The Great Hall had never been more beautifully decorated. The air itself seemed to be infused with excitement, and the various colors worn by those attending the Ball seemed to brighten the large room. Students stood in the Entrance Hall waiting for their friends or dates.

Ron looked down at his robes. Hana had done an excellent job in refitting them. Resizing the clothing so that it fit across his broader shoulders, however, had left the robes a little short for his lanky frame. Even this would have been acceptable to the Ron, as he was rather used to outgrowing his clothes, anyway, but Hana was not satisfied. So the elf had used some of the fabric from the maroon robes to add length to the black ones.

The final result was that the robes now had a broad border of dark red that was far enough from his head to keep from clashing badly with his hair. Ron thought he even caught a few girls giving him second glances as he waited for Harry to show up.

Harry took the long way around to get to the Great Hall to avoid the Slytherins going to the Ball. While he was actually looking forward to the event a bit now, he had no desire to encounter any of those who seemed to take his presence in Snape's quarters as a personal insult.

By the time he arrived, many of the other students were already clustered in the Entrance Hall. He spotted Ron at foot of the Grand Staircase and proceeded through the crowd to reach his friend. Some people moved aside for him to pass, while others gave him annoyed scowls.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed as he was jostled into someone's shoulder.

"It is alright," said a heavily accented voice, as its owner took him by the elbow steady him. "It voz not entirely your fault."

Harry looked up in surprise. "You're Viktor Krum," he stated, immediately feeling like an idiot for saying something so obvious.

The corner of the older boy's mouth twitched in amusement. "Yes. And you are –"

"Harry, you came!" A pretty girl in pale blue robes suddenly threw herself at Harry, hugging him enthusiastically. "You look great!"

It took Harry a moment to recognize her. "Hermione? You... you look beautiful," he stammered, his face turning red. "I told you I was coming earlier today."

"I know, but I didn't actually believe you would," Hermione admitted sheepishly. Her hair had been done up very elegantly, with little ringlets framing her face.

"I had to, remember?"

"Yes. That's right," the girl said.

"So, who did you come with?" Harry asked, looking around at the surrounding students.

"That vould be me," Krum spoke up, drawing the younger boy's attention back to him (Harry had forgotten he was there). Harry looked at Hermione, taking her flushed cheeks as confirmation. "You are Harry Potter, von of Hermy-own's good friends, yes?"

"Um, yeah. It's, uh, good to meet you," the Boy-Who-Lived awkwardly extended his hand to the Quidditch star, who cordially shook it.

"Champions over here!" Professor McGonagall called.

"Later, Harry," Hermione grinned at him, taking the arm Krum offered to her. She continued to look at him over her shoulder until there were too many people in the way. She sighed.

"You are vorried about him?" Viktor asked, noting her expression.

"No," she answered quickly. "Well... a bit. Harry hasn't really been himself much, lately. He's had a lot on his mind."

"Such as who tried to enter him into the Tournament."

"Well, ye – you don't think he did so, himself?" Hermione was surprised by this.

"Anyvon who vatched his expression ven it seemed he vould haff to compete, vould haff seen how frightened he voz," Krum explained. "Then, vhen he voz disqualified, I haff never seen anyvon more relieved. I do not blame him – I vould haff been terrified if I had not intended to enter the Tournament."

The girl nodded, but said nothing more as they were directed to line up and enter the Great Hall.

0o0o0

"Why are you wearing Slytherin colors?" was the first thing out of Ron's mouth upon seeing his friend's robes.

Harry frowned at him. "I'm not wearing Slytherin colors," he responded. "I'm wearing... well, green. And gold." He knew the latter for a fact because he'd specifically asked Hana to turn the silver trim on the robes to pale gold.

"Yeah, Slytherin green."

"Emerald green. And gold. And I like the way they look," stated Harry. He struggled a moment to maintain a straight face. "Are we really going to argue about the color of my robes?"

Suddenly, Ron was having trouble composing his expression, as well. "Well, they do match your eyes," he said seriously. "That bright, Slytherin green."

"Emerald green. And I'm afraid the trim on your robes doesn't match you hair," Harry returned, then laughed. "This is so stupid." They both broke into laughter at this, drawing looks from those around them, which succeeded only in making them laugh all the more.

"Let's go in," Ron suggested once they'd finally stopped, still grinning broadly. "We don't want to miss out on the food."

