As winter break approached, Ron was still basking in the glow of his astounding victory in the first challenge. The school was torn between treating him like a rock star and dismissing him as a lucky fool. Only the truly discerning realized that his being a lucky fool didn't mean he should be disregarded.

There was some ribbing about his fainting spell, but mostly everyone agreed that it was actually quite impressive he'd managed to hold off until the challenge was over. After all, it was a dragon. A couple of the older girls in the castle seemed to take a lot of pleasure in fawning over, "the brave little man." This was not good for Ron's ego.

One day McGonagall made an announcement. There was going to be a Yule ball in celebration of the tournament and inter-school cooperation. Everyone in 4th year and above was invited. Ron, and most of the other Gryffindor boys, were essentially uninterested in this announcement. Well, until they realized that they were expected to bring dates. And worse, dance. McGonagall made a special point of telling Ron that, as a champion, he was required to open the ball with a waltz. This made it imperative that he find an attractive date who would make him look cool. And hopefully one who didn't mind leading, because Ron's dance lessons in the kitchen at the Burrow seemed a lifetime away.

"Who're you going to invite, mate?" he asked Harry as they walked towards the Great Hall. "Any birds catch your eyes?" Ron's overly casual use of outdated slang did nothing to hide his nerves.

Harry looked amused. Side-eying Ron, he responded, "Only Hedwig."

Hermione laughed. "What about you, Ron?"

Ron tried not to show how troubled he was over the matter. "No, no, going to need some time to scope out the field, y'know."

"Anyway, there's no need to worry about it. We've got plenty of time. And with Ron's heroic showing in the tournament, I'm sure he'll have girls clamoring over him for a date." Harry grinned.

"Oi, like you won't have girls lining up to dance with the Boy-Who-Lived!" Ron reparteed, grinning back. Harry always knew just what to say.

"Yes, yes," said Hermione, distracted by the passing Viktor Krum and his giggling entourage, "I'm sure the birds will be flocking to you both."

Ron considered asking Hermione whether she had her eye on anyone, but worried it might be taken as a taunt. Always better to play it safe with women.

Upon seating themselves for dinner, it became apparent that the trio's lighthearted conversation held more truth than they'd realized. Within the space of half an hour, three different girls had come up to Ron and Harry to ask them to the ball. Harry seemed slightly horrified, but Ron took it in stride. He was a hero now, so it was only to be expected.

Fleur Delacour had apparently decided to lock down a date right away. She was flirting heavily with the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, turning up the allure. This strategy was, perhaps, ill-considered, judging by the number of boys humiliating themselves in increasingly absurd fashions. That Veela charm couldn't be denied, and no one was more mortified than Fleur when a first-year Hufflepuff prostrated himself before her, offering up a heart-felt poem of admiration.

Unfortunately, Ron was not especially resistant to the allure of Fleur. As they walked out of the Great Hall, he felt himself be overcome with a hazy, false sense of adoration. Glancing back frantically at Harry, he didn't manage more than an "Eep," before succumbing to the inevitable.

"Fleur, oh glorious, wondrous, Fleur. Never was a champion more graceful nor more silvery-shiny. Your hair smells good, and your smile is so very white. Please, gentle Fleur, won't you consider gracing me with your magnificent... magnificence? Please, please, please," begged Ron.

Fleur looked at him in pity. "Oh, Ronald, you poor little boy, I am so sorry. I, well, of course I will go with you."

"Y-you will?" stuttered Harry behind Ron. This was a sentiment shared by everyone within hearing range.

"Of course she will, Harry! I am a hero now!" Ron exclaimed unguardedly, still under the effect of the Veela's allure.

Fleur stared pityingly at him. "Of course you are. Such a brave little man." She reached down and patted his head. "Don't worry," she said to Harry and Hermione. "I will watch over Ronald at the ball, to make sure he does not hurt himself. I saw how he fainted after the first task, poor child. So delicate. I will protect him." With this statement, she turned and flounced away.

Ron blinked, feeling awareness seep back into his brain. He noticed he was on his knees, and jumped up, flushing red. He wasn't sure how he felt about what had just happened. On one hand, it sure sounded like he'd just been insulted. On the other hand, did the hottest girl in the entire school just agree to be his date? He needed some advice.

That night as the Gryffindor boys were getting ready for bed, Ron shyly approached Dean. Dean knew what was what when it came to women, plus he always gave wicked good advice.

"Hey, Dean?" Ron began, tentatively.

"Yeah?"

"Uh, y'know how Fleur Delacour agreed to be my date to the Yule ball?"

