The fire crackling merrily in the Gryffindor Common Room fireplace banished the cold, winter air and filled the room with warmth and a sense of homeliness and comfort. In the colder months, the younger students warmed themselves by the firesides before they learned how to do so with magic, the older students stared into the dancing flames when they were homesick or lovesick or just actually sick. On this night, though, someone was staring at the fire for a different reason. Hermione Granger was looking for House Elves.

The fire, she had noticed, never had to be tended to by the students. There was a poker right there and a scoop for ashes and even a stand of firewood, but the tools were all pristinely clean and the wood untouched. Therefore, she reasoned, the mysterious House Elves must be responsible and the sooner she could meet one, the sooner she could help them. So, she kept a steady vigil.

It appeared to be working. The fire had been burning lower and lower during the evening. She hadn't wanted to risk turning her eyes away for even a moment, so she had had to neglect a third read-through of her charms homework, but Hermione Granger was nothing if not determined.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said to her softly. Hermione mumbled a response, still watching the fire, while he sat down opposite her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently.

"I'm fine," she said. One of the logs collapsed under the flames, causing the fire to burn even lower.

"Bad news from home, was it?"

"Huh?" Hermione blinked and then glanced at Harry's concerned face quickly. "What made you think that?" she said, before returning her gaze to the fire.

"Oh," Harry said. "It's just that I haven't seen you this quiet without a book open or an essay in front of you since you got that letter telling you that your pet goldfish had died."

Poor Blinky, Hermione thought.

"No, I'm fine. I'm just… watching the fire."

"Oookay then," Harry said. "Just so long as you're alright."

"Oh, you're very sweet, Harry," Hermione said, reaching blindly with her hand and clumsily patting Harry on his knee.

"Do you mind if I go over my charms homework, while you're… fire watching?"

Hermione nodded mutely. You'll have to tend to the fire, sooner or later, she thought to herself. Then I've got you.

Harry was quiet for all of twenty seconds.

"How many 'm's in 'summoning'?" he asked.

"Two," Hermione replied distractedly.

"Thanks," he said. "And how do you spell… oh, my word. Ron!"

The panic in Harry's tone broke Hermione's concentration. She looked up to see Harry's worried face looking over her shoulder, she turned around to see Ron standing dazedly by the entrance portrait.

Harry jumped up and grabbed Ron by the arm.

"Ron, mate. Are you alright? What happened?"

Harry led Ron over to the armchair he had vacated and sat him down gently. Ron passively let Harry guide him, his gaze a hundred miles away.

"Was it a charm backfire? An accident with potions ingredients?" Harry's eyes narrowed. "Did Malfoy ambush you?"

Ron definitely seemed out of it to Hermione, but then he realised that she had let her attention to the fire waver and she spun around to check that it was, indeed, still unchanged.

"Ginny," Harry called. "Something's happened to Ron."

Ginny came over, at least some concern showing on her face. Though there was only amusement on the faces of the Weasley twins, when they came over too.

"It's finally happened," said Fred.

"A very sad day," George agreed.

"Ron's last two brain cells have finally given up." Fred wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

"What are we going to tell mum?" said George.

"Shut up, you two," Ginny said coldly. "It's clear that something is actually wrong. Should I fetch McGonagall?" she asked Harry and Hermione.

"Let's find out what happened first," Harry said. "Ron, talk to us."

"Harry?" Ron said slowly, gradually coming to and taking in his surroundings.

"Yes, Ron. It's me, Harry. What happened to you?"

Ron frowned.

"What happened to me? I was…"

"You went off to play chess again, right?" Hermione asked, glancing away from the fire for a second.

"Yeah, that was it." Ron nodded. "Chess."

"With Fleur, right?" said Harry.

Ron nodded again.

"Wait," said George. "Is that where Ron has been disappearing to? He's been playing chess with the French champion?"

"I'm honestly a bit impressed," said Fred. "It's too bad she'll soon realise that apart from chess…"

"And Chudley Cannons trivia," George added.

"Yes, and Chudley Cannons trivia," Fred agreed. "That there's not much else up here." And he rapped his knuckles against Ron's head. Ginny slapped his hand away.

"Been trying to mate her, hey Ron?" George quipped.

Fred laughed.

"Want to take advantage of her poor positioning?" he said.

