The Slug Club Party

Disclaimer: Nothing of my own. the characters are all in J K Rowling's possession. The sole reason for playing is that I just need to see the world in Harmony!

Warning: "Harry Potter and the half blood prince" movie spoilers! books 1-6 spoilers with twists

A/N: In general, the entire story would be told from Harry's POV. The lines in italics are Harry's thoughts, hence used in present tense. There is a lot of Harry's reflection, which was going on in his mind only, yet I don't know how to separate them from actual development of the plot, so it might get confusing. please bear with me! I have never ever written fanfic before. I simply want to channel my observation to the virtues of Harry& Hermione! Thank you!

It was a quiet evening. The magnificent King of Day made a quick curtsey to Lady of Night, who just graced the opposite end of the vast sky with her presence, ordering his last tendrils of sunlight still lost amid green foliages in the Forbidden forest to retreat towards contours of mountain ranges, presumably for a long restful slumber. The Lady returned the gesture with great dignity, fluttered her cape all over high-spirited pinkish ribbon clouds, making some sort of an agile dance around them, stars twinkling like diamonds on her velvety material.

Most of the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry paid no attention to the festivities of Mother Nature outside. They got their own parties to worry about. The hustle and bustle before the Hogsmead weekend was thick in the air. Guys huddled together, bragging about the witches who had fallen prey to their charms. Others who had yet to ask anyone out was pacing in front of classrooms, trying to pick a random witch passing the corridors. All witches, third year and above, were either frantically browsing the "Witch Weekly" for most up-to-date beauty charms or anxious to try on as many dressing robes as possible, pruning in front of mirrors for hours, squealing in delight at flattering comments from those magical glass surfaces.

Needless to say, the school library is literally deserted, except for the softly snoring Madam Pince and two wayward students, one raven-haired wizard, unmistakable with his infamous lightning-bolt-shaped scar on his forehead and the other a petite witch, her slender frame shrouded by a canopy of thick brown hair. The witch appeared to all the world to be having a whale of time. She was wandering along the dark aisles, rendered a tad creepy with towering bookshelves, humming a joyful tune, as if she was taking a pleasant stroll in the park, jade meadows scattering the ground and black birds singing high above the cloudless arch.

Harry Potter was grinding his teeth hard, feeling steams coming from his ears when he watched his best friend gently touch the binding of a large rosewood tome the way Ginny Weasley laid her dainty fingers on a gorgeous silk robe on display at Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions store on pre-school shopping day several months ago. He had been following her for more than half an hour in this stuffy corner, the strong aroma of well-worn parchments filling his nose, making him want to sneeze. That didn't even count the five minutes he was distracted by the Quidditch magazine section, and lost track of her, forced to spend another five minutes running around the huge library to catch sight of his bushy-haired friend. He was catching his breath, both hands on his knees when he reached her, and she didn't even spare a glance at her miserable best friend but still stood transfixed to a stupid book! Harry was silently counting how many times he had shifted positions. He had scuffed his torn trainers on the carpet floor, tapped his fingers on the wood material next to her. He had run his hand through his tousled mop umpteenth time, then folded his arms in front of his chest, then decided to shove both hands into his pocket patiently waiting, or so he had planned, until the sweet book-caressing scene taunted at his face. His short temper now getting the better of him, Harry decided that he'd had enough. He repositioned his hands, now firmly attached to his hips, for the last time, huffed loudly before kicking the bookshelf hard and growling. "Arghh! HERMIONE!"

Madam Pince startled awake, slamming her fist down on her desk, and any ordinary student would feel intimidated by the librarian as much as by a judge with his gavel presiding the Wizengamot court, but Harry Potter and his best friend, Hermione Granger, are anything but ordinary. The stern voice "Silence!" following the loud fist, which failed to produce any effect on the two undisciplined teenagers, was soon muted with the tense silence cast above them. Harry was fuming at the naughty witch in front of him. The only thing that kept him from wincing at the throbbing pain in his toes was the triumphant tight-lipped smile of Hermione, her trademark Prefect smile, signaling "the calm before the storm".

