Word Count: 521

Daphne isn't sure why she's come to the Yule Ball at all. After years of attending various parties throws by her family or their friends, she knows she doesn't particularly enjoy social gatherings, especially not ones like this.

Still, the food is good. She finds herself sitting in the corner, away from all the noise and dancing, munching away at something chocolatey and covered in powdered sugar.

Her gaze flickers to the dance floor. Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, at least. She can't help but smile.

"Tell me, what's the most beautiful girl in the castle doing here alone?"

Daphne looks up to see Blaise standing in front of her, a grin on his face as he watches her eat. Truth be told, she might hate the ball so much if Blaise had asked her. Maybe part of her truly expected him to. In the end, it had been little more than just wishful thinking on her part.

"I thought it would be obvious that I'm here alone and eating," she says before finishing the last bite. She's tempted to lick away the chocolate from her fingers, but she has to maintain some semblance of dignity in front of Blaise. She opts for a napkin instead.

Blaise snorts. "Smartass."

"Don't ask dumb questions."

He smirks, and Daphne hates how much that simple quirk of his lips drives her wild. It isn't fair. He's already good-looking, but tonight he looks absolutely amazing in his perfectly tailored grey and white pinstriped dress robes. She wonders if he knows how attractive he is. Merlin knows that quite a few students stare whenever he passes by.

"Why don't you dance with me?" he asks.

Daphne scoffs. He had plenty of chances to ask her to the Yule Ball, but he never did. Of course, she could have easily had her pick of partners. Two boys had asked her out, and she knows Goyle would have if he wasn't so shy.

But she hadn't wanted any of them. Likewise, she hadn't taken the initiative and asked anyone else because she knew exactly who her heart wanted. In the end, it seemed like it wasn't meant to be.

So why is he here now, asking her to dance with him? Daphne swallows down the resentment as she lifts her glass of punch, studying the red contents as if they're the most interesting thing in the world.

"Oh, come on, Daph," Blaise sighs. "Don't pout. You should be above that."

"I should," she agrees. "Which is why I'm not pouting. Why should I dance with you? If you wanted my time, you would have asked me to be your date."

"I'm asking you now."

She considers for a moment. It would be easy to drag this out and give him a hard time. It seems that their relationship has been based around that teasing and playfulness for so long.

In the end, she knows she can't say no to him. Well, she can, but it would make life a lot more boring.

Daphne sets her glass aside and stands, offering him her hand. "I would love to."