Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Thank you so much to my reviewers catwomannnnn1 (thank you! Everything is fine I'm just a drama queen sometimes haha), Guest (again, thank you! We didn't even go out for long so oh well thank u, next!), reppad98 (thanks! I just have an insane fear of being late so I just cannot do it haha. I totally get what you mean about the OCs, but I hope that the next few chapters will help you to straighten things out! And I mean, we say film/movie interchangeably depending on where you're from in the UK - some people even say mom not mum here! It's no big deal really, but thanks for giving me the chance to explain it all!), Guest (thank you, that's very sweet!), AMBERJANUS (thank you for always reviewing! I really appreciate it), MLMarint, and chapou69. You guys are the best, I love you all 3

Wow, so this week has been... intense. Wrote 5 chapters, started a new job, moved back home from uni for the holidays... I'm just going to go sleep for a week brb. So anyway, this week is the final week! Eeee I'm so excited! But yeah, I have nothing to say right now. Words have officially lost meaning to me.

Oh, and the boys are all from different parts of the UK so all have different idiolects. I'll provide a lil dictionary for the weirder words at the end of the chapter - but it's not even heavy. Just an excuse for me to pull out my Midlands slang next chapter eyyyyyyyy

Enjoy!

Chapter 23: Joshua

Alfie was one of those people who always seemed to lie completely still when he slept. He'd go to sleep on his back, sheets tucked into the underside of his mattress, and then he'd wake in the morning in the exact same position, barely a wrinkle in sight. I can't do that. I'm always moving in my sleep; writhing like an eel. As I moved my legs against the cold, cotton sheets and stretched, and pulled up the starchy, heavy blanket on top of the quilt off me, the bed was a complete mess. Not as bad as Max, mind you now, but that's Max. Total slithery serpent if I've ever seen one.

But I can't get the feel of the scratchy blanket off my hands all day; it lingers there through breakfast, a vain attempt at studying, lunch, a vain attempt at polite conversation, and even now, as we traipse up the stairs to get ready.

"What'chu gorming about, Josh?" Max drawls in that familiar, cocky way. What an arse. What a best friend.

"Just gorming." I replied, and carried on up the third, fourth, fifth flight of stairs. "You'd have thought we'd be able to walk up the stairs without feeling winded by now, wouldn't you?"

Bloody hell. it was a good job Amelie wasn't there to see me gasping like a choir toad, all gross and short of breath. I wasn't even that unfit!

Max wandered off with only a snort into our room, and I was unfortunate enough to linger long enough for Patrick to come out of his room. He looked an utter twat in dress robes of bright green, but I tried oh-so-hard not to move my face at all. If there was one thing I took in from Alfie, it was to never show your disgust on your face. Mind you, he'd got a lot worse at not doing that lately.

I caught my finger on the wooden knot on the door, on the lumpy bit in the middle that jutted upwards with rough edges, and yanked my finger quickly away before shutting it behind me. I was sensitive enough anyway, I didn't need bloody splinters all the time.

Albus was fighting his way into his trousers as I walked over to the closet, and Scorpius looking agonised over his tie. Why? Was it too long, too short? I looked at mine. It looked fine, a deep sapphire blue with very slight diamond patterns that only showed in the candlelight, hanging there on the crisp, white shirt. It did look fine, didn't it?

"What is it, Scorpius?"

"Rose said she wanted to coordinate outfits... I have no idea what kind of green she wants my tie to be."

He always had this look he pulled when he wanted help - which wasn't always received as well as his deer-caught-in-headlights look might let on - and low and behold, his wide grey eyes were now even wider.

"Did she say what kind of green? Amelie's always very specific about colours." I said, nodding to my tie. I'd got it on her exact colour orders, and I expected that she'd be very pleased with me. She deserved only the best - and expected it.

The look faded, and he shrugged. "She said dark emerald green."

"So make it dark emerald green...?" I couldn't with him sometimes. For someone so clever, he could be the biggest idiot in this room. Typical, these pure-blood wizards quite often had no clue about what went on in the rest of the world. Even Max could be that way, sometimes.

Taking my suit very carefully over to my bed, I lay it out and started to change. I was so excited. Amelie has been teasing me with what she was going to wear - and not wear - for a few weeks now. She was gorgeous, intelligent, and probably out of my league. But that's never stopped me before. It just felt different with her.

The fabric of the shirt was cold on my skin. It was slightly rough and unyielding, from being ironed so thoroughly the other day. These boys had never even ironed before, and looked at me like my sister used to when I did magic as I ironed out my shirt into crisp lines.

