Harry stumbled back to the Gryffindor common room, his mind far from his whereabouts. His entire countenance was in shambles after the day's events, running his fingers through his hair, he almost laughed at his idiocy. Upon speaking the password, he walked rapidly upstairs to the male dormitory. It was only luck that his head was more agreeably occupied with the ethereal image of … her. Yes, just her. Ms. Unknown… It was terrible; he must have looked like a real asshole, conversing with her when he didn't even know her name…

Harry thrust his broom in the open cupboard, his callused fingers caressing the wood as he placed it inside. He could not help but recall talking to that girl… She really was beautiful, her blonde locks swirling around her face like a cloud of golden fleece…and her form was lithe and petite, she was slim but in an athletic sense. She was tiny, probably only reaching his shoulder in height, something about her made all of Harry's protective instincts rise to explosive proportions. However there was one feature that seemed to outshine all her others, like a beacon in a storm her eyes sent of message of warmth and safety… Glinting with something indescribable, the violet hue was so sultry it had literally taken Harry's breath away…

Who was she?

Harry gave a resigned sigh, moving to lie on his badly made bed. It was at this instant foot steps sounded outside his room. Raising himself up slightly to face the commotion only served to make his overworked muscles ache. However after a mild struggle, Harry managed to pull himself up to rest on his bedframe. "Who's there?" Harry shouted.

A mop of red hair could be seen coming from the corridor "Harry, it's only me…"

Harry only moaned "Hey, Ron."

In truth Harry could never really forgive Ron for what he had said about Hermione, but what choice did he have but to tolerate him? They had to see each other in almost every circumstance, it would have been virtually impossible to not encounter him some place or another during the remainder of school. Harry had never realised what a real prick Ron was until he met Lavender, she had seriously made him into a monster, one with which Harry had no real wish to associate himself.

"So," Ron said, as he threw himself onto the opposite bed. Pulling out a packet of lemon sherbets he shoved a whole handful into his mouth. "Wooz uup?"

"Nothing…" Harry murmured, pulling off his glasses to polish them on his shirt, his green eyes blinking furiously.

Ron seemed to swallow all the sherbets in a large gulp "Yeah right, Harry. I know that look… you know, that one where you have something heavy on your mind…"

Harry reflected that if there was one thing Ron was good at, it was reading people. Even though he was a real dickhead sometimes, he was damned good at analysing Harry's moods.

"Yeah, well you see I met this girl today…" Harry let his sentence drop off, hoping that Ron would pick up the idea.

"Oh right, lady troubles…" Ron winked knowingly. "Well you have come to the right place, I am definitely the Griffindor's certified ladies man…"

Harry looked at him doubtfully "I fully can't believe you just said that after that whole shit thing you did to Hermione..."

"Oh fuck off Harry, I handled it didn't I?"

"Ron, If I hadn't held your back, you would have been screwed… you have no idea how often I wanted to tell her… I feel a right wanker for not saying anything actually." Harry tilted his head back, lightly cracking it against the bedframe, giving himself a silent admonishment.

Ron seemed to be a scant second away from blowing up, his cheeks ruddy with splotchy colour. However with a deep breath, he appeared to calm down and in a strained voice he delicately tried to change the topic. "So..." Unfortunately his voice came out with a scratchy quality, reminding Harry disturbingly of nails running down a chalkboard. "...tell me about her."

Harry released a pent up breath. "Well I met her, what, ten minutes ago, and she is… it's like… I feel… bewitched…" Harry took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes in a gesture of aggravation. "Oh, before you say it... yes I do feel the irony."

A smile caused small crows feet to crinkle at the corner of Ron's eyes, slightly reminiscent of the playful boy he used to be. However as soon as it had appeared, the moment was gone, and the man he had become stood dangerously in his place. "Oh you mean that blonde one?" Ron asked, putting down the box of snacks, effectively breaking eye contact as Harry's gaze swung quickly to meet his.

He looked stunned "How did you know she was blonde?"

"From the look in your eyes…" Ron suddenly burst out laughing. "Just kidding mate, I saw you guys outside the window. She's definitely something special… I am getting a serious HOT vibe… talk about sex kitten…"

Harry grabbed the nearest pillow and flung it at Ron "You perverted bastard…" It was weird, why had Ron's words dug so deep?

"Hey it is not like she belongs to you!"

Suddenly there was an intense quiet in the room. Harry slowly paced over to the window to glance thoughtfully out across the vast grounds. He murmured "No… she does not belong to me… It is also highly likely that I won't even get to see her for the entire holidays…" Harry looked forlorn, because hardly any students stayed at Hogwarts over the midyear break.

Ron smiled and leapt up off the bed to clap a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Harry, I am disappointed… don't you remember what is happening tonight?"

Harry turned, no recognition flashed in his usually acute green hued gaze. "What are you talking about Ron?"

Ron shook his head in mock disgust "The Midsummer ball, my friend! What has my Ex been organizing this past semester?"

