It was Tuesday, December thirteenth, and as always on Tuesdays, the fourth-year Gryffindors shared their Transfiguration class with their Hufflepuff year-mates right at the beginning of the day. While the lesson itself wasn't particularly special—just a rehearsal for what they had studied earlier this semester—the announcement made by Professor McGonagall at the end was:
"The Yule Ball is approaching. It's a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. The ball will be open only to fourth years and above, but you may invite a younger student if you wish," the deputy headmistress said. "Dress robes will be worn, and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then, the Yule Ball is, of course, a chance for us all to… er… let our hair down..." Quite a few students snickered at the mental image of their usually stern Transfiguration professor with her hair out of the usual tight bun. Professor McGonagall, however, paid no mind to their amusement and continued with the announcement: "But that does not mean that we will relax the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if any of you embarrass the school in any way."
There were murmurs again, this time coming from the more festive students in the classroom; they complained about the staff limiting their fun during the ball. However, they kept their voices low enough for Professor McGonagall not to hear them clearly. Then the bell rang, and while everyone wanted to pack their things and head off for lunch, the head of Gryffindor House wasn't about to let them leave until she finished explaining more of the ball rules to them.
"...And, Mr. Potter, a word if you please." She called after dismissing her students for lunch. Assuming this was likely related to his status as a champion—willing or not—Harry nodded to Hermione and Neville, telling them they didn't have to wait for him. He then approached his head of house.
"Yes, professor?" he asked, eager to know why he had been singled out.
"According to established tradition, Mr. Potter, champions and their partners open the ball," Professor McGonagall replied. "And even though you aren't representing either of the three schools, you are still a champion, and so you are expected to open the ball along with Mr. Diggory, Mr. Krum, Mademoiselle Delacour, and their dates." The green-eyed wizard nodded in response. "I hope that you will not shame Hogwarts by being unable to find a dancing partner or by dancing poorly," the Scottish witch added sternly.
"Of course I will not, Ma'am." Harry replied, confident that 'Nica would not deny him the honor of being her date for the night. He was equally sure she would ensure that he danced properly. There was a rather prolonged pause before Professor McGonagall spoke again.
"Very well, Mr. Potter, you may leave." she said, dismissing him. Nodding, Harry slung his bag over his shoulder and left the classroom, heading to the Great Hall for lunch.
As the fourth-year Gryffindor and Slytherin students walked toward the greenhouses, Harry carefully wove his way through the crowd to get close to Draconica. When she noticed his approach, the blonde witch realized he wanted to talk to her; she also suspected she knew what the conversation would entail. So, slowing down, she let her classmates get far ahead of the two of them to give them a small measure of privacy.
"Milady, may I have the honor of having you as my date for the Yule Ball?" Harry asked, offering his left hand to her. Draconica accepted it and, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, answered,
"Of course, Harry." She whispered, "I would be delighted." After giving his hand one more gentle squeeze, the pretty witch let it go and continued walking beside him. "Shouldn't we catch up with our classmates?" 'Nica asked with a light smile. True to her words, the pair was indeed trailing quite far behind the others. Harry nodded in response, and they both quickened their pace.
"Also," the green-eyed teen continued, "since you're going to be Lady Slytherin, I think it's about time I show you some of what belongs to the house." This piqued 'Nica's interest, and the blonde witch cast him an intrigued glance. "Chamber of Secrets," he mouthed silently, not daring to speak out loud as they caught up with their classmates. Receiving a nod and a smile from his lady, he continued in a whisper, "This Sunday after lunch?" Draconica nodded again.
"Works for me," she replied.
~/ *** \~
By the end of Tuesday, everyone in the castle knew about the Yule Ball, and people began actively seeking dates. It wasn't just the fourth years and above; some younger witches and wizards eager to attend the event tried to persuade older students to invite them. Although Harry would have preferred it if the whole mess sorted itself out without involving him, he was one of the champions, and his relationship with 'Nica was relatively secret. As a result, several girls thought he was unattached and attempted to secure him as their partner for the ball.
