want to dance with Gin, he’s going to have to put his hands on her. You know, like this.”
Lee Jordan mimed the way that McGonagall and Ron had danced together a few weeks before, with his left hand up in the air and his right hand down where an invisible woman’s waist would be. “Dum da da dum, you see?”
George scowled, an expression so much like Ron’s. “All I’m saying is, he better not put too much of his hands on her.”
Hermione shook her head, smiling. “You boys are ridiculous,” she muttered, more to herself than them. She patted George’s shoulder once and waved goodbye to Lee before exiting the common room. She was aware that they watched her retreat and she hoped she hadn’t given anything about her and Fred away. George could be very perceptive when he wanted to be.
Hermione left Gryffindor Tower right as the clock chimed seven and travelled down to the second floor of the school to the library. It was vast, with multiple levels and carried several different types of tomes, books, articles, newspapers and other materials. On the far side of the library, at a large mahogany desk, sat Mme. Pince, the librarian. As Hermione entered, she was greeted by the familiar smell of old books and smiled to herself at the thought. She had always felt at home here.
The Gryffindor walked through the entirety of the first and second floor with no sign of Fred. Climbing the stairs to the third floor, it was mostly dark. Her brown eyes scanned the floor for signs of movement and didn’t see anything. Perhaps no one was here. Maybe Fred had decided not to come.
She continued walking along, half-shrouded in darkness, listening for someone or something.
“Fred?” she whispered. “Fred, are you here?”
In response, Hermione felt two hands gently cover her eyes. “Granger, you’ve kept me waiting all of five minutes,” Fred’s voice teased from somewhere above her head. “Don’t you know how crushed I was?”
Hermione giggled and moved Fred’s hands away from her eyes. She turned around and placed his hands on her waist. “Some things are worth waiting for,” she replied. She realized Fred’s eyes trailed down her body. She blushed.
“I do like the outfit. You’re cute when you let yourself go,” he told her after a moment. “Although, I’d rather you were wearing my jumper rather than one of Harry’s. We’ll have to change that.” He leaned down to press his lips softly against hers and then pulled away. His hands moved to hold hers and he led her along the corridor, he walking backwards, until they reached the final study booth. That’s when Hermione saw Fred’s surprise.
Little candles had been lit in their studying booth and a pile of chocolate strawberries sat upon a plate. Fred and George were known for being able to charm the house elves in the kitchens.
“I hope you like it,” Fred said as he sat down in the booth. She sat down across from him. She didn’t know what to say. She was amazed. It was a small gesture but it was so thoughtful. Fred kept talking. “I thought you’d enjoy the study date. I think we were both a little distracted this morning.”
Hermione smirked. “How were we distracted this morning?” she asked, reaching into her bookbag to take out her assignment from that morning, her quill and inkwell. Fred raised an eyebrow.
“Well you were distracted by my idiot brother and his hideous robes,” the freckled Weasley explained. “And I was distracted by you and that quill.” Hermione’s eyes widened and she looked down at her quill.
“What does my quill have anything to do with anything?” she asked, intrigued.
Fred decided to humour her with elaborating. “You were writing on your parchment and kept twirling your quill around and around,” he started. “But every once in awhile, the end of your quill brushed your lip. And all I could think of was kissing you. So as I said – ”
Here, Fred leaned forward a little and ran the fingers of his left hand along the back of her right hand.
“Very distracting indeed.”
Hermione giggled softly and leaned forward, closing the distance between them to press her mouth on his. “Welinel, I’m very sorry for being so distracting, Fred,” she said against his lips. “How can I make it up to you?” She felt Fred’s left hand move from running his fingers along the back of her hand to cradling the right side of her neck. The older wizard chuckled against her mouth and pulled away, the flames of the little candles flickering as he did so.
“You can be my date to the Yule Ball.”
Hermione froze in place and she dropped her quill. “I – what?”
“I want you to be my date to the Yule Ball, Hermione,” Fred repeated. “I’m mad about you and I think you’re just as mad about me. Whatever this is that we’ve got going on, I’m really enjoying it. And I want to make it more official. So, can you please do me the honour of being my date to the Yule Ball?”
Hermione was gobsmacked. She felt a blush creep up her neck and she fought to speak. Fred chuckled at the sight of a wide-eyed Hermione.
“Did I actually render the brilliant Hermione Granger speechless?” he teased. “Remind me to give myself a mental point.”
The younger witch was finally able to form words. “I – Fred, I would love to.” She took a deep breath. “Yes.”
Fred grinned and got up from his side of the booth, coming around to Hermione’s side. He put his arm around her shoulders and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers.
“Say it again,” he said in a whisper. Hermione grinned and her nose brushed against the tip of his.
“Fred Weasley, I would love to be your date to the Yule Ball,” she said. “Thank you for asking me.” She giggled. “I thought you weren’t going to.”
Fred’s laughter was deep in his chest, a sound that made her body hum. “Granger, I would be daft for asking anyone else.” He then captured her lips with his and Hermione’s heart sang.
The rest of the evening was spent actively studying – or as active their studying could be in between stolen kisses. Hermione felt like she was on cloud nine.
“By the way, what colour is your dress?” Fred asked a few hours later when they were being told to pack up in the library.
Hermione smiled softly. “It’s pink.” In response, Fred kissed her again and helped her put her assignment in her bookbag. Together, they walked back to the Gryffindor Common Room, hand-in-hand.
Author’s Note: Personal life took a turn so I had so much more I wanted to add in this chapter. We will consider this a teaser for what’s to come!