It was one of those rare days nearing the end of December where a sprinkle of snow falls to the ground and strangely, the weather's a consistent blend of bright and sunny. The majority of Hogwarts's students and staff wore oddly put together variations of the school uniform. They paired shorts with winter scarves as if they had been unsure of the appropriate clothing choice for the wacky conditions, and continuously complained to themselves out loud about how they shouldn't have worn that "suffocatingly hot sweater" or "those bloody rotten shorts". Harry, Ron, and Hermione, (or "The Golden Trio" as some called them) walked down the corridors after the lull of Monday morning's first class.
"Well, next we have Potions!" Hermione exclaimed in a transparent effort to spread enthusiasm.
"Oh goody," Ron muttered sarcastically. "I can't wait for an entire hour of Snape's lecturing and standing next to Malfoy while I blow up the room with my Depleting Draught."
"You ought to stop being so negative, Ron!" Hermione sighed.
"What? It's the the truth! I'm sick of them both and I'm sick of my life! I-"
"Shut it, Ron! I don't want to hear anything more of your pessimism!" Ron's ears began to turn a violent shade of red.
"Well I don't give a damn about what you wan-" he exclaimed. Harry was about to open his mouth and say something, but suddenly a familiar looking Slytherin with platinum blond hair knocked his books out of his hands, grabbed him by his shirt collar, and dragged him into a corner.
"Wha-?" Harry asked groggily, attempting to fix his glasses. He felt woozy, as the back of his head hit against a cold stone wall.
"Hi." Draco said sharply. "I mean, no hi." He stared at the ground and began to stutter nervously. "I-I just need to ask you something okay?" Harry recoiled in surprise. Draco's tone had changed dramatically from the usual. He was now seeing an out of character softness from the blonde.
"Yes?" Harry questioned his worst enemy. He was now filled to the brim with immovable curiosity. Draco paced for a few seconds, looking up at the passing students who were beginning to cast odd looks in his direction, then turned to face Harry, who seemed to be enjoying this immensely, which was understandable as just about every single student and teacher in the school would give a Triwizard cup to see Draco Malfoy sweat. Finally after almost a minute of wiping his clammy hands on his robes, the grey eyes met the green, and Draco's pale, pink lips uttered this.
"Potte-," he corrected himself. "I mean, Harry, do you want to go to the Yule ball with me?" He enunciated.
"What?" Harry asked loudly, still deciding between whether he was hard of hearing, couldn't believe what Draco had said, or purely wanted to hear his secret crush ask him out for a second time. Draco sighed.
"I asked, if you wanted to go to the Yule ball with me." Harry laughed. He wasn't done messing with the now exasperated Slytherin.
"One more time for everyone to hear please." he said clearly. Draco kicked the wall and grabbing his injured foot, he yelled, enlightening the whole hall to the now explicit nature of this conversation.
"GODDAMNIT POTTER, WILL YOU GO TO THE BLOODY MOTHERFUCKING YULE BALL WITH ME?" A small crowd of students stared and whispered at Draco, who buried his blushing red face into his hands. Harry smiled.
"Yes, Malfoy, I'd be honored." he replied in the most formal, calm, and courteous manner he could muster without bursting out into laughter. An embarrassed but pleased pureblood turned around and looked Harry right in the eye.
"Call me Draco."