A/N: Finally another chapter! The Yule Ball chapter is coming soon, yay! Thanks to WeasleyIsMyKing540 and JeanAndBilius for the review! :D

As always, reviews are appreciated!

If you haven't already, check out by new Romione story, From Out and Beyond!

Warning: Swearing (dur)!

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of these characters, J.K. Rowling does, though! And no. I do not make money out of this.

Chapter 22 ~ Dates to the Yule Ball

In the Trio's Headquarters, there were two lively siblings rambling about the upcoming event. Faces and ears turned as red as their hair. Retorts and bets flew around the room. In the corner, a boy with jet black hair was talking to a brunette with bushy hair.

"How long do you think it'll go on?" Hermione whispered over to Harry.

"I'd say til' the next millennium," Harry smirked.

"Bloody fucking hell! She was part Veela? No wonder why people gawk over her nice round-"

"Ronald! I don't wanna hear any of your barmy fantasies!" Ginny punched him on the arm.

"It's not like you have fantasies about Harry," Ron sneered. Ginny turned red as a tomato. Before Ginny could retort back, Hermione and Harry came to sit next to in front of the two red-haired siblings.

"You two have been going at it for nearly an hour. My ears are about to bleed from all the yelling," Harry teased.

"I just need a date for Merlin's sake!" Ron whined.

"Quit whining like the complete arse you are. I'm sure someone is out there, waiting to be asked you to take them to the ball," Ginny said to Ron, as she looked at Hermione. Hermione blushed in response.

"R-really?" Ron croaked out. Someone wants me to ask them to the ball even if I am a prat, he said to himself, awestruck by the idea.

"W-who is it?" Ron said eagerly awaiting for an answer. Was it Hermione?

"Sadly, they're taken already," Harry shrugged.

"W-what?" He said with disappointment. He sighed in defeated and laid back rubbing his temples. Hermione looked over at Ron, feeling guilty.

"R-Ron I-"

"Look who's talking!" Ron glared at her. Taken back from the sudden outburst, she started to fume. Ever since their argument about Ron's suspicions about Professor Moody, Hermione gave him the cold shoulder.

"I bet you haven't gotten a date to the ball," He mumbled lowly.

"Actually, I do! He's much more caring and considerate, unlike a certain prat I know!" She retorted.

"You're lying," Ron accused her, as his ears turn a dangerous shade of red, his eyes slowly turning a darker shade of his normal crystal blue eyes. Hermione almost flinched by the sight.

"She's not lying," Ginny defended Hermione at the blink of an eye. Ron opened his mouth, but Ginny beat him right to it, "And no, you can not know who it is. It's none of your bloody business!"

Ron groaned out in frustration, as he ran his hand through his hair.

"I need some fresh air," he growled at them. "Locus," he blew on the tip of his wand and teleported away.

Ron fumed him away to Gryffindor Tower, thinking about the whole argument.

Bloody Hermione and a guy I possibly don't bloody know! You lost your chance in asked Hermione out, you prat! I should've done it earlier and not pronounce like a ferret, Ron said to himself. He felt the urge to take Hermione far away from talking to any male, so only he could have her all to himself. The primal emotion made Ron want to punch the walls, so they could crumble in front of Ron's satisfying eyes.

"Screw my Weasley temper to hell," Ron murmured to himself.

He was about to punch the walls, but he heard voices coming from a classroom door.

"Ve came 'ere vor a specivic reason, Karkaroff," Ron heard a familiar voice, trying to progress the thick Bulgarian accent.

"Be vatient, Viktor. Vait vor ze orderz. Then, you may do it," Karkaroff said. Bloody Krum? What are those blokes up to, Ron questioned to himself.

"I can't vait any longer! I have all of zee thingz ready," Viktor said with impatience in his voice. Before Ron could proceed on eavesdropping to the whole conversation, Filch spotted him.

"Oi! Get a move on. Will ya boy?" He snapped at Ron. Ron jumped from the rattling voice of Filch and walked away quickly.

Ron placed his hands in his pockets, wandering around the halls. Merlin's balls. What the hell were they talking about, the red-haired boy thought with frustration and perplexion clouding his mind. He went up the stairs to his dorm, and he laid his stressed out body, in a prone position on his bed. He groans out, feeling as if a headache was coming to bug him.

Ron slept, falling into a dream full of dread.

It was Christmas Eve, the day before the ball. Ron woke up feeling groggy but fresh at the same time. He lazily got dressed in his most "beloved" (as if) maroon colored jumper. He wore it in disgust and went down to breakfast.

He sniffed the air to smell the aroma of his favorite thing in the world over than Hermione.

Food!

He drooled a little, as he proceeded to the Great Hall. He sat himself down and ate as if he was the runt in a horde of pigs. Hermione was next to him, and she flinched in disgust.

"So, are you gonna tell me who asked you to the ball or what?" Ron asked her with a mouth full of cookies in his mouth. She sighed and rolled her eyes at the conversation he made to her.

"It's really none of your business," Hermione stated, then went back to eating her cereal, slowly.

"C'mon, Hermione. It's not like I'm gonna bloody throw a fit, am I?" Ron lied. Whoever it is, I'm gonna bash their bloody head to pulp, he thought darkly.

"Please, Ron. Just let me have a great night. I've actually never been asked to a dance before," Hermione replied, trying to hide the sadness in her voice. Ron noticed it and his eyes softened at the thought. He cleared his throat, uncomfortably and resumed back to eating the remaining of the sugar cookies.

"Hey, uh- If you'd like, after the ball, I'd be glad if we could talk to each other. I promise I'll wait for you, so we could hang out for a bit," Ron shrugged while giving his famous lopsided grin. His ears turned a shade of pink from all his stuttering. He held his breath, waiting for the answer from the girl of his dreams.

Shocked, Hermione blushed a little and said, "Uh, sure.." Ron smiled gleefully at the acceptance of his significant offer.

For Merlin's sake, let this turn out as bloody planned, he pleaded to himself.

"Iz the potion almozt ready, Crouch?" A man with a thick Bulgarian accent and shady blue eyes told the fraud of a retired Auror.

"I reckon.. Did you tell the boy not to strike yet?" The imposter of Mad-Eye Moody said to him, as he drank more of the Polyjuice Potion from his pouch.

"Ov course.." Karkaroff simply replied with a grin. "You know Viktor'z vather'z zide conszizt ov zee mozt zuccessful verevolf hunterz and huntrezz around. I know zee boy inherited zat trait from how he huntz with hiz vather," he informed him.

"Excellent. It's time for Weasley to get exposed to all of his fellow peers. He'll be the sentence of execution in no time! Then, The Dark Lord shall have one less of an obstacle to face," Crouch replied with an askew smile drawn across his face. Karkaroff nodded his head, almost hesitating at the name of him..

A/N: Wow that was so much fun writing Karkaroff and Viktor's dialogues. Can't wait to write Fleur's.