Ah, Melissa. She'd probably be back home now, after school. It felt weird, her not being here; we'd spend all evening together when we were both still in primary school. Which I would never, ever admit aloud - to everyone else, I just had really strict parents. But it really was strange, barely seeing her outside the holidays. Especially when you had families like Alfie's and Albus' populating the school. I hadn't met another witch or wizard yet who had the same kind of situation as me - then again, divorce still seemed to be taboo in the wizarding world. Sometimes it felt like living in the 1950s, and no matter how much time passed, peoples views wouldn't change. It made me so annoyed sometimes I just wanted to go and live in the Muggle world and forget any of this ever happened.

But, I'd never be able to do that. Not as long as I had friends as weird as this lot and Amelie by my side.

Slinking into my jacket, I was finally all dressed and ready. And looking fine, if I may say so myself.

"Wait— Josh—" Max hurried over and started fiddling with my tie. "There. You were all wonky."

"That's me." I grinned, and the two of us looked around, to see Alfie, changed but motionless, Albus fighting with his laces and Scorpius turned away from us, apparently having difficulty locating the opening of his sleeve-hole. Classy bunch, they are.

"'You ladies ready yet?" Max asked, voice full of that false sense of gumption he got whenever he didn't want to do anything. For someone so full of confidence, he could be a bloody coward sometimes. No wonder he wasn't in Gryffindor. Well, that and the death eater parents.

"Yeah, think so," Scorpius muttered, now giving himself a lovely double chin as he tried to sort out his tie. That boy was like a newborn foal attempting to walk sometimes.

"Here, I'll do it—" Albus sighed, fixing his tie in a few seconds. Scorpius gave him one of those wide, ingenious grins in thanks and, finally, we were all ready.

"Why am I nervous? I shouldn't be nervous." Albus said whilst taking huge, deep breaths, like he'd just run the sports' day fun run or something. Oh boy, now that's a blast from the past.

"Because you're the star of a trashy teen-romance novel and tonight's the night." Max drawled, and I could tell he was nervous, too, by the declining quality of his jokes. "Shall I do the honours?" He asked, tapping the door with his wand.

"Go on then," I said, and watched as he sealed the door with a locking spell. We always did this after we all left the room, after that incident in year four... I'd never trust anyone with an unlocked door and my stuff ever again.

Usually, when we walked down into the Entrance Hall, it was nothing of note. If there was anything I ever noticed in here, it would be the smell of breakfast or lunch or tea, or it would be how ridiculously bloody late I was about to be. But this evening, it was different. Now I have no sense of interior decoration at all - I barely even notice if I make my bed or not - but even I could tell it was well done.

"Now this is an entrance hall!" Scorpius exclaimed, and whilst I'd never voice it as lamely as him, he was right.

Unlike the rumours Max had heard, there were no Hippogriffs in tinsel to greet us at the door - but there were Hippogriff-shaped decorations, made of the finest wire and glowing with a dim, enchanted light. My muggle side questioned why the hell they didn't have antlers or a red nose. Then again, my muggle side had no business being in places like this.

It was as though some, giant pastry chef had created a masterpiece in gingerbread; dusting the walls and the floor with icing-sugar snow; candy-cane like red and white decorations hung from the ceiling and the warmth of candle-lit boughs of holly glistened on the walls, which looked as though they were sprayed with something silver, and glittering. Looking up just out of curiosity, I was surprised to see shimmering icicles hanging above the staircases, as though made of diamonds like from that brand my step-mum liked. It was like stepping into one of the wonderful creations of those wizards in disguise and the muggle population went mad for. Like a story-book that my dad would read me, or a fanciful tale my step-mum would tell me. Just for a moment, I felt like I was back to my eleven-year-old self, staring around in awe at this wonderful castle I couldn't believe that I was going to be able to call home.

Some days, I still didn't believe this wasn't all a dream or a horrible practical joke.

"What're you waiting for?" Max asked, and I was pulled back down into reality.

"Oh," I said, and the sounds began to swirl around me again. Alfie was talking about the finer points of the decorations or something, and I could hear a troupe of younger girls coming behind us. "Nothing. Let's go."

Max grinned, and dragged me by the hand down the last few stairs. "I need to find Isabelle, and soon."

I snorted, "you horny bastard."

"Not like that, you idiot. I just…." Max couldn't finish the sentence. And when Max couldn't finish a sentence, you knew it was serious.

"Yeah, I get it. But look - the others were right. You should probably go find Mia first. Oi- don't give me that look!" I said, as Max rolled his eyes so far back I worried they might not actually come around again. "You've just got to do it. Some things in life we just have to say. Y'know. Even though we don't want to."

