CHAPTER 11

As Hermione walked into the Great Hall, arm in arm with Anthony, she took in the room with wide eyes. Being a Prefect, she had had to help decorate the room during the day, but she had left a few hours earlier to get ready, leaving the male Prefects to finish up. And they finished up well.

The Great Hall had been transformed. The ceilings were, as usual, a replica of the sky outside, and yet today it somehow seemed even more magical. The sky was filled with fluffy clouds, flecks of snow drifting down from the heavens. The house tables have been removed, and replaced, like last year, with dozens of smaller round tables with white tablecloths, each with about ten white chairs around them. In the middle was a dance floor, the floor polished to mirror perfection. The walls were adorned with white streamers, glimmering real flecks of snow and the occasional mistletoe. The traditional twelve pine trees lined the sides, topped with the snow that was falling. Standing aside them were gleaming armours, standing guard next to the windows.

At the other end of the room, on one side, there was a small stage, where the Weird Sister, who Dumbledore has hired once again, were to perform. On the other side was where the Orchestra, lead by Professor Flitwick, who will be making the music everyone was going to dance to. There was a lot of white, but it did the Great Hall more than justice. Hermione wouldn't have recognised it if she hadn't been in it for 5 years.

"We did good, don't you think?" Anthony asked by her side, admiring their work.

"We did," Hermione confirmed. "We definitely did."

Anthony chuckled, then said, "Let's go."

They proceeded to the Entrance Hall, where the rest of the Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl were gathered, as they have been decided by the teachers to be the first to dance. They watched as the rest of the student body filed into the Hall, eager and excited for an evening of fun and dance. And delicious food, let's not forget that.

Hermione watched the students, curious to know who was going with who, and amused when she found out. She saw Harry come in with Cho, the wide grin on his showing his evident satisfaction at bagging the Ravenclaw for the Ball. Hermione grinned, happy for her friend. She saw Ginny walking happily arm in arm with Dean Thomas, her gold dress and red heels complimenting her skin tone and highlighting her flaming red hair. She saw Ron come in with Lavender Brown, glancing around, then eyes landing on Hermione. Gaze flicking to the oblivious Anthony next to her, he scowled. Hermione only raised her eyebrows back for a fleeting second, then turned her gaze away coldly. Then she saw him.

Fred, walking alongside his twin brother, wearing not the traditional dress robes, but Muggle clothes! Tight black jeans, which Hermione blushed to notice hugged his legs perfectly, with a white shirt, which also hugged his form at the perfect places, and a black waistcoat. Why he was breaking tradition and wearing Muggle clothes, Hermione had no idea, but she didn't ponder on it. The wonder flew out of her mind when she noticed that he was going alone. No one was walking by his side, like Alicia Spinnet was alongside George (it seemed like he didn't live up to his promise to Fred, then. Not that Fred looked like he particularly cared). He had decided to come to the Ball alone, despite the fact that he had a choice of just about half the girl's population of Hogwarts, and that he didn't even have to go at all.

Hermione didn't know why it made her so happy.

Having seen her in the dress before didn't help Fred when he saw her that night. He might have not recognised her at all, if he hadn't known her for the last five years. Ginny had done a bloody good job helping her. She was transformed.

Her body was wrapped tight by the bodice, the lace taunting him even from afar. Her legs were visible from the front due to the short length of the front of the dress. Her mass of bushy hair was pushed up in a messy hairdo, a few tendrils escaping to dance teasingly around her neck. He couldn't see clearly from far away, but he could tell there wasn't much make-up on. Fred suddenly acknowledged how beautiful she was on her own.

Then his gaze flicked to the side, and found Anthony Goldstein there. All at once, he was hit with that hollow feeling he had chosen to ignore that day at Gladrags, when Ginny had announced that Goldstein had asked Hermione out. Only this time, it was much, much more intense. He also got the urge to beat the guy bloody.

Fred winced. Is it right for him to be feeling like this? Is it normal? Why is he feeling like this again? Didn't he go through these questions already? It must be protectiveness he's feeling. He's gone through that, too...

Oh, crap.

Maybe his feelings didn't go away after all.

