Save a dance for me.
Chapter 8
Fleur had read and reread each of Harry's letters at least twice. She couldn't quite place where the attraction had started, or why it had grown so much. All she knew was that she wanted to be with him. The fact that he was barely affected by her natural allure was a surprising, but welcome, bonus. Most men couldn't resist it at all—unless they practiced occlumency. Harry wasn't like the others. The only time he even seemed to notice her allure was when she kissed him. The memory of his lips brushing hers made her blush, even if the kiss had never been truly returned.
"Fleur? Mama is looking for you," Gabrielle called from below, looking up into the tree her older sister was perched in.
"Tell her I'll be right in," Fleur responded, her voice distracted. She knew what her mother wanted to talk about—it was the same conversation they'd been having more frequently lately. What would she do after the summer ended?
Fleur sighed, glancing back down at the letter in her lap. She could go to England, take the Gringotts job that had been offered, and be closer to Harry. But Harry was still in school—and he was with someone else. Pursuing him felt like chasing a dream that might never come true.
Or, she could stay in France, work for the Ministry, and remain close to her family. It was the logical choice—the one her mother favored. Fleur was torn between her heart and her mind. An illusion and reality. Some days, she wished she had never put her name into the Goblet of Fire. Yes, the prestige of being chosen had opened doors for her—ones that might never have been available otherwise. But what she truly wanted remained frustratingly out of reach.
With a sigh of frustration, she slipped down from the tree and made her way back to the house, hoping her mother could offer some clarity.
"Yes, Mama? You wanted to speak with me?" Fleur asked as she stepped into the cozy living room.
Apolline Delacour sat by the fire, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You've received a letter, from a certain young man," she said, holding up the parchment. "His owl seems to be making herself at home. No doubt she's waiting for your response, again."
Fleur blushed lightly. It was true—Hedwig had been a frequent visitor over the summer holidays. She and Harry had been writing back and forth often, and the beautiful snowy owl had become a welcomed guest in their home. Gabrielle adored her, and even their mother never missed a chance to dote on the elegant creature. Hedwig, in turn, never failed to brighten Fleur's mood, always arriving with news from Harry that made her heart race.
"Hello, Hedwig," Fleur said softly as she removed the letter from the owl's leg, stroking her feathers affectionately. Hedwig hooted in response, preening under the attention. Opening the letter, Fleur smiled as she recognized the sloppy but familiar handwriting. Her smile grew wider and wider as she read.
"Mama, I have wonderful news!" Fleur said, her voice bubbling with excitement. "Harry is inviting us all to his home for a celebration before school begins!"
Gabrielle, who had just entered the room, practically flew into her mother's arms, her face alight with joy. "Please, Mama, can we go?" she asked, her eyes wide and filled with hope.
Apolline chuckled softly, the sight of her daughters' enthusiasm warming her heart. "I shall speak to your father," she said, unable to hide her smile. "What day is this party to be held?"
"It's at the end of the month, just before the Hogwarts term starts," Fleur answered, her voice brimming with excitement. The idea of seeing Harry again—of spending time with him, however brief—filled her with a sense of joy she hadn't felt in a long time.
As Gabrielle bounded around the room, practically glowing with excitement, Fleur couldn't help but feel a lightness in her chest. She might not have all the answers about her future just yet, but one thing was certain: she would see Harry again soon. And for now, that was enough.
...
Harry wasn't sure how he should feel about the prefect badge. Truthfully, he hadn't been expecting it—he could admit that much. But when the badge had gone to Ron? That had left him conflicted.
Lately, Harry had begun seeing Ron in a different light, and not for the better. Ron had always been a bit lazy—that much was clear. But now, Harry was starting to realize that his friend was also selfish. Ron rarely thought about anyone but himself, and when things didn't go his way, his temper would flare. Over the years, Harry had seen it in the small things—like when Ron sulked about the Triwizard Tournament or when he got jealous over Harry's fame. At first, Harry had brushed it off, chalking it up to normal teenage emotions. But as time went on, he saw that Ron's temper and jealousy went deeper than just a bad mood.
