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The Great Hall had never looked like this before.
Ice shimmered along the walls, enchanted snowflakes drifting lazily from the ceiling, melting before they touched the floor. Music floated through the air—soft strings at first, then something warmer, more insistent. Harry stood near the edge of the dance floor, painfully aware of his stiff dress robes and the fact that he didn’t know what to do with his hands.
And then he saw her.
Hermione sat at one of the smaller tables, slightly apart from the crowd. Candlelight caught in her hair, turned it into something golden and unreal. She wasn’t talking much—just watching, observing, as she always did. And yet Harry couldn’t look away.
There you see her
Sitting there across the way
His chest felt tight. This was Hermione—his best friend, the girl who had stood beside him through trolls and dragons and things far worse. And yet tonight, something had shifted. He couldn’t name it, only feel it.
She don’t got a lot to say
But there’s something about her
Harry swallowed. He didn’t know why his pulse was racing, why his feet felt rooted to the spot, but the pull toward her was undeniable.
And you don’t know why
But you’re dying to try
Hermione looked up.
Their eyes met across the room, and for a heartbeat, the noise of the Ball faded. She smiled—not the bright, laughing one she gave Ron or Ginny, but something quieter. Something meant just for him.
Harry’s breath caught.
Look at her, you know you do
Possible she wants you too
The thought sent a jolt through him. Wanting and daring were two very different things. He shifted his weight, unsure whether to move closer or stay exactly where he was.
There is one way to ask her
It don’t take a word
Not a single word
The music swelled. Couples drifted past him, laughing, spinning, fearless. Harry felt suddenly, acutely shy.
Go on and kiss the girl
He almost laughed at himself. Kiss her? Here? Now? The idea was terrifying.
Sha-la-la-la-la-la
My oh my
Look like the boy too shy
Hermione tilted her head, watching him. The corners of her mouth curved upward, amused, fond—and patient. She wasn’t rushing him. She never did.
Ain’t gonna kiss the girl
Ain’t that sad?
Too bad, he gonna miss the girl
Something inside Harry snapped—not broke, but clicked into place.
He crossed the floor.
Now’s your moment
Floating in a blue lagoon
Boy, you better do it soon
Hermione stood when he reached her. Neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. The space between them felt charged, alive.
No time will be better
Harry lifted his hand, hesitated—then Hermione closed the distance herself, fingers curling into his sleeve.
She don’t say a word
And she won’t say a word
Until you kiss the girl
Their lips met softly, uncertain at first, then surer. The world narrowed to warmth and breath and the quiet hum of magic in the air. Harry forgot the crowd, forgot the music, forgot everything except her.
Sha-la-la-la-la-la
Don’t be scared
You got the mood prepared
When they pulled apart, Hermione was smiling—eyes bright, cheeks flushed.
They danced after that. Not particularly well, but together. Harry’s hand rested at her waist; Hermione’s fingers curled into his shoulder. Every turn felt natural, inevitable.
Go on and kiss the girl
Don’t stop now
Don’t try to hide it how
You want to kiss the girl
They laughed when Harry nearly stepped on her hem. He leaned down to whisper something ridiculous, just to hear her laugh again.
Float along
And listen to the song
The song say kiss the girl
Later, they slipped outside, away from the noise, snow crunching beneath their shoes. The castle loomed behind them, warm and glowing.
The music play
Do what the music say
You got to kiss the girl
Harry kissed her again—slower this time, more certain. Hermione leaned into him, forehead resting against his.
You’ve got to kiss the girl
Oh, don’t you wanna kiss the girl
Go on and kiss the girl
The night wrapped around them, quiet and full of promise. And Harry knew—without doubt—that this was only the beginning.