"I can't believe we didn't find dates," Ron moans, flopping back down on his bed. "How are we supposed to go if we don't have dates?"
Harry shrugs, staring hatefully at the dress robes spread over the end of his bed. "I don't know. There is no one left for us to ask. And I have to go." He throws his arms up, heaving a sigh. "I can't go without a date!"
"Isn't there anyone left for you?" Ron props himself up on his elbows, staring at Harry. "There's got to be someone."
"There isn't."
"Are you sure?"
"I asked everyone I could think of - they all said they already had dates."
Ron groans, dropping onto his back. "You definitely can't go without a date."
"Thanks for stating the obvious, Ron," Harry mutters.
"Welcome." Ron lays on his back for a moment, then sits up suddenly. "Hey, why don't we just go together?"
"Huh?" Harry stares at him blankly for a long minute. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, we can go together. As friends. It's not like we need to dance together, right?" Ron laughs. "Besides, we wouldn't be the only two people without dates then. And you wouldn't get it with McGonagall!"
Harry thinks about it. He finally nods. "I guess we could do that. What harm could it bring?"'
/\/\
When they get downstairs, they realize their mistake.
"What do you mean, we have to dance together?" Harry says, waving his arms around frantically. "I'm not dancing with him! I can barely dance normally!"
For once, Ron doesn't feel offense. He can't dance either.
"Mr. Weasley is your date, Mr. Potter," McGonagall says crisply. "All the champions must dance with their dates to open the ball - it is tradition."
"But - I can't dance with Ron!"
"You should have thought of that before you came together as dates," McGonagall says before turning with a swish of her dress, leaving them to stare at each other with horror-stricken faces.
"Potter!" McGonagall calls sharply, startling them from their daze. "Come! Join your fellow champions."
Harry doesn't move until Ron grabs his arm, dragging him behind Cedric.
"Come on, Harry," he says. "We can do this."
"Right, right," Harry mumbles. "We can do this. It's just dancing."
They're led out onto the dance floor, past hundreds of people gawking at them.
"Harry," Ron hisses. "Put your hand on my shoulder."
"What?" Harry hisses right back. "Are you kidding me?"
"Just do it!"
Before Harry can stop him, Ron has grabbed his waist and hand, leaving Harry no choice but to set his hand on his friend's shoulder.
"I hate you," Harry mutters as Ron leads him across the dance floor. He says it every single time they pass another person, happening more and more frequently as the dance floor fills. Once it has almost filled completely, Ron lets go of Harry and allows him to step away.
They find themselves seats at the edge of the room, as far away from people as they can possibly be.
