chapter four

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

______________________________________________________

Hermione watched, eyes wide, as the doors opened, admitting the four of them into the Grand Ballroom. Upon entering, Ron's shabby robes instantly became debonair burgundy dress robes. His hair, which had grown longer in the past months, was now tied back with a gold ribbon. Mrs. Weasley's grey and dirty robes were Transfigured into extravagant blue dress robes. As she and Harry entered, Hermione noted that his robes transformed into robes similar to Ron's, only his were green to match her dress.

As she approached the dance floor, Hermione forgot to breathe while taking in her surroundings. She was standing at the top of a staircase that looked down into the ballroom. The railing was beautifully carved to resemble a vine growing off of a tree. As she and Harry walked down the stairs, she noted the marble pillars, the torches adorning the walls and the stone floor, which shone so brightly she could see her face in it. What amazed Hermione most, though, was the ceiling, which, like the Great Hall, was bewitched to look like the night sky. On this particular night there were no clouds, only a crescent shaped moon and a million dazzling stars.

The stairs Hermione was descending ended on a landing that was still twenty feet off the ground. Wearing bright yellow dress robes, Professor Dumbledore stood on the landing waiting for Hermione so he could escort her down the remaining stairs onto the dance floor. With a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes, Professor Dumbledore offered his hand to her.

Hermione felt Harry release his arm from her grip, and she promptly grasped Professor Dumbledore's hand. Looking over the edge of the landing with the Headmaster, Hermione saw the nine suitors standing in a line looking up at her. Each man looked exactly alike with short brown hair, green eyes and the same build. They each wore a tight fitting white shirt and black trousers. She noted that each man looked about a foot taller than she. Next to her, Professor Dumbledore was applying a Sonorus Charm to himself. After a moment, he spoke.

"Prospective suitors, the witch of honour has arrived. The Cinderella Masquerade Ball has begun." That having been said, the Headmaster escorted Hermione down the remaining stairs. Upon reaching the dance floor, he spoke to her.

"Miss Granger, would you care to indulge an old man with a dance to start the ball?"

"I'd be delighted, sir," she responded with fake excitement. Though she was receiving the royal treatment, Hermione's stomach was in knots, terrified about what the night might bring.

Professor Dumbledore took her hands in his own and nodded to Ron, who was operating the phonograph. Ron tapped his wand to it, and a waltz began.

"Miss Granger, you look lovely tonight." After the compliment Professor Dumbledore chuckled. "I can only hope my Gringotts account has not suffered too big a loss."

"Oh, no, sir!" responded Hermione apprehensively. "I only bought the dress; the shoes were free."

"My dear, it's quite alright. I'm glad you had a day out to go shopping. From what Harry said, it sounded as if you quite enjoyed yourself."

"I did," answered Hermione, smiling. "Sir, the room looks wonderful; you really didn't have to do all this."

"My dear, I did nothing but get each of the suitors into this room. The Room of Requirement did everything else."

"But didn't you charm the men and all their outfits to look the same?" questioned Hermione.

"Well, I may have had something to do with that," answered the Headmaster, eyes twinkling.

As their dance ended, the two came to a halt. Professor Dumbledore bent down and placed a kiss on her hand.

"Enjoy your evening, Miss Granger. And remember to pick someone you can be happy with." With that, he walked away to converse with Mrs. Weasley.

For a moment Hermione stood there, contemplating what to do. Should she ask a suitor to dance or wait for one to approach her? Before she could make her decision, however, suitor number one approached her.

"Hermione?" he asked, bowing low. "Would you like to dance?"

"Like I have a choice," she muttered under her breath. Now that she was faced with a suitor, Hermione's anxiety overwhelmed her and came out of her disguised as bitterness.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Nothing," she responded with false cheer. To reassure him, she grasped his hands and waited for the music to start.

Once they stared dancing, Hermione noted how tightly the suitor grasped her hands. He was squeezing so tightly she was sure her hands would have bruises the next morning. When she took notice of his dancing style, she didn't feel like they were dancing at all but that he was pushing her across the dance floor.

"You look lovely, Hermione," he commented.

"Thank you," she responded.

While Hermione had not expected fireworks with any of the suitors she met that night, she knew that this man was certainly not what she had expected. He was too rough with her, which made her wonder if he could be gentle; he had barely spoken since the dance began so she had no idea how to know anything of his personality. While she sensed this suitor had the best intentions, it was obvious that without the Glamour Charm he was big and burly and probably too rough for her. Hermione could tell this suitor was trying to make her feel comfortable, but it was clear that he didn't know how to go about it.