It wasn't just that. There were other things too—uglier things. Ron had never hidden his distaste for Slytherins, but what Harry had once thought of as harmless rivalry now felt like prejudice. Every time Ron sneered at Draco or muttered something under his breath about "slimy Slytherins," Harry noticed it more and more. And it wasn't just Slytherins. Ron's attitude toward house-elves, especially when compared to Hermione's passion for their rights, revealed something darker: Ron didn't care about those he saw as beneath him.
Harry couldn't help but feel uncomfortable now, seeing this side of Ron. It wasn't that Ron was all bad—he still had moments of loyalty and courage. But those moments were becoming harder to focus on, overshadowed by his selfishness and prejudice. Harry couldn't deny it anymore.
So when the prefect badge had gone to Ron, of all people, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of disbelief. He would have expected anyone else—Dean, Seamus, maybe even Neville. But Ron? The same Ron who barely put effort into his schoolwork, who constantly complained about everything? Harry wondered what McGonagall had been thinking.
Hermione being made prefect was a given—there was no question about her. But Ron? Harry couldn't wrap his head around it. He decided to push it to the back of his mind for now. There was no sense in ruining the party by dwelling on it. He'd question McGonagall's sanity later.
The party itself promised to be a good time, as long as nothing went horribly wrong. He had permission to invite Cho, Neville, and Fleur, which was a relief. He had been seeing more of Cho than he expected, at least once or twice a week since the dinner with her family. That had been an awkward affair, but Cho's father had eventually warmed up to him, especially after Harry apologized profusely and insisted on making breakfast the next morning. Even then, Harry couldn't shake the sense that Cho clung to him a little too tightly, as though afraid he might vanish. And who could blame her, really? With everything going on in his life, Harry wasn't sure how long he could stay by her side.
Grimmauld Place had become a frequent gathering spot over the summer. After the wards had been built and tested, courtesy of Professor Snape, Hermione's family had started coming around more often. Harry found himself looking forward to their dinners together, not just because of Hermione's company, but because her parents were genuinely good people. It was nice to see Hermione with her family, happy and relaxed. Harry had even grown closer to Sirius, whose mood had lightened considerably with the house being so full. Ron, on the other hand, seemed less than pleased. His mood had soured whenever Hermione was around, and Harry couldn't help but notice how Ron's temper seemed to flare up more frequently, especially when Fred and George teased him about the prefect badge.
And now, the morning before the party, the atmosphere at Grimmauld Place was a strange one. Fred and George were taking turns deflating Ron's ego, while teasing Hermione mercilessly. Remus and Sirius were reminiscing about their time at Hogwarts, and Ginny was in the kitchen helping Molly prepare food for the celebration.
Through all the chaos, Harry sat quietly, hoping that for once, nothing would go wrong.
…
Neville had never been good at making friends. His shy and awkward demeanor had made it easy for others to ignore or shun him. That had been his life for years—until the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. All it had taken was one helpful tip about gillyweed, something he had stumbled upon not even a week before the event. That small gesture had pulled him into a group of friends he had never imagined being part of.
At first, Neville hadn't believed the friendship would last. He figured once his usefulness was gone, they'd move on without him. But to his surprise, Harry and Hermione had only deepened their bond with him. They didn't just see him as the awkward kid who struggled with spells—they liked him for who he was. For the first time in his life, Neville felt he had real friends, friends his grandmother had always wished for him.
The more time he spent with them, the more confident Neville became. He was doing better in his classes, thanks to Hermione's influence, and even in Potions, where Snape had once terrified him, Neville had begun holding his own. Watching Harry deal with Snape's constant attacks had taught Neville to push his fear aside and focus on what he could control.
Then the final task happened, and everything changed. His best friend had been turned into a werewolf, and the world around them had grown darker. But abandoning Harry had never been an option for Neville. No matter what happened, he was determined to stick by him, come hell or high water—or a full moon.
In just a few minutes, he would be heading to Grimmauld Place for the celebration party. He had been there plenty of times over the summer to visit Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys. He and Ginny had become closer too, their conversations becoming more frequent after their somewhat awkward but enjoyable Yule Ball date. Now, they spoke nearly every day.
"Neville," his grandmother's sharp voice rang out through the halls. "Let's be on our way. Albus has just given me the all-clear."
"Coming!" Neville called, grabbing his wand and hurrying toward the door.
