Students of Europe's three largest schools of magic milled about the entrance hall in a vortex of colors. By the wall, against the backdrop of a gilded tapestry, Cedric, Krum, and Fleur posed for photos for the Daily Prophet and some foreign papers whose titles Harry couldn't pronounce. He knew that because McGonagall had stopped by his corner and told him he had to make an appearance, or else. Irked, he refused to say who his date was and only told McGonagall they would be there.

Ron and Seamus hovered beside him, also waiting for their dates. Unlike Harry, they did not seem worried—at least not about themselves.

"Your date wouldn't be of an invisible kind, would she? Seamus asked innocently.

Harry scowled. "I don't see yours around either."

"Oh, she'll be there." Seamus grinned. "We've got the best-looking birds in our year, don't we, Ron?"

"True," Ron said proudly. He glanced at Harry. "Listen, mate, I can ask Lavender to pose for photos with you. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"I have a date," he said tiredly.

"So you say," Seamus drawled. Ron just shrugged and dropped the subject.

Harry sighed and glanced toward the stairwell for the umpteenth time. What was taking Victoria so long? He was certain she wouldn't stand him up—not on purpose. Her lack of human common sense was another matter.

The reporters had finished taking individual photos of the champions and were struggling to fit Madame Maxime, Dumbledore, and Karkaroff into the frame. Rita Skeeter ordered her underling to fetch a chair from the Great Hall and scanned the ranks of students while she waited. When her gaze fell on Harry, she smiled unctuously and beckoned. A shiver went down his spine, and he quickly averted his gaze.

"Look," Seamus said, standing on tiptoes, "that's them coming down!"

Three girls descended shoulder-to-shoulder from the first-floor landing. To the left was Parvati, dressed in a pink sari. To the right, Lavender, clad in daring blue dress robes. And between them walked Victoria, looking nothing like the wild person she was. A sleeveless gown of rich purple hugged her torso and flared out below to flutter about her ankles. Her hair fell sleekly past her dusky shoulders, and her bronze horns gleamed above her brow almost like a diadem.

Hushed exclamations rippled through the crowd. Victoria's keen gaze landed on Harry, and a smile spread across her face. She bolted forward and promptly tripped over the hem of her gown, only Lavender's and Parvati's timely hands preventing her from tumbling down the stairs. After some instruction from the two, she lifted the skirt of her gown delicately and padded down at speed.

Seamus whistled. "Harry, mate, you should bungle up your spells more often. Who do you think she's going with?"

Harry's lips twitched, but he refrained from answering. Victoria descended the stairs and approached with the other two girls in tow.

"She's coming over here!" Ron exclaimed, glancing around. Some of Harry's mirth must've shown on his face because Ron stared at him. "No way."

Harry allowed himself a gloating smirk. Catching on, Ron and Seamus gaped at him.

"How in the hell?" Ron demanded. "I heard she shot down a seventh-year who asked her out so hard the bloke ran off in tears!"

"I take back what I said," Seamus said faintly. "She's definitely not invisible. Do you reckon I could get a dance with her?"

Harry buffed his nails on his lapel. "I'll ask if there's time."

The girls drew up to them, and everyone around quieted down. When Harry looked at Victoria, tall and resplendent in her gown, he could understand why. He swallowed, unable to tear his eyes off her. She squirmed and looked away, then at him again. Lavender cleared her throat.

He worked his jaw. "You, uh, you look great."

"Really?" she said, fretting with her neckline. "I was worried since this garb exposes so much of my vulnerable squishiness."

Lavender slapped her hand away. "Well, Harry likes it. Don't you, Harry?"

He glared at her for putting him on the spot, but she only smirked. "It's very nice," he said, not looking Victoria in the eye. "I'll watch out for manticores and whatnot, don't worry."

Victoria lowered her head as if to hide her smile and wagged her tail. "I'm glad I let Lav pick it out. My original choice was rather more substantial."

"Brilliant work, Lavender," Ron muttered, ogling.

Victoria narrowed her eyes at him and let out a low hiss. Ron blanched and stepped back.

"Vicky, you silly thing," Lavender said, rolling her eyes. "Stop scaring my date."

Victoria twitched as if waking up. "Sorry. When I see that hair, I just..."

"I know, I know," Lavender said, patting her upper arm. "We better split up. You have a photoshoot to attend, don't you, Harry?"

"Ugh, right." He offered Lavender and Parvati a smile. "Thanks for helping her out, you two."

"Oh, it was our pleasure," Parvati assured. "Have fun tonight, Vicky!"

"You too, Paru, Lav-Lav!"

Giggling, the girls exchanged hugs and sidled up to their respective dates. Victoria mimicked the other two by latching onto Harry's arm. She was a tad too forceful and so close it made his cheeks heat up, but he didn't complain. Nodding to Ron and Seamus, he steered her toward the throng of reporters. People were slow to get out of their way and trailed Victoria with admiring looks.

"What's your problem with Ron, anyway?" he asked in an undertone. "He's not a bad bloke."

