AN: So I had the same problem with this ficlet as I did with Inseparable Souls - it felt very rushed and I wasn't sure how to change it. Sigh. On that note, I'm not very happy with the last story's banner, but I was at a loss for inspiration so it will have to do until I, maybe, find something better. I edited the banner for My Pet Bee for similar reasons. Hope you like it ;]

In regards to this chappy, I went with the film version of the Yule Ball rather than the book because the reactions are just hilarious and perfect :D And in regards to Friday, happy Halloween to those that celebrate it!

To my guest reviewer, Anna, I will be posting up a James/Hermione ficlet next just for you! Luckily, I've had one half written out for ages :] A James/Hermione/Lily story sounds interesting too - I'll think more on it and hopefully post one sometime in the future, though regrettably it probably won't be particularly soon. Sorry!

Title: Belle of the Ball

Summary: Charlie is asked to be a supervisor at the Yule Ball and expects it to make for a boring evening. He doesn't expect to be enraptured by his little brother's best friend.

Genre/s: Romance

Characters: [Hermione G. & Charlie W.] | Ron W.

Rating: T

Warning/s: AU, age difference

Words: 1,860

"Ah, Mr. Weasley, so gracious of you to stay behind and help out," Professor Dumbledore smiled.

Charlie shrugged. "It's no problem, Headmaster. Plus, I thought I'd take the opportunity to heckle my little brother in his awful dress robes." He grinned.

Dumbledore chuckled. "Indeed. Who would pass up such an occasion? Well, I do hope you enjoy yourself tonight then, Mr. Weasley. And again, excellent work with the dragons. I'm glad to see you living your dream." The old man winked and moved again leaving Charlie to smile.

He had been asked ever so politely if he could stick around Hogwarts and chaperone the Yule Ball that was to take place. Apparently, some of the teachers and other attending adults would likely be taking advantage of the offered alcohol and thus unable to properly supervise randy children.

He glanced at the carefully guarded firewhiskey and smirked. Though he had acquired quite a taste for the poison, he restrained himself, knowing he had to remain sober.

Not many students were around yet, all still getting ready, and he looked down at himself to study his own robes. He'd dressed up a little for the party—well, as much as his wardrobe allowed. He hadn't known he would be needing formal attire when he packed for this excursion, so his outfit consisted of relatively normal clothes that were comfortable and warm.

He positioned himself in the Entrance Hall, where he would be able to see all the students coming down from the Grand Staircase, and settled down on a bench. Brimming with barely withheld anticipation, he waited for the pupils, namely Ron, to arrive.

Oh, when he'd owled his mother and she mentioned sending his brother some dress robes, he just knew he couldn't miss tonight. He wondered if Fred and George had heard anything of it yet; they'd never let Ron live it down. He grinned.

Soon the Entrance Hall was bustling and Charlie was surrounded by children. Only those in Fourth Year and up were permitted to attend the ball unless they were invited as a date, so he had been told to shuffle along the younglings that wanted to gawk or sneak inside. He had just gently reprimanded a few Second Year girls who had been hanging around the Great Hall doors a tad too long when his youngest brother came bumbling down the steps with his best friend Harry. While the Boy Who Lived looked smashing in his formal robes, Charlie had to hide his chortle at Ron's appearance.

Biting down hard on his tongue, he made his way over to them—Ron's face went red at the sight of his older brother.

"What are you doing here?" he squeaked, halfway between outrage and humiliation.

"Couldn't miss the chance to see you like that," Charlie grinned cheekily and poked at the ruffles around his brother's neck. Ron slapped his hand away, even redder than before.

"Sod off," he grumbled, embarrassed.

Chuckling, Charlie turned to Harry. "Good job with the Horntail, mate. I knew you'd do well."

"Thanks," the boy mumbled shyly but clearly pleased with the praise. Charlie patted his shoulder and moved away as two young ladies (their dates, he assumed) approached, though not before aiming a teasing wink Ron's way.

He watched with suppressed laughter as Professor McGonagall commented on his brother's robes and then as he dragged his reluctant date into the Great Hall half-heartedly. He seated himself again and was just growing bored, when something caught his eye. Taking a second glance, he found a young girl descending the marble staircase.

His breathing hitched.

She was lovely; downright stunning in her flowing robes. Pink cheeked with elegantly knotted brunette hair, she was the picture of divine innocence as she made her way down with light steps and a timid smile.

Charlie was well and thoroughly enchanted.

His daze broke only when none other than Viktor Krum took her arm and guided her into the Great Hall. His mouth practically gaped after them, still overwhelmed by how striking she looked.

It had been years since he'd glanced twice at a girl. Dragons had been his life for so long, he'd never even taken a girl home to meet his family. But this girl… he couldn't understand her allure yet at the same time he didn't care.

She already had him wrapped around her little finger without even looking at him.

Feeling rather pathetic, his gaze watched her through the doors as she danced with Krum. Suddenly, she turned her head and laughed prettily into her hand and he realised with a start who he'd been staring at for so long.

This was Hermione Granger, Ron's other best friend. This was the girl he'd met at the Burrow, the girl he travelled to the Quidditch World Cup with, the girl his brother had mentioned a few times in his letters and was so obviously starting to fancy.