Augusta Longbottom gave her grandson a long, appraising look. She had noticed the changes in him since his return from Hogwarts—the way he carried himself with more confidence, the quiet strength in his voice when he spoke of his friends. And she approved of his companions. Harry Potter, Hermione Granger—even those troublesome Weasley twins. They had brought out something in Neville that she had always hoped to see: courage.
"I just hope this war doesn't tear them apart," Augusta murmured under her breath. "Too many friendships have been ruined by battles like this."
Neville smiled at her, catching the worry in her eyes. "It won't, Gran," he said, his voice steady. "We'll stick together."
She nodded, though the shadows of concern lingered. "Time will tell."
…
Jealousy, at the moment, was all Ronald Weasley could feel.
The party, which was supposed to celebrate his and Hermione's appointment as prefects, had become all about Harry. Once everyone began arriving, it was as if Ron didn't exist. Cho, Hermione, Fleur, Neville—everyone seemed to gravitate toward Harry, offering him their attention. Ron, on the other hand, was left with nothing more than a few passing "Congratulations." It was his party. He had earned the prefect badge. Not Harry.
And yet, it was Harry who everyone flocked to.
Ron had felt his temper simmering from the moment Fleur gave Harry a kiss on the cheek, completely ignoring him. But the final straw was the way everyone kept circling back to Harry, as though Ron wasn't even there. It was infuriating. His ears and face began to burn as his jealousy deepened. 'He didn't earn the badge,' Ron thought viciously. 'All he did was get turned into a bloody werewolf!'
His thoughts were interrupted by his mother's sharp voice.
"Ron, come over here for a bit," Molly called, her tone leaving no room for argument.
He huffed but grudgingly made his way over. "What?" he asked, already bristling.
Molly's eyes narrowed. "Ronald Weasley, I will not tolerate you sulking after all the effort we went through to throw this party for you and Hermione. Not to mention all the trouble your friends have taken to come here, and the precautions Dumbledore arranged to ensure their safety. Now go out there and be polite to your guests."
Ron wanted to protest, to argue that it wasn't his party anymore—that it had become all about Harry, as usual. But the look in Molly's eyes promised a level of discipline even a howler would envy. Smartly, he kept his mouth shut, nodded, and stalked back toward the group of friends he was growing to resent more with every passing minute.
…
Cho could feel the tension ripple through the group as Ron walked up, his ears flaming red, his face set in an angry grimace. It felt like a storm cloud descending over the conversation, and she had a bad feeling this wasn't going to end well. When Hermione greeted him with a smile, the tension seemed to spike.
"Ron, where have you been?" Hermione asked brightly, unaware of the fury building beneath his surface.
"Finally remembered me, have you?" Ron spat, his voice dripping with venom.
Cho winced, and her heart ached a little at the sight of Hermione's smile vanishing, replaced with hurt and confusion. The sting of Ron's words cut deep. Hermione, who had been nothing but kind and supportive, blinked as her hurt gave way to indignation. But before she could respond, Neville, ever the peacemaker, stepped in.
"We've all noticed you, Ron," Neville said calmly. "This is a party for you both, after all."
Ron turned on him at once, his temper flaring. "No one asked you, Longbottom. Who even invited you?" he snapped, his words laced with scorn.
Neville flinched, his expression falling as the hurt set in.
"I did," Hermione said sternly, stepping in before things escalated further.
"And I did," Harry added, his voice tight, with a note of warning that made everyone go still.
That was all it took to push Ron over the edge. "And who the hell are you, Potter, to invite anyone to my party?" he shouted, his fists clenching. His voice was rising, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. "Oh, that's right—this is your party, isn't it?"
Harry blinked, stunned by the sudden outburst. He looked stricken, but before he could respond, Ron pressed on, his jealousy spilling out unchecked. "What exactly are we celebrating this time, huh? The fact that you're a monster now? Or is this a reunion for your harem?" Ron's voice had become a vicious shout, drawing every eye in the room.
The silence that followed was deafening. Cho's heart pounded in her chest, her breath catching in shock. She couldn't believe what she had just heard. Without thinking, she stepped forward and slapped Ron across the face, hard.
"How dare you?" she demanded, her voice shaking with fury. "How dare you say that to Harry? He's supposed to be your best friend!"
Ron staggered, his hand flying to his cheek, which was quickly swelling in the shape of Cho's hand. He glared at her, snarling through his pain. "What the bloody hell did you slap me for, you bi—"
Before Ron could finish the insult, a fist connected with his face, sending him sprawling to the floor. Lights burst into his vision, and for a moment the room seemed to spin.