At the end of the dance, the suitor bowed slightly and bid Hermione good luck before walking away. It wasn't long before suitor number two approached her and asked to dance. With her expectations taken down a notch, Hermione accepted his dance immediately.

Unlike suitor number one, who didn't really dance but merely walked around the dance floor, suitor number two tried to dance very well. The fact that he was too uncoordinated to dance well was quite amusing to Hermione. While she could tell he knew the steps to the dance, it was clear this suitor had no sense of rhythm as he always moved a beat after his cue, causing himself to trip over his own feet. Like the first suitor, this one also commented on her appearance with approval. When their dance ended, Hermione asked for another dance just for a laugh. It wasn't that she was attracted to the suitor but that she found his inability to dance rather cute. This time, as they danced, they conversed.

"So, Hermione, how's school going this year?"

"Well, it was going great," she responded. "My grades were the top of the class for the first half of the year."

"Only the first half?" he questioned.

"Well, yes," answered Hermione, a lump catching in her throat. "It's just that after Christmas and ... my parents ... and then Hogsmeade. Well, school just doesn't seem to be much of a priority anymore."

Though he tried to conceal it, Hermione caught the disapproving look on her suitor's face. Upon seeing it, she immediately stiffened. If she were going to be with whichever man she chose for the rest of her life, she would require his support in both good times and bad. This suitor very clearly disapproved of her letting her grades drop in times of hardship. Hermione didn't think she could be with someone who only approved of her whenever she fit his definition of appropriate. After the second dance, suitor number two abruptly walked away without a word, leaving time for suitor number three to approach her.

Suitor number three came seemingly out of thin air. Without asking her permission, he took her arms and held them in the traditional waltzing pose. When the music began, the suitor exaggerated his movements, leading her about the dance floor at a swift pace. Unlike the other two suitors, who had confined themselves to dancing in the center of the dance floor, this suitor took her to each corner of the room and back again, smiling the whole time. He was so lively and so fast that Hermione felt like she was running to catch up with him. Unlike suitor number one, this suitor's grip was loose, and yet he still commanded the lead in their dance. He was strong, yet gentle, which persuaded Hermione to ask him for another dance. As they were swinging through their second dance, Hermione spoke to him for the first time.

"Are you always this jumpy?"

"Whatever do you mean?" he asked, flashing a dazzling smile.

"I mean," she said, pausing to catch her breath, "are you always this awake and energetic?"

His face took on a look of mock thought for a moment before he answered.

"I suppose so. I don't recall ever shutting down. But that's a good thing, isn't it? It means I'll always be awake to be there for you."

He flashed his brilliant smile once again, and Hermione felt herself go weak in the knees.

Snap out of it, Hermione! she told herself. It's not like you can really base your decision on his smile. Don't forget he's wearing a Glamour Charm and that they all have the same smile.

By the end of their second dance Hermione was gasping for breath. After the suitor walked away, Hermione reflected that it had been a wonderful two dances; the man had so much energy! While she enjoyed that energy once in a while, she wasn't sure she'd be able to handle it long-term. If she married him, she was sure she'd be exhausted within a few days. Still, he was an option if no one better came along.

Hermione leaned with her back to a wall, panting in a futile effort to breathe again. Her eyes slipped closed for a moment before she heard the voice of suitor number four.

"Need to catch your breath after that marathon jog?" he asked sardonically. Hermione nodded as her suitor chuckled and urged her to sit on the bench that had appeared in front of them. She sat, and after a few moments, so did he. They shared a companionable silence for a few minutes, and Hermione couldn't help but notice how kind and considerate this suitor was. He had seen she was exhausted and then asked the room to provide a bench for her to rest on. Flattered by his action, Hermione stood and extended her hand.

"Would you like to dance?"

"Why, Hermione, I'd be delighted," he answered, taking her outstretched hand.

As they began dancing, he allowed one hand to rest on her lower back while his other hand held her own.

"You know," he said, "I was a little surprised by your outfit choice."

"How so?" she questioned.

"Well, I was expecting something a little more ... Gryffindor," he explained. "And your dress just screams Slytherin."

"Well, it is a Muggle dress," answered Hermione. "Unlike Wizarding robes, Muggle dresses can't be altered by magic. If I used magic to change the colour, it wouldn't be a Muggle dress anymore."

