Drabble the thirteenth- and the last post for this year!
Happy 2007, everyone!!!!! Here's to another year of Harmony!!
The thirteenth drabble- ending this year on a fluffy note.
For my very dear granger_girl17.
Prompt: H/Hr, Yule Ball
His Date
It didn’t happen entirely because of the dress but the dress certainly contributed to it, if only because it somehow bolstered his courage.
He found it ridiculous that after having faced and defeated Voldemort, he was reduced to panic at the thought of talking to his best friend and telling her that he-that he- what? Liked her? Fancied her? Didn’t think of her as only a friend? He wasn’t even sure what he felt for her; he just knew that he wanted more than friendship.
So when they received their invitations to the Ministry’s Yule Ball (and unofficial celebration of Voldemort’s defeat, since it was only now the wizarding world was beginning to return to normalcy), his first thought was of her, to ask her to go with him. He hadn’t thought to ask her for their first Yule Ball in 4th year, he remembered, and he would have enjoyed himself much more if he had, he thought, but now, he knew better and he knew he wanted to go to the Ball with Hermione.
So he asked her and she paused and then asked, a slight flush coloring her cheeks, “You mean, as your date?”
He should have said yes. It would have been perfect if he had only said yes. But somehow, faced with Hermione, looking so- pretty- and with a hint of self-consciousness in her eyes and expression, he lost his head and panicked. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t risk it, couldn’t just end the most important friendship of his life for what might, just might, be a passing fancy or for something he couldn’t even put a definite name to. His heart sped up, his throat closed, and he scrambled for the easy way out, blurting out, “No, as my best friend.” And then, without allowing himself to look too closely at Hermione (was that a flicker of disappointment, of hurt, in her eyes-but no, he couldn’t think about that), he’d hastily added, “You know I don’t like this sort of thing. I figure if I go with you, I might at least have some fun.”
And that was that.
She had smiled, although he somehow got the distinct impression that it was forced, and said yes.
He was going to the Ball with Hermione. He should have been happy, relieved. Instead he was left with an odd, lingering bad taste in his mouth and the nagging consciousness that he’d been a coward.
Hermione had told him she’d meet him at Hogwarts and, so he waited in the Entrance Hall for her, uncomfortably conscious of the number of glances people shot at him and the occasional whisper he heard of “look, it’s him! It’s Harry Potter!” or something like that. He inwardly grimaced; he knew he hated these things. But at the same time, he couldn’t very well refuse to attend when this Ball in particular was meant to celebrate the end of the Second Voldemort War.
Behind him, he heard a soft rustle and then Hermione’s voice. “Harry.”
He felt a surge of relief knowing that she was here; she would make the evening better as she always could, somehow. He whirled around to face her and saw-a vision. His breath stopped in his throat, his lungs forgetting how to function, and he was very vaguely aware that his jaw had dropped as he stared. And stared and stared.
She was-she was-perfect, he thought hazily. She was wearing dress robes in a deep purple shade that made her skin seem paler, softer, and her eyes brighter. It wasn’t particularly low-cut but it did cling to her figure and show exactly what was usually hidden beneath the practical clothes Hermione usually wore.
She looked absolutely beautiful-and as he stared, any lingering delusions he might have had that his feelings for Hermione were even remotely platonic completely disappeared, never to return again. And he knew what he felt for Hermione wasn’t a passing fancy. It was real and deep and strong-and it was forever… Not only because he loved the way she looked tonight, not only because he found her increasingly distracting because of how he wanted to kiss her, but because he liked her as well. He liked her courage and her cleverness; he liked being with her; he liked seeing her smile and hearing her laugh…
He became aware that Hermione was looking at him curiously and realized he’d been standing there staring at her for a ridiculously long time.
“You look- you look nice,” he finally managed to say inanely and then wanted to kick himself for having said something so absolutely idiotic. “I mean, you look really pretty,” he hastily added.
She smiled and colored. “Thank you.”
He returned her smile with one of his-and somehow, he was comfortable again. This was Hermione, after all, and she was still his best friend-and she always would be-no matter what his new feelings for her were.
And the thought gave him courage so he slipped his hand into hers, noting the way she caught her breath slightly and seeing (or allowing himself to see for the first time) the glow of emotion in her eyes.