"The bloody book! Do you want it or not?" hissed Harry in a low voice.

Hermione swiftly retrieved the said book and turned back to him, the same smile plastered on her face. She cast a scrutinizing look at the thick tome, carefully cradled it in her left arm like a baby, her right hand turning each yellow dog-eared page, also with extra care. Harry was on the verge of yanking the offensive book from Hermione and throwing it out the nearest window, the assault of old parchment smell now unbearable, when Hermione finally replied, far too slowly for his patience. "Well…good potential. Hmm...I'd wager this comes in better use than the Potions book of yours, Harry."

Hermione had been rather resentful towards the half-Blood-Prince Potions book that Harry thought was more valuable than his entire vault in Gringotts. Well, maybe he was exaggerating a bit, but the book was truly brilliant, with many useful tips and small tricks to make assigned potions properly in the shortest span of time, not to mention a wide assortment of wicked spells that he was secretly learning, eager to find the ultimate weapon against Voldemort. More notably, Hermione, the brightest witch of her age, had been struggling in Newt potion class for the highest marks, which were always unconventionally given to nobody other than her best bespectacled friend. Harry had been trying to persuade her to make the best of the book, but she stubbornly refused, accusing him of cheating, and Harry could see the irony of their wonderful friendship that had survived five years of ridiculous situations and numerous death threats now starting to fall apart due to a mere textbook! A surge of familiar frustration frazzled his anger. Harry threw his hands up in defeat, naked hurt in his emerald eyes. "Can't you just leave it alone, for a single bloody minute?"

Widened brown eyes were locked in his wounded stare for a few seconds. Hermione lowered her head, sighing deeply. "Okay, I'm sorry, Harry!"

Something like utter resignation laced in her wearied tone bothered Harry, his anger quickly ebbed away.

"Apology accepted," he spoke clearly, keeping eye contact with Hermione, willing her to understand that he hadn't really meant to snap.

Hermione made a single nod. Relieved that she got his silent message, Harry smiled at her. She smiled back. "What can I do for you, Harry?"

Always appearing businesslike, Hermione! Harry inwardly smirked, knowing that she was trying to compose herself a little after their less-than-pleasant encounter. He kept looking at her, mild amusement barely touching the imperceptible twitch of his mouth. Harry seemed to forget Hermione was waiting for his answer, until her shrill voice pierced his thoughts. "Harry! There has to be a reason you have been following me in the library since we got out of class!"

That brought Harry back to the present. It's his turn to avoid her eyes.

"Uhm…you know…the Slug Club Party tomorrow…" mumbled Harry.

"What about it?" Hermione cut him off mid sentence

Harry winced. She was deliberately blunt while clearly knowing he was fighting for words. Of all the times he had waited until the last few hours to cram the entire History of Magic book into his thick skull before final exams, never had he felt so devastatingly ill-prepared like when he was facing Hermione right that moment. Harry had to admit he was pretty reckless in not considering Hermione's reaction before seeking her.