"I see," he responded. "So you may not have had any choice in the colour of your dress, but I'm guessing you did have a colour choice for your undergarments."

"I suppose," replied Hermione. She didn't like the sly grin on his face or the fact that his hand was moving slowly down her back. He leaned forward so that his lips touched her ear. The action sent an uncomfortable chill down her spine.

"Tell me, Hermione," he whispered as his hand moved to grope her arse. "What colour knickers are you wearing?"

Seething with anger, Hermione's hand made contact with the suitor's face so fast she didn't even know if it had happened. The pain in her hand, however, told her differently. She was shocked to see that her slap had been delivered with so much force that the suitor had fallen backwards and was now rubbing his reddened cheek while on the ground. Harry, who had been watching their dance rather intently, was upon them in an instant.

"You guys alright?" he asked.

"Just bloody fine," snapped Hermione, who was glaring daggers at the suitor.

Harry urged the man to his feet and walked away with him, but Hermione was sure she heard the suitor murmur "bloody bitch" as he departed.

Hermione closed her eyes and tried to take a deep breath to calm down. As she heard suitor number five approaching, she set a firm scowl on her face and turned towards him. Without saying a word, he simply held his arms out. Sighing, Hermione grasped his hands and waited for the music to start. They started dancing, and her scowl only deepened further as he spoke.

"You know you can't walk through life stuck in grief."

"And who are you? My counsellor?" she snapped.

Ignoring her comment, he continued.

"You can't be unhappy just for the sake of being unhappy."

"And why not?" asked Hermione. Things were not looking good for this suitor, who was obviously just trying to upset her mood even more.

"Look," he said, his grip on her hands unconsciously tightening. "We've all lost someone in this war. We all handle loss differently. And quite honestly, you're handling it poorly. While the rest of us are still fighting, trying to make sure those lives weren't lost in vain, you're acting like your loss was greater than the rest of ours and that you deserve to just sit and mope for months. The rest of us are still fighting; you're just losing it."

"I am still fighting," she argued. "And I am not losing it."

"You are losing it, Hermione. Otherwise you wouldn't have slapped that last suitor. And how are you fighting? What have you done since the Battle of Hogsmeade?"

"Just to clarify," said Hermione, voice raised, "I didn't slap suitor number four because I'm 'losing' it, as you say. I slapped him because he's a pig. And you want to know how I'm fighting? I'm here at this ball, trying to pick a suitable husband when what I really want to do is run away and be with Ginny, Luna and my parents. That's right, I'm fighting with the urge to kill myself! How's that for you?"

"That's not fighting, that's giving up."

"Whatever you say." Angrily, Hermione released herself from his grasp and stormed away from him. She couldn't believe the audacity of the man. Telling her she was hurting the war effort by grieving. She needed to calm down and decided that sitting was probably the best way to go about it. Instantly, another bench appeared before her. Uneasily, she sat. She placed her head in her hands and fumed at what bad luck she was having. Hermione couldn't believe she was halfway through her suitors and hadn't found anyone she could see herself married to. Suddenly, she felt a presence next to her and lifted her head to stare at suitor number six.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the spot next to her on the bench.

"Go ahead," responded Hermione. Though she did not look at him, but kept her eyes on her hands in her lap, she could feel his silent but insistent stare.

"You know," he finally said, "I haven't seen you smile all night."

"Does that surprise you?" she asked bitterly.

"Well, yes and no," he answered. "No, because I wouldn't expect you to smile after all you've been through, and if you did smile, it would probably just be artificial. But who wants to see a fake smile anyway? I certainly don't." He paused, and Hermione contemplated how different he was from every other man at the ball. Everyone, even the Headmaster, wanted her to act happy even if she really wasn't. Yet this suitor didn't want her to be anything but genuine. He didn't want her to act differently than she felt; the sentiment nearly warmed her heart. She gestured for him to continue his explanation.

"And yes, I would have thought you'd be smiling because one would think that after being named the guest of honour at a ball like this, you'd feel like Cinderella."

"More like Prince Charming," she muttered under her breath.

"Care to explain?" he asked. "I'm afraid I'm not quite as knowledgeable in Muggle fairytales as I'd like to be."

Hermione looked at him dubiously and saw in his eyes that he was truly interested in what she had to say. So he likes knowledge, she thought; this could work.

"Okay," she started. "Well, in the story, the ball is thrown for Prince Charming because his Father insists he find a wife. Yet the Prince is incapable of choosing, so he must dance with every woman in the country before he can decide which girl to marry."

