"Fairy Lights."

The Fat Lady started to open then paused. "Are you serious this time?" She asked.

"Very." Harry smiled. He had spent the last few minutes walking back to the Common Room experiencing waves of wildly conflicting emotions, some positive, some radically negative.

The painting swung open revealing a Common Room much quieter than it had been earlier that day. Stepping inside, he saw no more than a dozen people milling around.

"Hi, Harry!" Colin and Dennis Creevey said together as the painting closed behind him. There was a girl between them, working on the badges: probably a first year to judge from the four cushions propping her up on the table where the three worked. She held up a nervous hand, smiling a big, toothy grin.

Harry raised a hand and smiled back to them a moment before noticing Ron, Ginny and Neville sitting by the fire in the best, squashiest armchairs.

Ron was ashen-faced and clutching a large cushion to his chest while Ginny looked amused and Neville wore the expression of someone visiting the bedside of a sick relative.

"What's up, Ron?" said Harry, joining them.

Ron looked up at Harry, a sort of blind, worn horror in his face. All he could do was shake his head.

Ginny smiled a tight-lipped, uncomfortable grin.

"What?" said Harry.

"He — er —asked Fleur Delacour to go to the ball with him. About… half-an-hour ago," said Ginny. She looked as though she was fighting back a smile, but she kept patting Ron's arm sympathetically.

"You what?" said Harry, a laugh bursting out of him against his will. "What did she say?"

"No, of course." Ginny said.

Neville, smiling reluctantly, raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Are you okay, Harry? You look a bit…" he drifted off, clearly unable to put how Harry looked into words.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Harry said, sitting on the arm of Ginny's chair.

She leaned in close to him, beckoning him closer with a crooked finger. "He's a bit shaken up," she whispered in his ear, "he didn't actually ask her per-se." She smelled amazing, like fire and cinnamon.

"He kind of screamed it at her," Said Neville, "it was kind of unnerving, honestly."

"Couldn't help it…" Ron said, finally looking up. His eyes were full of horror. "… you've seen what they do to me when they walk."

Ginny scoffed. "Or breathe, or happen to be in the same room."

Ron put the cushion over his face and sat back as the portrait opened again and Fred stepped in, hand-in-hand with Angelina Johnson. Fred grinned and led her over to the group. They both stood there for a few seconds, staring a Ron.

"Is he okay?" Angelina eventually asked.

Fred guffawed loudly. "I'd bloody hope not. Well done, wittlle Ronnykins, you great prat."

Ron wailed into his cushion. The cry became a whimper that turned into a roar of anger. He pulled the cushion away and threw it on the group. "Bollocks to it," He said, "I'm going solo."

"No you're not, I have an idea. Give me… half an hour." Ginny said, jumping up and heading for the portrait hole, vanishing through without another word.

Harry slid into her vacated chair as Fred dragged over another for him and Angelina who took it with a smile.

"It's all around the school." Fred said, making a concerted effort not to smile.

Ron scowled at him. "Alright, I get it. I'll get ready to be even more of a loser than before."

Harry saw Fred, in a moment of surprising restraint bite his lips, suppressing another grin.

Turning to Harry for the first time. "How did it go for you? You were gone ages."

Angelina clapped her hands in excitement. "Who were you after?"

Ron latched onto this, clearly seeing a chance to talk about someone else. "Oh yeah, how did it go? He wanted to ask Cho."

"Chang?" Fred and Angelina blurted out together.

"Yes." Said Harry. "But don't worry about it, she's going with Cedric."

"Diggory?" Ron asked, eyes wide.

"How many other Cedrics do you know?" Fred asked.

Angelina put her hand on Harry's. "Sorry about that, Harry. But let's face it, she's a bit stuck up."

Harry shrugged.

"Bad luck, mate." Ron said. "Any idea who you are going to try next? There can't be many left."

Harry sat back in his own chair and took a deep breath, slightly overcome again by what he had done, and what chaos he was soon to unleash. "I did, actually. Decided to ask the first girl I saw."

"Bloody hell." Said Fred, perching on the arm of Angelina's chair. "That is brave."