Her face clouded. "His ilk can't be trusted."

He snorted. "His ilk?"

"Gingers." She glared into the distance. "After I was brought to this land, one of them was tasked with levitating me out of my cage. He was so clumsy that a horn on my back caught between the bars and chipped off." Twisting at the waist, she nudged the left strap of her gown. "I wonder if a mark remains in this form..."

He waved at her frantically. "You can check later!"

"Ah, good point," she said, readjusting the strap. "It wouldn't be wise to display weakness in such a large gathering."

"That too," he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

The headmasters had finished posing for a photo and were now fielding questions from the press. The three champions and their dates lingered nearby, accompanied by Professor McGonagall. Harry grinned in anticipation and strutted up with Victoria in tow.

McGonagall turned and scrutinized them critically. Her lips thinned when she saw how closely Victoria clung to his arm. "About time you showed up, Mr. Potter. The press has been dying to get a group photo of the champions. We can start as soon as the headmasters are finished."

He blinked. "Er, all right."

McGonagall nodded as if that was that and turned to listen to Dumbledore expound on the virtues of education. Harry stared at her, dismayed. He would have relished an angry outburst. Settled for an indignant gasp. But pursed lips? A wrong answer in her class got a bigger reaction than that!

The other champions eyed his date curiously. Harry introduced her as Victoria Horntail, emphasizing Horntail as he glanced at McGonagall, but the professor did not react. The champions too were quick to accept her, and soon they were chatting like old friends.

"Maybe if I fly against my Chinese Fireball," Krum remarked, "it become so impressed it turn into pretty woman too."

"Oh no, Fireballie's a cantankerous old biddy," Victoria said. "Haven't you seen her scales? All dull and flaking." She glanced left and right. "But her flame's only gotten meaner with age, so I wouldn't say that to her snout."

The champions exchanged surprised looks.

Fleur said, "But ze eggs..."

Her Ravenclaw date bobbed his head. "The eggs," he repeated, not taking his eyes off Fleur. "Exactly."

"Oh, those were fake. We don't lay so many as to risk them senselessly, even humans understand that." A sheepish look crossed Victoria's face. "Of course, I only realized that after my change. The humans sprinkled them with a potion that made us want to protect them."

Krum nodded thoughtfully. "Then it is best I not fly. I like my date better than grumpy baba." His perpetual scowl lessened as he looked at Hermione.

"I should certainly hope so," Hermione huffed, but a smile belied her tone. She turned animatedly toward Harry. "I had no idea you'd asked Victoria! Only you would invite a dragon to the Yule Ball."

"All in the spirit of international cooperation," he quipped. "She's Hungarian, you know."

"International cooperation, huh?" Cedric considered Fleur and her drooling date, Krum and Hermione, and lastly Harry and Victoria. "Doesn't that leave Cho and I the odd couple out?"

Cho grasped his hand. "Is that so bad?"

"No, not at all," Cedric said softly.

Strangely, as Harry watched them make eyes at each other, he only felt the slightest pang of envy, far outweighed by relief at not having asked Cho to the ball. She clearly fancied Cedric, so he would have only made a fool of himself.

There was no time to ponder his muddled feelings because the headmasters concluded their interview and the reporters ushered the champions before the tapestry. Cameras flashed in their faces, causing Victoria to shield her eyes and flick her tail irritably. He grasped her hand to calm her down, but that only made the flashing worse.

Then Rita Skeeter called for a break and rearranged them. Victoria was dragged up front and center, which was only understandable, though that unfortunately put Harry in the spotlight beside her. Even if one excluded her horns, she was taller than him. He self-consciously stood straighter. Given how much he had been eating lately, his growth spurt better come soon.

Skeeter seized his shoulder with her poisonously green nails and twisted him this way and that. "I've been meaning to talk to you, Harry," she whispered. "Perhaps after we're done here—"

Victoria growled, causing Skeeter to flinch and scurry off. Harry sent her a grateful look. Bringing her might not have gotten a rise out of McGonagall, but he could see other benefits already.

After an excruciating fifteen minutes (his likeness in the photo would doubtlessly be squinting like a mole out of its tunnel) the reporters finally backed off. The champions' duties, of course, were far from over. Everyone piled into the Great Hall, where a hundred or so of cozy round tables were arrayed around a dance floor. Unmelting icicles adorned the arches supporting the ceiling, glowing winter fairies fluttered about, and glittering snow fell and vanished above their heads.

The four couples walked onto the gleaming dance floor, while everyone else streamed to the sides. If Harry felt nervous about the scrutiny of hundreds of eyes, Victoria seemed downright angry.

"They're staring at us like they want to fight," she whispered.

"They're just admiring you." The other champions, he saw, were already holding their dates. He hesitantly reached for Victoria's waist. "Er, are you ready?"

"Yes, Lav and Paru taught me about this." Seizing his wrist, she planted his right hand on her waist and clasped his left. "Dancing must be what humans do instead of fighting. If we intimidate the others with our coordination and grace, they will back down."