That's right, Harry thought. Hermione had been planning this ball for ages, before his two best friends had broken up, it had been the topic to surpass all other areas of polite conversation. Harry gave an internal sigh, perhaps life wasn't going too badly at all…

"Speaking of Hermione, I can hardly believe all the uproar she has caused in the Slytherin house!" Ron laughed, an almost cruel tinge lacing his words. "If I'd know she was this much fun, I might have even considered not fucking Lav."

Harry winced at the crudity of Ron's statement. "You know, you really are a heartless piece of shit sometimes…"

Ron clamped his lips together, obviously attempting to contain an equally harsh response.

The true Ron was emerging again; the one who didn't want to be kind, the one who thought only for his own pleasure… Harry despaired in thinking he could ever go back to the way he was before. In a sense, it saddened him… the only reason he hung out with the 'new' Ron was due to the fleeting hope that he might someday revert to the way he had been many years prior…

Uncomfortably, Harry tried to continue the flow of the conversation "So about the ball-"

"I hear the 'Slytherin Prince' isn't making an appearance tonight." Ron interrupted, his hair wildly standing on end. A mildly exasperated tone entering his voice. "The whole bloody house is disgusted that he is to spend the evening fawning at the sickbed of a 'mudblood'. Who would have thought Hermione had it in her to tame the Hogwarts Sex God?"

Harry murmured quietly in agreement. "hmm… she always seemed to hate him…"

Ron groaned "Well I am going to keep hating him, no matter what anyone tells me. He could have saved the bloody world, and I'd still want to kill him!"

Harry quietly murmured "Why do you hate him so much, Ron?"

"Well-… I-…" The words all seemed to clog in his throat, his face turning bright red. "I just hate what he says about me, and my family…"

"So…it has nothing at all to do with the fact that Hermione has managed to find happiness with Malfoy, something which she seemed unable to find with you?" The look on Ron's face was deadly, and Harry almost wished his declaration had gone unsaid…. Almost.

Ron squirmed under Harry's intense scrutiny "Lavender and I are happy, Harry." The statement appeared to be made as much to appease himself, as it was said to content Harry. "I have never been … happier."

Harry looked doubtful, but remained silent. Ron looked frustrated, so with a gentle smile, Harry placated his bruised pride. "Lavender is lucky to have you…"

Ron laughed; a humorless sound with little to no mirth whatsoever. "Hey Harry, tonight I think I will bring out my stash…" Ron moved over to one of the trunks lining the wall. Opening the lid, a wave of dust assaulted their nostrils. After a fierce bout of coughing, Ron pulled out a suspiciously unlabelled bottle of what smelt like muggle vodka.

"Where did you get that?!" Harry asked, a shocked expression clouding his handsome features.

"Fred and George gave me a few bottles to bring back last holidays –must have stole it from Dad's muggle collection- and they told me a party isn't a party without a bit of 'muggle' intoxication."

"Ron, I don't want to be responsible for underage-" Harry stopped mid-sentence, a terrible thought coming to his head.

Ron gave Harry a quizzical look, his eyes full of questions.

"Wait, is this ball just for seventh years?"

"yeah.." Ron drew out the word, not at all comprehending the purpose. "why is that important?"

"Well what if …" Harry almost feared to say the word "…what if she isn't a seventh year student?"

Ron shot Harry a look, which managed to simultaneously confuse and annoy… it was a very odd combination that was for sure… "Well let us see if fate is backing you, man…"

Harry sighed, he was 'the boy who lived'; attacked by Voldemort as an infant, a veritable orphan –now that Sirius was dead, and the Dursleys' sure didn't want him- and on multiple occasions he had been grievously injured by several unnatural forces... When had fate ever been on his side?

Sylphide raced to her room the minute she got back and slammed the door, the reverberating smash echoing through the Ravenclaw common room. Lazily she dropped down onto the bed, her heart pounding a mile a minute. Her cheeks were high in colour, and her breathing labored. Whether it was from the run or from meeting Harry Potter she had no idea. I am worse than those stupid fan girls! Undoing her hair from its confines, she slowed herself down by running her fingers through her hair. It shimmered in the dullness of the room, as if by magic it seemed to bubble and lick at her face, framing her face with a halo of artful curls. Abruptly Sylphide retreated, untangling her fingers from her hair. I will not sit here, basking in my own vanity… vanity makes you vulnerable… It was a lesson she had already learnt, one that she was not eager to have repeated. "Not that there is much to be vain about… anymore anyway…" she whispered.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. "Sylphide? Hello, Sylphide are you in there?"

Sylphide hurried to make herself presentable, in her haste she shoved her diary beneath her bed. "Please, come in!"

A tall, willowy girl strutted confidently into the room. She immediately went and hauled Sylphide off the bedspread. The girl seemed to have a look of disconcertion painted across her otherwise charming features. "Syl, do you have any idea what time it is?" The girl's eyes flashed with fire, each word was punctuated by a sharp intake of breath. "How lovely of you to go and skip last period today! POTIONS, Sylphide! I was alone on my bench in POTIONS! Can you even perceive the pain I suffered?"