It did explain things. Like why he chose to wear Muggle clothes to the Ball. And why he didn't ask anyone, despite, as Hermione had said, having the choice of almost any girl in the school. And why he's scowling at the sight of Goldstein placing his hand on Hermione's waist.

Well, he's been through all this reasoning. For further information or a repeat/reminder of these, please refer to previous chapters.

So he still liked Hermione. Great.

And he's jealous. Terrific.

Hermione was having a blast. Or she should be anyway.

Don't get her wrong, she's absolutely enjoying herself. Anthony is such a gentleman, and everything was perfect.

But something's wrong.

It might have something to do with that 6th year Ravenclaw flirting with Fred as she danced with him.

The thing is, Hermione realised this is what is pissing her. Does she know why?

Maybe. She just won't admit it. She had a notion, but she didn't want to believe that it was possible.

"Hermione?"

Hermione snapped back to reality. As in, the charming boy who was dancing with her.

"Huh? Oh right. Sorry," she said as the song ended, and they walked off the dance floor. She could see, out of the corner of her eye, Fred and the girl walking off as well.

"It's alright," Anthony smiled. See? Gentleman. "I was just saying, once again, that you look beautiful tonight."

"Thank you," Hermione said. "You have mentioned it. Once or twice. Every five minutes."

Anthony laughed.

"But you are beautiful," he said, seating Hermione down at a table, before taking a seat himself. Fred and the girl were sitting down at the next table. "Especially tonight. Not that you aren't pretty every other day."

"Stop it. You know it sounds so cheesy, right?" The girl was now giving Fred a peck on the cheek. Then she sauntered off, leaving Fred sitting at the table, looking around.

"Yes, but it's true," Anthony said softly, and Hermione's focus was pulled back to the charming boy in front of her. She felt guilty. Why can't she focus on the perfectly nice guy in front of her, and keep on paying attention to the guy she was supposed to be over a month ago?

Because you still like him, a voice at the back of her mind said. Hermione sighed inwardly. The voice was right.

Hermione didn't know what to say to his last comment, so she stayed silent and smiled. It seemed Anthony took this as an encouragement. He brushed a stray lock of her wild hair out of her face, then trailed his hand down her cheek, before leaving it there.

Hermione knew what was coming. She should be feeling excited, but she wasn't. She felt bad. Here was a perfectly nice boy, about to kiss her, and she didn't want to kiss him back. That might be perfectly normal, but the catch is that she knew why she didn't want to kiss him back. She didn't exactly feel bad for not wanting to kiss him, she felt bad because she was thinking about Fred when Anthony was about to kiss her. Before she could do anything, Anthony's lips were on hers.

She closed her too quickly to see Fred watching them.

She tried to enjoy the kiss, even thought she knew straightaway that it wasn't right. Not that he wasn't a good kisser, no. His kissing was more than satisfactory. It was her. It just didn't feel right. She was still thinking about Fred as Anthony's lips moved against hers.

All night she had been thinking about Fred. Her eyes had rarely been off him. He looked so good in his Muggle clothes, and she had felt so murderous towards that Ravenclaw girl that he didn't even invite, that her eyes seldom left the sight of him.

And now she realised why. Now she knew that her feelings had never really left. Maybe they took a vacation, maybe her intense focus on her studies drowned them out, but they were still there, giving subtle signs underneath. She still laughed at his jokes, still got excited when he sat near her, still had little heart flutters when he winked at her. She still liked Fred.

So she gave Anthony a slight kiss and pulled away.

Fred didn't watch the girl as she sauntered away. He was so glad she had finally left. He had been wishing for her departure since five minutes after she arrived. His eyes wandered the Hall, having not much to do. That was when they fell upon the sight of Goldstein and Hermione, at the next table. Goldstein had his hand on Hermione's cheek, and their faces were close. Fred knew what was coming.

That intense hollow feeling rose into his stomach again. He was jealous, he knew it. He tried to look away, to push his jealousy away, to quench the urge to go over there and pull them apart, because he had no excuse to disrupt Hermione's love life. She might not like him back. She might like Goldstein, and like her or not, he wasn't allowed to interfere.

But then Goldstein kissed her, and Fred felt like he was punched in the stomach. He tried to look away, but found that he couldn't. He couldn't stand it anymore. He stood up and walked over.

