Chapter 6: Yule Ball
Disclaimer: I own nothing from J.K. Rowling's incredibly brilliant world.
"Someone's already asked me," she said, not quite looking him in the eye.
"Don't tell me that you said yes to Neville," Ron said, laughing hysterically. He knew it was the wrong action, but his hurt feelings had taken over at this point and he did not care whether Hermione was upset or not. Silently, Ron wished that Harry would stop looking at him like he had slapped Hermione across the face.
"No, it's not Neville. And just because it's taken you years to notice that I'm a girl Ron, doesn't mean that others haven't!" Hermione stood up from the table quickly and stalked away. Ginny ran after her and Harry continued to stare awe-struck at Ron. This had not gone at all well. From the entrance hall, Ron could hear Hermione's cries and Ginny trying to get her to calm down. How he wished things had gone differently…
Ron looked up from his memory and found his pale face in the mirror. The incident had occurred over a week ago, but he and Hermione were still not on speaking terms. Tonight was the Yule Ball and he was currently in the boy's dormitory getting ready. Harry was in the next room brushing his teeth and Neville (who Ginny had agreed to go with after Hermione had turned him down), Dean, and Seamus had all gone down to the entrance hall to meet up with their dates. Looking at his reflection once more, Ron sighed out of frustration and tried to fix the lacey collar on his second-hand dress robes. It seemed that there was nothing that could be done to help- both his robes and his situation with Hermione. Giving in to his anger at Hermione and his too-late approach, Ron took his wand off of the bedside table and started to magically alter the collar of his robes. When he had finished, all that remained were stringy pieces of lace.
"Did a hippogriff get at you or something Ron?" Harry asked when he came into the dormitory. Ron threw him a very rude hand gesture and turned back to the mirror to try and fix his problems with magic.
"I'm sure she would've gone with you mate. But she couldn't wait around forever could she? Someone asked her…we'll find out who tonight…and she was flattered. Hermione might've even done this to get back at you for not asking her in the first place. Now you know though, don't you? You can't just wait around for the perfect moment with the perfect plans. You just have to go for it, forgetting all consequences."
"Harry. This is no time for relationship advice. Our dates are waiting for us. And I don't think that Padma is going to be very happy when she sees what my dress robes look like. Let's just go down stairs and get this night over with. You have to open the ball, remember? No need to get McGonagall upset with you."
Harry shook his head but obliged and started out of the room. Ron turned away from the mirror trying to forget what he looked like. They started down the staircase and went into the entrance hall. The Patil twins were there, both of them looking quite lovely, but Ron didn't notice. His mind was floating up back towards Gryffindor tower where he was sure Hermione was getting ready to have a wonderful time with her date. Her date. That wasn't him. Ron scowled to himself and kept walking alongside Harry toward the twins. Padma was wearing robes of bright turquoise and Parvati, Harry's date, was wearing sparkling pink robes. Ron stiffly offered his arm to Padma and took her into the Great Hall. Normally, he would've been in awe of how grand the hall looked, but he was in much too sour of a mood to give it more than a passing glance.
As soon as Ron and Padma found a good place to stand, Professor McGonagall lead the Champions and their dates into the entrance hall. And there she was in all her glory and completely not belonging to him. Hermione. On the arm of Viktor Krum. He had never seen this one coming. His Hermione. With an international quidditch star. And not him. The Hall broke out into applause and Hermione even slightly waved when she passed Ron, but he didn't notice. All at once, feelings of bitter, unending hurt hit him like a branch of an angry Whomping Willow. He felt as if he couldn't be there anymore, that he was drowning in some deep pool of hatred for the Bulgarian star, and yet, all he could do was stand rooted to his spot on the floor and watch as she was lifted into the air laughing by someone who wasn't him. Padma whispered something about how great Hermione looked, but Ron could not respond to her, not when he knew that nothing positive would come out of his mouth.
The rest of the ball was a blur to Ron. A great blur of Hermione dancing in her gorgeous periwinkle (did he know that color until tonight? Periwinkle. It sounded so delicate, so gorgeous, so Hermione…something that he'd never known until the moment that she wasn't his…) robes. He vaguely remembered her coming over to him and Harry where they sat, both already abandoned by dates that would much rather be with other Bulgarians, just like the one that had stolen his Hermione. He also vaguely remembered her storming off because of a rude comment he had made about "Vicky." Ron was pretty sure that it involved the words 'ruddy pumpkin head', but he couldn't be a hundred percent sure in his current mental state. Finally, when a slow song came on towards the end of the night and he saw her entwined with him dancing so closely that surely no air existed between the two of them, Ron had had enough. He quickly stood up, no explanation for Harry, and went to the Gryffindor Common Room.
He sat down on one of the squashy armchairs and stared into the fire. He didn't know how long it was before life came into the room, had no idea how many people passed him, sitting there in his daze, all thoughts, every part of his being, belonging to the beautiful girl in the periwinkle (God that word, that color, that girl) robes dancing somewhere below with the boy who wasn't him. And then it happened, all at once. She was there, next to him. He had never smelled her scent so clearly before, noticed every sparkle in the color of her eyes, heard the tenderness in her voice when she said his name. Nor had he ever felt such pain, being so close to her, yet having her so far away from him and all that he wanted. It all came, right there, in the purest form to ever grace his mouth- cold, hard feelings lain out for the entire world to see.