Sylphide gasped. She had completely forgotten to attend last period! "Oh Olivia, I am so sor-"

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" Olivia swept her midnight tresses over her shoulder, her hazel eyes piercing Sylphide's conscience. "Besides, we were going to discuss your outfit for tonight, remember?" At this, a certain sparkle seemed to caress her gaze.

"Oh god," Sylphide sighed wearily "Not that again! I have only been here for less than two weeks, and I am already going to a ball?"

Olivia made a slight 'tutting' noise with her tongue "No Syl, not just any ball… this is the ball of the Twelfth Night!"

"Wha-?"

Olivia laughed, "Have you learnt nothing in History of Magic?"

Sylphide choked out "Well, I have only been here a fortnight…"

"Well let me just explain…" Olivia began, moving herself over to sit on Sylphide's recently vacated bed. "How can I begin this simply?… hmmm… You know that Christmas carol, the Twelve Days of Christmas?"

Sylphide gave an eager nod.

"Well, there is this story that many years ago, there was this rich nobleman, and he was completely enamoured of this beautiful woman -however to his dismay- she would have none of him. Meanwhile, there was this other young lady who had fallen in love with the nobleman, but he never saw her there. So in despair, she disguised herself as a boy, and offered to work for the rich nobleman. Each day, he would give her a different gift to give to the beauteous woman, but he was continually rebuffed…" Olivia gave a small smile, a sad smile… "It was not until the Twelfth Night, the young lady found that she could stand no more –her heart was breaking, you see- and upon revealing herself from her disguise, kissed the nobleman. Suddenly –to the lovers- the world had been turned upside down, and what had seemed 'wrong' before was now wonderfully 'right'."

Sylphide listened with awe. "That is so romantic…"

Olivia winked "They say it might have been the magic of the Twelfth Night that made them fall in love…"

"That story almost makes me willing to go to the Twelfth Night ball…" Sylphide laughed.

"What do you mean 'almost'? You are going! Besides, I have already decided what you are wearing!" Olivia giggled, and raced over to the dresser that stood on the edge of the room.

Sylphide half got up off the bed, "Watch out! Please make sure you don't rock that too much, I think my reading glasses are floating around in there somewhere… I can't afford another pair if you break them…" Rushing over to the dresser, she reached over Olivia's shoulder, fumbling with her blue rimmed reading specs.

"Don't stress so, Syl…" Olivia yelled, and with a flourish, she pulled out… what looked like… it couldn't be… a red corset. "I hid it in your drawers! Isn't that cool? I wanted you to find it, but you were taking to long to discover it!"

The garment itself was beautiful -as if the very fabric it was made of- was woven out of magic. The material was a daring silk of blood red, alluring … inviting… The bust was lovingly embellished with gold cord, which enhanced the delicacy of the material... it was almost more of an art form, than an item of clothing. An eye-catching sliver of bronze ribbon, accentuating the curve of the hips and the delicacy of the waist laced the bodice. However it was the skirt… the skirt, like a river of molten lava -a chiffon textile- promised to flow over the body, caressing the legs…

"What? Ohhhhh Nooooo…. No way! Nonononononono….!" Sylphide began to back away, dropping her glasses on her bed.

Olivia put on a melancholy frown, her eyes widening to the size of pools, watery and deep. "Plllleeeassseeee Syl…" She begged, her hands running over the soft fabric. "You are the sweetest, prettiest, purest thing around…"

With those words, Sylphide felt her countenance darken. If only she knew… However with a cordial smile, she playfully swatted the garment away. "I can not wear that… it is so… racy!"

Suddenly Olivia said "TWENTY GALLEONS!"

"What?"

"I'll give you twenty galleons if you wear that outfit."

"You mean like a bet?" Sylphide queried, her brows furrowing "But what happens if I don't wear it? If I lose…?"

Olivia seemed to think hard, before she gave a sharp bark of laughter "You have to kiss –and I don't mean 'peck'- Harry Potter (on the lips, mind you.)"

Sylphide went from being relatively normal, to crimson in the space of two seconds.

"Come on Sylphide, it will be heaps simple! You wear these clothes and you will make a killing! Boys will be falling at your feet!"

"Well.." Sylphide spluttered, on the brink of hysteria. "If you are so enthusiastic, why don't you go and make the killing?!"

A wave of melancholy seemed to sweep over Olivia's entire being... her heart seemed to shine in her eyes –but like the girl in her story, it appeared fractured... she whispered sadly "I am… not … free tonight."

Sylphide thought it safe not to ask anymore questions. Since Sylphide had come to school, Olivia had been in mourning… she had never told her for whom she mourned, and to be honest, Sylphide was not dying to find out either. She wore black constantly, and was continually sighing… The only thing that remained obvious was that Olivia had obviously loved them very much... How terribly tragic, Sylphide thought... "All right… I'll wear it."

Olivia brightened at this remark and jumped up with renewed energy. "Oh Sylphide, you make me so happy! Maybe we can even get you a boyfriend tonight!"

Sylphide shivered… a memory of clammy hands touching her body, flashed across her mind.

…No, not that again.