"I see," said the suitor. "Then why do they call it Cinderella?"

"Cinderella is just one of the girls who goes to the ball," answered Hermione. "In the end, she's the one the Prince picks."

"So what you're saying," clarified the suitor, "is that you're the unhappy Prince Charming who's being forced into marriage and whichever suitor you pick is Cinderella?"

"Exactly," she answered.

"Would you care to dance?" he asked, standing and offering his hand to Hermione.

"I'd love to," she replied, actually smiling. While they were dancing, he took her hands tenderly in his own. He was an impeccable dancer. He led her without being too pushy and without wearing her out.

"So, how's your hand feel?" he asked.

"Pardon me?" questioned Hermione, confused.

"That was a pretty hard slap you gave suitor number four," he commented. "Seems to me your hand would hurt after that."

"Oh ... that." Hermione blushed upon realizing that everyone had witnessed her little moment from earlier.

"So, how's your hand feel?" he asked again.

"It did hurt," she responded. "But I think it's better now."

"That's good." He chuckled then. "Because I heard you deliver a powerful punch."

"What have you heard?" she asked mock-accusingly.

"Oh, you know," he answered coyly. "Just a little tale about you and Draco Malfoy in your third year."

"Oh ... yeah." She blushed once again. "Well, he made me angry."

"So you punched him?" The suitor eyed her suspiciously.

"Fine. He made me really angry."

Upon hearing her response, the suitor laughed. In spite of herself, Hermione joined in and laughed with him. It was ridiculous, really. In her third year, her biggest trouble had been Draco Malfoy taunting her with meaningless words. Now her biggest trouble was getting out of the war alive. After a moment where they were both lost in thought, the suitor spoke again.

"So did it feel good? Punching him, I mean."

"Malfoy or the suitor?"

"Either one," he offered.

"It felt great," answered Hermione. "Just like a release of tension."

As the song came to a close, Hermione could feel the suitor's grip loosen on her hands. She wanted to ask him for another dance, but in all honesty, she was getting tired. Before he released her, however, he took her right hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles.

"In hope that your hand makes a full recovery, I must bid you farewell." With that, he walked away, leaving Hermione speechless. She had no idea who this suitor was, but to her, it felt as if she had just talked to a long lost friend. Out of all the suitors so far, she could definitely see herself with him.

She only had a moment to bask in her happiness, though. Before she knew it, she was pulled into another suitor's arms. This suitor held her in a loose grip. He stood far enough way that she didn't feel crowded, but close enough to make her feel safe.

"Do you want a laugh?" he asked.

"Why not?" responded Hermione lightly. Her spirits had been raised immensely from her dance with the last suitor. She now felt that she could take on anyone.

Suitor number seven took out his wand and pointed it in the direction of the phonograph that had been playing a slow, quiet ballad. Once he flicked his wand, the music became the loud, annoying, screaming music of the Weird Sisters, Hermione's least favorite band. Everyone in the room jumped at the disturbance in the music, and Hermione covered her ears to block it out; it was giving her a headache. Her suitor laughed at his joke, not noticing Hermione's discomfort, and started jumping to the music. In her discomfort, Hermione shrieked.

"Please turn it off!"

Seeing her distress, he flicked his wand, and the ballad began playing once again.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I thought all witches liked the Weird Sisters."

Well, at least he apologized, thought Hermione. It showed he wasn't afraid to admit he'd made a mistake.

"May I try to make you laugh again?" he asked.

"Go ahead," sighed Hermione. This time when he flicked his wand no crazy music played. Hermione let her gaze travel the room and spotted that Ron's dress robes had been Transfigured into a dress much like the one she was wearing. Ron gasped and had to fumble for his wand to change it back. Harry, who had been leaning on the wall next to Ron, nearly collapsed with laughter. If the wall hadn't been holding him up, Harry would have been rolling on the floor.

Hermione hid her smile behind her hand as she watched Ron right himself back into his robes. It really was a funny joke ... and that's when it hit her: Weasley Twins! How could she have missed that?

"Pretty good," responded Hermione, in reference to Ron's robes. "Maybe you should go into the fashion business, George." As she spoke his name, George's eyes bugged out of his head.

"I don't think...but you didn't...how did you?" Finally, he gave up his attempts at incoherent stammering.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, how did you know?"

Hermione laughed at his befuddlement. "Who else would walk up to me and ask 'want a joke?' Really, George, it had to be you or Fred, and I guessed you."

