Summary: Its their seventh year and the Head Boy and Girl have organized a Valentine's Day dance. All Lyra wants is for her crush to ask her and all James wants is to find his Gryffindor courage. Thankfully this pair has a Fairy Godmother in the form of the bossy part-Veela Dominique Weasley.
It was the dead of winter, temperatures well below what any sane person would risk going outside in. Unfortunately, I was far from what most people classify as sane. My friend Dominique Weasley says I'm as batty as McGonagall. I don't think that's true because I would never have made Dom Head Girl like our intimidating Headmistress did. Then again McGonagall could have been match-making again like she did with Victoire Weasley and Teddy Lupin. She made Dom's long-time crush, a handsome Ravenclaw boy by name of Jonathan Wood and son of famous Quidditch player Oliver Wood, Head Boy. Personally, though, I don't try to divine the inner workings of the Hogwarts Headmistress's mind. Nope, instead I wander around outside because I'm desperate to be by myself on a Saturday afternoon in February. The reason I want to be alone, you ask? Because I am pathetic. Pathetic, and alone, and would rather not have the great big pink hearts Dom and the Prefects have been hanging up all over the castle rub it in my face because, you guessed it, today is Valentine's Day and, like every other year, I am dateless.
It's not that I really mind being dateless. I've been dateless on Valentine's Day for the past seventeen years. What I do mind is that for the first time ever Hogwarts is having a school-wide Valentine's Day dance. Dom is the mastermind behind it all, of course, and I, as her best friend, am expected to help her decorate the Great Hall for the event. She has also demanded that I actually attend, regardless of whether or not I have a date. Now, don't get me wrong, I love Dominique, but sometimes I would really quite like to strangle her.
I sighed and kicked at the snow. The snow crunched and white powder flew into the air leaving an indent shaped like my foot in the snowdrift. The grounds were covered in the fluffy white stuff as were the branches of the trees of the Forbidden Forest. I could see the forest from where I walked along the shore of the Black Lake. I could also see the ripples on the water created by the Giant Squid as it floated near the surface trying desperately to catch as much of what little heat the sunshine gave off as it could. If I wasn't in such a melancholy state of mind I would have found the whole effect to be very Winter Wonderland-ish.
I bent down and stuck my hand wrist deep into the snow. I fumbled around under the snow until I found the perfect stone. It was flat and smooth on both sides and a dark gray color. I adjusted my grip on the skipping rock, then, with a flick of my wrist, sent it hopping across the water. It skipped three times and with each bounce I made a silent wish: Please, please let him ask me to the dance.
As the stone finally sank down into the murky depths of the lake I felt my hopes go with it. I sat down heavily on a large boulder and sighed. He's not going to ask you, the quiet voice that always sounded like my viper of a cousin Natalia Goyle whispered nastily in my head. Why would he? For one, it's the day of the dance; and for two, he's James Sirius Potter, son of the Chosen One, handsome and smart and funny. You're Lyra Bellatrix Malfoy, daughter of his father's hated school rival, named for a Death Eater. You're nothing special; average marks, average looks, average personality. You read too much, bite your nails—
"Oi! Malfoy!"
I jerked around. A girl with waist-length, dark strawberry blonde hair and pale skin that was a stark contrast with her black school robes was making her way towards me through the snow. A scowl was fixed firmly on Dominique Weasley's pretty face, her naturally red tinted lips pursed. "What you want Weasley?" I shot back.
Dom's scowl deepened if that was possible. "What I want," she said irritably when she reached me, "is to know why you aren't in the castle helping me with the bloody decorations."
I sighed. "I've only been gone a few minutes," I said as I scooted over so Dom could sit.
Dom plunked herself down next to me; for a part Veela she could be remarkably ungraceful at times. "You've been gone an hour and a half," she corrected me.
"Really? It's been that long?"
"Yes it's been that long. What're you doing out here anyway?"