The band struck up a waltz. Harry wasn't feeling particularly graceful or coordinated, but there was nothing to do but dance. He stumbled a little on the first step, feeling her fingers tighten on his shoulder, but somehow recovered. As they spun to the music, Victoria's stiff face relaxed into an expression of wonder.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dumbledore, attired in spangled robes of midnight blue, offer his hand to Madame Maxime. Other couples spilled onto the floor. His duty was over. He met Victoria's eyes and opened his mouth.

"This is fun!" she enthused. "Not as much as flying, but still."

"Yeah." Now he couldn't bring himself to tell her that he wanted to stop.

They danced the next dance, and the next. Victoria's eyes sparkled, and her gown billowed about her legs. She merely laughed when he stepped on her toes; he tried to do the same when she stepped on his, but there was such weight behind her dainty slippers that he wasn't able to suppress his winces. Somehow he was having a good time anyway.

The music stopped, and they separated. Victoria's face was flushed and her hair a little wild. She tilted her head back and tried to catch a falling snowflake with her tongue, only to groan when it vanished. Stooping, she flapped her skirt.

Harry glanced around awkwardly and touched her elbow. "Let's have a drink. People over there seem to be enjoying them."

"Just what I wanted!" she said brightly.

They walked off the dance floor and to a small crowd surrounding a table laden with bowls and glasses. Harry squeezed through and returned with two tall glasses of fruit punch. Victoria scrutinized hers against the light, dipped her tongue into the drink, then grinned and gulped it down.

"One thing I love about this form," she said, licking her lips, "is tasting all the delicious food and drink your kind come up with."

He sipped his drink. Tangy and refreshing, with a peculiar heat to it. "This is brilliant. I wonder what's in it?"

He had meant it as a rhetorical question, but she brought her glass up to her nose and sniffed. "Cranberries," she said slowly, "oranges, spice, and spirits."

"Spirits?" He chuckled and took another sip. "They wouldn't put in alcohol. There are third-years around." As a mature fourth-year, he was naturally beyond such concerns.

"Are you doubting the keenness of my nose? We dragons are raised on spirits." She drained her glass and smacked her lips. "Another!"

Harry watched her elbow her way to the punch bowl, suddenly in doubt. Then he spied the Weasley twins sitting three tables away; they had their heads together and were snickering. Fred, or maybe George, caught his eye and winked. Parting his robes, he pointed at a bottle in his inner pocket.

Harry groaned. "We should go easy on the stuff," he said once Victoria returned with a refill. "Fred and George laced it with Firewhisky or some such."

"Excellent!" she cheered. "My flames have been getting tepid." She drank deeply and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "You drink too! Maybe you'll finally start developing draconic aspects."

"Well," he said, privately glad for the excuse, "maybe this one glass."

One glass turned into two for him, and he lost count of how many Victoria had downed. When he tried to get her to slow down, she just laughed.

"I'm a dragon, silly," she said, rosy-cheeked. "Spirits don't affect me as they would your feeble kind." She lifted her glass to her lips, then froze and frowned at something behind him.

He turned around and came face to face with Ginny. Ron's little sister rarely crossed his mind, but he suddenly thought she looked quite fetching in her emerald dress robes.

"Hi, Harry," she said shyly.

"Hi, Ginny." He winced as Victoria's claws dug into his shoulder. What was she doing?

Ginny glanced at Victoria uncertainly but plowed on. "Neville's resting his feet, so I was wondering—"

Victoria bared her fangs and hissed quietly.

Ginny gulped. "Excuse me, I only wanted to ask Harry—"

Victoria hissed louder, making Harry wince and drawing the attention of nearby students.

"Um," Ginny said faintly, "never mind." She turned and beat a hasty retreat.

Harry sighed and sent Victoria a chiding look, but her gaze was still fixed upon Ginny's back. "Hasn't your hate of red hair gone too far?" he asked, just a tiny bit amused.

"She was all but raising her tail for you!" she said hotly. "When I'm standing right here! She's lucky I didn't clobber her."

"Ginny doesn't have a tail," he said, but for some reason, Victoria only gave him a patronizing look. "And please don't clobber anyone."

"Then I shall use human methods to communicate the message." She attached herself to his arm. "Don't stray from me. There may be more lone females prowling for powerful wizards like you."

Harry laughed. He very much doubted anyone was interested in him, but the thought was gratifying, and her warmth against his arm felt nice. "I wish I were powerful. Then I wouldn't have to struggle so much in the tournament."

"But you are," she said, sounding confused. "No single spell had ever overcome my scales before. Now come on, let's dance!"

She dragged him back onto the floor. Her energy was inexhaustible, and her face glowed with infectious joy. The other couples twirling around the Great Hall hardly registered on his mind. His reluctance to attend the ball now seemed foolish.

A blur of dances later, they traipsed off to take a break, breathless and smiling. All the nearby tables were packed; people were chatting happily and enunciating orders to their menus, causing elegant meals to appear out of thin air.