"Trying to enter her open file?"

"Oh, George, that's dirty… trying to utilise Fleur's Opening?"

"Will you two just…" Ginny started to say.

"Oh, wait," said Fred. "Trying to get some good French pawn?"

"Damn, that's good," George said.

"Shut it," Ginny snapped, pulling out her wand and levelling it at her brothers.

"Just having a little fun, Gin," Fred said, but he was eyeing the tip of her wand cautiously.

"Ron?" said Hermione, abandoning her examination of the fire for a moment. "What's that on your lip?"

Quick as a flash, Ginny had taken out a handkerchief and had wiped it against the corner of Ron's mouth.

"Ron, Ron, Ron," Fred said, shaking his head. "You're not supposed to eat the potions supplies."

"Is this lipstick?" Ginny asked.

Ron stared at her for a moment, then nodded.

The grin dropped off George's face.

"Did you kiss her?" Ginny asked.

Another pause, and then Ron nodded again.

"Well," he said slowly. "More like she kissed me."

Fred's mouth was hanging open.

"It's about time," Hermione said. "You've only been dating her for, like, a month."

George began coughing loudly.

"He has?" asked Ginny.

"He has?!" asked Harry.

Hermione looked at everyone in bewilderment.

"Yes," she said and then added, "duh. You didn't think she was only interested in him as a chess partner, did you?"

Harry was thoughtful for a moment.

"I guess I didn't think about it."

"Neither did I," said Ron.

"I don't believe this," Fred said flatly.

"Did she invite you to go to the Yule Ball with her?" Hermione asked Ron.

"Yeah," said Ron.

"We're talking about Fleur, right?" said George. "The French girl."

"The Triwizard Champion, yes." Hermione told them.

"More like she told me to ask her," Ron said.

"Oh, come on!" Fred exclaimed.

"She wants to go shopping for robes with me," Ron said. "Oh, no! I can't afford proper dress robes." Panic spread across his features.

"I can lend you some money," Harry said quickly.

Hermione snorted.

"You won't have to worry about that," she said. "She's a Delacour."

Everyone, including Ron, looked at her blankly.

"Doesn't anybody know anything about magical France?"

"I know the school is called Beaxbatons," said Ginny.

"I know the Quidditch teams," said Ron.

"Don't they eat snails there?" asked Harry.

Hermione let out a huff.

"Without going into a summary of the last two-hundred years of the history of magical France," she said. "Suffice to say her family is very well off. I'm certain she won't even ask about money, she'll just charge it to her family's account."

"Hang on," George said, holding his hands up. "Do you mean to tell me that Ron is going to the Yule Ball with someone who is not only a beautiful French woman, but is also filthy rich?"

"She's also basically French royalty," Hermione added with a cruel smile.

"Did I mention that she's part Veela," said Harry.

"That's it!" Fred exclaimed, throwing up his arms in defeat. "I'm going to bed. Maybe in the morning the world will have returned to normal."

He left, but George didn't follow him.

"I've got it!" he said, clapping his hands together.

"Got what?" Hermione said warily.

"Tut tut, Ron. Been hiding your true potions skill from us, have you?"

"You don't mean…?" said Ginny.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Hermione.

"Dipping the chess pieces in a love potion with a contact based delivery mechanism? I'd be impressed if it wasn't so depraved."

"Hey," Ron said. He sounded hurt to Hermione's ears, which meant that George, who had known him for far longer, definitely heard it.

"I'm a bit disturbed at how quickly you came up with that idea," Ginny said.

"Well," George said, smirking. "We can all stand down. Mystery solved."

He seemed inordinately pleased with himself.

"That's it!" Hermione stood up, marching forward to face off against the older boy. "You were just joking and being funny, but you've gone way over the line and are now just being cruel."

"Hey now, Hermione…"

"No, strike that. You weren't being funny."

"I don't need you to…"

"Now, you're either going to apologise to your brother or spend the night in the Hospital Wing."

George gave her an unimpressed look.

"You can't scare me. I'm two years older than you are."

Hermione's eyes narrowed into slits.


George did manage to go to sleep in his own bed that night, but he did wince terribly when he got under the covers.


Hermione stood tall and proud as she watched George limp up the stairs to the boys' dormitory. She felt heat flow through her as the adrenaline faded away. Wait… heat?