It wasn't particularly hard to understand, actually. He was so consumed with finding a date for the Slughorn's party this coming Saturday, when he tossed and turned on his four-poster bed yesterday, that Ron's loud snores were indistinct from the ruffles of night breezes. Except for the fanatical Romilda Vane, not a single witch directly approached him. Not that Harry was the cold-blooded type, completely calm and collected at the sight of female creatures waggling eyebrows suggestively or swaying hips dangerously. In contrast, Harry Potter was a typical raging hormonal 16-year-old adolescent, and he was currently noticing one Ginevra Weasley, the most popular girl in school after Miss Cho Chang sort of maintained dormant, focusing her energy in the Newt for 7th year students. Miss Ginevra was the youngest and only female child of the Weasley clan and, to his chagrin, also the pampered little sister of his best friend. Ronald Weasley had the school-wide reputation for being fiercely protective and, thus, extremely wary of any poor bloke who got within one meter distance of the pretty redhead. That's why Harry was rather surprised how the witch still got away with dating around and the lucky wizards did survive through the ordeal, though he highly doubted they would ever admit if physically or emotionally abused in any forms in exchange of blissful days with the redhead beauty. In retrospect, Harry kindda regretted not jumping at his chance when she dumped Michael Corner before his fellow Gryffindor Dean Thomas stuck his colored face in the tasty meal. Harry sighed dramatically, since when has his life become full of ironies? He was told that Ginny used to have a big crush on the boy-who-lived even before meeting him, but Harry Potter was a busy kid, always too tied up in life-threatening business involved the darkest wizard to take heed of a stammering girl "with her elbows in butter " who would run off the moment he entered a room. In second year, Ginny was possessed by Voldemort, opening the chamber of secret, releasing the basilisk, causing many attacks. Hermione, his best friend, was petrified, but not before working out the riddles, her stone hand clutching the paper that helped him solve the mystery and head straight to the chamber to save Ginny. He remembered feeling terrified at the thought of how the Weasley family, who have welcomed him and taken him under their wings, would think if he failed to save their beloved daughter. The following years, Ginny Weasley remained steadily the role of Ron's little sister in his mind. Then came 5th year, Ginny became a competent member in Dumbledore's Army, and later a good ally in the Department of Ministry battle. Suddenly, the summer before 6th year and a good half of this school year, Harry heard ppl talk about Ginevra Weasley almost everywhere. They gushed about how beautiful she was, and vivacious, athletic and charmingly daunting with her famous Bat-Bogey Hex. Even the Slytherin future death-eaters were not resistant to her intoxicating feminine attributes. Therefore, it's reasonable when such a delicate subject like "dating" or "girl problems" was brought up, Ginevra Weasley crossed his mind. Yet, Harry Potter's life had never been easy. She was going out with Dean, so Ginny was the first name he came up with, but then crossed out immediately afterwards. His ex-girlfriend Cho Chang was not an option, either. Harry even turned to Luna Lovegood, another friend of his in the DA, who also followed him to the DOM. He met Luna not so long ago, but got along quite well with her. Luna was a quaintly attractive girl with peculiar quirks which Harry had never been able to understand, but still appreciated somehow. Luna believed in nonexistent magical creatures and saw things her unique way without ever worrying about what others thought of her. Luna, deemed a bit loony, was also the victim to bullies from Ravenclaws students, for which Harry had great compassion, and, accordingly, sensed every need to protect her. Luna got significantly more respect from the DOM incident, not only from Harry Potter and his friends, but also from her housemates as well. However, his "Felix Felicis" seeming to drain pathetically, even "Loony" Lovegood had already agreed to go with his dorm mate Neville Longbottom. Harry had been trying to make a mental list of witches of his acquaintance, mostly in Gryffindor. Lavender was stuck to Ron's mouth and Parvati was seen to be constantly clinging to Seamus's arms nowadays.

The tunnel was getting darker, his mood spiraled from gloomy to utterly hopeless. Harry was thinking about how to make up a valid excuse for not joining the party when something in his brain clicked. Hermione Granger, single and available! Her name was the light at the end of his tunnel. Hermione, the girl who could always save him when he needed her most! Harry exhaled gratefully, burying head in the pillow and soon fell into deep sleep with last thoughts of his brilliant best friend.

That was how Harry Potter eventually afforded a pleasant rest last night. This morning, he managed to get up early with a surprisingly good mood when the first birdsong was heard outside the castle. Harry was too keen on carrying out his plan of following and asking Hermione in the library to dream of the possibility of her not helping him.