Hermione startled slightly in surprise when she heard the cough. She looked up to find Fred looking down at them with a smile that seemed slightly strained. Her eyes flicked to Anthony. Only five seconds had passed since she pulled away from the chaste kiss.

"I was wondering if you could let me borrow Hermione for a minute," Fred said to Anthony, and Hermione thought she could hear coldness in his voice.

"Sure," Anthony said back, either not hearing the coldness in Fred's voice, or not particularly concerned. Turning to Hermione, he said, "I'll go get some drinks."

As Anthony walked away, Fred offered his hand to Hermione.

"Dance?"

A slow song was playing, and emotions swelled up inside Hermione. She couldn't resist.

"Sure," she smiled.

She placed her hand in his, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. When they got there, she went to place her hand on his shoulder, but he took both her arms and wrapped it around his neck. Hermione blushed. It was extremely intimate, but she didn't mind. She also noticed his hands on the patch of skin her dress had decided to leave bare at her back much more than she had noticed Anthony's. She sighed mentally. She's got it bad.

So they stood there, in the middle of the dance floor, arms around each other, ignoring the fact that they were surrounded by people. They were enjoying themselves and each other far too much. They didn't talk, at all. After a few minutes, Hermione was feeling acutely awkward. It's would have been romantic with any other guy, and even Fred, if their history wasn't so...detailed, but she was feeling awkward. She looked up to find Fred staring at her.

"Stop staring at me," she whispered.

"Sorry," Fed said, taking his eyes off her and moving his gaze to a spot somewhere over her shoulder. They still stayed silent, Fred seeming to be in deep thought, so Hermione decided to speak up.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"I have no use for a penny," Fred pointed out, surprising Hermione by his mere knowledge of what a penny was.

"I didn't think you'd know what a penny is," she admitted.

Fred made a mocking hurt face. "You've wounded me. So you really think I'm that stupid?"

"No, I was just saying," Hermione said. "Fine, if not a penny, then a Knut. A Knut for your thoughts?"

Fred looked at her thoughtfully. She had a feeling he was deciding whether or not to tell her.

"You really want to know?"

"Is it that bad?"

"In a way, yes."

"Tell me."

"If you say so," Fred said. Then he hesitated for a while, before taking a breath and breathing out. "I can't take it anymore."

"Take what anymore?" Hermione asked.

"Seeing you kiss other guys," he said, surprising Hermione and confusing her even more, though striking a flare of hope in her.

"Why?" she asked, trying to keep her tone innocent. "Do I really need to be protected that much? I can do fine without your brotherly protectiveness, you know. Not that, you know, I don't want it, I just..."

"No," Fred cut her off. "It's because I'm in love with you."

Hermione didn't know what to say to that. She's thrilled out of her mind, hearing him declare it like that, so stunned was she that she didn't know how to respond.

"It hasn't been there for a while. I think it was the same with you," Fred said. "But since tonight, maybe since that day at Gladrags, I've started...falling for you all over again. I noticed how beautiful you were that day, I ruled out all the slutty dresses because I really didn't want you to wear them, and I didn't realise until later that Goldstein was going to see you in this dress as well, and got crazy jealous about it. And tonight, I wore Muggle clothes because I unconsciously wanted to impress you. I could barely keep my eyes off you. And when Goldstein kissed you-Merlin, I could have killed him. I didn't realise it until tonight, but I'm in love with you, Hermione."

Hermione was still stunned, at his confession and at his rant.

"Good Lord, say something, Hermione. You're killing me."

Hermione laughed.

"Me, too," she said. "I suppose I'm in love with you, too."

"So will you kiss me?"

"Sure."

So they kissed. Their lips met as they danced in the middle of the dance floor, arms wrapped around each other. Hermione realised she had missed kissing Fred. It felt good to have his lips on hers again, to run her hand through his hair, to have his hand pressing at her back. Their kiss was soft but still passionate, making up for all the time they had missed.

They broke apart after a while, needing air. They stood on the dance floor, gazing at each other, smiling brightly.

"I just remembered," Hermione said, memory hitting her. "What about Anthony? I can't just dump him. He's such a nice guy. He wouldn't ditch me like I'm doing right now."