“Hermione,” he breathed, shifting ever so slightly closer to her.
“Yes?” Her voice was barely a wisp of sound.
“I- er- I lied before. When you asked me if I wanted this to be a date, I lied. I do want this to be a date. I want you to be my date tonight and, well, every night from now on.”
Her smile was so bright he caught his breath as he realized with a thrill that she felt the same way he did.
“I want you to be my date too.”
The noise of the other people talking, moving around them in the Entrance Hall, the soft sound of the music playing in the Great Hall-it all faded from his consciousness, as he leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Four inches… three… two… one… His lips touched hers, lightly, just more than a brush of his lips against hers-but it was still a kiss.
He drew back slightly to meet her eyes and see her flushed cheeks and shining eyes.
And then he became belatedly aware of the utter silence around them and realized that everyone in the Entrance Hall (and there were a fair number of people there) had fallen silent and was staring at him and Hermione.
It was his turn to flush uncomfortably, wishing he could simply go into hiding somewhere and never show his face in public again until this had been forgotten, and wondering just what people were thinking.
And then, one person started clapping and then another and soon everyone in the Entrance Hall (and the people crowding into the doorway from the Great Hall, attracted by the noise) was applauding and cheering.
He felt himself blush even more and sensed rather than heard Hermione’s embarrassed little laugh before he felt her momentarily hide her blushing face against his chest in an uncharacteristically shy gesture (but then again, it wasn’t every day that she was kissed in public, let alone kissed by the most famous boy in the wizarding world).
She lifted her face, smiling now, having regained her equanimity, and he found himself returning her smile.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said quietly.
“I don’t mind being known as your date if you don’t.”
“I don’t mind,” he assured her quickly. Of course he didn’t mind; he was proud of having Hermione as his date-and though he might have wished to have people find out in a less dramatic fashion, he didn’t mind letting everyone know that he belonged to Hermione.
She smiled into his eyes and squeezed his hand lightly. “Let’s go inside then.”
“Right.”
And he found himself thinking, as he walked into the Great Hall with Hermione, his hand holding hers, that after all, this would turn out to be the best Yule Ball ever.
~*~
I hope all of you have a wonderful, harmonious 2007!!
The thirteenth drabble- ending this year on a fluffy note.
For my very dear granger_girl17.
Prompt: H/Hr, Yule Ball
His Date
It didn’t happen entirely because of the dress but the dress certainly contributed to it, if only because it somehow bolstered his courage.
He found it ridiculous that after having faced and defeated Voldemort, he was reduced to panic at the thought of talking to his best friend and telling her that he-that he- what? Liked her? Fancied her? Didn’t think of her as only a friend? He wasn’t even sure what he felt for her; he just knew that he wanted more than friendship.
So when they received their invitations to the Ministry’s Yule Ball (and unofficial celebration of Voldemort’s defeat, since it was only now the wizarding world was beginning to return to normalcy), his first thought was of her, to ask her to go with him. He hadn’t thought to ask her for their first Yule Ball in 4th year, he remembered, and he would have enjoyed himself much more if he had, he thought, but now, he knew better and he knew he wanted to go to the Ball with Hermione.
So he asked her and she paused and then asked, a slight flush coloring her cheeks, “You mean, as your date?”
He should have said yes. It would have been perfect if he had only said yes. But somehow, faced with Hermione, looking so- pretty- and with a hint of self-consciousness in her eyes and expression, he lost his head and panicked. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t risk it, couldn’t just end the most important friendship of his life for what might, just might, be a passing fancy or for something he couldn’t even put a definite name to. His heart sped up, his throat closed, and he scrambled for the easy way out, blurting out, “No, as my best friend.” And then, without allowing himself to look too closely at Hermione (was that a flicker of disappointment, of hurt, in her eyes-but no, he couldn’t think about that), he’d hastily added, “You know I don’t like this sort of thing. I figure if I go with you, I might at least have some fun.”
And that was that.
She had smiled, although he somehow got the distinct impression that it was forced, and said yes.
He was going to the Ball with Hermione. He should have been happy, relieved. Instead he was left with an odd, lingering bad taste in his mouth and the nagging consciousness that he’d been a coward.
