Hermione snorted. 'He'll talk to you,' she said firmly, and gave him a light push. 'Go on, then.'
Harry went, and Hermione headed over to the table to nab the last Never-Melting Ice Pop off a gold plate before Lavender Brown (who had already eaten three) could snag it. Ron, following her, made do with a sugared sardine. Hermione looked at him and wrinkled her nose. 'How can you eat those things?'
'Practice,' said Ron, and bit the sardine in half with flair.
'Blech,' said Hermione, in a decided manner.
'Mmm. Scrummy.' Ron grinned around the sardine. 'I dare you to eat one.'
'Ugh. No way.'
'Come on.' He held out a sardine, and she laughed and battled his hand away.
'You never ate that blood lollipop I dared you to in third year,' she pointed out smugly.
'I licked it though.' Ron shuddered. 'I'm pretty sure that's what evil tastes like.'
'Well, I'm not licking your sardine.'
'No,' put in Lavender, who had evidently been listening. 'Harry wouldn't like that, would he?'
Ron choked on his candy.
'Lavender!' said Hermione, but Lavender had already sidled away with an evil grin. Hermione sighed and looked at Ron. 'I don't think she's ever forgiven you for that Uranus comment,' she said.
But Ron was looking past her, towards the pavilion floating on its lake of peppermint syrup. 'Harry seems different,' he said. 'Better.'
Hermione turned and looked where he was looking, and saw Oliver Wood standing up to give Harry a comradely hug. She noted with a pang that Harry was now taller than Oliver. 'He is a bit better these days,' she said.
'I just hope it lasts.'
'Do you know why?' Ron's eyes were intent. 'Did you say something to him?'
'Well, I said a little, but I really don't think it was me. I think it had something to do with Draco nearly getting himself killed. I think Harry's been trying and trying to focus on other things besides what's been bothering him, and that gave him something to focus on. You know how he is. He likes to have something to do, to feel like he's being effective.
Otherwise…'
'He freaks out,' Ron finished.
'Right.'
'Well, it's great that he's freaked back in. I just hope it stays that way.'
'You don't sound very happy.'
'I am,' said Ron slowly, and she could tell that he was measuring his speech carefully, 'but considering that he's spent six months refusing to tell me what's wrong, and stonewalling me when I ask him, color me pessimistic when I hear the problem's cured itself. He might be shoving it down for now, but it'll just come back later, whatever it is.'
Hermione bit her lip and looked back at the pavilion. Harry had already left it, and was moving back towards them through the crowd. She had no trouble picking out his dark hair and blue-lined cloak even in the tight-packed throng. But then she had always been sure that she and Harry would be able to find each other in any crowd, that even at a costume ball they would know each other instantly, by touch or sound or instinct. She turned back towards Ron.
'It's not fair,' she said, her voice low and fierce. 'It isn't.'
Sympathy flashed in his blue eyes. 'I know,' he said. 'But you can't let that get in the way of your life, Hermione. Harry wouldn't want that.'
Wouldn't he? she thought, as Harry came to stand beside her, and clasped her hand with his. Wouldn't he, though?
Draco stood at the castle's front door and watched the seventh-years leaving, until the grounds were empty and he could once again hear the wind. Then he turned, and went back inside. There was a certain lonely gloom to the entrance hall once all the students were gone, despite the festive decorations. The only person there was Pansy Parkinson, clutching a large red-ribboned green gift box. She glared when she saw Draco, and disappeared down the stairs that led to the Slytherin dungeon, her booted feet crunching on the discarded bits of tinsel and confetti that littered the floor.
Draco looked after her, shrugged, and headed towards the double doors in the far wall. They swung open to let him through, and he walked into the Great Hall at last.
The Yule Ball started before the Pub Crawl did, so it looked to Draco as if the meal had already been eaten, and the dancing had begun. Each year the decorations were much like the year before: glowing lights, glittering taper candles, rows of pear trees in whose branches chirping partridges fluttered their pale wings. Brightly wrapped crackers floated about six feet off the ground (Weasley would have banged his head into one, Draco thought) and every once in a while there was a muffled, fiery explosion when a student picked one out of the air and pulled it apart, filling the air with flower petals, tiny sweets, or a shower of toys.
Draco glanced over at the dance floor, looking, somewhat against his will, for flame-red hair. - and there was Charlie, dancing with Professor Sinistra, who had a very predatory look on her face. Lupin was over by the High Table, making what looked like uncomfortable conversation with Snape. Dumbledore was deep in conversation with Madam Pomfrey.
Draco's gaze flicked over the crowd, mostly composed of younger students he didn't recognize, and then the dancers parted like water and there they were.
He saw Ginny first. Her green satin dress made her look like a slender flower stem, crowned with petals of fiery hair. Her slim shoulders were bared above the dress, her skin very white, dappled with gold where the candlelight touched it. Seamus, blond and handsome in dark blue robes, had her by the hands and was drawing
