Couples twirled to the sweet melody the orchestra were playing as snow fluttered down around them, melting before it could touch anything. Hagrid had brought in towering Christmas trees that were decorated with baubles, tinsel and twinkling fairies that flit about in the dark green evergreens. Magic and the Christmas spirit was all around them as they celebrated the festive time together.
The Yule Ball was meant to be a night of enjoyment, joy, happiness for all but his younger brother had to ruin it. Hermione deserved nothing more than a perfect night, to be treated like a princess. Fred had been watching the girl all night as she laughed in Krum's arms, the Bulgarian spinning her around the dance floor. Hermione had been happy, her face was flushed form the dancing, a permanent smile had been upon her face, her eyes had sparkled with delight. She'd looked beautiful in her periwinkle dress, her curls tamed in a fancy twist, while two single curls framed her face.
Fred had watched from the Side lines as Krum acted like a perfect gentleman, his hands never straying from the small of her back ad the pair danced. A part of Fred was jealous, by the time he'd plucked up the nerves to ask Hermione to the ball Krum had already asked her and she'd turned him down sweetly with the promise that she'd save him a dance.
Fred hadn't been the only jealous Weasley at the ball; however, and Ron wasn't content to sit on the side lines like Fred had done. Fred watched from his spot on the other side of the hall as Hermione approached his younger brother and Harry, Krum heading in the opposite direction towards a fountain filled with punch. Hermione looked happy as she talked to her friends, but Ron looked outrage, his face growing redder and redder. Fred knew his brother well and knew he was about to say something foolish, he found himself standing, walking towards the trio but it was too late. Fred was still too far away from the trio to hear what was been said but he could tell that Ron and Hermione were shouting at one another. He watched as a purple faced Ron spun on his heals and stormed away, an apologetic looking Harry following behind him. Hermione stood there for a minute alone, her shoulders slumped and then she was running in the direction of the oak doors, escaping the Ball before Fred could call out to her.
It didn't take long for Fred to find the younger Gryffindor, she was collapsed at the bottom of the Grand Staircase, crying great sops, her pink heels abandoned at her side.
"Ron's an idiot," he told her as he took a seat on the step beside her and wrapped one of his long arms around her.
"He's ruined everything," she told him angrily.
"No, he hasn't, the night is still young, and you should still enjoy the ball," he told her calmly.
"He told me I was fraternising with the enemy," she told him sadly.
"That is ridiculous, Krum is hardly You Know Who," he whispered conspiringly, Hermione laughed.
"He can't even pronounce my name," she whispered.
"You were having a good time though weren't you before my brother made you cry," he told her quietly.
"I'd have had more fun with you, Victor's nice but we have nothing in common," she told him quietly as she rested her head against his shoulder.
"Spend the rest of the ball with me then," he asked her quietly.
"Shouldn't you be with Angelina, I don't want to steel her date," she asked worriedly.
"Only asked her because George was a cowardly chicken, the two of them have been dancing together all evening," Fred confessed.
"I must look a right mess," she chuckled as she wiped at her tears with the back of her hand.
"You are still the most beautiful girl at the ball even after crying he told her, reaching forward to wandlessly remove the streaks of mascara that had stained her cheeks.
"Thank you," Hermione whispered, she likely could feel the gentle tingle of the magic cleaning her skin.
"Nobody will ever realise you've been crying now," he whispered quietly, his hand still caressing her skin, like magic he felt himself move closer, entranced by the golden flecks in her chocolate eyes. Hermione's lips parted her tongue flicking out to moisture her lips as she leaned into him, their lips connecting in the sweetest kiss of Fred's life. Fred felt his eyes close, as they kissed, one had reaching up to unleash her curls from the clip that held them at bay, his other flat against the soft curve of her cheek, that heated against his palm as Hermione blushed. Hermione let out a little moan, and then their tongues were dancing together, creasing one another's mouths; she tasted like the peppermint sugar quills Fred knew she was fond of. Fred tangled his hands in her curls as they kissed, her hair was so soft, like fluffy feathers, Meanwhile, Hermione's hands were wrapped around his neck, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fred could feel a bulge forming in his pants as she let out little pleasurable mews, reluctantly he pulled away from her.
"Let's dance, then tomorrow, I'd very much like to take you on a date to Hogsmeade," he told her as he carefully tucked one of her curls behind her ear.
"I'd like that," she whispered. Fred smiled and helped her to her feet, leaving her pink heels on the stairs, Fred led her back into the hall where they danced in each other's arms for the rest of the night.