"Oh ... well do you want me to go?" he asked.

"No, stay," she answered. "We should finish our dance. Besides, it's nice to know I've got a friend here."

Together they finished the dance in silence. George was still stunned that she'd figured out his identity, and Hermione needed the time to think. George was a great man, and she loved all the time she spent with him at the Burrow, but she wasn't sure she could tolerate his jokes every day for the rest of her life. George needed someone who loved humour as much as he did, and lately, that just wasn't her. At the end of the dance, she thanked George, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek. She smiled warmly at him; he would always be a good friend.

Up next was suitor number eight. He bowed and asked her permission to dance, which she readily gave. She noticed, thankfully, that Ron had picked another slow ballad, because she was getting tired from dancing.

"Are you alright?" the suitor asked.

"I'm fine," she answered. "Just a little sleepy. It's been a long day."

"I'll bet," he responded. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," came her reply.

"You sure?" he persisted. "Talking generally helps people that are in pain."

"I'm not in pain," snapped Hermione. She knew it was a lie, but he didn't seem to get the hint that she didn't want to talk about it.

"You obviously are in pain," he countered. "Your violent behaviour earlier proved that."

"Why is everyone bringing that up?" questioned Hermione. "I slapped him because he tried to grope me!"

"I still think you need to talk to someone about what you're feeling," he responded.

"What makes you think you're the one I would choose to talk to?" cried Hermione.

"Well, sometimes it helps to talk to someone that's not too closely involved. I figured since you don't know who I am ... "

"That I'd just share all my innermost thoughts and feelings with you?" accused Hermione. "You do realize Professor Dumbledore will tell me who you are later. Then what? I'm completely mortified because I realize I shared all my thoughts with you?"

Without finishing their dance, Hermione pulled away and walked off the dance floor. She stepped over to the wall and rested her forehead against the cool stone. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than for the day to end. The entire ball had been a nightmare with people trying to get her to talk about things she tried never to think about. All of the suitors were judging her, and she was sick of it. She just wanted to crawl into bed until all of this madness was over. But she couldn't do that; she still had to dance with one other suitor. She looked up when she felt the suitor in question tapping her on the shoulder.

"I do believe it is my turn," he said clearly.

"Fine," she grumbled and accepted his proffered hand. He pulled her closer to him as the ballad began and placed one hand on her hip while holding her other hand. Hermione looked up, expecting to find him staring at her. Instead, his eyes were fixated on a spot just above her head.

"Well?" she asked sardonically. "Aren't you going to say anything? Try to win me over with your charm?"

"I'll do no such thing," he answered matter-of-factly. "It seems to me that you are tired of inadequate men pestering you. It was my intention to give you a break from that." After he finished speaking, his eyes found that spot just above her head once again. He did not look at her, did not speak.

"Thank you," she whispered, unconsciously scooting closer to him while they danced. She had tears in her eyes, and they weren't the unhappy tears she'd had since the Battle of Hogsmeade. Her tears were happy because this man was considerate and put her at ease with just a few words.

During the dance, neither she nor he seemed to notice that their bodies continually gravitated towards each other. It wasn't until Hermione was close enough to rest her head on his shoulder that she noticed their proximity, and at that point, she was too tired to care. As she laid her head on his shoulder, she felt him stiffen for a moment but then relax and entwine his arms around her waist. A moment later, she felt him give in again and rest his head atop her own.

It felt nice, she decided. He held her in such an intimate way, yet it didn't make her feel as if he would try anything inappropriate. The intimacy of the dance offered comfort she hadn't received in a long time. For the entire dance, Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that she was safe as long as she remained in his arms. Unfortunately, the dance which she had been so eager to evade ended, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a sense of loss as he released her and took a step back.

"Goodnight, Hermione. You look beautiful," he complimented before walking away. Hermione stood in awe of this man for a long time.

Finally, she walked over to Harry, Ron and Mrs. Weasley.

"Albus just left, dear," Mrs. Weasley informed her. "He said you'll be spending the night in Room Ten. He wants you to change into something comfortable and then walk into the room with a star on it. It leads to his office."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," responded Hermione, giving her a brief hug.

Harry and Ron both smiled and embraced Hermione in a three-way hug.

"Good luck, Mione," she heard Harry whisper.

"Thanks, guys." She squeezed them both tighter to her and then released them without another word.

Still a little scared of what the future might bring, Hermione left the ballroom to change in her room.

______________________________________________________

Thanks so much tomy wonderful beta, sequana