The headmasters of Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang had a warped sense of humor.

The Yule Ball was perhaps the worst idea Fred had heard of. And considering the many failed plots he and George had come up with over the years, that was saying something.

How could they be expected to just ask someone? He was a confident bloke, but that had its limits. He was still trying to get used to the tongue-tied feeling he often experienced when he was around Hermione—the way his words would get jumbled up, or he'd blurt something unfeasibly stupid in a feeble attempt to salvage their conversations, or to start one at all.

Maybe he could just flat-out ask her...

She'd probably laugh, though, wouldn't she?

No, she wouldn't, suggested the tiny voice of reason he tended to forget existed. That small, logical part reminded him of Hermione's kind advice that night over the summer. How she hadn't been entirely repulsed when he'd impulsively hugged her after the World Cup. How she'd grabbed his hand halfway through Harry's battle with the dragon, even though Ron, who she knew better, had been right there also, and hadn't let go until he'd pointed it out to her. The fight in the kitchens and the way she'd smiled.

The signs didn't point to someone who was entirely uninterested in him.

She might not turn him down, but there was no way he could pluck up the courage to ask her. Not when he felt like he'd swallowed a whole batch of Ton-Tongue Toffee every time he was near her.

"So," Ginny gushed, "anyone you're hoping will ask you to the Ball?" She was with Hermione, so she felt secure being excited about it instead of pretending not to care.

Hermione shrugged. "Not exactly..." She took a large bite of toast, if only for an excuse not to give a more elaborate response.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at her friend. "Explain."

"There's people around," she complained.

"And they're all wrapped up in their own conversations. Come on, no way of getting out of this; I'll just hound you about it until you tell me. Spill."

She knew Ginny was right, and that she would be relentless unless Hermione divulged the details. May as well get it over with. With a sigh, she said, "Well, it's your brother..."

She nodded understandingly. "I always knew you and Ron would end up together."

"It's not Ron," she said quietly. She'd figured Ginny would jump to that conclusion first. Everyone did; Parvati had already inquired as to how she was going to choose between Harry and Ron, as though either of them were actually options. They were such good friends that it was easier to see them as brothers than anything else.

"Oh, Merlin. That's why you said 'not exactly.' Because he's not a student anymore, so he couldn't take you. Hermione!" Her tone was almost scolding.

"What are you talking about?"

"Percy, right? I mean, he's more your type than Ron, but—"

"Not Percy, either," she said.

"But Bill's far too old for you..." When Hermione shook her head, Ginny threw her hands up in defeat. "Okay, I'm out of ideas. Who?"

"Fred."

Ginny's eyes widened, not at the confession, but because when she glanced back up, Fred was directly behind Hermione. She made an almost imperceptible motion with her head, but Fred took the hint and left at once.

"What? Oh, damn, he's right behind me, isn't he?" She whipped around, but there was nobody there.

"No, no, it's just... I never saw that coming, that's all. I figured it'd go on unrequited for a while until he gave it up."

"What?"

"Er, nothing. Just, y'know, through a few observations, I kind of figured out a few months ago that Fred fancies you..." It wasn't her business and she shouldn't have been blabbing about it to Hermione, but Ginny was hit with the sudden desire to play matchmaker. Fred liked Hermione, Hermione liked Fred... Assuming he didn't do something colossally stupid in the name of fun and she didn't overthink—the things they were most notorious for—then Ginny thought she could see it working out.

"And you didn't bother to mention this?"

After her little chat with Ginny, Hermione felt more positive.

But as the days started to slip by, she began to lose hope.

He still seemed friendly enough, but—

Oh.

He was being friendly. Maybe that was all he wanted: to be friends. She'd been misinterpreting everything, when all he'd intended was to be nice. Well, that was embarrassing.

She had this epiphany while in the library and was glad there weren't many people around to see her cheeks flood with color. She'd been getting all worked up for nothing! She'd spent hours fretting over something that wasn't even going to happen, and now she felt really silly.

Her train of thought was interrupted by Viktor Krum pulling up a chair at her table.

Fred didn't know how—and he would never dare to ask—George managed to clear the entire Common Room just seconds before Hermione entered.

They'd spent a while planning it out: how to ask her, what color sparklers to use, when to do it... George had given him a lot of advice, but the one thing he hadn't mentioned was how nerve-wracking it would be. Fred was just seconds away from deciding against it altogether; despite overhearing what Hermione had said to Ginny, he still wasn't sure he could do this and had, in fact, required a few shots of firewhiskey to work himself up to doing it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he tossed the firework so that it was directly in her line of sight. She jumped, but then watched with interest as it bounced off the ceiling and wall, slowly spelling out go to the Ball with me? in purple and silver sparks.

"So...what d'you say?" he asked.

She looked disappointed. Not a good start. "Oh, Fred, I thought you weren't going to ask me," she said sadly. "I already said I'd go with someone else."

No, no, no... He should've just gone ahead and asked her, instead of doing something like this. He'd spent so much time getting it ready that someone else had been given an easy opportunity to swoop in and ask first. God damn it. "Who?" he asked flatly, trying to hide his own disappointment best as he could. He left the question of do I even want to know unasked.

