The next day, Harry woke up with a nervous feeling. That day was the party.
He went to his classes as usual but didn't listen or pay attention to what the teachers were saying.
At transfiguration, Hermione came up to him" You seems to be off-track today, is the Slughorn's party bothering you?"
" I don't know how to behave in front of Tonks."
"Just be nice, okay?"
When he arrived in the entrance hall at eight o'clock that night, he found an unusually large number of girls lurking there, all of whom seemed to be staring at him resentfully.
He approached Tonks, who was standing there, lost in her own thoughts. She was wearing a shiny blue dress with silver sparkling on the waist. Her shoulder-lengthed hair was unchanged, still mousy brown. Harry has to admit, she was beautiful in her own way.
" I'm sorry I couldn't make myself more good-looking, my metamorph abilities —" she stopped, giving Harry an apologetic smile. Again, the smile felt forced.
"Hi," he said awkwardly. "Shall we get going then?"
"Oh yes. Where is the party?"
"Slughorn's office," said Harry, leading her up the marble staircase away from all the staring and muttering.
She gently held his hand, which he didn't refuse. Her hand felt icy, without a single trace of warmth, unlike last year.
"Are you cold?" said Harry while glancing at her.
"No, I'm fine."
" You seem to be unhappy this year."
" First Sirius, then Madam Bones and My Auror friends. So many people died. Now there is someone—" she silenced herself again.
Harry didn't push her further, knowing she would not have wanted to answer.
"AHA!" screamed a voice from overhead. They had just passed right underneath Peeves, who was hanging upside down from a chandelier and grinning maliciously at them.
" Potty and Nymphie are going to the party! Potty lurves Nymphie! Potty Luuuuurves Nyyyyyyymphie!"
And he zoomed away, crackling and shrieking " Potty loves Nymphie!"
They were already approaching Slughorn's office and the sounds of laughter, music, and loud conversation were growing louder with every step they took.
Whether it had been built that way, or because he had used magical trickery to make it so, Slughorn's office was much larger than the usual teacher's study. The ceiling and walls had been draped with emerald, crimson, and gold hangings so that it looked as though they were all inside a vast tent. The room was crowded and stuffy and bathed in the red light cast by an ornate golden lamp dangling from the center of the ceiling in which real fairies were fluttering, each a brilliant speck of light. Loud singing accompanied by what sounded like mandolins issued from a distant corner; a haze of pipe smoke hung over several elderly warlocks deep in conversation, and a number of house-elves were negotiating their way squeakily through the forest of knees, obscured by the heavy silver platters of food they were born, so that they looked like little roving tables.
"Harry, m'boy!" boomed Slughorn, almost as soon as they had squeezed in through the door. "And who are you?"
"Tonks sir. I graduated the year before Harry started school."
"Ah, I remember your mother, brightest witch of her age. Now come in, come in, so many people I'd like you two to meet."
Slughorn was wearing a tasseled velvet hat to match his smoking jacket. Gripping Harry's arm so tightly he might have been hoping to Disapparate with him, Slughorn led him purposefully into the party. Harry dragged Tonks along with him.
"Harry, I'd like you to meet Eldred Worple, an old student of mine, author of Blood Brothers: My Life Amongst the Vampires —and, of course, his friend Sanguini."
Worple, who was a small, stout, bespectacled man, grabbed Harry's hand and shook it enthusiastically; the vampire Sanguini, who was tall and emaciated with dark shadows under his eyes, merely nodded. He looked rather bored. A gaggle of girls was standing close to him, looking curious and excited.
"Harry Potter, I am simply delighted!" said Worple, peering shortsightedly up into Harry's face. "I was saying to Professor Slughorn only the other day, 'Where is the biography of Harry Potter for which we have all been waiting?' "
"Er," said Harry, "were you?"
"Just as modest as Horace described!" said Worple. "But seriously" — his manner changed; it became suddenly businesslike —"I would be delighted to write it myself — people are craving to know more about you, dear boy, craving! If you were prepared to grant me a few interviews, say in four- or five-hour sessions, why, we could have the book finished within months. And all with very little effort on your part, I assure you — ask Sanguini here if it isn't quite — Sanguini, stay here!" added Worple, suddenly stern, for the vampire had been edging toward the nearby group of girls, a rather hungry look in his eye. "Here, have a pasty," said Worple, seizing one from a passing elf and stuffing it into Sanguini's hand before turning his attention back to Harry.
"My dear boy, the gold you could make, you have no idea —"
" Could you see that Harry is not interested?" interrupted Tonks.
He pulled her after him into the crowd. They were all dancing. Harry saw Dean, Luna, Neville, Hannah and he greeted each of them. But no Hermione. She would be here soon, thought Harry.
"Uh, do you want to dance?" Harry asked.
"I don't even know how to! Besides, I'm really clumsy."
"I am not a good dancer either. Follow my movements."
After a few minutes, Harry said" I wonder where is Hermione? She should be here by now."
"Hermione! Hermione!" He called.
He had indeed just seen a long mane of brown hair disappear between what looked like two members of the Weird Sisters.
"Harry! There you are, thank goodness! Hi, Tonks! You have your metamorph abilities back, cool."
"It's all because of Harry." She smiled at the bushy-haired witch. A true smile this time. And her hair completely became bubble-gum pink.
"Anyway, What happened to you?" asked Harry, for Hermione looked distinctly disheveled, rather as though she had just fought her way out of a thicket of Devil's Snare.
"Oh, I've just escaped — I mean, I've just left Cormac," she said. "Under the mistletoe," she added in explanation, as Harry continued to look questioningly at her.
"You took Mclaggen?!"
"I thought he'd annoy Ron most," said Hermione dispassionately. "I debated for a while about Zacharias Smith, but I thought, on the whole —"
"You considered Smith?" said Harry, revolted.
"Yes, I did, and I'm starting to wish I'd chosen him, McLaggen makes Grawp looks a gentleman. Let's go this way, we'll be able to see him coming, he's so tall. . . ."
The three of them made their way over to the other side of the room.
Harry drew closer to Hermione and said, "Let's get something straight. Are you planning to tell Ron that you interfered at Keeper tryouts?"
Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Do you really think I'd stoop that low?"
Harry looked at her shrewdly. "Hermione, if you can ask out McLaggen —"
"There's a difference," said Hermione with dignity. "I've got no plans to tell Ron anything about what might, or might not, have happened at Keeper tryouts."
"Good," said Harry fervently. "Because he'll just fall apart again, and we'll lose the next match —"
"Quidditch!" said Hermione angrily. "Is that all boys care about? Cormac hasn't asked me one single question about myself, no, I've just been treated to 'A Hundred Great Saves Made by Cormac McLaggen' nonstop ever since — oh no, here he comes!"
She moved so fast it was as though she had Disapparated; one moment she was there, the next, she had squeezed between two guffawing witches and vanished.
"Seen Hermione?" asked McLaggen, forcing his way through the throng a minute later.
"No, sorry," said Harry as Mclaggen left.
Then, to Harry's horror, he saw Slughorn as he threw out an arm and seemed to scoop Snape out of thin air toward them.
A/N: recommendation: The Lion and the Eagle {Huna} by _JustImagining_(Harry/Luna fanfic, it's pretty good)