I smiled wistfully. Contrary to popular belief I am not a Slytherin Ice Princess. I actually do have emotions that do actually cause me to feel. Surprising I know. It's just much easier to survive the insults and jabs at my family name if people don't see how much they hurt so I keep my emotions to myself. "Wishing," I said. "And dreaming."
Dom snorted. She was the abrasive sort with a vivacity that was a credit to her Weasley name and Gryffindor House. "Come off it, Trix," she said with a nudge to my shoulder, "we got work to do. No use sitting round here."
"What, and miss this lovely view?" I gestured broadly to the monotonous white that covered everything.
"Yes," Dom said flatly, "wouldn't it just be a shame to miss such a breathtaking sight."
Ooh, do I detect sarcasm?
I grinned at her. "I'm so glad you agree. It would be just dreadful for all this beauty to go to waste!"
Dom's captivating bright blue eyes, courtesy of her part Veela mother, danced beneath long dark lashes. That's how our friendship works. We're both sarcastic pains in the ass and we're stuck with each other because no one else on this earth will put up with it.
"Seriously though," Dom said, "I need your help with the decorations. You're better at Charms than I am and some of the ribbons are giving me problems."
I stood and dusted off the backside of my jeans and cloak. "To rescue the slave driver I go, then," I said.
Dom rolled her eyes but said nothing and together we set off towards the castle. We didn't have to struggle through the knee-deep snow as Dom had melted a path when she came looking for me. I followed along behind Dom, bare hands in my jean pockets. They and my nose had gone numb in the cold. I wasn't exactly unhappy to be heading back to the warmth of the caste.
When we reached the entrance hall I quickly took off my cloak before I could start sweating. I followed Dom into the Great Hall. Inside it was brightly lit and I saw a collection of Prefects as well as quite a few extra brunettes, redheads, and blondes. It seemed Dominique had managed to coerce those of her family ages thirteen and up into helping and they had, in turn, bullied their friends into lending their wands as well. She had even managed to get the Terrible Trio, otherwise known as James Potter, Fred Weasley II, and Alec Jordan, to help. Of course, those three were being carefully supervised; Fred's younger sister Roxanne was watching Alec, James was being guarded by his cousin Jasmine, and Molly, another Weasley cousin, eyed Fred. All three girls watched their respective charge like hawks in order to keep them from slipping some random prank into the decorations even as they went about their own tasks. The picking of the Terrible Trio's overseers was absolutely perfect. Molly was about as fond of unnecessary pranks as her namesake, Alec had a medium sized crush on Roxanne, and Jasmine was prone to small amounts of sadism so long as it didn't cause real harm and James couldn't abide pain unless it was caused by Quidditch.
On the opposite side of the Hall Albus Potter, Rose Weasley, and my little brother Scorpius were passing their wands over large blocks of ice. As I watched the ice began to morph and change into different shapes. Rose made a handful of large ice hearts and Albus and Scor made little Cupids holding bows and heart-tipped arrows.
"It looks great Dom," I said looking at all the decorations. Dom had drawn a detailed schematic of how she wanted the Great Hall to look for the dance and so far it was turning out beautifully. Ribbons and streamers floated lazily through the air in varying shades of pink and red with some bits of white mixed in to relieve the otherwise monotone color scheme. Lengths of pink and white fabric hung down the walls and round tables covered in white tablecloths dotted the edges of the room leaving what would obviously be transformed into the dance floor clear.
Dom grinned. "Thanks," she said. "I was thinking of having rose petals float down from the ceiling like snow would. Just to give it that added touch. What d'you think?"
I nodded. "I like it; sounds absolutely gorgeous."
Dom's s smile grew wider if that was possible. "Thanks," she repeated.
"So what do you need me to do?"
Dom looked around. "Well," she said biting her lip, "it looks like those pesky ribbons got taken care of so why don't you hang the fairy lights?"
