DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

Written for Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition: Round 5

Team: Kenmare Kestrels

Position: Seeker

Prompt: Write using the setting "Yule Ball" (from the Trio-era box) as an important part.

Thanks to wujy, my amazing beta.

You make your way down the grand staircase, pulling a hand-mirror from your bag to check your appearance quickly.

"Pansy, you look fine," he says, but his eyes are elsewhere. He holds out his arm.

You take it, holding back a grumble. Why isn't he noticing you? "You look very handsome, Draco," you say. Your voice is simpering, dripping with sweetness.

"Shall we go?" he asks.

You nod, and he leads you into the Great Hall. You saunter in, flashing a smug smile at the Slytherin girls who watch you with envy. "Draco, darling, don't you think we're the perfect pair?"

Draco smiles, though it seems half-hearted. "Yes, of course, Pansy."

You grip his arm as if claiming him as yours, and yours only. No one will ruin this night for you.

A Beauxbatons girl flutters her eyelashes at Draco. She brushes past him, leaning to whisper something is his ear. Her rosy lips graze Draco, sending a soft shudder through him.

Draco offers the girl a charming smile. He murmurs something back to her.

You nearly growl at the girl but opt to glare at her instead.

She finally seems to notice you standing there and laughs, a soft, bell-like tinkle. "I did not know zat you already 'ave a partner. Per'aps we shall dance later?"

"Of course, mademoiselle," Draco says. He nods once at her and glances back at you.

You school your expression into one of adoration. When he turns away, you glower at the back of the Beauxbatons girl as she is swallowed into the crowd. "Shall we dance, Draco?" You hate how your voice is so eager; it is not appropriate to show such emotion.

"The champions haven't gotten here yet, Pansy. They're the ones who're supposed to start everything," Draco reminds you, sounding somewhat bitter.

"Oh! However could I forget?" you say. "I guess we should just go get drinks." You incline your head slightly.

Draco simply stands there for a moment, his face blank. He shakes his head, his impassiveness disappearing. "Drinks? Oh, of course. I'll go get them now."

"I'll be waiting here," you call after him. Sighing, you sit down, straightening your frilly, pink robes. Daphne had assured you that the ghastly color became you, but now you are regretting it. You continue to scrutinize your robes and, with each glance, notice a new imperfection.

"Your drink, Pansy," a voice says, jolting you out of your examination.

You look up to see Draco, holding two fancy goblets. He hands one to you as you stand up. You sip it slowly, trying to pull off a dainty look.

Everyone goes silent. You look towards the entrance and spot the Beauxbatons champion, Fleur Delacour, strolling in.

Roger Davies, a lovesick Ravenclaw, seems to be the one hanging off Fleur's arm, rather than the other way around. Of course, anyone would be entranced by the beauty of the veela.

You stifle a laugh. "Isn't that Davies rather comical?" you whisper to Draco.

Draco nods but his eyes are fixed on the next couple that walks in.

You notice that his gaze clouds with a hint of envy. You stare at the girl with Viktor Krum and realize with a start that it's Hermione Granger. How, in the name of Merlin, did that Mudblood manage to pull that off? you fume silently.

Granger is grinning happily, and her caramel eyes are still filled with a slight disbelief identical to that of those around her.

Draco's eyes are fixed on Granger with a strange longing.

Granger is quite pretty, you think grudgingly. But, no, he can't be thinking about her, can he?

"Krum chose Granger, of all people? I can't imagine why he would do a thing like that!" you say to Draco, pulling him out of the trance Granger seemed to have sent him into.

I'm going to kill that Mudblood, you think furiously. If looks could kill, Granger would be long gone.

"She's—I mean, yes. Shocking that he did," Draco mutters, his voice tinged with jealousy.

You return back to watching the other champions. Cedric Diggory is accompanied by Cho Chang, and next comes the devil himself—Potter. Parvati Patil is smiling proudly beside him.

"Potter looks uncomfortable," Draco remarks happily. "I doubt he's been to a ball before."

"I can't wait to watch him flounder about in an attempt to dance," you say.

Draco grins. He watches Potter derisively as the champions begin the dance. True to your word, Potter looks like he has absolutely no idea what he's doing.

"He's a disgrace to the wizarding society," Draco says. He looks down at you, letting out a small chuckle. "Let's dance."

He places a hand on your waist, and you begin to dance. You slowly lean your head onto his shoulder.

Draco dances well, but his mind is elsewhere. You look to where he's staring and see Granger. You muster up your courage and ask, "Why are you staring at Granger?"

Draco jumps, breaking the dance. "Well… isn't she horrible?" he asks, attempting to brush it off as contempt.

You narrow your eyes. "It sure doesn't seem like that."

"Look, Pansy, let's just forget about this."

"No. You've been glancing at Granger the whole time. Don't think I haven't noticed."

Draco gapes at you. "Pansy—"

"Don't spout some nonsense. I know you fancy Granger." You blink back tears. "Why'd you even ask me to dance?"

"Enough!" he exclaims, drawing the attention of the people around you. His voice drops to an icy whisper. "I don't want to hear anything more about this from you."

"You bastard," you murmur. You push him away and run, muffling your sobs with your hand.

"Pansy!" you hear him call after you.

You ignore him and leave the hall, slowing down to a fast walk. The world spins around you, taunting you.

You will never be loved, it seems to say.

Perhaps it's right. Maybe you never will be loved.