She spun around, but her fears had been well-founded. The fireplace was now filled with a bright, warm fire. Hermione looked back towards the stairs.

"That bastard," she said under her breath.

She sat down, rubbing her temples.

"Thanks, Hermione," Ron said.

"No problem," she replied.

"Urgh," Ron said to no one in particular. "What am I going to do?"

"Go to the ball with her, I presume," Harry said. "I don't mind that she's the French champion, if that's what you're worried about."

"It's not that," Ron said. "What am I going to talk to her about? I don't know how to talk to girls."

"And what am I?" said Ginny. "Chopped liver?"

"You're my sister, you don't count."

"Okay," said Hermione. "What about me? You've never struggled to talk with me."

"Well, yeah, but you're not…" Ron stopped. "Well, okay, you are a girl, but you're Hermione. I've known you, like, forever."

Hermione frowned.

"What? A little over three years? That's hardly forever. Plus you talk to the other students in our year no problem."

"Well, okay," Ron said. He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. "But I've never had to talk with a girl who… liked me."

Harry nodded sympathetically, but Hermione just scoffed.

"Hey, don't sell yourself short, Ron. There's only a couple of dozen boys in our year, and you're definitely near the top of the list there."

"I am?" Ron said.

"He is?" asked Harry.

"You're tall, you're funny," she said. "You've got that hair," she added in a husky voice. "You're a catch, Ron."

Ron touched his hair absent-mindedly.

"Hey, what about me?" Harry said.

"You… you're Harry Potter," Hermione said. "You're independent of the list."

Harry didn't look like he knew what to make of that.

"Don't worry, Harry," Ginny said. "I like you."

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked at her with various levels of surprise.

"I mean…" Ginny's face turned red enough to match her hair. "I mean…"

Then she ran away.

Harry watched her go and Hermione watched him watch her.

When he did nothing Hermione clucked her tongue.

"Unbelievable," she said to herself.

"Wait," Ron said. "I still don't know what to talk to Fleur about."

"Chess?" Harry suggested.

"But that was all we talked about before, surely she'll want to talk about other stuff."

"You did not only talk about chess with her," Hermione said.

"How would you know?" Harry asked.

"Because, even Ron is not that dense."

"Hey!"

"Look," Hermione said. "Do you know what she's studying at school?"

"Well, yeah. We may have talked about it a little…"

"And do you know how she's feeling about the Tournament?"

"Obviously we talked about that…"

"Do you know how she takes her tea? If she's left or right-handed? If she's a morning person or a night owl?"

Ron stared at Hermione.

"Yes," he said slowly.

"And," continued Hermione. "Do you both listen when the other is talking and laugh when the other makes jokes?"

Ron felt like his whole understanding of the world was collapsing. Hermione was right. He was just now realising how much he did know about Fleur.

"So, we were actually going on dates?"

"Yes, Ron."

"And she wants to go on another date with me tomorrow?"

"Trust me, Ron. You're going clothes shopping. For someone like Fleur, that's as close to a religious experience as you can get. Yes, it's a date."

"But… What should I do? What should I say?"

Hermione began rubbing her temples again. It had been cute and funny, but now Ron's cluelessness was beginning to get to her.

"Just be yourself," she said.

"But I don't know how to be myself!"

Hermione laughed, then reached into her bag and pulled out her charms homework.

"Okay, that was pretty good." When she looked up to see that Ron didn't appear to be reassured, she sighed and put her homework down. "Just… don't overthink it."

"You can do that, at least, can't you, Ron?" Harry said with a grin.

Ron looked at him for a moment, then scowled and hit him on the arm.

"You prat," he said, causing Harry to burst out laughing. Ron joined him a moment later. "What a day! Did you see the looks on the twins' faces?"

"It serves them right," Hermione said, adding a sentence to her homework. "Wait. Did you say tomorrow?"

"Yeah," confirmed Ron. "Oh, right. Can you help me sneak out tomorrow?" he asked Harry.

"Sure. Want to borrow the cloak."

"Is that alright? Thanks."

Hermione grumbled under her breath.

"What?" said Ron.

"It's nothing," Hermione replied. "I suppose there is something… romantic… about illicit rendezvous."

"Hang on," Harry said. "Nobody asked. You do want to go to the ball with her, don't you?"