Max paused, before rolling his eyes again. "Yeah, tell me about it." And with those enigmatic words, he left. God, my best friend is crazy.

Albus and Scorpius and Alfie had disappeared off somewhere - God knows. Probably to look at decorations, or mingle with Albus' absurdly large family. Amidst a crowd of so many people, so many friends, I suddenly felt a little bit alone. I was never usually left to my own devices; I always had friends or somebody else to accompany me wherever I was going - whether here or back in London. So it weirded me the hell out being alone amidst so much talking and chattering and laughing like this.

"Josh?"

"Amelie!" I gasped, relieved that someone finally noticed me. And I turned, to see her, standing there as though the only woman in the room; a shining beauty who was way, way out of my league. Sleek chestnut hair falling in a waterfall of waves over one shoulder; the other bare before her dress, with straps falling to her mid-biceps and the fabric fell delicately across her chest, like one of those corsets stupid muggle women wore years ago, making her tits look amazing. The long, deep sapphire silky fabric fell and fell and fell, past her impossibly tiny waist and her narrow hips all the way to the floor. She looked like a mermaid, or better yet, a siren. Beautiful. Intoxicating. More than likely, deadly.

"You look…." It wasn't often that I ran out of words, but that was one time I just had nothing to say. No words could accurately describe how beautiful she was. "You look amazing." It was weak, but I settled on it. I drew her into a kiss, and she smiled with that restrained little quirk at the edge of her lips.

"Thank you. You look good. Come on," She said, and turned away, grabbing onto my hand and leading me away. It was like the whole world crashed back in again, and the furore of chatter sounded deafening in my ears. I bashed into and brushed past what felt like hundreds of people, Amelie's tiny, cold hand in mine, before she finally pulled to a stop. She'd been leading me to her group of friends - mostly Ravenclaw girls who I barely knew (Lucy might've been a cousin of Albus' but I couldn't remember), and that boy Oliver, who was missing, tonight.

"I can't believe Oliver's missing already." Evie sighed, rolling her eyes and folding her arms, moodily. She, I remembered, was supposed to be going with Oliver. But from what Amelie said, he was always a bit of a flight risk.

Several boys who I barely recognised - except for Charlie Song, that guy from Ancient Runes - milled around at the sides of their dates, chatting along with the girls. And then there was me. I didn't consider myself a needy person, but I felt so awkward, there, hanging around half a pace behind Amelie, not knowing who to talk to or what to say. She barely even looked at me.

In short, I felt like a total nob.

I shuffled slightly, to stand more next to her than behind her, but there was still nothing I could say. If I could talk to Charlie, we could unleash our inner Londoners together and allow this conversation with bad chat, it's bear boring. Or discuss the freshest new creps back in Addidas or, more realistically, Sports Direct. And boy, did I like letting my proper London-self free sometimes. But it's not like I could just break out into proper London slang when neither of us really qualified as a roadman, and he wasn't even from round my ends, anyway. He was a Southie boy but I'm from East London. Besides, they were in the middle of talking about, what —?

"My mother really believes that tea-reading works. Honestly - she sent me a diagram of her tea leaves in yesterday's post."

"Did she? What house was your mum again?"

"Ravenclaw."

"Oh."

"Oh."

"She's one of those Ravenclaws, then?"

Apparently, they were talking about Saffron's mum.

Alright then.

Looking around me for someone from my dorm, I'd never been so desperate to see Scorpius' obnoxiously bright hair, or Albus' weird copy-pasted face, or Alfie's vacant slate eyes. Not even Max and his obnoxiously loud voice were within hearing distance.

So, people watching it was.

I'm not even good at it. It took me years to be able to read Max. We'd been friends since the first day, when the two of us awkwardly made eye-contact with each other before anyone else, and so, therefore, were bound to be best friends until we met other people we actually liked. Except we didn't. And that was that. But I didn't learn to read him until almost the end of third year and I noticed something was up. Albus and Scorpius were open books who wore their hearts on their sleeves, so it wasn't hard to figure out what was wrong with them. Alfie, however, was so closed off he'd probably end up being a serial killer or something and I'd have no idea until I was the one he killed.

Seriously, I really can't read people. Like that couple, over there: she's leaning into him, and he's looking away from her. At another girl's arse. Jesus, even I'm not that bad. But is he just being distracted by an admittedly fine arse, or just uninterested. She's not exactly pretty, but she's no butterface. And now he's kissing her back — see! People are confusing, and those who can read people are either practising another level of witchcraft or just psychopaths. Like Alfie!