She's seven years younger than you, Weasley! he hissed at himself. Only fifteen, for Merlin's sake! Not two weeks ago, he had turned twenty-two himself and the reminder only made him feel worse. Robbing the cradle much?

But then, just for a moment, her gaze caught his and he straightened instantly, his expression smoothing out. It lasted perhaps two seconds and then she looked away, back at her date (bloody Krum, he grumbled), and he was left to watch her with a thumping heart.

He contemplated what he should do and then scolded himself. Do what? I can't do anything! I shouldn't do anything! She's too young. Restrain yourself, you lecherous old man.

So for the next few hours, he sat grumpily outside the Great Hall, observing the celebrations with a heavy stomach, trying very hard not to look at Hermione again. He was highly unsuccessful of course—every few seconds, it seemed, his eyes locked onto her lithe form and it took much control to force his gaze away—but he decidedly thought nothing on this.

Couples who had snuck outside to snog were chased back in by Snape and he himself turned back several more younger students and urged them to bed. However, after much dancing and cheer inside the Great Hall, students began departing, tired but flushed with happiness. Even teachers started to stumble out the oak doors. Charlie sighed, glad his job was nearly over.

A commotion leapt up in the hall and then, abruptly, the very girl he'd been mooning over stormed out with fury written over her face. Without even knowing he was doing it, he jumped up and followed her.

"Hermione!" he called and she turned, looking ready to shout. Upon seeing him, she stopped and blinked.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice still shaking with restrained irritation.

He shifted and made himself walk over to her calmly. His blood was thick in his veins. "Are you all right? You look… upset. And beautiful," he quickly added, unable to stop himself, "very beautiful."

She blushed immediately and he inwardly grinned, giving himself a mental pat on the back. "Oh. Well… thank you. It's just… your brother is—" And she cut herself off, angry once again.

"A humungous prat who couldn't see past his own nose," he helpfully supplied.

Surprised, she laughed. "Yes, exactly." He smiled at her and inconspicuously broadened his shoulders, hoping to look strong and chiselled. The masculine display seemed lost on her. She glanced away and then frowned. "Not that it isn't nice to speak with you, but why are you here?"

"Dumbledore asked me to supervise the ball," he replied easily.

"I see. I thought you'd need to get back to Romania."

He shrugged. "I wanted to see Ron's robes."

Her lips twitched uncontrollably. "They are ridiculous, aren't they?"

Chuckling, he nodded. "Best thing I've seen in years!"

She smiled and looked down.

Licking his lips, he searched for something, anything, to say. "Did you have a good time tonight?"

"Yes, thank you—at least, I did until Ron accused me of sabotaging Harry's chances in the tournament." She huffed.

"Why'd he do that?" Charlie frowned.

"Because I accompanied Viktor Krum to the ball tonight," she blushed again but this time his insides turned.

"Stupid git," he remarked absently. Then he said, "If I could have gone myself, I would have asked you to go with me instead."

Hermione blushed harder and glanced at him beneath her lashes. "I'm sure you wouldn't have but thank you for saying so."

"No, really," he enthused and stepped forwards to carefully grab her hand. He stroked it gently. Her skin is so soft, he tortured himself. "You look… spectacular."

Her brown eyes widened as he stared into them and she sputtered a little. Her shock was enough to bring him to his senses and he swiftly pulled back, letting her go.

"I'm sorry," he said, grimacing. "I shouldn't have… I should get back to chaperoning."

Fifteen! he yelled at himself, though his hand tingled where his flesh had touched hers.

"No, no," he heard her stutter behind him as he walked away. Heart in his throat, he froze and turned to look at her. She had an arm out as if reaching for him and her lips were smiling nervously. "It's… all right. Thank you. You look handsome too."

He blinked at her and she reddened.

After a moment of awkward silence, he smiled. "Thanks. Not my best clothes, I'll admit. But that dress…" he pointedly looked her up and down and whistled. "I may have to steal it from you; it's gorgeous."

She smiled wider, a strangely girlish giggle bursting from her throat. "I'll send it to you in the mail once I've taken it off."

His face blanched at that while his mind conjured up rather inappropriate images. He shook them away to smirk at her coyly. "On the other hand, perhaps it's the model I like rather than the dress itself."

Fidgeting, she fingered her dress. "Well, I can't very mail myself to you."

Her uncomfortable attempt at flirting made him think vividly about her age once again and he almost smacked himself. What is wrong with me? For Godric's sake, Wealsey.

"How about we exchange letters?" he suggested, trying to curve away from the direction their conversation was taking.

She looked quite thankful for this and her face lit up. "Okay!" she responded eagerly then flushed.

He grinned. She's too cute. "Great. I'll have to leave for Romania soon; I'll send you a letter once I get there. May take a little while to reply, what with work and all, but—"

"That's fine," she interrupted quickly and smiled. "I'll be busy helping Harry anyway."

He nodded, smiling back. "Good luck with that," he wished her sincerely.

"Good luck with the dragons." And after another little blushing smile she bid him goodnight and left up the stairs.

Staring after her, he let out a big breath of air, uncertain about what he'd just gotten himself into but still rather exhilarated to see how it played out. His only regret was missing the chance to at least kiss her cheek. Patience, he reassured himself, there's always the future…