To Dance

Chapter 4: To Crack



“Harry. Come on, tell us what’s wrong.”



Harry glanced up across the table at Hermione’s face and felt his stomach twist again. She and Ron had been pestering him, along with the rest of the Weasley’s and some of the other Gryffindor’s all dinner, trying to figure out why he was so depressed and down since he had talked with Cedric.



Hermione, obviously suddlenly feeling very brave, leaned over her plate towards Harry and said softly, “Is it Cedric? Did something happen between you two when he pulled you aside?”



Throwing up his arms in an exasperation, Harry groaned and flopped face first onto the table. Fortuntely, he hadn’t been hungry when he had come to dinner, for obvious reasons, and so he hadn’t put anything onto his plate. However, this did mean that flinging himself face first onto the table meant banging his nose painfully against his plate. Harry moaned in pain and raised himself slightly to rub at his nose before letting his head fall to the table again, this time landing on his chin, somewhat painfully, but at least his nose wasn’t hurting again. His new position also allowed him to look straight at Hermione. Whimpering, he turned his face back to his place, giving Hermione a superb view of the top of his disheveled black hair.



Hermione huffed in annoyance, and crossed her arms. “You’re impossible, you know that?” she scolded. “Such a moody boy this year. I don’t know how we put up with you. You and your hormones. I’m just trying to help you with whatever it is that’s eating away at you.”



Harry raised his head enough to glare at Hermione for a full minute, getting a glare equal to his right back. Still glaring at her, he got up, snatched up his school bag, and stood defiantly in the Great Hall. “I’m going to bed,” he spat, whether at her or everyone currently staring at him, he didn’t know and didn’t care.


Just as he was turning to leave, Harry’s eyes flitted over to the Hufflepuff table and he saw Cedric poking at his food. Sighing, Harry walked out of the hall and leaned against the cool stone wall, closing his eyes and letting the back of his head rest gently against the rock. He let his school bag slip carelessly to the floor where it thudded dully, save for a light smashing sound, like breaking glass.



“Shit,” Harry muttered, opening his eyes and looking down at his bag. Black ink was seeping out of the bottom. Obviously one of his ink wells has cracked when he had dropped the bag on the floor. Grumbling to himself, Harry bent down to try to save his books and parchment from the black liquid. He was just pulling out his Transfiguration book when he heard swift foot steps nearing him.



Looking up he saw Professor McGonagall sweeping towards him, her face the darkest he had ever seen it as of yet. Seeing him, she stopped and evaluated the scene before her. “Potter,” she snapped. “I’d like a word.”



“You’re the second one today to ask that question,” Harry mumbled, his mind flashing back to Cedric as his stomach chruned guiltiy, as he picked himself from the ground and left his ink splattered bag to pool on the floor. He’d ask Hermione for help later. But then, he wasn’t talking to her. Harry scowled as he wondered why everything had to be so difficult for him today. He turned to face McGonagall and flinched at the intensity of her piercing eyes.



“You, Potter, being one of the Hogwarts champions, ought to now know about the Yule Ball,” Professor McGonagall said curtly. Harry nodded reluctantly. “You should also be aware that you and your date will be opening the dance.” Harry nodded again, remembering Hermione’s words from earlier that day. “You should also know that for the next week all the boys and girls participating in the ball are to be taught dancing in the evenings.”



“What!” Harry blurted out, staring up at his professor in disbelief. “Dancing lessons?”



“Yes, Potter,” McGonagall snapped, glaring at Harry. “Dancing lessons, which will be taught by Mr. Moody and myself. The boys and girls learn separately, to keep you all from being distracted.” The Transfiguration teacher was obviously not very happy with the idea of having to teach the Hogwarts boys and girls how to dance. “I am posting a message on the Houses Bulletin boards later tonight but I felt that you, being one of the champions, ought to know. I was just on my way to alert Diggory as well.”



“Oh,” was all that Harry could manage to say.



“I’ll let you get back to your bag then,” McGonagall said swiftly, before turning and stalking into the Great Hall in the direction of the Hufflepuff table.



Harry sighed and went back to his inky bag on the floor. “Bloody brilliant,” he scoffed to thin air, roughly grabbing things from his bag and surveying the damage the ink had done. Shoving his hand angrily into the bag, a shard from the broken ink well stabbed into his palm painfully and he hissed, quickly drawing his hand to his chest. He harshly pulled the glass shard from his hand, which began to bleed freely as the deep cut began to throb. “Bloody hell, this is just the worst day yet!” Harry spat angrily as he threw the shard across the floor.



The glass piece skidded across the floor, clinking lightly, before it bounced against someone’s foot and was sent spinning to rest a few feet away. Harry looked up to see who had stopped the glass’ progress and met cool silver eyes. Draco Malfoy bent down, his eyes flickering from Harry’s for a second as he picked up the piece of glass before they rose to meet Harry’s emerald gaze again.



“Is this supposed to be my Christmas present, Potter?” Malfoy asked, holding up the shard carefully and cocking an eyebrow at Harry.



Harry growled from the floor, still cradling his bleeding hand slightly, as he glared angrily at Malfoy. The blond smirked and pocketed the glass, taking a step towards the Gryffindor. Harry growled again and Malfoy paused, tilting his head to the side slightly.



“You do realize that I am alone,” Malfoy said loftily, shaking silky blond hair from his eyes as he surveyed Harry. “No big thugs to flank my sides. Just me.” His eyes suddenly darkened and his eyebrow furrowed. He was looking at Harry’s bleeding hand and began to walk swiftly over to him. “You’re bleeding.”



Harry stood up and rose to his full height, glaring at Malfoy. The other boy stopped in his tracks and scoffed, tossing his head again to clear his eyes of bright blond hair. “Thank you Captain Obvious. Anything else you want to share?” Harry spat. He was still annoyed from the days events and hadn’t forgotten his vow to fight with the blond. “Unless you want the living shit beaten out of you, I suggest you leave. Now.”



Malfoy smirked at him, his blond bangs falling into his eyes again, hiding his silvery pools slightly. “Thanks for the present,” he sneered as he strode proudly into the Great Hall, casting Harry a small smirk before he disappeared from the raven’s sight.



Harry grumbled to himself as he muttered a quick cleaning spell over his bag and started to shove things back inside. “Bloody git,” he spat, the image of Malfoy’s pale face drifting in front of Harry’s eyes. His hand thobbed again and Harry winced in pain. He’d go up to the Hospital Wing later. Right now, all he wanted to do was go to bed and just try to sort out what had happened that day.