"Well, yeah, don't reckon how I could've missed it," Dean said, smiling. "Good for you, mate!"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Thanks." He hesitated. "Look, the thing is… I'm not really sure she's agreed to go with me for the right reasons, y'know? Like, maybe she just said yes, 'cause she felt sorry for me."

"Ah," said Dean wisely, "A pity date."

"Right," Ron agreed, relieved there was a name for what he was trying to describe. "Do you think I should tell her I've changed my mind?"

"Well, it is a pity date." Dean grimaced.

"You're right," Ron said. "A pity date is still a date!" He nodded decisively, feeling a lot better now that he'd talked it over with Dean.

Finally, winter break came. This didn't matter much to Ron, since he hadn't attended a single class for a couple of months now. Life was good.

Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were lounging in front of one of the fires in the Gryffindor Common Room. "So, Harry," said Ginny inquiringly, "Do you have a date for the ball yet?"

"Nah," replied Harry. "Can't be bothered, honestly."

Ron shook his head with a grin. Actually, he kind of wished the two of them could both go stag, but the duties of a hero never ended.

"I'm going with Neville," declared Ginny. She lifted her nose imperiously, practically daring Ron to make a fuss.

She was mistaken in her expectations however, because not even the over-protectiveness of Ron Weasley extended so far as to suspect sweet, shy Neville Longbottom of being a danger to Ginny's wellbeing. He was confused though. "I thought he was going with Hermione."

"Oh, no," Hermione said, blushing. "I've already said yes to someone else."

Ginny seemed completely unperturbed by the knowledge that she was not Neville's first-choice.

"Who?" Ron demanded.

"It's a secret," said Hermione, smiling somewhat maddeningly.

"It is?" Harry asked, puzzled. "But why?"

"Because!"

Ron was startled by an unusual flash of insight. He put a hand on Harry's shoulder and shook his head. Clearly, Hermione's date was a thing of fiction. While she may have simply invented a date in order to let Neville down gently, there was an even more likely explanation. She was trying to make him jealous.

He should've realized earlier how embarrassing this must be for her. Hermione obviously had a crush on him. They would have to be very gentle with her. A woman's heart was not to be toyed with. Poor girl. He smiled sympathetically at her. Maybe Harry could discretely offer to be her date when she admitted that she'd made it up. Wouldn't want anyone to ridicule her, after all. And Ron now understood that pity dates were nothing to be ashamed of.

The night of the Yule ball arrived, and the Gryffindor boys were putting on their dress robes. Ron twirled in front of the full-length mirror. He looked stunning. His parents understood the importance of the Hogwarts champion's robes, and they'd bought him a set to match Harry's. Harry also looked dashing of course, and Ron vaguely considered that it was a shame he didn't have a date to admire him properly.

The two best friends went down together to the entrance to the Great Hall. Ron was meeting Fleur there. Harry patted him on the back, "Better you than me!" Ron grimaced. Fleur was good for his image but bad for his ego.

Shimmering ethereally, Fleur appeared from behind. She nodded graciously in greeting. "Ronald. Harry."

Swallowing, the two boys stammered their hellos. Awkwardly, Ron held out his arm for the much taller girl.

The Great Hall had been transformed into a fairy-like ballroom with crystal ice figurines twirling in the air. One icicle looked an awful lot like someone had frozen Peeves and stuck him up with the other decorations. Ron and Harry grinned at each other. Wicked.

Some commotion was breaking out behind them. Viktor Krum was entering the hall, and on his arm was a remarkably pretty girl that Ron couldn't place.

A lightbulb went off above his head. That was Hermione!

Wow, no wonder she looked so pleased with herself. Glamours were 7th year charms, and the one she was wearing must be pretty strong to look so seamless. Ron whistled.

Harry glanced back at Ron. "Wow."

"Our Hermione is all grown up, eh?" he said. Bewitching powerful men with advanced spell-work. He was so proud.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, looking quite pleased with Ron's mature reaction.

Of course, Ron realized abruptly, it probably wasn't just her magical prowess that interested Krum. No, there was more to it than that. Krum must realize that Ron was his only true opponent in the tournament, and he was using Hermione to get to him. This was sobering. Poor Hermione, being strung along by a famous Quidditch star. Ron felt quite indignant for his friend, but he wasn't sure what he could do. Whatever he did, it would have to be subtle. He didn't want Hermione to be embarrassed. In fact, it would be better if Hermione never learned what a cad Krum truly was. This meant that Krum couldn't know that Ron was on to him. The cowardly snake.

Looking around in undirected consternation, Ron realized the solution was right in front of him. Harry was famous. He would know how to handle this kind of situation.

"Harry," Ron began casually, "what would you do if someone was using your friend to get information about you? Hypothetically."

Harry startled. "Eh?" he said intelligently.