Of course, the young Potter sent all those admirers away empty-handed—honestly, he had never even spoken to half of them; why would he entertain their advances when he had so many beautiful friends, not to mention his stunning intended, to choose from? The entire situation was incredibly annoying to the green-eyed teen.
And let's not forget the more arrogant boys obnoxiously bragging to everyone within earshot about their future conquests. Seriously, Mademoiselle Delacour, despite the labels some bigots placed on her because of her heritage, wasn't shallow enough to select her date simply based on who was the self-proclaimed "number one man" in Gryffindor or held some other equally ridiculous title.
Wednesday started off poorly, thanks to an awful snowstorm that had hit Hogwarts grounds. However, the bad weather didn't result in any canceled classes, so Harry, along with his fellow fourth-years who had chosen Care for Magical Creatures as one of their electives, had to endure double lessons outside. At least Hagrid had the common sense to kindle a bonfire to keep his students warm during the class.
Lunch commenced without any special events, and the green-eyed wizard, having quickly finished his meal, was about to leave for Ancient Runes when something intriguing happened: Ron Weasley, well-known for his gluttony, suddenly stopped eating. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve—not that it made it much cleaner, as the sleeve was just as stained as his face—he stood up and headed toward the Beauxbatons table. Gryffindors, who had endured the boy's boasting about being able to secure a date with the "Veela chick," watched him intently… Even Harry decided to stay and see what transpired.
Puffing out his chest in an attempt to look more… impressive, and failing miserably, the "Chosen One" marched up to where Fleur Delacour was sitting. The blonde witch, aware of the unusually high attention directed at her, looked up from her meal only to see a lanky, sloppy red-haired boy—three years her junior and as vain as a peacock—eyeing her.
"You, go with me to the ball!" he exclaimed with his usual tact—or lack thereof. At the very least, he didn't call her "Veela chick" or something equally offensive. If he had, Harry was certain the Beauxbatons champion would have turned him into a human torch for such an affront. Meanwhile, Fleur stood there, shocked into silence by the boy's impudence. Honestly, he didn't even have the decency to greet her!
Alas, Ron, apparently lost in his own world, mistook her shocked silence for disbelief that someone as "mighty and great" as he could be asking her out. His illusions shattered a moment later when a dark, overwhelming aura radiated from the French witch, leaving no doubt as to why Mademoiselle Delacour was chosen as a champion for her school. Even Ron wasn't foolish enough to mistake this for a positive response, and wisely took a step back as Fleur rose to her feet.
"Get lost, little boy," she said flatly, making it perfectly clear that she wanted nothing to do with this impudent child. Ron stood frozen, shocked by her rejection. Apparently, he had become so arrogant that he never envisioned this outcome was even possible. The Beauxbatons champion strode past him and out of the Great Hall.
Silence reigned for about thirty seconds following Mademoiselle Delacour's departure, but then whispers erupted throughout the Great Hall, with everyone discussing what had just happened: Ron's pitiful attempt to ask for a date for the Yule Ball. As the boy's shock began to wear off, he noticed that everyone was now talking about him, and not in a favorable manner. Red-faced with embarrassment, the youngest Weasley stormed out of the Great Hall, muttering curses against the Beauxbatons champion for bringing such shame upon him.
Fleur, meanwhile, was fuming. She knew that her heritage would cause her problems until she settled down with a man and her Veela allure would cease to be an issue. She had trained herself to remain calm and indifferent to foolish attempts to woo her, but what had happened earlier that day in the Great Hall was simply too much… Not to mention that it didn't seem like even her rejection would deter others if they knew she was without a partner for the ball.
The obvious solution was to find one. However, the Beauxbatons witch certainly didn't want to have a date who would turn into a barely coherent mess the moment she loosened her control over her allure, which significantly narrowed her options for potential partners. Thus, she quickly recalled the boys she knew who were resistant to her allure.
