Chapter 34: The Dancing Shoes of Chaos and the Periwinkle Split part- 2
Nothing happened. The shoes continued their high-speed performance.
Hermione was now doing a bicycle kick motion on Harry's stomach. The friction of her silk stockings against his robes was creating static electricity.
"Harry, hold my legs down!" she begged. "Sit on them if you have to!"
"I cannot sit on your legs, Hermione!" Harry yelled, his face burning. "That would be... improper!"
"I am flashing you in black lace while doing the Can-Can on your chest!" she screamed hysterically. "We passed improper five minutes ago! Just stop the kicking!"
Harry, realizing the logic, grabbed her ankles. He pinned her legs down to the cushions.
The shoes fought back. They vibrated aggressively in his hands, trying to launch another kick.
Hermione collapsed forward onto his chest, sobbing into his neck.
"Why?" she moaned. "Why is my life a series of increasingly elaborate stripteases?"
"It is the shoes," Harry panted, holding her ankles firm. "They are evil."
"System Alert," the voice chimed, sounding like it was giving a standing ovation. "Incident recorded. Type: The 'Can-Can Catastrophe'. Lower body exposure via possessed footwear. Sustained rhythmic contact. Target: Hermione Granger. Victim: Harry Potter. Rating: S-class. Reward: Skill 'Music Manipulation' and one hundred attribute points."
I finally decided to end their misery.
"I have got it!" I shouted. "Immobulus!"
I hit the shoes with a freezing charm. They stopped moving instantly.
Hermione went limp. Harry let go of her ankles, looking at his hands as if they were foreign objects.
"Is it over?" Hermione whispered.
"It is over," I confirmed. "The shoes are neutralized."
Hermione rolled off Harry and curled into a ball on the cushions, wrapping the tattered remains of her periwinkle armor around her.
"My dress," she sniffed. "It is ruined. The seam is destroyed. I cannot fix Dragon-hide. It needs a goblin tailor."
"We can transfigure it," I suggested. "Or... you could just wear the stockings? They looked quite... expensive."
Hermione shot me a look that could have killed a Basilisk.
"I am going to the ball in a potato sack," she declared. "A burlap sack. With no shoes. And I am going to float two inches off the ground so I do not trip."
Harry sat up, adjusting his glasses. He looked shaken, but there was that look again. The "Conditioning" was working. He wasn't just horrified; he was... admiring.
"The lace was nice," Harry blurted out before his brain could stop his mouth.
Hermione froze. She looked at Harry.
"What?"
"I said... the space... was nice," Harry corrected quickly, sweating profusely. "Lots of room in here."
Hermione stared at him for a long moment. Then, she let out a hysterical giggle.
"You liked the lace," she accused, pointing a trembling finger at him. "You pervert. You liked it."
"I am a teenage boy!" Harry defended himself, his voice cracking. "And you were doing gymnastics on my spleen! What was I supposed to do? Close my eyes and think of Hagrid?"
"Yes!" Hermione shouted. "Always think of Hagrid!"
I clapped my hands. "Alright, lovebirds. Break it up. We need to get Hermione out of those shoes before the spell wears off."
We spent the next ten minutes prying the silver heels off Hermione's feet. She threw them into the corner of the room where they immediately started tap-dancing by themselves.
We walked back to the common room in silence. Hermione was barefoot, carrying her ruined dress. Harry was walking with a slight limp where she had kicked him.
"So," I said casually. "Yule Ball is in two days. Ready?"
"I am not going," Hermione said.
"You have to," Harry said quietly. "You are Krum's date. Wait... are you Krum's date?"
Hermione stopped. She looked at Harry.
"I haven't said yes to him yet," she admitted. "I was waiting."
"Waiting for what?" Harry asked.
"For someone else to ask me," she whispered, looking at her bare feet.
Harry blinked. The gears in his head, usually clogged with Quidditch tactics and Voldemort angst, finally turned. He thought about the lace. He thought about the snowsuit incident. He thought about the dream.
"Hermione," Harry said, stepping closer. "If... if I ask you... will you promise not to wear possessed shoes?"
Hermione looked up. A small smile broke through her misery.
"Only if you promise to catch me when I fall."
"I always do," Harry smiled back.
I gagged theatrically. "Oh, please. Save it for the dance floor. Just ask her, Harry, before she accidentally flashes the Fat Lady."
"Will you go to the ball with me?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Hermione beamed. "Yes, I will."
(Mission accomplished,) I thought. (Phase One complete. They are a couple. Now for Phase Two: The Ball itself.)
I had 100 new points. And I had "Music Manipulation".
The Yule Ball wasn't just going to be a dance. It was going to be a musical number. And I was going to make sure the tempo was set to "Chaos".
As we climbed through the portrait hole, I glanced back at the empty corridor.
The game was fun. But seeing my two best friends actually happy? That was a nice bonus.
Of course, that didn't mean I was going to let them have a peaceful night. Oh no.
I checked the System Shop one last time before bed.
Item: The Invisible Banana Peel Generator (150 points).
I chuckled.
(Yule Ball, here we come.)
The Great Hall had been transformed into a winter wonderland of sparkling silver frost and starry ceilings, but inside the Gryffindor boys' dormitory, the atmosphere was more akin to a funeral parlor before a botched cremation.
Harry Potter stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his dress robes. They were bottle green and, thankfully, quite sharp. However, the wizard wearing them looked like he was preparing to wrestle a Hungarian Horntail again.
"I look like I am going to be sick," Harry muttered, pulling at his collar. "I feel it, Ron. The 'Curse' is waiting. It is laughing at me."
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