Chapter 22: Christmas Eve Morning
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER. IT BELONGS TO JK ROWLING.
A/N: Read, enjoy, and remember not to take either life or my writing too seriously.
Christmas Eve morning arrived quietly at Hogwarts, and Harry Potter was already awake. He sat in his usual armchair in the Gryffindor common room, waiting patiently for the girl he loved to come downstairs so they could go to breakfast together.
The girl I love.
Harry still found the thought incredible.
It had been less than two weeks since the night of Hermione's nightmare—the night when they had first said the word to each other.
Love.
It was only four letters long, yet the word carried enormous weight. For countless people it represented hope, happiness, and dreams. For others it brought heartbreak and misery.
For Harry, however, when Hermione Granger had whispered those words to him, it had felt like stepping into a completely new life.
He smiled to himself.
Then he heard footsteps on the staircase.
Harry looked up immediately.
Hermione appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair still slightly messy from sleep but her eyes bright. She spotted him instantly and smiled.
It was a sight Harry wished he could wake up to every day for the rest of his life.
"Good morning, handsome," Hermione said warmly as she walked toward him.
Harry grinned.
"Good morning, gorgeous. Ready for breakfast?"
Hermione hesitated for a moment before answering.
"Before we go… can I ask you something?"
"Of course," Harry replied easily.
Hermione shifted her weight slightly.
"Well… the Yule Ball is tomorrow night."
Harry instantly stiffened.
"What did I forget?" he asked quickly. "Was I supposed to get you something? Flowers? A gift? Did I—"
"Oh no, Harry!" Hermione interrupted, laughing softly. "Nothing like that."
She paused, trying to explain.
"You said earlier that you don't know how to dance… and honestly I've never really danced either. I assumed it would just be normal dancing."
She looked slightly embarrassed.
"But yesterday I overheard Angelina talking with Katie. Apparently the beginning of the ball will be very formal. They mentioned dances like the Waltz."
Harry's face went pale.
"I… I can't do that," he admitted miserably. "Hermione, I'm going to embarrass you."
Hermione shook her head immediately.
"No you won't. I don't know how to do it either."
Harry considered that for a moment.
"Well… we could just not dance," he suggested hopefully. "We could sit and watch everyone else."
Hermione's expression softened slightly, but there was disappointment in her eyes.
"We could," she admitted. "But… I was hoping you might try learning with me."
Inside Harry's mind a voice screamed:
Anything. Just make her smile again.
"I'd do anything for you," he said without hesitation.
Hermione's entire face lit up.
"Wait here!"
She dashed back up the stairs before Harry could say anything else.
A minute later she returned holding a large book.
"I went to the library yesterday," she explained excitedly, "to see if there might be a way to learn."
Harry chuckled.
That was absolutely Hermione.
Need to identify a dangerous magical creature?
Go to the library.
Need to discover the secrets of Nicholas Flamel?
Go to the library.
Need to learn ballroom dancing overnight?
Obviously… go to the library.
Harry silently made himself a promise.
Someday I'm going to build her a library. Fill it with every book she could ever want.
Hermione watched him anxiously.
"So… how exactly do we learn to dance in one day?" Harry asked.
Hermione smiled proudly.
"Magic."
She opened the book and pointed to a page.
"There's a charm that guides your body into the correct positions for each step."
Harry blinked.
"So if we cast it tomorrow night we'll magically know how to waltz?"
"Well… technically yes," Hermione admitted.
"But if we used it during the ball we'd look like puppets. The book suggests using it for practice instead."
She continued explaining.
"The spell forces your body to move correctly while you practice. After a while you start anticipating the steps yourself."
Harry nodded slowly.
"That doesn't sound terrible. How long do we need to practice?"
Hermione gave him a hopeful look.
"About ten hours."
Harry stared at her.
"Ten hours? No chance."
He crossed his arms stubbornly.
"I am not spending ten hours learning a dance I'll use for fifteen minutes."
Two hours later…
Harry was in an empty classroom, being dragged around the floor by Hermione's enchanted dance spell like a possessed puppet.
Because when the girl you love looks at you with pleading brown eyes and softly says the most dangerous word in the English language—
"Please?"
—resistance becomes impossible.
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See you in the next chapter ✨
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