Harry became keenly aware that he hadn't had a bite since lunch. He glimpsed Ron, Lavender, and a few other Gryffindors at a half-empty table deeper in and motioned to Victoria.

They squeezed between the crowded tables. Ron saw them coming and waved; Harry grinned, reached back for Victoria's hand, and pulled her along.

There was a loud gasp, and Victoria halted in her tracks. He spun around. An unfamiliar dark-haired witch stood up from a table next to her, a flute of a crimson drink in her hand, and a streak of the same drink staining her dress robes. She made an affronted noise and glared daggers at Victoria.

"You ruined my robes!"

Victoria hung her head, her tail wilting. "I apologize."

"Apologize? Apologize?" The witch's voice was getting shrill. "Do you know how much they cost?"

"It's because I pulled her," Harry said with a sinking feeling. "I'm sorry."

The witch just scoffed and addressed a boy who had jumped up to dab at her dress with a handkerchief. "Can you believe this, Edgar? Swinging that creepy tail around like she owns the place. My entire evening is ruined!"

Victoria's hands clenched into fists, but she kept her head down. The boy grunted something in another language and waved his wand over the stain, causing it to fade. Harry grasped Victoria's wrist and tugged her away.

"Looks like your dress will be fine," he gritted out, not looking back.

"Where do you think you're going?" the witch shrieked. "I'm not done talking! Get back here, you clumsy cow!"

That had been exactly the wrong thing to say to a dragon. Victoria gave a low, rumbling growl and spat over her shoulder—only it wasn't spittle but a thin streak of flame. It barely grazed the hem of the witch's robes, but that was enough to set them on fire.

Bedlam ensued. The witch screeched and flailed; Edgar grabbed a drink off the table and threw it at the fire; another boy sprang to his feet and drew his wand. Harry stepped in before Victoria and fumbled for his. The nearby Durmstrang students stood up with dark looks on their faces, but Harry wasn't outnumbered for long because Ron rushed in with backup from Gryffindor. Suddenly they were locked in a tense standoff, dozens of wands aimed whichever way.

"Lower your wands," said a firm voice. Dumbledore was striding toward the commotion with Karkaroff and McGonagall just behind.

Harry almost unconsciously lowered his, as did most of everyone else.

"What is going on here?" Karkaroff demanded. A dozen people started speaking at once, and he waved irritably. "Aksyonova, explain!"

The dark-haired witch gestured at her ruined dress. "Th-that woman made me spill my drink, headmaster," she said tremulously. "And then she set my robes on fire!" Burying her face in her hands, she broke into heaving sobs.

Harry bristled. "You called her"—he glanced at Victoria warily—"you called her a herbivore!"

"Hogwarts has been known for its lax standards under your headmastership, Dumbledore, but this is a new low." Karkaroff eyed Harry and Victoria coldly. "If your students cannot refrain from lashing out like common animals, perhaps I should take mine back to the ship for their safety."

Harry scowled. "She isn't a—"

"Now now, Igor," Dumbledore said, "surely you're not so old yet as not to remember the passions of youth. Back in my day, I set quite a few things on fire myself, but that does not make me any less of a person." He glanced at McGonagall. "Minerva, would you kindly escort Harry and Miss Horntail outside? We can decide on an appropriate punishment once tempers have cooled down."

Professor McGonagall nodded and ushered the two of them away. The Durmstrang witch abruptly ceased sobbing and watched them leave.

"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore," she said loudly. "I feel so much safer already."

Harry scowled over his shoulder, but McGonagall nudged him forward. The students parted before them, whispering to one another, and in short order, they were out in the entrance hall. Victoria kept her gaze fixed on the floor, her hair obscuring her face.

"Please, professor," Harry said. "That witch said nasty things—I wanted to hex her myself!"

"Which is exactly why you need to cool your heads," McGonagall said, steering them toward the exit.

"But it wasn't Victoria's fault!"

McGonagall sighed. "I don't necessarily blame Miss Horntail for losing her temper," she said carefully. "The attitudes toward part-humans in certain parts of the continent can be abhorrent. But the fact remains that she has attacked a foreign guest in an event meant to foster relationships between our schools. It is time for diplomacy, not dragon fire, if you'll excuse my phrasing."

Harry ground his teeth but didn't resist as McGonagall marched them through the ajar double doors and into the frosty night air. A snowy path winded between glimmering ice sculptures.

"Why don't you take Miss Horntail on a nice long walk?" McGonagall suggested. "I expect you will be allowed to return once Headmaster Dumbledore has smoothed things over with Durmstrang."

He listened to the professor's steps fade, still seething. Victoria sent him a side-glance and clasped her hands together tightly.

"I'm sorry I got us driven out," she said quietly.

He turned to her incredulously. Her lips trembled, and ducking her head so that her hair hid her face, she gave a suspicious sniffle.

"Don't be daft!" A little panicked, he brushed her hair away and met her misty gaze. "I never wanted to go to the ball in the first place."

"You're not angry with me?" she asked, looking at him with upturned eyes.

