Ron Weasley always managed to bollix everything. It wasn't every day a girl got to dance the night away in clothes fit for a princess. She had been having a perfectly wonderful evening with Viktor until he went and ruined it.
She sought sanctuary in the gardens of the school where there were ample places to hide her tears from the inquisitive stares of her classmates. She found a bench, sat down and removed the high heels that were pinching her toes. She threw one of them in frustration as she rubbed her aching feet.
"Whoa! Hold your fire, Granger!"
Fred Weasley came out from behind a tree, hands held out in front him as though to ward her off.
"What are you doing back there, Fred?" she demanded.
He looked a bit embarrassed, which was not a look she was accustomed to seeing him wear. "Hiding from my brother, if you must know. I could ask you the same thing," he said, bending over to retrieve her shoe and tossing it back to her.
"You'd get the same answer," she conceded. "I'm hiding from your brother, too." She attempted to catch her shoe, but failed.
"Different brother, common goal," he said, sitting down beside her. "So what did he do to ruin your evening?"
She cocked her head at him and decided it was best to answer the question with one of her own. "Better yet, where's your date?"
"Oh, that. Well, you see, that's a bit of a complicated story."
"I'm not going anywhere," she said, wiping away the last of her tears.
He flashed her a lopsided grin. "Well, you saw us dancing earlier, right?"
"I saw you and Angelina doing something that you seemed to believe was 'dancing,' yes."
"Whoa, there," he spluttered. "Never insult my swanlike grace, Granger." He did his best to sound affronted, but his smile betrayed him.
She laughed.
"That's a girl. Laughter suits you so much better than tears," he said.
She felt her cheeks heat up at his words. "Who would have thought it? You can actually be charming when you try."
"Do me a favour and keep that to yourself. I have a reputation to uphold, you know." He winked.
He was doing his best to cheer her, and she had to admit she felt a good deal better. "I'll do my best not to sully your name."
"Thank you, milady." He gave a mock bow in her direction. "Anyway," he said, "it seems that last dip was a bit more than Angelina anticipated and her back sort of—"
"Oh, Fred, is she okay?"
"Madame Pomfrey says she'll recover nicely."
"Poor thing, the rest of her evening's ruined," Hermione said.
"Oh, yes. She did remind me of that, and let me just point out that she's a much better aim than you. She wears sharper heels, too," Fred said, rubbing his forehead. "I actually thought she had hexed her shoe to chase after me and see that my night was no better off than hers when your shoe flew past my head."
She heard Professor McGonagall's amplified voice announce the last dance of the evening, and Fred Weasley stood, one hand behind his back and one extended toward her. He cleared his throat. "Miss Granger, would you do me the honour?"
She reached for her shoe, but he tossed it over his shoulder and toed his off instead. "Who needs them?" he whispered.
She felt the lush grass beneath her toes as he pulled her up from the bench. The stars and moon were their only witnesses when she danced in his arms as the Yule Ball came to a close.
His eyes twinkled in the silver moonlight, and it felt the most natural thing when he tilted his head and his lips met hers. There is a special sort of magic in a first kiss. It's not the tangible kind that wands produce or potions create. No, this was far more powerful than that; indescribable to someone who had not experienced it firsthand. The music faded and on they danced.
The Yule Ball may have ended, but they had only just begun.