Oh fun, I thought, legwork. I saluted Dom and made my way over to the wall. I set my cloak down and pulled out my wand (11¼ inches of strong, regularly polished elm with a unicorn hair core). Holding it aloft, I flicked my wrist, conjuring with that simple movement a milky white glass orb that hung in the air at chest height before me. Light flickered inside setting the glass to glittering and casting a soft glow that, when the hall torches were dimmed, would create the illusion of fairy lights. Another wave of my wand and the glass orb floated higher and stopped some eight or nine feet off the floor.
James Sirius Potter was keenly aware the moment Lyra "Trix" Malfoy stepped into the Great Hall. The sight of her lithe 5'4" frame made his heart catch. Lyra was beautiful dressed in dark blue skinny jeans, fashionable but sturdy knee-high brown riding boots, and a loose Weird Sisters concert shirt that had been worn and washed so often it had faded to gray. She carried a thick black cloak looped over one arm, pale slender hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans. Her slightly curled platinum blonde hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, the top of her head damp from the snowmelt she had acquired from her jaunt out of doors. One piercing ice blue eye was almost entirely covered by side sweeping bangs left to hang loose over her aristocratic, make up-free face.
To the bewilderment of the Wizarding World the next generation of Weasleys and Potters had taken an almost instantaneous liking to the Malfoy siblings. Dominique, daughter of Bill and Fleur Weasley, and Lyra Malfoy, eldest child of the infamous Draco Malfoy, had met on their first train ride to Hogwarts and were practically inseparable ever since. Most of the rest of the Weasley-Potter-Lupin clan had readily accepted the Malfoy daughter. Only James had balked at his cousin becoming such bosom friends with a Slytherin; he had been a little harder to persuade of Lyra's acceptability.
As a first-year James had charmed Lyra's platinum hair scarlet and gold for the first Quidditch game of the season. After getting over the initial shock Lyra had laughed and charmed his black hair silver and green. In third year when James had blown up her potion in the middle of class with a Weasley Wet-Start Firework Lyra had again laughed then somehow got her hands on a vial of Veratisirum and dosed his pumpkin juice with at lunch, the effects lasting for three hours. The pranks went back and forth for several more years, James instigating and Lyra countering them all in good humor. Before he realized it James found that he enjoyed Lyra's company, often going out of his way to tease her which then morphed into lengthy, friendly chats concerning everything from schoolwork, Quidditch, and how Muggle inventions worked (something of which Lyra was intensely curios).
Scorpius, Lyra's younger brother, was roommates with James' younger brother Albus (both Slytherins) and the two boys, as well as Rose, daughter of Ron and Hermione Weasley, had formed a sort-of second Golden Trio by their second year. Now the Malfoy siblings were an integral part of most Weasley-Potter-Lupin family gatherings and, in typical fairy tale fashion, James Potter had fallen head-over-arse in love with Lyra Malfoy by the time their seventh year rolled around.
Unfortunately for James, he was scared witless of Lyra. Well not her, per se, but rather of her rejecting him. James had never been outright rejected by a girl. He was what was commonly referred to as a skirt chaser but the skirts he normally chased were on the rather ditzy side of the scale. Lyra Malfoy was a different story. She was smart and fiercely independent, a little quiet but that was only at first glance. She liked to have fun, to laugh and be around people. James probably knew as much about Lyra as he did any of his cousins. None of that knowledge helped though because when it came right down to it James was terrified Lyra would laugh in his face. He'd chickened out of asking her to the stupid Valentine's Day dance eight times—each time marked by the loud groaning of his fellow Weasleys and Potters—because of various, rather feeble reasons. It was all quite pathetic really in Dominique's opinion which is why she had come up with a plan, not a very good plan and definitely not by any accounts original or sanctioned by school rules, but it was more than either James or Lyra could say. Lyra was too busy pining and James was forever misplacing his Gryffindor courage.
Dominique glanced at Fred. He and Molly had finished whatever task she had given them and returned her glance with smirks. It would be their job to slip James a drop or two of Felix Felicis in some water Molly would offer him in a few minutes. Fred and Alec had stolen the little vial of golden potion from the Potion Master's private storeroom just that morning.