"Just stay down there for a bit, would you, little brother," Fred said, shaking his hand as though testing his knuckles.
"And be thankful it wasn't Harry who hit you," George added, kneeling beside Ron and pointing over to Harry, whose eyes had gone dark—completely black. Remus and Sirius were holding him back, struggling to keep him in place.
"Harry, control yourself!" Remus growled through gritted teeth. "Do you want us to stun you?"
"It's okay," Cho whispered, moving in front of Harry and placing a gentle hand on his cheek, blocking Ron from his view. Her touch worked instantly—Harry's black eyes slowly returned to their familiar emerald green. He took a deep, shuddering breath as he regained control, his body relaxing under her touch. With a sigh, he patted Remus and Sirius on the hands, signaling that he was back in control.
"Thanks, guys," Harry said, his voice heavy with shame. Then he turned to Cho, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. "Thank you, Cho."
Cho blushed lightly but smiled back. "Of course, Harry. Anytime."
Harry's attention then shifted to Ron, still sprawled on the floor, nursing his swelling face. His expression hardened, and his voice was low, almost dangerous. "Ron," he said, his words cutting through the air like ice, "you and I are no longer friends."
Ron's face paled as Harry turned away, taking Cho's hand and leading her toward the door. Fleur, Hermione, and Neville quickly followed, their eyes filled with disappointment and anger.
Ron sat on the floor, blinking in disbelief, as if expecting someone to come to his defense. But no one did. Instead, he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, pulling him roughly to his feet. He looked up to see his father's stern face, anger flashing in his eyes.
"Ronald," Arthur said, his voice dangerously quiet, "go to your room. I don't want to see you again tonight. Am I understood?"
Cowed by the rare sight of his father's fury, Ron nodded mutely and made his way to his room without another word
...
Ginny was torn. On one hand, she wanted to knock some sense into her idiot of an older brother; on the other, she wanted to check on Harry and make sure he was okay. Ever since Harry had silenced those who said he should've gotten the prefect badge instead of Ron, Ginny had admired his grace. He had been nothing but supportive, telling everyone he thought Ron deserved it. And yet, Ron had still gone and shattered the remnants of an already fragile friendship.
Deep down, Ginny knew Harry wouldn't just abandon the Weasleys. He cared too much about the family, and by extension, her. But the thought still haunted her, leaving her unsettled.
"Don't worry, little sister. This will all blow over in time," George said as he came up beside her, his voice unusually soft. "I've never seen Harry that angry before."
"You're right there, mate," Fred added, coming up on Ginny's other side. "But I think we all learned a couple of valuable lessons tonight."
Ginny raised an eyebrow in confusion, and the twins were only too happy to enlighten her.
"First, Ickle Ronnikins is a right prat," Fred said with a disgusted shake of his head.
"And second," George continued, his tone growing more theatrical, "never—"
"Ever—"
"Insult Cho!" they finished in unison, making Ginny snicker despite herself. The twins always had a way of making her feel better.
…
Meanwhile, in a quieter part of the house, Cho squeezed Harry's hand, "Are you okay, Harry?" she asked, her voice soft and full of concern.
"I almost lost control back there, Cho," Harry said in a low voice, thick with shame. "Someone could have seriously gotten hurt."
"I don't think you would've hurt any of us," Hermione chimed in as she sat on Harry's other side, her brow furrowed in thought.
"What makes you think that?" Harry asked, a skeptical look on his face.
"Remus and Sirius held you back, yes, but you didn't even try to throw them off. If you'd really wanted to attack, you could've tossed them across the room." Hermione said matter-of-factly.
"And you didn't flinch when I touched you," Cho added softly. "Your anger might trigger the partial transformations, but it seems like you're only a danger to those who are actually threatening us."
Fleur, who had joined them quietly, nodded in agreement. "It is much like my own transformation as a part-Veela," she said. "Yes, we lose some control when the anger takes over, but we are not completely lost. Not like a true werewolf during the full moon."
"Exactly," Hermione said, warming up to the idea. "With practice, you could probably control it entirely. Greyback was infamous for being able to remain partially transformed outside of the full moon, though in his case, it made him a monster."