Ron opened his mouth to answer, but Hermione spoke before he could.

"And not just for all the superficial reasons that the twins were thinking about, right?" she said.

Ron closed his mouth again, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a long moment.

"Yes. I mean… yes… of course, I do."

"Good," Hermione said, returning to her homework.

"You've certainly been happy since you started meeting up with her," Harry said.

"You know what? You're right. I have been happy. Plus, now I don't need to find a date to the ball any more."

"Was that the cause of much stress?" Hermione asked with a bemused expression.

"Yes," Harry and Ron said simultaneously.

"Do you have a date already, Hermione?" Ron asked

"Yes, I do."

"With who?" Harry demanded.

"It's 'with whom' and…"

Hermione stopped, staring at Ron in disbelief. Then she burst out laughing. Loud peals of laughter escaped from her, causing the remaining students in the common room to stare at her.

"What? What's so funny?" Ron asked.

"You!" Hermione got out between laughing fits. "And me!"

Harry and Ron shared a concerned look.

"Hermione," Harry began.

"I'm alright," she said, forcing her laughter to a close and returning to her homework with a grin still plastered on her face. "I'm afraid that who I am going with is a secret, but I promise that you'll understand when you see who it is."

"Oookay, then," said Ron.

Harry groaned.

"So, both of you have dates but I don't have anyone to go with," he said.

Hermione looked up from her homework, her face contorted into an incredible scene of incredulity. She looked between Harry, who was staring into the fire, feeling sorry for himself, and Ginny, who was watching the three of them from the other side of the common room, the top half of her face, still glowing red, visible over the top of an upside-down copy of Witch Weekly.

"Absolutely unbelievable," Hermione said.

"What is?" asked Ron.

"Nothing. Nevermind. Hey, Harry?" Hermione asked, scribbling furiously on a scrap of parchment.

"Yeah?"

"Can you help me with something?" Hermione stood up and began walking away without waiting for Harry to respond.

Harry found his feet and followed her, but he almost ran into her when she stopped suddenly and turned around.

"Here," she said, thrusting the scrap of parchment into Harry's hands. "Read this out loud."

Harry took the parchment and turned it so he could read it.

"Will you go to the ball with me?"

He looked at Hermione in confusion.

"What? I thought you said that you already were going with someone."

But Hermione wasn't looking at Harry, she was glaring at something behind her, mouthing something furiously.

"Yes, I will."

Harry turned around and looked at Ginny, who had just spoken.

"Huh? I was just…" Harry began, but then he felt the tip of Hermione's wand pressed against his side. "I would love to go to the ball with you, Ginny," he said automatically.

"Good," Hermione said. "Now I'm going to bed. Does anybody else need a Yule Ball date sorted out before I do?" she asked the room at large.

"Actually…" Seamus spoke up.

"I was kidding!" Hermione half-shouted.

She glared around the room challengingly and the occupants quailed before her gaze, even Sir Nick, the ghost, who had been helping some second years with their History of Magic essays, avoided her eyes. When she ascended the staircase to the girls' dorms, there was a collective sigh of relief.

"You're green, right?" Ginny asked Harry.

Harry looked at her, then his hands and then back at her again.

"What?" he said.

"I meant your dress robes," she clarified.

"Oh," he said. "Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"So that I can coordinate my outfit with yours."

Harry thought about that for a moment.

"People do that?" he said and then, after seeing Ginny's expression, said, "I mean of course they do. I knew that."

Ginny didn't know what to say to that. The short break in the conversation was starting to grow into an awkward silence.

"Right, I should head off to…" said Harry.

"Thank you for…" said Ginny, at the same time.

Ginny took a deep, calming breath.

"See ya," she said, slipping past Harry and disappearing up the girls' staircase.

Harry half-stumbled back into his chair next to Ron.

"So," said Ron. "Ginny, huh?"

"Oh, right," Harry said, sitting up in his chair. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Well, it'd be a little hypocritical of me, don't you think? Considering that I'll be going with your competitor."

"Huh, I guess I hadn't thought of that."

"She hasn't asked, by the way," Ron said in a reassuring tone. "About your progress for the second task."

Harry made a face.

"That good," he said in a quiet, conspiratorial tone, so no one else could hear. "Because I haven't made any progress."

"You haven't?" Ron said in surprise. "You told Hermione that you were almost there, just the other day."