All three other champions were the first to come to mind. But she had seen Monsieur Diggory being cozy with a Ravenclaw witch, and she knew that Monsieur Potter had definitely chosen that blonde witch from Slytherin as his mate. Regardless of nasty rumors, though not always baseless, Fleur resolved never to lower herself to stealing men from their partners.
This left Monsieur Krum as her prime choice. Yet, upon further reflection, the French witch wondered if the champions were allowed to take one another as dates for the ball. She needed to consult the rulebook of the Tournament. Once she was sure she had calmed down, Fleur headed to the Hogwarts library—the closest place to find the rulebook.
Later that day, after dinner, Fleur parted from her schoolmates as they exited the Great Hall. She didn't head anywhere in particular and simply stood next to the doors, waiting. She didn't have to wait long, as the Durmstrang delegation, led by their headmaster, walked through those doors shortly thereafter.
"Monsieur Krum, may I have a word with you, please?" the blonde witch said once she caught sight of her fellow champion and ensured he noticed her. The entire Durmstrang group paused while Victor exchanged a few words with Headmaster Karkarov in a language that Fleur presumed was Bulgarian. By the end of that exchange, the wizard in the white furs didn't look too pleased, but he allowed his champion to have his conversation while continuing on his way to the Durmstrang ship with the rest of his students following him in neat rows.
"Yes, Ms. Delacour, vat did you vant to talk to me about?" the ever-scowling wizard asked.
"This is about the ball, Monsieur Krum. I take it you haven't found a date for yourself yet?" Fleur asked, receiving a nod in response. "I can see that you don't want to have some fangirl as your partner, just as I don't want an incoherent pig whose only thoughts revolve around getting under my skirt as mine." The international Quidditch star nodded again, already recognizing where this conversation was heading. "With that in mind, I think we could help each other by becoming each other's partners for the ball," the Beauxbatons champion said.
"Is such a thing allowed?" Victor asked, unsure whether this was permitted by the tournament rules.
"Apparently," Fleur replied with a nod. "I have found nothing that forbids it, at the very least."
"I see..." the Durmstrang wizard said. "Let me consult my own copy of the rulebook first, though. I shall give you my answer tomorrow, Ms. Delacour." The French beauty nodded in response; this was actually more than she had expected from the encounter.
"Thank you."
~/ *** \~
Thursday and Friday passed more calmly for Harry. After being repeatedly rejected, the groupie girls finally got the message that he wasn't interested and shifted their attention to other boys. Meanwhile, the general excitement following the announcement of the Yule Ball began to wane, though it remained the number one topic of gossip.
Speaking of gossip, for the last two days, everyone had seemed to be discussing Victor Krum asking Fleur Delacour to be his date for the ball—a development that had occurred shortly after breakfast on Thursday morning. Initially, Harry was just as surprised as everyone else, but after thinking it over, he could understand what prompted the two to make such an arrangement. It certainly helped them both in finding favorable partners for the ball.
Anyway, it was now half an hour past noon on Saturday, and the green-eyed wizard was about to head to the Great Hall for lunch before showing the fabled Chamber of Secrets to his lady. Before he could leave the Gryffindor common room, however, he was approached by a very nervous Neville, who clearly wanted to ask him something.
"What's bothering you, Nev?" Harry asked. "Out with it." Despite his urgency, the Longbottom heir stammered for a moment before managing to provide his friend with a coherent answer.
"It's all about the ball, Harry," he said. "How am I supposed to ask a girl out? And what if she says 'no'? What if…?" The green-eyed wizard sighed, realizing that even though his friend wasn't naming the object of his interest directly, it was clear that Neville had his sights set on Hermione. Not just because she was their best friend—lately, the bushy-haired witch had also become quite appealing, even if not everyone recognized that just yet.