"I don't want to be compared to that lunatic," Harry said, his voice filled with disgust.
"No one would ever compare you to Greyback, Harry," Cho said gently, running her fingers through his hair. "He was a monster, but his control over his transformations was something else entirely. There's never been anyone like him, not until you."
Remus and Sirius walked over, their expressions softened with understanding. "Greyback was the reason so many of our kind joined Voldemort during the last war," Remus explained. "Fear. He terrified even the most brutal werewolves. Now imagine the impact you could have on the werewolf community—showing them that control is possible. And can you imagine what it would do to the Death Eaters? A partially transformed Harry Potter, standing there with a wand in his hand?"
Sirius grinned, shuddering in mock fear. "I'd bloody piss myself if I were them," he said with a playful wink.
"You did piss yourself, or have you forgotten?" Remus teased, his smirk growing wider as Sirius blushed in embarrassment.
"Not true!" Sirius protested, clearly flustered. "Harry was completely transformed—huge difference."
"Sure, Padfoot," Remus said with a knowing grin. "Point made, Puddlefoot."
The tension that had gripped the group melted away as they burst into laughter, Sirius grumbling playfully at the teasing. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," he muttered, but the smile on his face betrayed his amusement. "Now go back and enjoy the party before I change my mind about letting you leave."
As the group began to file out, Remus stayed back, his gaze lingering on Harry. "Think he'll be alright?" he asked, his voice low.
Sirius nodded thoughtfully, watching Harry walk away with Cho's hand firmly in his. "With those young ladies looking after him, he'll be just fine."
The rest of the night passed without further incident, except for a slightly tipsy Tonks trying to pull Remus into a rather passionate kiss—one she wouldn't remember, but one he certainly wouldn't forget.
…
September 1st came far too quickly for Harry's liking. He was happy to be returning to Hogwarts, but he couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling of leaving Grimmauld Place. Living with Sirius and Remus over the summer had been the best time of his life—better even than his time with the Weasleys. And though both men would be joining him at Hogwarts in their own ways, it wouldn't be the same.
One thing that did lift his spirits, however, was Cho. Their relationship had deepened over the summer, and she seemed just as thrilled as he was to be spending more time together at school. The moment the train pulled out of the station, she had dragged him into an empty compartment, and within seconds, their lips had collided in a heated kiss. Harry wasn't complaining—in fact, he was just as enthusiastic as she was.
"I missed you, Harry," Cho said breathlessly as they finally pulled apart.
"I missed you too, Cho," Harry said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Now let's go find the others."
It took them a few minutes to locate their friends, but when they entered the compartment, they were greeted by knowing looks. Harry took his usual seat beside Hermione, with Cho settling in on his other side. Neville, looking somewhat confused, was talking to a strange but familiar-looking girl sitting beside Ginny.
"Well, I'm off to meet the Head Boy and Girl," Hermione said excitedly, standing up. "I'll see you all soon!"
"See you," Harry said, waving as she shut the compartment door behind her. He turned to Neville with a curious look. "So, Neville, who's your new friend?"
"This is Luna Lovegood," Cho answered, smiling. "She's in Ravenclaw with me."
"I just met her, actually," Neville said a little awkwardly.
"Luna and I have been friends since we were little," Ginny added, giving the strange girl a warm smile.
"It's nice to meet you, Harry Potter," Luna said in her dreamy voice. "And it's nice to see you again, Cho."
"Luna was just telling me about her father's magazine," Neville said, holding up a copy of The Quibbler for Harry to see.
Harry took it, skimming through the odd articles with interest. "The Quibbler, huh? Seems… interesting."
Luna beamed at him, her smile wide. "If you want, Daddy would be happy to give you a free subscription—maybe even an interview."
"The subscription I'll take, but I'd rather pay for it," Harry said with a smile. "I'll pass on the interview for now, though."
Unfazed, Luna grinned. "I'll write to him as soon as we get to Hogwarts."
The train ride passed uneventfully after that. Marietta stopped by for a quick chat, and Malfoy and his cronies loitered outside the compartment door before deciding against causing any trouble when they saw the group inside. All in all, it was a quiet and pleasant trip, and Harry found himself hoping the rest of the year might follow suit.
But knowing Hogwarts, Harry doubted it would be quiet for long.