"Harry?"
Hermione leant over the Gryffindor table, as Ron watched scowling as her tie brushed a Yorkshire pudding. There was excited chatter in the Great Hall, more so than a regular evening dinner as the Yule ball grew closer.
"Who is she?" Hermione smiled, swatting Ron's hand away from her tie. Harry peered up at her through a smile he struggled to hide and shrugged. His hand waved away her question as he laughed.
"I have no idea what you're-"
"Then where have you been going?" Ron's nose scrunched angrily at Harry, "Why won't you tell me?"
"Harry has a right to privacy, Ronald. Although," Hermione hunkered in her seat and lowered her voice.
"It would be nice to know who you are bringing to the Yule ball."
Ron's face contorted, a piece of a bread roll lodged tightly in his throat as he looked at Hermione in disbelief. Ignoring Ron, Hermione watched Harry patiently. Smile fading, Harry glanced around the table and saw that every girl had stopped to listen, the hum of the hall growing to a whisper. Harry pulled himself to his feet and climbed over the bench.
"Oh Harry," Hermione pleaded, "I didn't mean to pry."
"Harry has a right to privacy, Hermione," Ron mimicked as he picked up his fork and stabbed a potato.
As Harry left the Great Hall, his hands were slick with sweat as he ran them down his robe. He didn't know how his friends would react if they knew the truth, the Yule ball was nothing to him because he couldn't bring the one he desired.
That, he thought, should change.
With a small bag slung across his shoulder, Harry pulled open its zipper and glanced down the corridor. Alone, he pulled out a cloak and wrapped it tightly around his body. Confident that he was invisible, Harry crept towards a large door. The polished door knob twisted as the door of the first-floor girls' toilets drew inward. A giggle escaped between the small gap as the lulling sound of water wafted its way up the corridor. As quickly as it had opened, the door clicked shut as Harry ripped his cloak from its place. As the cloak pooled at his feet, Harry listened quietly with his ear to the door to ensure he was safe.
"Myrtle?"
Harry crept around the fountain, placing a hand gently on the toilet cubicle she often resided in.
"Harry?"
Myrtle, spitting from the fountain, flew through the water and into the air. Harry grinned at the site of Myrtle, her long black hair now braided into two plaits.
His favourite, and she knew it.
Looking down on Harry, she watched him with a deivlish smile and cooed. Now standing in front of him, Harry placed a hand towards Myrtle. It hung in the air for a moment, before Myrtle's own hand rose to meet it.
"Myrtle?" Harry asked tenderly,
"Will you be my date to the Yule ball?"
A piercing giggle erupted from Myrtle as she sprang backwards into the toilet cubicle. The toilet bowl bubbled and gurgled, and she bounded out with glee as Harry laughed.