"That may have been… stretching… the truth, a little."

Ron laughed.

"It wouldn't be one of our adventures if you weren't making it up as you went along, would it?" he said.

Harry smiled along with him.

"Still, I probably should get a move on," he said. "Put some effort in, you know?"

Ron looked into the fire for a moment, feeling conflicted.

"Do you want me to ask Fleur? Or…"

"No!" Harry interrupted. "No, no. That wouldn't be fair, to her or you. I don't want to put you in a position like that, where your friendship with me is…" he searched for the right word for a second, "in conflict with your relationship with her."

Ron let out a breath, his shoulders slumping slightly as the tension left them.

"Cheers, mate," he said. He looked over at the clock on the far wall. "Right, I should head up, busy day tomorrow and all. I've got a date."

Harry stared into the fire for a while, thinking about golden eggs and Ginny.


Fleur glared at the overcast weather as she walked along the path to the Hogwarts' gates. She shifted her attention to the lake in the distance, an image of the castle reflected on its icy, black surface. She had experimentally dipped a foot into the water after she had deciphered the egg's clue and had been shocked at how cold it was then. She dreaded to think how it would feel in February. She was a strong swimmer, but she was used to swimming in the Mediterranean, while at her family's summer home in the south of France. Frigid, winter, Scottish lakes were not high up on her list of attractive swimming locations.

She shifted her attention again, taking in the Durmstrang ship. Krum was at it again, diving from the deck straight into the water.

She didn't know where Durmstrang was located, no one except the residents of the infamous school did, but the body of opinion was that it was somewhere northerly and cold, Scandinavia perhaps. Next to that, and Hogwarts, in the Scottish mountains, Beauxbatons was practically a paradise of warmth and sunlight. When she had first realised what the second task actually entailed, she had almost marched up to Madam Maxine to complain of the inherent unfairness of the task, but that would have been a show of poor character on her part.

As she approached the gates, she took in the form of the Hogwarts' professor and groundskeeper and frowned. She didn't hold what was probably a mixed heritage against him. How could she, considering what her own grandmother was, let alone Madam Maxine, but goodness, did she struggle to understand him.

"Ah," he said in his thick accent, after spotting her approach. "Mornin' there, miss. I 'erd from your 'edmistress that you were wantin' to go ou', today."

"Oh," Fleur replied, uncertainly. "Good morning, professeur."

The giant man fiddled with a keychain with a dozen keys of all sizes on it, eventually finding the correct key and unlocking the gate.

"Jus' make sure you're back before dark," he said.

"Ah… yes," Fleur responded. It didn't really matter what he was saying, so long as she got back before dark, she had been promised that she could get back in.

She followed the path up to the village, Ron apparently knew some secret way out of the castle and had asked her to meet him outside of the sweets shop, which wasn't too far from the village's only shop that sold dress robes. She hadn't visited the establishment herself, having more than enough clothes to her name already, but she hadn't heard great things from her fellow Beaxbatons students. They didn't need to be great, though, they just needed to be able to follow her instructions.

As Fleur entered the main thoroughfare, the dark clouds seemed constantly on the edge of unleashing a cold rain on the residents and visitors of Hogsmeade. With the threat of unpleasant weather and without hundreds of school students to fill the road, it was calm and quiet. Fleur consulted her watch and saw that she was a little late, having misjudged the distance between the school and village, but she had still arrived before Ron, who couldn't be seen.

"Psst, Fleur."

She stopped. That had certainly been his voice, but, even after turning in a full circle, she still couldn't see him. She would be very impressed if he could Disillusion himself so completely at such a young age.

There was a rustle of cloth, then Ron's head appeared, floating in mid-air, in the shadows between two buildings.

"Over here," he whispered.

"A cloak of invisibility?" she said, stepping next to him in the gap between the buildings. That made more sense.

"It's Harry's," said Ron, pulling off the rest of it and holding it out so that Fleur could examine it.

She took it gently and slid her fingers through the soft fabric.

"Ah, I see. I can see why the Boy-'Oo-Lived might need such a thing."

She passed it back to Ron, who stuffed it into his pocket.

"It's a family heirloom actually, from his dad."

Something about that seemed strange to Fleur, but she couldn't quite put her finger on why. She shrugged. It wasn't as if she knew much about such things.