Fred looked hurt.

"I'm sorry. That was stupid," Hermione said hastily. "It's just...never mind."

Fred chuckled slightly.

"I'm not mad at you, love," he said, sending lava through Hermione's veins with joy at calling her 'love'. "He may be in your thoughts now, but I will dominate your mind for the rest of your life."

Hermione laughed. She liked Fred this way.

"But he wouldn't be kissing someone right now, would he?" she asked.

"You sure about that?" Fred asked back, jerking his head to a spot behind her head. As they spun around, Hermione caught sight of Anthony in one corner of the Hall, kissing someone who seemed to be the Ravenclaw who was flirting with Fred earlier.

"Ah," she said vaguely. "Should I feel hurt?"

"I don't know," Fred replied. "Are you?" He would kill Goldstein if she was hurt.

"No," Hermione answered, and he felt relieved. He didn't want to be in Azkaban before he tuned 20. He didn't want to be in Azkaban ever at all.

"Good," he said. "Now, attention back to me." Hermione snorted, but turned back to him. "Let's go somewhere else."

"Yeah," Hermione agreed. "I'm getting tired."

They walked out of the Hall hand in hand. They walked to the grounds on Hermione's suggestion, since it wasn't snowing too hard. Fred conjured up a coat for Hermione as they sat down next to the lake. They watched the Giant Squid drag its tentacles lazily across the surface of the Lake, amusedly watching other couples disappear into snow-brushed bushes, and reappearing a few minutes later looking disheveled.

"What about Ron?" Fred asked, suddenly remembering. "He would be really mad, wouldn't he?"

"To be honest, right now, I really don't care about Ron," said Hermione with her head on his shoulder. "I won't ever care about what he thinks about my love life anymore. He can shout at me all he wants. I love you, no one can stop me from being with you."

Fred beamed.

"You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that," he said, brushing a few flakes of snow out of her hair. He could feel Hermione's smile radiating from his shoulder. "Hermione."

She turned to look at him.

"I love you," he said, meaning every word.

"I love you, too," Hermione said back, feeling like she was on seventh heaven.

And as they kissed, beside the shimmering lake, underneath the falling snow, Hermione almost couldn't believe she had somehow managed to convince herself that she didn't like Fred anymore.

Because it was undeniable.

She was in love with Fred Weasley.

"You ready?" her father asked, appearing within her view at the make-up table mirror, in front of which she was sitting.

"Yes," Hermione answered, looking up at her father, both of them wearing wide beams. She allowed her father to help her up, and take her to the full-length mirror, where she took one last look at her unmarried self. The next time she looked in a mirror, she'll be married, to the man she loved.

Her dress was a floaty, white floor length piece with a sweet-heart neckline, a bodice that hugged her figure, and a flowing, ruffled skirt. Suddenly, Hermione was thrown back into the memory of a certain summer. The summer before her fifth year, a week before school started again. She remembered having a strange dream, the first of a series. She smiled. She had dreamed of this, her wedding. Who would have known it would come true? She wondered if she would be here if they didn't happen.

"I'm ready," she said to her father. "Let's go."

The next thing she knew, she was at the bottom of the aisle. Everyone stood up to welcome the bride. And there he was, at the other end of the aisle, next to the wedding minister and his best man. Fred, beaming with joy and love as he looked at her. She beamed back.

As she walked up the aisle, she wondered how ironic this was. Everyone talked about wanting their dreams to come true. In actual truth, their dreams weren't technically dreams at all. Not a series of images their brains had conjured while they were sleeping, just hopes and wishes. Whereas she was in the exact position she had literally dreamed about all those years ago. Getting married to the guy of her literal dreams.

Maybe she oughtn't be surprised this is happening, seeing as all her other dreams have had the same result. But it was still funny.

Her dreams have come true.

A/N: Edited on 26 February, 2014.

I decided to edit this, because I mean to put the epilogue into the last chapter, and I've been putting it off for too long. Plus one of my friends is reading this, so I have to fix it.

But yeah. Ok, bye! Thanks again to anyone who has favourite, followed or reviewed even after this story was finished. You all are a treasure.