"I..." She bit her lip, debating whether or not she should tell him. "Viktor Krum."

No, he didn't want to know.

Not only had he taken so much time that somebody else asked her first, a world-famous Seeker had gotten there before he had. Fred ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Well, that's just—that's great. Er, I hope you have a really great time." He turned to go back to his dorm, but Hermione called after him.

"Just—just so you know," she said, voice apologetic, "I would rather go with you."

Strangely enough, that did nothing to lift his spirits.

George's advice on this unexpected setback was to ask someone else. Not necessarily to make Hermione jealous, but to have a good time and not mope about the entire time. Though, he'd added with a gleam in his eye, it wouldn't be horrible if it just happened to make a certain girl jealous.

This was pathetic. Fred was stooping to the levels of second year girls, trying to make someone jealous—no, he wasn't—yes, he was, and this wasn't even going to work. Why be jealous of someone he was dancing with when she had a Bulgarian Quidditch player on her arm?

Was Fred jealous?

Oh, yes.

And he would blame it on envy when he made a little mistake.

He was sitting with George, Ron, Harry, and Hermione when he shouted across the Common Room to ask Angelina to the Ball. He asked another girl in front of Hermione. He avoided eye contact with her, but he noticed the small shift—her shoulders slumped slightly, and her face fell a little.

Well, it was only fair that he got to have a date too, right?

"Mind if I cut in?"

Hermione drew her eyes from Krum's to see George standing next to them.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but Krum shrugged. "I vill go get drinks," he offered.

"That should keep him for a while," George commented casually, grabbing Hermione's hand and dancing to the music.

"What do you mean?"

He nodded in Krum's direction, and she followed his gaze. Girls were rushing over to him, ignoring their own dates, though he was doing his best to stay away from them. "We need to talk."

"Did Fred put you up to this?" she asked suspiciously.

"No, I've been conspiring with an sister of mine who wishes to remain anonymous."

"You've only got one sister..." She rolled her eyes, scanning the room for other people she could escape to.

"Never mind that! I'm here to tell you that my dashing twin was devastated when you told him that, not only were you already going to the Ball with someone else after he spent so long trying to perfect the firecrackers so he could ask you in a unique way—not that I'm trying to make you feel guilty! of course I wouldn't do that—but you had agreed to go with an international Quidditch star." He made a tsk, tsk noise, like he was chastising her.

Hermione's eyes found Fred and Angelina. "Yeah, he seems really cut up about it," she muttered, watching the pair dancing.

"Well, I mean, he does a good job at hiding it, but—" He stopped talking abruptly when Angelina planted a kiss on Fred's lips. "Damn it," he hissed.

"My thoughts exactly." She realized what she'd said and clapped her hand over her mouth. "Don't tell him I said that," she said, voice muffled by her hand. Her face turned pink and she waited for George's mockery, but it never came. He actually gave her a sympathetic frown.

"Ah, this wasn't really the plan. I've gotta go find Ginny, see if we can't save some of this night. And Krum's looking for you over there," he added before disappearing into the crowdand leaving Hermione wondering what the plan was.

Admittedly, Hermione just wanted to go back upstairs and sleep, but she put on a bright smile and rejoined her date.

George yanked Ginny's arm, pulling her away from Neville. "I'll have her right back to you," he promised.

"George, what the hell?"

"Don't swear. Percy might hear you go run to mum."

"Okay, George, why ever did you feel the need to drag me away from the dance floor?"

"Things were going smoothly until Angelina went and kissed Fred."

"Really? Because Krum seems to be the problem now." She pointed, and sure enough, Krum was ducking down to kiss Hermione.

"Maybe tonight won't be the night those two realize their undying affection for each other, then?" he deduced sadly.

"Why is this so important to you?" Ginny asked curiously. Shouldn't George have focused more on his own love life—or lack thereof, really?

"No reason," he said unconvincingly. "It's just, do you ever see two people and think, wow, they belong together? Like with Mum and Dad. They argue sometimes and disagree on a lot, but anyone that gets near them knows how in love they are. I just kind of get that feeling when Hermione and Fred look at each other."

"That's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard." She fake-panicked, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Are you feeling okay? I should really go fetch Madam Pomfrey."

After Viktor left to go back to the ship, Hermione took the shortcut Fred had shown her; she didn't really feel like walking the long way in her dress and heels.

About halfway up the staircase, though, she stumbled upon a lip-locked Fred and Angelina.

She sped back down the stairs, trying not to get upset. Fred didn't belong to her; he had every right to kiss whoever he wanted. And she'd attended the Ball with someone else. It wasn't even reasonable of her to care at all if he kissed Angelina. She'd had a perfectly good time with Krum, after all.

So why, when she got to her dormitory, did the smile slide off her face?

Here it is! I'm not really happy with this chapter, but...eh. Thanks to Cassie-D1 and krikanalo for reviewing, and also Gwen the guest reviewer. Y'all are awesome!