"Not with you." His voice rose. "It's totally unfair. They should've kicked out that Durmstrang bint, not us!"

"It is just as well." She pushed her head against his palm like a cat. "I was tempted to start biting off heads until things quieted down, and that would've been a disaster. My jaws are just too puny for a good chomp."

His lips quirked up. "Sometimes I want to hex the living daylights out of everybody too," he admitted, absently patting her head.

Her eyes closed halfway. "But if neither of us minds leaving," she murmured, "what is there to be upset about?"

He frowned and withdrew his hand. Victoria blinked and straightened up. They looked at each other and burst into laughter.

"You're a genius," he said, shaking his head. "Forget the stupid ball—let's go have a meal down in the kitchens."

She perked up at the mention of a meal, then glanced at the ice sculptures. "Can we look around first?"

"We can do whatever we want."

She smiled and tugged him along the path. Translucent forms of beasts and legendary figures loomed around them, twinkling in the light from the castle windows. There was Merlin, brandishing his staff against a snarling nundu; a proudly sitting sphinx; a flock of diminutive Golden Snidgets on a tree of ice; and a unicorn surrounded by live winter fairies that scattered upon their approach.

Victoria exclaimed, and lifting her gown, raced ahead, her toned calves flashing under her skirt. She stopped before something like a hump-backed bull with spikes upon its armored head and sized it up.

"I recall pouncing on one of these in my homeland when I was but a foolish fledgling," she said, her tail rigid. "Almost broke my teeth."

"A graphorn, right?" he said, catching up. "They say their hide is as tough as a dragon's."

She pouted.

"Almost as tough," he amended.

She returned to studying the sculpture. "I always wondered how they tasted," she said, a hungry gleam entering her eyes. Stepping closer, she licked the graphorn's front leg.

Harry chuckled. Victoria pulled back slightly and made a funny noise. Her eyes swiveled toward him, and she gestured at her mouth, which remained glued to the sculpture.

He stared in confusion, then snickered and reached for his wand. Victoria's noises grew more insistent, and her tail whisked agitatedly. Before he could cast anything, she belched a brief burst of fire and lurched back from the graphorn.

"Goth shtuck," she complained.

Harry erupted in belly laughter. She planted her hands on her hips and frowned, but her peeved expression only made him laugh harder. Finally having enough, she inhaled and launched a jet of fire above his head.

He yelped and ducked. The flames would have passed overhead even if he hadn't, but dragon fire had instilled a healthy fear in him during the First Task.

"Ha-ha!" Victoria said, pointing at him.

He glared at her. "You're asking for it, Vicky." Pivoting toward the edge of the path, he scooped up some loose snow, pressed it into a ball, and lobbed it at her.

The snowball arced through the air and splashed smack in the middle between her horns. She squeaked and frantically brushed it off. Her slit pupils narrowed at him, and she stepped forward threateningly, only to trip over her gown and face-plant into the snow.

Chortling, he started toward her to help, but she growled and sprang up by herself. She stooped, gathered up the skirt of her gown, and slashed it off at the knees with her claws. He gaped, distracted by her bare legs and stunned by her ruthless efficiency.

A snowball struck his face, sending him staggering back. Sputtering, he removed his glasses to wipe his eyes. When he put them back on, he saw Victoria sticking her tongue out at him.

He glared. Her eyes glinted, and she slowly licked her lips. Then, simultaneously, they lunged for the nearest piles of snow and furiously packed it into ammunition. His first shot missed, and she nailed him in the shoulder. Then he turned the tables on her and splattered her leg with snow. She shrieked and retreated behind an ice pedestal upon which stood a sculpture of a centaur.

Snowball in hand, Harry ran up to the pedestal. Vicky darted left, then right, only to turn tail and run off along the path. He tossed the snowball through the centaur's legs and hit her exposed upper back, causing her to squeal and wiggle intriguingly. Shooting him a baleful glance, she crouched, scooped up a great heap of snow, and breathed fire above it briefly so it would stick better. Then she stood and lifted the enormous white lump above her head.

Harry whimpered and ran, her gleeful cackle ringing in his ears. His instincts, honed by hours of dodging Bludgers, warned him of impending danger, and he threw himself off the path; the lump of snow hurtled past and splattered over the nundu. He hastily made a snowball and counterattacked, but Vicky spewed fire and melted it mid-air.

"That was wicked!" he cheered.

She preened. "Thank you."

Then their momentary armistice ended, and they went to war again. Harry's hands were getting too cold to melt the snow, and it refused to stick together. Sensing weakness, Vicky drew closer and pelted him mercilessly. He cupped his hands and shoveled the powdery snow at her. She smacked a snowdrift with her tail in retaliation, but the wind blew the white cloud she raised back at her. He laughed.

Growling, she pounced and tackled him to the ground. He grunted in surprise before flipping her over. They rolled away from the path and deeper into untrodden snow, shrieking with laughter.