"Relax, mate, she won't hurt you," Harry replied. He hesitated briefly to recall whether Hermione had been asked out for the ball before adding, "And I think she'll say 'yes.' And if not… Susan and Hannah seemed to be mildly interested in you, Neville." Making another pause, the young Potter continued, "But you know nothing at all will happen if you just sit there, overwhelmed by worries. Be a man and at least try asking the girl you fancy out. You might be pleasantly surprised by her answer." Without waiting for Neville's response, Harry walked out of the Gryffindor common room.
Lunch passed without any incidents for the green-eyed teen, and after quickly finishing his meal, he waited just outside the Great Hall for his girlfriend. Draconica didn't keep him waiting long; she soon emerged through the doors leading into the hall.
"Shall we, my lady?" Harry asked, extending his hand to the blonde witch. She smiled in response, accepting his hand. The two of them ascended to the second floor, making their way through the castle's corridors until they reached Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Thankfully, the ghost girl wasn't there, so they didn't have to endure her complaints about the miserable existence of a specter or whatever else might be on her mind.
"Open," the young Potter hissed in Parseltongue, causing the sinks to move apart and reveal a large pipe entrance. "Stairs." A wave of changes ran down the pipe, transforming the floor into a lengthy staircase. "Lights." Above the stairway, a line of cold-blue light balls appeared, illuminating the pipe to some extent.
"Wow," 'Nica breathed softly as she watched Harry command the infamous Chamber of Secrets. They were about halfway down the stairway when she spoke again. "This isn't the only entrance to the Chamber, right?" she asked, receiving a nod from Harry.
"Yes, I know three more, but this one is the most convenient and comfortable of the ones I know," he trailed off but continued after a moment. "I'm quite sure there's also a passage that connects the Chamber to Lord Salazar's personal quarters in the dungeons, but I haven't been able to locate it myself, and I keep forgetting to ask his portrait about it." Draconica nodded, accepting his explanation.
The rest of their descent was spent in silence, and before long, the pair stepped into a surprisingly clean and warm rocky cavern lit by magical torches that emitted a greenish-yellow light. There were no signs that less than two years ago, this place had been filled with the skeletons of dead rodents and pieces of the basilisk's shed hide, just as there were no signs of Lockhart attempting to perform an overpowered obliviation spell with a faulty wand that he had "borrowed" from Ronald.
Before long, this tunnel ended, and the teenagers found themselves in front of a granite wall with a massive circular door in the center. Having seen this "gate" for the first time, Draconica was certainly impressed, especially by the animated iron snakes that functioned as the lock. Once the door opened, they continued toward their destination, passing through a shorter corridor lit by green torches... Finally, they stepped into the fabled Chamber of Secrets.
Since Harry spent considerable time down there, the Chamber was in much better shape than it had been two years ago, even if it couldn't be called pristine.
"This place is incredible," 'Nica whispered, marveling at the infamous chamber as she stood next to one of the massive pillars supporting the cavern's ceiling.
"That it is. And once you become Lady Slytherin in the eyes of Magic, it will belong to you just as it is mine now," Harry replied as he stood beside her. He was about to say something else, but before he had the chance, he found himself pressed against the pillar—not gently. A moment later, the warm body of the blonde minx was against him as she sealed his lips with hers in a passionate kiss. "Looks like I will have to postpone introducing you to the house familiar," the young Potter breathed out when they broke apart for air. Draconica just smiled in response before kissing him again.
Not content with a mere battle of tongues, the future Lady Slytherin slipped her hands underneath her lover's shirt, running them up and down his chest. Harry, too, was not idle, his hands exploring the delightful curves of 'Nica's backside, eliciting a moan from her as a pleasurable jolt coursed through her body.
As they continued their fervent kiss, the blonde witch's hands reached his waist and swiftly began to unbuckle his belt, arching her back to press her breasts into his chest. In response, Harry slipped his hands beneath her skirt, teasing her eager holes with his fingers while pulling her underwear aside. Once he had unbuckled his belt, Draconica undid his pants, freeing his eager cock. Breaking their kiss, the beautiful witch looked into his eyes for several long seconds before giving him a quick peck on the lips and sinking to her knees…