"Y'know," prompted Ron, "what if, say, Malfoy, tried to get information about you from, say, Neville? What would you do?"

Harry frowned. "Neville would never tell Malfoy anything."

Ron also frowned. "Well, what if Malfoy had seduced Neville? And Neville's too enthralled with Malfoy's silky blond locks to realize he's being used."

A 5th year Slytherin behind them scurried away to spread what he'd just overheard. Malfoy seducing Longbottom was the craziest thing to happen this year. He couldn't believe he'd get to break the news! This kind of scandal is what he lived for.

Harry look flummoxed. "Er, well, that's a bit difficult, I suppose."

"I know," Ron nodded. "It's a dilemma for sure. Obviously, you wouldn't want to tell Neville and break his poor heart, but at the same time, you don't want Malfoy collecting important intel to bring home to Daddy."

Harry nodded back, getting into the swing of the scenario. "I guess there's only one thing I could do," he said. "Give false information to Neville."

Ron's mouth fell open in amazement at Harry's brilliance. "That's genius, mate!"

Smiling shyly, Harry said it was nothing.

"Nah, Harry, that's brilliant. Truly."

Suddenly, Harry's smile turned wicked. "Malfoy's silky blond locks? Really, Ron?"

Ron blushed.

…

The ball was even more boring than Ron had anticipated. He'd ended up sitting next to the biggest Ministry idiot of them all at dinner - his brother Percy! He literally got a lecture about cauldron-bottom thickness regulations. On the other side of him, Fleur wouldn't stop complaining. Apparently, Hogwarts was inferior in every way to her stupid school, Beux-pansies, or whatever it was called. When the dancing finally began, Ron was actually relieved that he wouldn't have to listen to anymore of the abuse she was hurling towards his beloved school. Unfortunately, Fleur proved perfectly capable of holding a conversation and leading them around the dance floor at the same time. Without the allure subduing his free-will, Ron found himself utterly indifferent to the older girl's many charms. He was genuinely beginning to consider escape-routes.

Eventually, Ron ended up feigning thirst. Fleur took her role of protector quite seriously and rushed off to fetch "poor little Ronnie," some punch. The twins at their worst had nothing on her genuine concern. Disgruntled, he went to wait for her at Harry's table.

"How's it going?" asked Harry.

Ron scowled. "She keeps patting me on the head!"

Harry smiled sympathetically. "You should've come stag like me. I haven't danced once. It's been great."

Ron glared at the tablecloth. "Yeah, well you're not a bloody champion, are you?"

"That's all you," Harry agreed cheerfully. "I saw you were seated next to Percy at dinner. How's he doing?"

Before Ron could give the rude response he wanted, Hermione interrupted them.

"Marvelous party, isn't it?" she gushed. Her face was pretty and flushed from dancing. "Viktor insisted we take a break, so I could rest my feet," she giggled.

Harry and Ron shared a look. Hermione didn't sound like herself at all. She was all… girlish and fluttery. Where had their serious, earnest friend gone? This ball was feeling more and more like another tournament task.

"Oh, there's Parvati," Hermione pointed out in a high-pitched rush of air. "I'm just going to go say hi! See you boys later." She hurried off.

Ron saw Fleur at the edge of the room looking around for him. "Harry," he said desperately, "I can't take it anymore. I've got to get away from her."

Harry knew when the time for good-natured ribbing was over. "She's terrifying," he said, nodding solemnly.

Any second, Fleur was going to see them. She was going to come over and force him to dance some more. She'd probably try to lift the punch glass to his mouth like he was an infant. He'd had to forcibly stop her from cutting his meat at dinner. Oh, Merlin. It was too late. They'd made eye-contact.

Panicking, Ron grabbed Harry's hand and tugged him under the table.

"Oi!" exclaimed Harry.

Wide-eyed and frantic, Ron begged, "You've got to help me, mate. She coming for me."

Harry, being the hero that he was, couldn't refuse such an ardent plea. Gesturing for Ron to follow him, he began crawling under tables and between legs to the edge of the ballroom. A couple of humiliating minutes later, they'd reached the courtyard outside the Great Hall.

Leaning back on the wall of the castle, Ron let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Harry."

Harry grinned. "I think we left quite an impression on those Durmstrang girls we crawled under. The blonde one looked like she couldn't decided whether to hex us or not."

They laughed. Typical Hogwarts shenanigans. This was more like it.

The rest of the ball passed delightfully. Harry had a pack of cards, and they happily hid behind some rose bushes playing Exploding Snaps and giggling like the school-boys they were. Being a hero was great. Winning fights against dragons, dancing with stunning older women… it was awesome! But nothing beat just hanging out with Harry.