"Morning, Ron."

"Hey, Harry." The two boys greeted each other and sat down to breakfast.

"Have you asked Hermione to the ball yet?"

"…Yes."

"No you haven't."

"So?"

"You need to ask her!"

"Well, where's your date then?"

"That's not important."

"Not bloody important?!? You're the Hogwarts champion, for Merlin's sake!"

"So is Cedric."

"Well then go with Cedric!"

"What?!?"

"I was kidding. Although, considering you won't go with anyone else…"

"I'm not going to the Yule Ball with Cedric, Ron."

"Too bad, because he's amazing in bed."

"H-he's…WHAT?!?!?!?"

At this point, Ron was shaking with laughter, and Harry was about ready to blow chunks from the images of Ron and Cedric in bed.

"I'm kidding, Harry. Kidding." Ron choked out.

"You make one more joke today, and I shove this sausage up your ass."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you Potter?" A new voice drawled from behind them. Harry turned in time to see a tall boy with white-blonde hair walking away from the Gryffindor table.

"What? You can't just-- HEY! Malfoy, turn around, I'm talking to you!" But Draco had already seated himself between Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table.

"Well…would you like that, Harry?" Ron asked in a fake seductive drawl. Harry stared at Ron, and promptly smashed his head into his plate of pancakes. Ron was about to seek revenge with a well-aimed spoonful of scrambled eggs, when Professor Dumbledore rose and began to speak.

"Good morning, children!" His voice resounded across the Great Hall, and the students were silenced. "I'm sure that we're all very excited about the Yule Ball coming up in three days!" There was a burst of applause, which Harry and Ron took no part in. The Durmstrang and Beauxbaton tables stood up and cheered, and Dumbledore continued.

"Now, it has come to my attention that finding a partner to this dance is becoming extremely difficult. So I have designed a way for students to find a date without the awkwardness you all dread." The Great Hall became deathly silent.

"It works something like a muggle dating website, minus the muggle. And the website. Those who are wishing to find a partner to the Yule ball need only copy a bit of simple information onto a piece of parchment. You are to write about yourself, and what you look for in a person. Then you simply cast this information into the Goblet of Fire, and the Goblet will eject a piece of paper with a number on it. Remember this number."

Harry stared a Dumbledore in amazement. He was actually going to use the Goblet of Fire a…dating service?

"Guaranteed, you will in the next three days come across your original piece of parchment, with a number written on the back. Carry this parchment around with you until the dance, for when you come in contact with the person who carries your number, the paper will…let you know." Someone stood up and began clapping. Before long, everyone was applauding and giggling, staring up at the Goblet with renewed interest.

"Oh, and one last thing. As amazing as this may seem to you, it is ancient magic, and therefore must have a catch." The hall became silent again. "When you find your matching number, you must attend with him or her. Must." Dumbledore finished gravely. Later, Harry and Ron left the Great Hall with the rest of the students.

"So, the Yule Ball is on Christmas day, right?" Harry asked.

"Right" answered Ron.

And today's a Saturday, so Christmas is on Monday."

"Yes."

"So in that time, you have to ask Hermione to the Yule Ball."

"What? Why not just use the Goblet?"

"Because you already know who you're going with. Besides, Hermione might not even enter her name." Ron sighed, and nodded.

"I'll try to ask her. Are you going to use the Goblet?"

"I'm going to have to, aren't I? I don't like anyone." Harry shrugged.

"What about Cho?"

"She's going with Cedric. And who said I liked her? I don't like her!"

"Oooh, I think you're jealous because she gets to go with Ceddy!"

"Ron, I will personally drown you in a toilet, and then you can go to the ball with Myrtle." Harry muttered darkly.

"Just saying." Ron laughed, unafraid of Harry's threat.

"You're helping me write that parchment, you know."

"Hm…ok. Suave, appealing raven-haired man seeks someone to share his dance floor, and bedroom with. Amazing at quidditch, but can ride other things than brooms, this young man is…" Ron was silenced by Harry tripping him casually. Ron crashed into a suit of armor, running away as it started yelling at him. Harry walked alone now, thinking about what to write.