She watched as Fred handed the little bottle, only the size of his pinky, to Molly. Molly was the sweet one, the one least likely to arouse suspicion if she offered James a cup of water. Fred also conjured a red plastic cup which Molly filled with water from her wand. Then she added two drops of golden good luck potion. A wicked grin flashed across Fred's face but he quickly schooled his expression back to as non-mischievous a mask as 1/3 of the next generation of Prank Kings of Hogwarts could. The innocence was rather unnatural to see but as he wouldn't be going anywhere near James Dominique figured it would be alright.
Molly smiled cheerfully—she was a much better actress than Fred—and wandered over to James, pretending to take a sip of her water. Jasmine saw the taller redhead first and greeted her cousin with a grin. Dominique couldn't hear what the two fourth-year girls said but she knew their scripts. Molly would offer Jasmine a drink, Jasmine, in on the plan, would decline. James, being as predictable as his father, would cry foul at Jasmine being showed what he perceived as favoritism. Molly would then pretend to sigh in exasperation and hand over the goblet. James would take a drink; probably drink the whole thing, the glutton.
Dominique watched with growing glee, a smile trying to force its way onto her face, as James chugged all the water in the cup. Molly squawked indignantly when James tossed back the empty cup. Jasmine, her sadistic streak showing, laughed at Molly's expense. James grinned down at his younger cousin, then, slowly his face went slack. He blinked several times. Dominique watched as he glanced suspiciously at Molly. He asked her something, she said something back. James' glare snapped around to skewer her. Dominique raised the hand not holding her wand and twiddled her fingers at him in a mockery of a wave.
'What did you do?' James mouthed at her.
Dominique smirked. 'Felix Felicis,' she mouthed back.
James' face went pale. 'What?!' Dominique imagined his voice squeaking the question. She pointedly glanced at Lyra who was standing on the other side of the hall causally juggling three American Muggle tennis balls with her hands, alternating tossing them high and low. Several of the younger Weasley cousins were laughing as they watched her. Lucy was holding two more tennis balls. At a word from Lyra Lucy tossed one of them into the air where it became another ball for Lyra to juggle. The seventh-year Slytherin twirled under the air born tennis balls never once missing a catch or toss and laughed when her audience cheered.
'Ask her to the ball,' Dominique mouthed to James.
James visibly gulped, standing frozen for a moment. Dominique waited trying to be patient. Finally James' spine straightened as he took confidence from those two drops of good luck potion and he fixed his hazel eyes securely on Lyra Malfoy and marched up to the girl of his dreams.
Lucy Weasley had just added another ball for Lyra to juggle when James reached them. The young Weasleys, knowing exactly what he was there for, quickly went back to whatever chores Dominique had given them. James waited until all his cousins had left before he said, "Hey Lyra?"
Lyra stopped juggling, catching the six tennis ball three in each hand. "Yeah Jay?" she asked using the nickname she had given him their third year, fixing her best guy friend and secret love with bright blue eyes.
James smiled at her. She was so beautiful with her cheeks flushed and perfect smile on her soft pink lips. That good luck potion his cousins had slipped him was working; he was feeling more confident by the minute. "Would you want to go to the Valentine's Day Ball with me?" he asked.
His voice was soft but Lyra heard ever word. Her mouth dropped open. "Y-you want to go to the b-ball with m-me? A-are you sure? I mean—I would never say no b-but with me?
James sighed. Lyra always babbled when she was nervous. Swiftly he bent down and pressed a warm, soft kiss to her lips. When he pulled back Lyra had stopped talking. A smile spread across her mouth; she grinned up at him. "There is no way I'm turning you down," she said after a beat. Her left hand shot out. She dropped the six tennis balls and, gripping the front of his shirt, yanked him down for another kiss. James' arms wrapped around her petite form, pulling their bodies flush. Lyra slipped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. All around them the gathered Weasleys and Potters whooped, clapped, and stamped their approval.
"Finally!" Dominique shouted above the din. "Took you long enough!"