People are walking everywhere around me, weaving in and out of circles of friends who're talking, laughing, full of joy. There are girls in pretty long dresses and some in suits - alright then - and boys clustered around the bottom of the staircases, looking around anxiously, hoping that their date hasn't stood them up. Look - there's Harry Shaw and—

Oh, shit.

Isabelle Oscar, walking down the stairs looking like the most beautiful American (well, half-American) to have ever graced the Halls of Hogwarts, going to meet Harry Shaw.

Max might actually kill him if they kiss. Oh, oh God no— she's given him a peck. And— yep, that's right. That's Max, striding over like no one's business, with a cocky smile on his stupid bastard handsome face. Oh, he's such a stupid bastard. Mia Clarke's just behind him, staring absolute daggers into his back. And is that Lola Travers trying to comfort her? Huh, weird. Max is still walking over, despite the fact that Isabelle and Harry are now holding hands and oh God—

I can't watch anymore. I turned back around, away from the hot mess that was about to explode over by the staircase, to this frosty as hell social situation.

Ugh, I really don't get people.

But as I looked at Amelie, as beautiful in profile as she was when she was in front of me, it was worth it. It was all worth it. I'd become the best damn small-talker in all of Hogwarts if that's what it took to be with her.

"Students of Hogwarts," said the voice of Henrich, suddenly bursting over the noise with amplified force, "please proceed into the Great Hall for the opening dance."

The doors of the Great Hall swung open, and Henrich's typically curt statement was over in a flash. Good. He's a wanker.

"Let's go." Amelie declared, with her usual charming smile. I took her arm, and we proceeded together into the Great Hall, the other couples of her friends just before us.

We were being directed around the square shape of what looked like a dance floor in the Hall. I filled a little with dread. Dancing in the clubs, I could do. Ball dancing, however…?

"Do you think we'll have to dance?"

"Of course. It is a ball, after all." Amelie replied, with that little quirk of her eyebrows I always thought of as cute.

We settled some rows back from the edge of the dance floor, but not far enough away to be able to see. Of course, I was still clueless as to what was happening.

"Oh, I think they will have a dance. Of Professor McGonagall, and some other pairs."

"Really?"

"Yes. It is where my mother met my father, after all. It is an important part of the Yule Ball. Well, the /Phoenix Ball/." Amelie rolled her eyes, having been critical of the name change. She'd grown up hearing stories of the Yule Ball from her parents, and of how it had been a magical night for them. I looked into her eyes and she watched the rest of the student; hazel and glistening with an otherworldly blueish gleam in the light. I hoped tonight might be a night like that, for us.

Suddenly, students started clapping around us. I joined in as soon as I picked up on the sound, and watched as McGonagall and Henrich, James Potter and Millie Longbottom, and Freya Walsh and Jake Andrews took their places on the dance floor. Oh God, it was ballroom dancing.

A medium-tempo waltz picked up, and the three couples began twirling and moving to the music. McGonagall was surprisingly nubile for her age, but of course Henrich had no sense of rhythm. It looked like McGonagall was leading him. James Potter was obviously good at dancing - he was good at everything.

"Look at Millie Longbottom. Probably only got there because her dad threatened failing him."

I glanced at Amelie out of the corner of my eyes. She was smirking to herself, but I couldn't bring myself to join her. Well, she had a tendency to make jokes that verged on rude when she was nervous, so I wouldn't read into it. I looked back at the pairs - the girls dresses twirling out like how they did in old films, the men moving in black and white clockwork. Even Jake Andrews looked like less of a Rugby-Twat, as my London friends so amazingly described it, in fancy dress robes like that. I'd heard stories about him, and his bragging, and how he couldn't get off with a girl in his year so had to target the year below. How vile. Makes you wonder why a nice girl like Freya ended up coming with an arsehole like him.

It was easy to get lost in the movements f the couples; the twirling, the spinning, the waltzing easy tempo that when the music stopped and the applause began, I was surprised by the cacophony around me.

Other couples began flooding onto the stage, and soon the square of dance floor became a rectangle, then squarer, then eventually just a mass of dancing teens.

"So," I turned to Amelie, who was watching Freya and Jake with appraising eyes, "want to dance?"

She eyed up the crowd, and then the crowd around the drinks table. "Hm. Let's get a drink, first."

London Dialect Dictionary: (disclaimer: don't me for my poor definitions plz thank you)

roadman - someone from the streets

crepes - shoes. No, seriously.

'round my ends' - essentially, 'from my neck of the woods'

allow - it kinda means like to leave it/stop doing something

bear - very

So what did you guys think of Joshua? And who do you think is coming next...? Let me know!

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