Hermione had told him she’d meet him at Hogwarts and, so he waited in the Entrance Hall for her, uncomfortably conscious of the number of glances people shot at him and the occasional whisper he heard of “look, it’s him! It’s Harry Potter!” or something like that. He inwardly grimaced; he knew he hated these things. But at the same time, he couldn’t very well refuse to attend when this Ball in particular was meant to celebrate the end of the Second Voldemort War.
Behind him, he heard a soft rustle and then Hermione’s voice. “Harry.”
He felt a surge of relief knowing that she was here; she would make the evening better as she always could, somehow. He whirled around to face her and saw-a vision. His breath stopped in his throat, his lungs forgetting how to function, and he was very vaguely aware that his jaw had dropped as he stared. And stared and stared.
She was-she was-perfect, he thought hazily. She was wearing dress robes in a deep purple shade that made her skin seem paler, softer, and her eyes brighter. It wasn’t particularly low-cut but it did cling to her figure and show exactly what was usually hidden beneath the practical clothes Hermione usually wore.
She looked absolutely beautiful-and as he stared, any lingering delusions he might have had that his feelings for Hermione were even remotely platonic completely disappeared, never to return again. And he knew what he felt for Hermione wasn’t a passing fancy. It was real and deep and strong-and it was forever… Not only because he loved the way she looked tonight, not only because he found her increasingly distracting because of how he wanted to kiss her, but because he liked her as well. He liked her courage and her cleverness; he liked being with her; he liked seeing her smile and hearing her laugh…
He became aware that Hermione was looking at him curiously and realized he’d been standing there staring at her for a ridiculously long time.
“You look- you look nice,” he finally managed to say inanely and then wanted to kick himself for having said something so absolutely idiotic. “I mean, you look really pretty,” he hastily added.
She smiled and colored. “Thank you.”
He returned her smile with one of his-and somehow, he was comfortable again. This was Hermione, after all, and she was still his best friend-and she always would be-no matter what his new feelings for her were.
And the thought gave him courage so he slipped his hand into hers, noting the way she caught her breath slightly and seeing (or allowing himself to see for the first time) the glow of emotion in her eyes.
“Hermione,” he breathed, shifting ever so slightly closer to her.
“Yes?” Her voice was barely a wisp of sound.
“I- er- I lied before. When you asked me if I wanted this to be a date, I lied. I do want this to be a date. I want you to be my date tonight and, well, every night from now on.”
Her smile was so bright he caught his breath as he realized with a thrill that she felt the same way he did.
“I want you to be my date too.”
The noise of the other people talking, moving around them in the Entrance Hall, the soft sound of the music playing in the Great Hall-it all faded from his consciousness, as he leaned forward, closing the distance between them. Four inches… three… two… one… His lips touched hers, lightly, just more than a brush of his lips against hers-but it was still a kiss.
He drew back slightly to meet her eyes and see her flushed cheeks and shining eyes.
And then he became belatedly aware of the utter silence around them and realized that everyone in the Entrance Hall (and there were a fair number of people there) had fallen silent and was staring at him and Hermione.
It was his turn to flush uncomfortably, wishing he could simply go into hiding somewhere and never show his face in public again until this had been forgotten, and wondering just what people were thinking.
And then, one person started clapping and then another and soon everyone in the Entrance Hall (and the people crowding into the doorway from the Great Hall, attracted by the noise) was applauding and cheering.
He felt himself blush even more and sensed rather than heard Hermione’s embarrassed little laugh before he felt her momentarily hide her blushing face against his chest in an uncharacteristically shy gesture (but then again, it wasn’t every day that she was kissed in public, let alone kissed by the most famous boy in the wizarding world).
She lifted her face, smiling now, having regained her equanimity, and he found himself returning her smile.
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said quietly.
“I don’t mind being known as your date if you don’t.”
“I don’t mind,” he assured her quickly. Of course he didn’t mind; he was proud of having Hermione as his date-and though he might have wished to have people find out in a less dramatic fashion, he didn’t mind letting everyone know that he belonged to Hermione.
She smiled into his eyes and squeezed his hand lightly. “Let’s go inside then.”
“Right.”
And he found himself thinking, as he walked into the Great Hall with Hermione, his hand holding hers, that after all, this would turn out to be the best Yule Ball ever.
~*~
I hope all of you have a wonderful, harmonious 2007!!