After half a dozen turns, they sank into a snowdrift and came to a halt. Victoria lay unresisting beneath him, her eyes locked with his and her chest heaving. Her black hair was tousled and sprinkled with white, her cheeks flushed, a snowflake melting on her lips. He swallowed. If he bent just a little lower...

Voices drifted from the distance, relaxed and cheerful. He jerked up. Couples and larger groups filtered out of the castle; perhaps the party was winding down. Flustered, he rose to his feet and offered her his hand.

"We should return to the castle. Best avoid the Great Hall, though." Not that he cared about representing Hogwarts with dignity and all that tripe, but he didn't want people gawking. And gawk they would.

"Oh, all right." She clasped his hand and easily hauled herself up.

He regarded her out of the corner of his eye. Her brutally shortened gown was damp with melted snow and clung to her body in a way that made heat rise to his cheeks. He hurriedly unbuttoned his dress robes and draped them over her shoulders. They were only a little dryer than her gown, but at least covered her up.

"I don't want you catching a cold," he said gruffly at her questioning look.

"Dragons don't catch colds," she said, but smiled and tugged the robes closer around her. Then she considered the thin white shirt he had worn underneath. "But humans do, don't they? Come, I'll warm you in my lair!"

He glanced dubiously toward the dark hut that stood a good distance from Hagrid's, almost within the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. Then he contemplated the crowd by the castle doors that they would inevitably have to pass. "Lead the way."

She plowed through the snow, hardly slowing when it rose from her knees almost to her waist. Harry stumbled along in the channel she cut, shivering. Now that he was left in his shirt and trousers, the wind chilled him to the bone, but he would freeze into an icicle before requesting his robes back.

They intersected a narrow path that connected her hut to the castle, and walking became easier. The packed snow crunched under their feet. He blew on his hands and leaned sideways to see how much farther they had to go. Victoria glanced at him and sped along, the tip of her tail swishing below the hem of the robes. In short order, they arrived at her lair.

The squat wooden hut looked much like Hagrid's, which was no surprise given that he had built it. The sloped roof wasn't quite symmetrical and resembled a crooked pointy hat with icicles hanging from its brim. The shutters were closed except on the window facing the castle.

Victoria climbed the front steps and shoved open an iron-studded door. As Harry followed her inside, he glanced at a flimsy shed standing nearby. Through a tiny window on its door, he glimpsed a skinned carcass hanging off a hook.

"Is that a deer?" he blurted out.

Her fangs glinted in the scant light as she glanced over her shoulder. "Good eye, for a human. Hagrid taught me to prepare and preserve it because I can't eat it in one sitting." She sounded rather disappointed about that.

"That's nice," he said. Her hunting in the Forbidden Forest was nothing new, although he had never seen her catch prey this big.

Victoria kicked off her slippers and reached around him to shut the door, leaving them in almost total darkness. She strode inside confidently, orienting by memory or perhaps her keen eyesight. He took off his snowy shoes and waited, knowing that wandering about her lair blind was a tripping hazard.

There was a scrape and a series of thuds; firewood being tossed into the grate. A stream of dragon fire illuminated the surroundings as she breathed on the logs. He ventured inside, stepping over socks, books, loose coins, and knick-knacks. Not the tidiest dragon, Vicky. Then again, given the perpetual mess in the boys' dorms, he was one to talk.

The logs caught fire, and Victoria straightened up with wisps of smoke wafting from her mouth. Harry sat on a thick rug before the fireplace and extended his hands toward the merrily crackling fire.

"Cheers," he said with feeling.

"Warm your chilly fingers," she said. "I'll be right back."

He did exactly that, while she bustled behind him. There wasn't much to her home: a sturdy table, a cluttered pantry, a wardrobe, and a bed by the wall, as well as a door to a small bathroom. After seeing the place, the Gryffindor girls had been appalled, but personally, Harry couldn't see why. It was warm and cozy, and smelled of tree sap and herbs that hung drying from the rafters.

A creak of hinges made him glance back. Victoria stooped before her ajar wardrobe, wiggling her gown down her hips and tail. He wrenched his gaze away, his face burning. No matter how many times the other girls scolded her, she still occasionally forgot the human proprieties.

Fabric dropping on the floor. Barefoot steps. A pulled drawer and soft rustling. Harry gamely kept his eyes on the fire, but his ears sharpened as if to compensate, and his brain gleefully conjured images to go along with the sounds.

He glanced left and right without moving his head. Pots and pans hung from hooks beside the fireplace, and his eyes widened as he realized he could see the reflection of the hut behind in the burnished belly of a kettle. He wasn't sure whether he was disappointed or relieved that Victoria had already changed into loose loungewear. She was holding up his dress robes and peering at them with a peculiar expression.

She glanced his way, and he feared for a moment that she had caught him peeking, but then she turned back. Lifting his dress robes, she buried her face in them. Her tail wagged vigorously.

He pinched the front of his shirt and sniffed it. Did he stink? All the dancing, then the snowfight...

Victoria pushed a chair toward the fireplace, causing him to straighten up quickly. She draped his robes over the backrest to dry and sent him a strange look.