"So, uhh… where are we going?" Ron asked, looking anywhere but at her.

Fleur had to bite back a laugh. Put a chessboard between him and a pretty girl and he could be daring, imaginative and adventurous, but take that board away from him and he's nervous to even put one foot in front of the other.

"Come on," she said, slipping her arm into his and leading him along. "'Diggle's Dashing Dress Robes' is this way, non?"

"Uhh, yeah, I think so," he said, his feet falling into rhythm with Fleur's. "I've never been in, though."

"What?" Fleur said with exaggerated surprise. "Do you mean to tell me zat Ron Weasley of all people, does not frequently shop for formal dress robes?"

He grumbled, but when Fleur looked up at him, she saw the amusement he was failing to keep off his face.

She smiled warmly, but her good mood evaporated when the first rain drops began to fall on them.

"Gah! I despise this British weather."

"What? Does it not rain in France?" Ron asked, his lips curling.

"Non!" Fleur said, playing along. "It is nothing but sunshine in spring, cool winds in summer and in winter, we wake up to perfect snowfalls blanketing the whole world."

"What about autumn?" Ron asked.

"Autumn? Autumn is… it is spent reading in the library, or sipping coffee in the sitting room, or… or playing cards in the study. Maybe it rains then, I do not know."

Ron laughed and Fleur preened internally. She knew that the real Ron Weasley was in there. There was the man she liked, who would laugh at her jokes and not just lose himself to her appearance.

Luckily, the rain wasn't falling heavily and their destination was not far away. Not so luckily, the shop itself came into view.

Fleur stopped, dragging Ron to a stop beside her.

"What?" he asked. "It's this one."

It seemed that her fellow Beauxbatons students hadn't been critical enough. Even from the outside, Fleur could tell that it wouldn't suffice for their needs. The display pieces in the window were not only years out of date, even by British standards, but poor quality, too. She could see the uneven stitching and miscut sections from where she was.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, but Fleur was thinking.

I could just buy something here and make the relevant alterations myself. Goodness knows that I'm good enough at transfiguration to make anything look good. But, no, that's the easy way out and Fleur Delacour doesn't do anything by half-measures! I'll just have to make it myself from scratch, I think I can remember most of the charms. I'd have to buy the fabric and patterns and it would take quite a lot of time. Madam Maxine would say that I've already wasted too much of my time with this boy and that I'm damaging my chances for the tournament, but I am determined to show Ron just how good he can look, just how great he can be! And what's more…

She hid the smile that was trying to break free.

I'd like to make him squirm during the fitting sessions.

"Are you expecting post?" Ron's question broke Fleur from her internal debate.

"Post?"

Ron pointed and Fleur looked up to see an owl winging its way towards them both.

"Non, I wasn't expecting…"

But before she could even finish her sentence, the owl dropped through the sky and landed on a nearby fencepost, looking at her pointedly.

Pausing only a moment to consider who would be sending her a letter directly, rather than to the Beauxbatons carriage, she walked over and took the letter from the waiting owl.

Dearest Fleur, the letter started in French, I have heard from your younger sister…

"My mother," Fleur said aloud.

"Huh?" said Ron.

Damn that gossiping girl! She makes me promise to keep in touch with her with the enchanted mirrors that out parents got us, and then the first thing she does when I confide in her that I'm going shopping with a boy is to spill all to Mother.

Fleur scanned the rest of the letter quickly.

"She 'as 'eard zat we are going shopping and 'as insisted zat we go to 'appropriately 'igh quality establishments'."

"Do you mean to say that this owl has flown all the way from France in the last twelve hours?!"

"Non, just from London. She would have sent someone to go and organise this…"

Fleur reached into the envelope and retrieved a length of red ribbon.

"A Portkey?" Ron eyed it suspiciously. "Do you want to go?"

Fleur frowned, staring at the ribbon as if it had personally insulted her.

"No, but…"

She looked at Diggle's Dashing Dress Robes again.

"Is it really that bad?" Ron asked innocently, looking at the shop with her.

"Yes," Fleur said.

"Well," Ron said, shrugging. "I'm game if you are."

Fleur internally debated some more, but then slowly held out the ribbon for Ron to hold on to.

The moment that they were both gripping on to it tightly, they each felt a pull at their navels and they disappeared from Hogsmede.