Millicent Bulstrode whirled around, her dress robes half-fastened and her precariously styled hair wobbling uncertainly. "You're what?"

"You heard me," said Pansy Parkinson petulantly. "I'm not going."

"But...but everybody is going!" gasped Millicent. "And...and Draco said you were going with him."

Pansy sat on the end of her four-poster. "Yes, he did," she said. "That's just it."

Millicent stared at her. Pansy hated Millicent's stares. They made her look like a cow. Then she started opening and closing her mouth, which made her look like a fish. The next stage would be making little squeaky noises like a monkey...

"Out with it," she snapped.

"You can't be serious," said Millicent. "You've been after Draco since second year. You've gone on about him for hours. Days!"

"Very true," said Pansy. "Do you remember in second year, when he sat by me at dinner because he got there late?"

"Yes," said Millicent.

"Do you remember in third year, when he carried my books for me, except it turned out that he wasn't doing it on purpose, because he just got our bookbags confused?"

"Yes," said Millicent.

"Do you remember when he was attacked by that nasty hippogriff, and I had a chance to comfort him?"

"Yes," said Millicent, surpressing a yawn.

"Do you remember when he asked me to the Yule Ball?"

"Ye...hang on..."

"Exactly," said Pansy.

"He never asked you," said Millicent.

"No," said Pansy.

Millicent only had to think about that for a few seconds. "But he's telling everyone you're going together, so he must want to go with you," she said. "I don't see the problem."

Pansy sighed. No one understood her. "The problem," she sneered, "is that he's taking me for granted. The problem is that he's treating me like a house elf. The problem is that this will not make a romantic story to tell our children."

"Children you may never have if you don't go to the Yule Ball with him."

"Millicent," said Pansy primly, "I don't know what your plans are for this evening, but I do not intend to conceive a child."

"All I mean to say is that he might start looking around," said Millicent. "He might notice...other people."

Pansy stood up in order to give Millicent the full benefit of her best glare of death. "Try it," she said sinisterly.

"If you stay up here all night," said Millicent, "I might not have to try." She stomped out of the room. Pansy didn't bother to mention that her robes were still not completely fastened. It wasn't as if Goyle would notice. Or was she going with Crabbe? Pansy shrugged. She never paid much attention when her roommates started talking about boys. As far as she was concerned, there was only one boy at Hogwarts. A boy who was, in all likelihood, waiting for her in the Slytherin common room this very moment.

Would Draco start to notice other people tonight? What if the only reason he had said he was going with her in the first place was because he couldn't remember the names of any other Slytherin girls? True, that would mean that her joint plans of inundation (staying as close to Draco as possible, as often as possible) and isolation (keeping all other Slytherin girls away from Draco by means of threats) had succeeded. But tonight, on his own, with all the other girls in the Great Hall to choose from... Pansy looked at her reflection in the mirror next to Millicent's bed and sighed. She didn't have Granger's big teeth or bushy hair, but the shape of her nose was not something she treasured. She'd heard other students called her "pug-faced." Even aside from the nose, she wasn't exactly beautiful. Especially compared to Fleur, the part-veela champion from Beauxbatons. She shuddered.

How had she ever thought she could keep him? He was Draco Malfoy. He could have any girl in school. Her only advantage was that she was a pureblood. And rich. She was rich. That made two advantages. Two attractive things about her. Two positives held against a stack of negatives that seemed to be growing exponentially.

It had all been a silly little fantasy, really. It had been nice to imagine that he had gotten to dinner late just to have an excuse to sit by her, that he had confused their bookbags on purpose, that he had been enjoying her sympathetic flutterings after the hippogriff attack. It had been lovely to imagine that he was watching her more often this year, talking to her more frequently, laughing at more of her jokes, smiling at her. Because of her.

Pansy drew a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. She was almost fifteen years old, and it was about time to give up on childish fancies. If Draco Malfoy felt anything toward her at all, it was probably pity. And not even ugly people wanted pity.

The knock at the window kept her from bursting into very un-Slytherin tears. She turned to see an unfamiliar owl, waiting patiently with a letter in its beak. She opened the window, and the owl swooped in, deposited the letter on her bed, and flew off again, heading towards the Owlery.

"Must have been a school owl, then," Pansy mused aloud. She shivered and realized that the window was still open and that snow was drifting in. She shut the window and rubbed her hands on her arms briskly in an effort to warm up. She turned to the letter and saw her name written on it in very familiar handwriting.

Pansy took another deep breath, this time because she realized she hadn't been breathing. It was from him. Here, at long last, was her invitation to the Yule Ball. It may have come late, but she didn't care. He had noticed her. He wanted her to stand beside him in front of the whole school. She glanced back at the mirror and thought that she didn't look that horribly plain, after all.

With trembling fingers, Pansy broke the seal of the Malfoy crest and opened the letter. She unfolded it to read:

"Pansy,

"Where in blazes are you? I've been waiting for half an hour. I'm just about to set off on my own. Are you coming, or not?

"Draco"

Five minutes later, Pansy took one last look in the mirror to check her hair before heading down to the common room.

Perfectly written invitations were for Ravenclaws.