"Could I maybe keep these?" she asked timidly.

He blinked. "I don't think they really fit you."

"I don't mean to wear them." She fidgeted, looking uncharacteristically lost for words. "They—they're soft and warm, and I think they would feel nice to curl up and fall asleep with."

His blush returned in force. "Well—sure, if you want. I don't plan on attending another ball anytime soon. But, er, let me get the house-elves to wash them first."

She giggled. "That would ruin them, silly." Before he could ask what she meant, she added, "Are you hungry?"

"Famished," he admitted. Dancing was surprisingly tiring business.

"Me too!" she said happily. "Let us share my prey."

He abruptly realized that he would be subjected to a dragon's idea of a meal, but it was too late to refuse without appearing rude. With a wary eye, he watched her grab a cleaver from the pantry and bounce out through the door. She returned with a hunk of venison and proceeded to hack it into pieces, rub them with spice, and skewer them on a spit. That was a relief. He had half-expected her to offer him a bite directly from the carcass in the shed.

Victoria washed her hands and flitted to the fireplace. "Excuse me," she said, and drew a deep breath.

Fire streamed from her mouth, yellow at first, then white-hot. Harry scrabbled away. The temperature rose to sweltering as the thick logs that would've taken hours to burn turned to embers in a matter of seconds. He undid the top button of his shirt and fanned his face.

"There we go," Victoria said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "The spirits did help." She set the loaded spit over the embers, and with a satisfied expression, perched on the rug beside him.

They watched the fire in companionable silence. Every now and then, Victoria would coil the tip of her tail around the spit and rotate it. Soon an appetizing smell wafted through the air, and the meat began to drip juices that sizzled on the embers below.

Victoria licked her lips hungrily and blushed when she noticed him looking. "There's all these cuts of meat and the myriads of ways to prepare them," she gushed. "I miss being able to gobble things whole, but the human way is enjoyable too. The same prey can taste so different depending on whether you smoke or stew or grill or..." She trailed off, sniffing. "It smells like it's done!"

He grinned at her enthusiasm. She pulled the spit out of the fireplace with her tail and leaned over it eagerly. Biting into the endmost morsel, she slid it off the spit and snapped it up. Steam escaped her mouth as she chewed with relish.

"Sho tashty," she mumbled, extending the spit.

"It's a tad too hot for me," he said.

She dashed off to fetch a platter. Sliding the meat onto it, she set it between them. Then she knelt and eyed the beautifully browned morsels as if fearing they would escape.

"Go ahead and eat first," he said gallantly.

She grabbed a piece with her claws and popped it into her mouth. Her tail rapped the floor. "It's sooo smoky and juicy and hot!"

Harry swallowed, more than a little hungry himself. Victoria swiftly made headway in demolishing the pile of meat. Then she paused, considered him, and selected a piece off the edge of the platter.

"Won't you eat?" she asked, proffering it to him. "It should be cool enough." Then she winced and pulled her hand back. "Sorry, I forgot—a fork—"

Perhaps her draconic instincts were rubbing off on him because he suddenly wanted that morsel above all else. Lunging forward, he caught it in his mouth. Vicky giggled and let go.

Drawing back, he gingerly bit into the meat. The outside was crispy, but the inside was tender and bursting with scalding juices. Hot but bearable. And somehow the most delicious thing he had tasted in months.

She watched him anxiously. "Would you like another?"

He nodded. She smiled, picked out another piece, and brought it to his mouth. He plucked it hungrily from her fingers. Forks were overrated.

The pile of venison stood no chance against their combined hunger and was quickly reduced to a smear of grease on the platter. Vicky brewed a fragrant tea to wash down the meal, and they settled before the fireplace with steaming mugs in their laps.

"I'm glad," she said contentedly.

He sipped the minty tea. "About what?"

"That you approve of the prey I hunted. When you wouldn't eat that fat succulent boar I left outside your lair, I feared you didn't want to proceed with the courtship." Her speech sped up until she was babbling. "I thought maybe humans didn't understand, so I checked with Lav-Lav, and she said a surprise gift would be very romantic, but you never tossed out the bones to show you'd eaten it, so I didn't know what to think. I'll hunt something more to your liking the next time."

Harry opened and closed his mouth, speechless. Now that he recalled, there had been a disturbing bloodstain outside the dorms a couple of weeks ago. The house-elves must've snatched Victoria's offering before he had even woken up for the day and turned it into pork chops for dinner. He broke into an explanation of his suspicions.

"So you don't have to bring me stuff," he concluded. "Not that I don't appreciate the thought."

"Oh." She stared glumly at her mug.

Troubled, he replayed their conversation in his head. Her pride in her hunting prowess. The purpose of her gift. He set aside his mug and wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, wishing he had paid more attention to Hagrid's rambling lectures about the habits of dragons.

"But..." He swallowed when she looked up at him. "I like you. A lot. And—and I would like you to be my girlfriend." He dropped his gaze. "If you want."