"Are you ever not hungry?"

"Hey!"

They found seats with Neville and Ginny shortly before the feast started. After Harry elbowed Ron in the ribs to keep him from glaring at Hermione and Krum, reminding him that he should have asked her earlier if he didn't want to see her with someone else (which the redhead adamantly denied), the Ball continued pleasantly. In fact, it was the happiest time Harry could recall in quite some time.

Hermione made sure to dance a couple times with each of her friends, telling Harry how good he looked (and she wasn't merely talking about his clothes). She wasn't sure what might have caused it, but something had managed to bring him out of his depression a bit. He was Harry again, quick to smile or utter something with his old wry humor. It was a small miracle, in her eyes – one for which she found herself immensely grateful.

Ron, too, had not failed to notice the difference in his best friend. He intimated to Hermione that he hoped the change wasn't quick in passing. The redhead had felt as though a significant part of his life had been absent as Harry's depression had started to bring him down as well. Being able to see Harry smile – really smile – and joke again meant a great deal to him. He wished that time would stand still, if only to see his friend happy once more.

Most of the night Harry and Ron spent daring one another to ask different girls to dance, or teasing Hermione about her date. They danced with some of the other girls, mostly their classmates, though, Ron was surprised to be approached by one of the girls from Beauxbatons, who shyly asked him to dance with her.

The Ball was more than half over when Harry returned to their table, resting his head on his folded arms. Ron joined him, frowning in concern. "You alright, mate?" he asked.

"Mm," Harry nodded, opening his eyes briefly. "Just tired."

"You sure you don't feel ill or anything?" Hermione inquired. She had excused herself from Krum's company when she saw her friend lay his head on the table top.

Harry nodded again, adding, "It's been a long day." He closed his eyes once more and his breathing became so even, Ron and Hermione weren't entirely sure he hadn't fallen asleep. They looked up in surprise as another figure approached.

"I think that will all for you tonight, Potter." Harry merely turned his head at the sound of the professor's voice. Snape pulled the teen's chair out a bit and took him by the arm. "Up you get, Potter. I didn't go through all the hassle of putting a bed for you in my quarters to have you sleep on a dining table."

"Y'sir," Harry mumbled, as he managed to get himself upright with his teacher's assistance. He just felt so tired all of a sudden.

"Sir?" Hermione spoke up, her anxious expression speaking volumes.

"Good evening, Miss Granger," he responded, ignoring her unspoken question. "Mr. Weasley." With that, he led a disoriented Potter out through the nearest door and down the corridor. Rounding a corner, he brought them to a halt, looking left and right before lifting the boy up in his arms.

"Sorry, sir," the boy murmured. His eyes had drifted shut again. The little brat didn't even attempt to hang on, preventing himself from becoming dead weight; not that he weighed that much, but still.

Snape carried him all the way back to their – no, his – quarters, where he took the boy to his own room and put him to bed, changing him into a pair of pajamas with a wave of his wand. Potter slept through all of it. After tucking the blankets around the boy, the man had the odd urge to brush the hair from the boy's forehead. He was a bit startled when the slumbering teenager leaned into the touch.

"Are you so starved for affection that you're willing to accept it from a man who hates you?" the Potions Master questioned, allowing his hand to linger on the boy's cheek. Harry smiled slightly in his sleep. "Yes, well, I wouldn't go around telling people otherwise, Potter. For one thing, no one would believe you. For another –" He broke off. He was going to say "it isn't true," but he'd suddenly realized that that would have been a falsehood.

He did care. For Lily's son. For the stubborn Gryffindor who clearly had an unhappy home life but somehow managed to function, to make friends. For the usually reckless little pest who'd be a much better student if he only applied himself more. For Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived.

No. Not the Boy-Who-Lived. Not James Potter's son, either. He cared for Harry – just Harry.

When had that happened?

"Hang in there, Potter," Severus spoke quietly. "Use some of that famous Gryffindor stubbornness to buy me time to find an answer for you. I don't... I don't want you to die, Harry, so you'll have to keep fighting, as long as you can." He was thankful the boy wasn't conscious for such a sentimental spiel, but hoped somehow that message would still reach him.

Harry whimpered slightly as Snape withdrew his hand. Part of him wanted to remain at the boy's side a while, but another, the more sensible part, knew he had to go. Turning, he left to spend the rest of the night in his lab.