However, at this moment, after he waited that long for Hermione to focus on him instead of the ruddy bookshelf, when he could finally voice his request, words failed him. A big lump caught in his throat, his mind whirled with various possible scenarios of Hermione refusing him ...She might laugh at him…Hermione, also a club member, got a date herself…Merlin! How could he be so daft! Of course, Hermione could get any date she wanted, considering how amazing she was…or she simply didn't want to go with him…He might not be a worthy date in her eyes…Panic creeping up his mind…Maybe he should just tell her that it was nothing and wished her luck in her search for the best potion reference material, and he would ran back to his dorm, moping. Harry was so close to giving up, yet some inner voice kept tugging at his heart. He hated to be interrogated by her. She had pressed him for answers in the past so many times that he couldn't remember all, but this trapping situation felt so much different. The flip-flop in his stomach, the sweat slick in his tight close fist, the squeamish sensation building up in his mouth, he had never felt this way before. Even when he was asking Cho Chang to the Yule ball, those feelings had never been this strong. He wondered if he had planned to ask Hermione like this time, would these symptoms have been the same, at the same intensity? Harry was well aware that he had been taking too much time, and he silently hoped that Hermione would say something, anything to break the strained silence. She was resolute in being difficult with him. Why, Hermione? Why, of all the situations, she chose the worst not to help him? Harry was scared. He dared let his mind wander a bit to a brighter vista of Hermione accepting and beaming at him, jumping into his arms even, once he asked her. Harry was thrilled. He had to ask her…Merlin! He wanted to ask her, but how? Harry was looking at anywhere but Hermione. He gaped at the hole, on the bookshelf, just above her right shoulder, where the stupid book had been. He glanced towards the star-studded blanket of night outside the window. It had gone dark without his noticing. Floating candles, charmed to be lighted at a fixed time after dusk, was casting their shadows upon the floor carpet. Harry was staring at the silhouette of Hermione, knowing she was standing perfectly still, her bushy hair in its black shadow resembling a large hood on top of her school robe. Her visage etched onto the carpet was bathed in flickering yellow candlelight like a mysterious portrait. Harry didn't know why but he was mesmerized by the uncanny beauty of Hermione's shadows in that quiet corner of the library on that quiet evening. Then, her shadow moved, Hermione ducked her head slightly, slowly tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ears. Harry looked up that instant and blurted out. "I think we should go together."

He suddenly felt bold, but then horrified at how intimate his words could imply.

"As friends, I mean," he quickly added.

He emphasized "friends" on purpose, for fear of scaring her away with his sudden intention. Well, not that he had any intention…with her. They are friends, best friends, very special friends, but just friends, that's all they have ever been, just friends… No sooner had he allowed himself a bit of relief for saving the moment at the last minute than he was quite flummoxed that she looked pretty upset, seeing that her shoulders visibly slumped.

"Yeah, silly me…" Hermione let out a humorless chuckle.

Harry hadn't the faintest idea what she was talking about. He was groping for some explanation when she abruptly switched into businesslike mode. "I couldn't find a suitable date, Harry! I didn't intend to go, honestly, and I have a busy schedule with prefect duties and upcoming arithmancy tests."

If anything, Harry was even more bewildered. He was hoping that Hermione would dump her date and go with him if he pleaded with her. That worked most of the time. Hermione, strict and uptight as she was, could hardly ever deny him anything. But Hermione without a date, too far from reality! True, he forgot that before, but when remembering she was also a club member, he was quite certain that a long line of bloke would wait for their turn. The stupid git Cormac McLaggen had been blatantly flirting with her, or the stuck-up Terry Boot had been making every effort to approach her, pretending to ask her about schoolwork. The nerve of them! Or Ron, yes Ron, who was dating Lavender but has fancied her for years. And Harry reckoned that Hermione was smitten with his best friend too. Thus, it's impossible to imagine no one had asked Hermione.

"What?... How?... Why?" Harry exclaimed exactly what was on his mind.

