Chance--A Fremione OneShot

Fourth Year: The Yule Ball

"[Harry] climbed into the common room and found Ron and Hermione having ablazing row. Standing ten feet apart, they were bellowing at each other, eachscarlet in the face."

—J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Gobletof Fire, Chapter 23

***

Hermione was fuming. Her anger and frustration and—she had to admit it—hurt were boiling over. She had reached a breaking point, and she knew she had to escape. Curfew be damned; Hermione had to move, had to work everything out of her system before she would be able to sleep that night. Throwing her normally trusty caution to the birds, she crept out of her dormitory, but she didn't stop when she reached the common room. She continued out of the portrait hole and down the corridors. Her wand tip dimly lit her path, but her mind was in another place ruminating. Her feet carried her by rote through the castle, succumbing to their own designs.

Later, when she thought back to that night, it impressed her that she met not one teacher or prefect roaming the halls on the night of the Yule Ball, when they were likely posted on extra duties. Nonetheless, she made it all the way down to the Great Hall undisturbed. Wasting no time, she opened the massive doors a sliver, shimmied in, and closed them again as quietly as possible. The massive room was enveloped in darkness. As soon as the doors rested shut, a soft creak sounded directly behind her. She wasn't alone.

Hermione whirled around, and a shadowy figure loomed over her. She screamed, but a hand clamped over her mouth. Blood pounded in her ears. She panicked for a second, then instinct kicked in. She lashed out with her nails but missed.

"Shhh!" a voice hissed at her. Did she just get shushed by her attacker? She pushed the thought away and kicked out wildly. She felt her foot connect.

"Ooof!"

She paused as the figure sputtered into coughs, stifling the sound in their sleeves. Okay, attackers definitely didn't act like that.

"Who's there?" she hissed.

"Merlin's beard, what was that for?!" came the hoarse reply.

Being freed from their grasp (and back to her senses), she raised her wand. Light scattered across the entryway to the Great Hall and revealed Fred doubled over in his coughing fit. Her thoughts hovered for a moment as she fully took in the sight before her. Then, she burst into laughter, unable to control herself, and clamped her own hands over her mouth this time. Fred looked up at her with annoyance painted on his face, but his eyes twinkled.

"Something funny?" he whispered, and his characteristic grin returned as he recovered and righted himself.

"Yes," Hermione gasped. "Your face!"

A distinct thud sounded on the other side of the doors, and they both froze. It could be Peeves mucking about, or it could be...

Fred grabbed Hermione's hand and hurried off to the side of the hall. It was still arranged for the Yule Ball with smaller tables circling its perimeter. Most of the other decorations had been cleared, including the chairs, but long tablecloths that hung to the floor still covered each table. Fred ducked under one table at random and pulled Hermione under with him. He hastily stilled the cloth as they heard the great doors creak open. Light flickered under the crack of the tablecloth as it filtered into the hall.

Hermione met Fred's eyes and felt an instant connection. As one, they stilled their breathing, settled their heartrates, and quieted their twitching muscles. Never looking away for an instant, barely even blinking, they listened as footsteps echoed across the hall to the far end. The echoes turned towards the corner of the room, then seemed to weave back towards them through the many tables. A tiny shadow darkened their tablecloth, and they heard the grating cries of Mrs. Norris howling on the other side. Still, neither of them moved at all. The heavy, uneven footfalls eventually passed by their table and retreated, and the small cat's shadow followed.