A log crackled in the fireplace. The wind rattled a loose shutter. Unable to take the tension, he looked up again. Her horned head was tilted in confusion.

"Girlfriend," she said as if tasting the word. "Lav-Lav and Paru say they're my girlfriends."

"I mean it like—like human type of courtship," he supplied. "You know, going out."

She perked up, then furrowed her brows again. "But how is that different from the dragons' way?"

"Er—I reckon it must be similar, come to think of it. Except you don't have to bring me meat." He pondered and added, "I already know you're a brilliant hunter."

She gripped his arm. "So when humans go out," she said excitedly, "do they chase each other, and then mate, and raise hatchlings together?"

"Sometimes," he hedged. "My parents did. But sometimes people just have fun and go their separate ways, I think."

"Yes, if they don't impress each other—it is like our way!" Squealing, she enveloped him in a bruising hug. "I will be your girlfriend, Harry!"

He wheezed in a breath. "B-brilliant."

"And we'll have lots and lots of fun together like we did today!"

"Absolutely," he said, grinning ear to ear.

"And someday we'll mate, and I'll lay a huge clutch of eggs for you!"

He choked out a nervous laugh. "I don't know about that."

She pulled away and peered at him apprehensively. "I'm young and healthy, so I'm sure there would be a lot. Or is it that you don't find me desirable?" Curling her tail into her lap, she gripped it with both hands. "It's because I'm different, isn't it?"

"That's not it," he said, his cheeks hot. "You're very pretty. All of you."

"Then why—ah! When you say you don't know, you mean you don't know." She giggled. "Have you never seen your older kinsfolk mate?"

"My kinsfolk—ugh, no!"

"Don't worry, it's nothing complicated," she said authoritatively. "When the season comes, the female raises her tail, and the male mounts her and—"

He groaned loudly and buried his face in his palms. "Can we please talk about something else?"

She was quiet for a time. "Is this one of those topics your kind don't talk about?"

He dipped his head, not looking at her.

"Humans are squeamish about the oddest things," she mused. "I'll just have to show you when the time comes. But first, we have to grow strong enough to clobber anyone who would threaten us and build a safe lair. Something of good solid rock; this place could easily be crushed by a bored giant."

Harry found himself nodding as he deciphered her words. For all her strangeness, she could be surprisingly sensible. "Someday," he agreed, eager to leave the topic behind. It would take a braver soul than he to explain to her that humans didn't lay eggs.

She smiled and nestled against his side. He stiffened a little when her tail snaked around his waist, then relaxed again. Even in the warmth of the hut, he could feel her body radiate heat. It made him hot in a way that had little to do with temperature.

He sent her a surreptitious glance. The embers in the fireplace reflected in her eyes, and her expression was languid and content. He felt a little foolish because his heart was pounding like mad. His gaze lingered on her lips. She was his girlfriend now, so certain things were no longer off-limits, right?

He glanced down at her hand, swallowed, and laid his atop. She turned toward him. He hadn't even been this nervous during the First Task, but he was still facing a dragon, so maybe that was forgivable. Summoning his courage, he leaned in.

Vicky froze, wide-eyed. The tip of his nose skimmed hers, and he tilted his head. His lips brushed her soft, startled ones. Her breath hitched. He drew back and searched her face.

She lifted a hand to her lips. "Wow," she said softly. "Was this snogging?"

"I—I'm not sure. I reckon we'd have to do it a bit longer."

"All right."

She faced him and parted her lips slightly. Closing his eyes, he leaned in. She met him halfway, and neither pulled apart for a long time. Enough to qualify as a snog and a half.

When they separated, breathing heavily, Victoria's cheeks were rosy, and her pupils dark and wide.

"I didn't know snogging felt so nice," she whispered.

"Me neither."

They grinned at each other as if sharing a great secret. She laid her head against his shoulder; slanting his head away from a horn, he caressed her hair. She hummed and snuggled closer.

The fire had all but gone out, and shadows shrouded the corners of the hut. It was with great reluctance that he glanced at the window facing the castle. The distant lights of Hogwarts filtered through gently falling snow.

He cleared his throat. "I better head back."

She looked up in alarm. "You can't!" she said, hugging him. "It's cold and snowy, and there's no moon in the sky. During nights like these, even the mightiest dragons slumber in their lairs."

"But I have to return to the dorms—"

"Is it because my lair's too puny?" Her wings emerged with a leathery rustle. She pushed him down until his head plopped onto an unexpectedly supple wing; the other draped over them like a warm blanket. "Don't worry. No giant will squash you while you're with me."

The wind whistled through the cracks in the window frames. The air had begun to cool, and her embrace felt wonderfully warm. "That's reassuring," he murmured, shifting to make himself more comfortable. Filch had probably locked the castle already, anyway.

"Let us rest," she crooned, "until the sun comes up and burns away the darkness."

She hummed a melody accompanied by a purring rumble in her chest. It was strange, like no song he had ever heard, but soothing. Knots in his body he hadn't been aware of were loosening up. His eyelids drooped, and he drifted off to sleep.