Angelina's eyes were wide. "Who?"

Harry suddenly felt like his tongue has been glued to the roof of his mouth. He coughed a couple of times.

"Bloody hell, it must be good." Fred said, putting his arm around Angelina.

Harry raised his eyebrows, smiling in a way he hoped didn't look insane.

"Definitely good." Said Neville. "Come on, Harry."

"It's umm… Pansy Parkinson."

The silence was ringing. Harry looked between them. Fred's expression was moving from stunned to amused and back again.

"Bloody hell." Said Ron.

"Bloody hell." Said Angelina.

"Yep." Said Harry, sitting back in his chair.

"Hang on," said Ron, sitting forward, his own drama forgotten, "Pansy Queen-Bee, Raging-Arsehole, Malfoy-Molester-Number-One?"

Harry nodded reluctantly.

"Hold on, just one second," Angelina said, her blue-grey eyes roving across Harry's face, "how did that happen?"

"Well after Cho decided that useless pretty-boy was the one for her, I overheard Malfoy having a row with someone and it was her – Pansy. They started kicking-off and I told her to go with me instead. I think I meant it as a joke to start with, but she said yes." Harry said, immediately feeling a little better for getting it out.

"Bloody hell, Harry." Neville said, blowing out a breath.

"You're barking!" Ron said, laughing. "You nicked Malfoys girlfriend out from under him, to his face?!"

"I don't think you understand what 'out from under him' means in this context, Ron." Said Angelina.

Fred almost fell off the chair laughing.

"I guess," said Harry, "but it's happening. I've got to meet her after dinner to discuss what we're going to wear."

"What does that mean?" Ron said.

"No idea, but she and Malfoy were rowing about something to do with a dress, and how she hates pink."

Fred, pulling himself together at last, held his hands out. "Hang on a second. Have we actually moved on to outfitting when no one has mentioned that The-Boy-Who-Lived –"

"Oh piss off, Fred." Harry interrupted, flaring up at the moniker.

"- is going to be going to the Hogwarts social event of the last… fifty years with a Slytherin?" Fred finished, without breaking stride.

"What did you just say?" cried Hermione, entering through the portrait hole. "Which Slytherin?"

"Oh great, Hermione," shouted Harry, flaring up indignantly, "why not just tell the whole bloody castle?"

"Don't be thick, Harry." Angelina said, "Everyone's gonna know within a few hours anyway."

Harry took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes as Hermione sat next to Neville.

"Well, I was hoping you were going to go with Ginny." She said, flattening out her skirt.

"She can't. She's going with me." Said Neville indignantly. "I asked her about an hour ago and she said yes." Without waiting for a reply, he stood and left, causing Hermione to slump to one side.

Ron looked around, bewildered. "What the bloody hell is going on today?"

"The world's gone mad, little brother!" Said George, coming down the stairs from the boy's staircase, tucking his shirt into his trousers. He kicked a pouf over toward the little crowd and sat down near Hermione. "Zdraveĭte gospozhitse." He said to her, winking.

Hermione instantly went a bright, almost violent shade of pink.

"Bless you." Said Ron.

Fred was eyeing George curiously, but let it go. "So, twin-of-mine. Harry Potter is going to the Yule Ball with none other than Pansy Parkinson."

"Fuck off!" George burst out, turning every head in the whole common room and generating a wave of giggles and gossiping.

As the group recovered from fits of laughter, George cleared his throat. "Is that the one… black hair in a bob, bright blue eyes, well fit?"

"That's the one." Said Harry, unable to resist a grin.

"Nice." George said, leaning forward to high-five Harry. "Must say, though. I was hoping you'd ask Ginny."

Harry's smile faltered. He'd never considered Ginny that way. She had always just been Ron's little sister. Asking her would have been tantamount to treason. Then he remembered that small, cool smile that had danced around Pansy's mouth and put the thought aside.

"Bloody hell Harry," Angelina said, looking at him with a hard, scrutinising expression, "this is going to be amazing. Like… incredible, mental chaos, but amazing."