But Hermione was no longer listening. She went further into the dark aisle towards the window, still carrying the potion tome against her chest. Harry hurried after her. When he reached hearing distance, Hermione faced him, sounding somewhat angry. "But Why, Harry? Why me?" Not waiting for Harry to answer, she snorted, more like to herself. "You can ask anyone. I'm sure there's a long line of pretty witches desperate to dose the Chosen One with love potion like Romilda Vane."

If the contexts were different, Harry would be amused at the similar way she pictured him with girls as he internally thought about her with boys. However, Harry was completely baffled and nervous, and quite distressed with her bitterness. She was upset, bitter and sarcastic. What's wrong with Hermione today? He knew that she was opposed to those temptresses throwing themselves at him for his fame and his wealth as much as he, so what possessed her to say something so…unreasonable like that?

"You know I cannot stand those girls," Harry frowned at her.

"Well, Ginny mentioned about going yesterday and…" he heard her gulp audibly.

"Hermione! Ginny is with Dean," Harry raised a hand at Hermione, making her stop, "and I am not that kind of guy!"

"Well, how about ..." persists Hermione, to his consternation.

Now was his turn to cut her off, "Enough! Hermione! I do not want to hear any other witches' names!"

He continues in a more subdued voice, preceded with a soft sigh. "If you don't want to go with me, Hermione, you might just as well say so."

Harry forced himself to look straight into her eyes, unreadable emotions swimming in her brown orbs. Harry was feeling increasingly uncomfortable. She was hiding something, When he couldn't read her face, that means she was trying to keep him in the dark about something… He would be extremely anxious to find out, hadn't it been for the intense nervousness gnawing his entire being right now. Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. She looked totally lost, like a gaping fish out of water, her fingers worrying the cover of the thick book, her face too pale for his liking. Something about Hermione when he directed his steady gaze at her was telling him that was the right moment to ask her to the party properly. Harry cleared his throat, and kept his voice perfectly neutral, never breaking eye contact with her. "Hermione… would you like to go to the Slug Club Party with me tomorrow?"

Hermione looked away, not giving him time to read her eyes, yet again. Harry swallowed inaudibly, thousand butterflies squirming in his stomach. He was feeling physically sick, his head hurt with too much thinking, his eyes blazed with visions of the girl who just turned away from him. He thought he was falling off his broom like in third year, but Hermione would not be there at his bedside when he woke up. And Harry doubted he would ever recuperate wholly the way he did three yrs ago.

Then, Hermione tentatively lifted her head, glancing up at him beneath her long eyelashes, her lips curving in a reluctant smile, but a smile nonetheless, the smile he felt like he had been awaiting for an eternity, though it was actually just more than five minutes. Hope sparkled in his bright green eyes. The smile on her face was getting more radiant with every beat of his heart.

"Of course, I want to go with you, Harry!" she said softly, eyes never leaving his.

Just like that, her voice was like music to his ears, tons of invisible heavy weights were lifted off his shoulders. Harry Potter stood tall, giving his best friend a wide grin. He pulled Hermione into a big bear hug. The onerous potion book fell to the carpet floor with a heavy thud, but both of them were too wrapped up with each other to notice. She laughed into his shoulders, sending tingling feelings down his arms. He tightened his hold around her, buried his face in the soft tangle of brown hair, and whispered in her ears. "Thank you, Hermione!"

Harry could feel the first gleam of happiness shinning through his heart since the beginning of a foreboding school year, what with petty rows over a potion book, Ron acting like a jerk to Hermione, Draco Malfoy's covert activities, and Voldemort gaining in power. Harry knew that he got his old Hermione back, their friendship once again overcame yet another hurdle, and they have become closer than ever.

Harry was not unfamiliar with unexpected turns in his less-than-normal life. Little did he know, however, what was in store for him and his beloved best friend in his arms at the moment. He simply cherished how her small frame fit right into his embrace. For the first time since he learned of the Slug Club party, Harry felt completely at ease, knowing Hermione would be by his side, as always….

tbc