Ron wondered if taking Pansy Parkinson to the Yule Ball would be stupidest thing he had ever done.
There was a good amount of competition for that title. The flying car incident and his back-firing slug-vomiting curse were both in the running. But this may have been worse, since Ron had several chances to back out of his mistake and be spared what was to come— but he did not come to his senses quick enough and now the whole school knew about his massive blunder.
It started in the Gryffindor common room the previous night. Between Hermione storming off and everyone pointing and whispering— it was far too late to get out of his Parkinson situation quietly.
In their dorm room that night, neither Seamus nor Dean said a word to him. Whatever friendship they were building while he wasn't talking to Harry seemingly vanished. Ron felt like a dunderhead for how he treated Harry during the whole not-talking-to-his-best-mate thing. Neville, on the other hand, just gave him a look filled with pity— and when Neville Longbottom pitied you that must have meant you had done something stupid beyond belief.
Ron wondered how the news had gotten out. Either some Ravenclaw student had seen them go into the same classroom for their dancing practice or Parkinson or Daphne had spilled the secret.
It was Saturday morning now, and both Ron and Harry had slept in late. Ron was stalling to avoid leaving their dormitory, but Harry came over and patted him on the back, "C'mon," his friend said, "We're going to miss breakfast."
At the bottom of the stairs, Fred and George were waiting— naturally ready to question and mock him relentlessly. Ron knew what was going to come next and he very badly just wanted it to be over.
"Oi!" Fred yelled, "Is it true, ickle Ronnie?"
"S'none of your business," Ron told his brothers bluntly.
"It is, then!" George laughed. His brothers came to his right and left side, and both threw an arm around him. Ron turned red, a shade which he would stay for nearly the rest of the day, as he noticed more and more onlookers watching the scene. "What made you go and ask Prissy Parkinson to the ball? We knew you were thick but—"
"Shut up," said Ron, scowling at them.
"When I told you that all the good ones would be gone—"
"Shut up!" Ron said louder, looking at Fred this time.
"You and Harry didn't have to go and ask Slytherins to the ball, but at least Harry had the sense to pick a decent one," George quickly said, causing Ron to snap his gaze at him instead of Fred.
"I said shut—"
Just then, Hermione passed them by. Ron suddenly fell quiet as did most of the common room who was watching the scene. She did not even look at them. Hermione stared straight forward as she marched from the girl's dormitory staircase to the portrait hole. Ginny was following along with Hermione, but she turned to join Ron and his brothers.
"Why didn't you just go and take Hermione?" Fred asked him sincerely once Hermione was fully out of the common room. Ginny had just stopped and was now listening in.
"Hermione?" Ron said incredulously.
"You've always been thick," George said to him, "but we never imagined you were this bad. You had a perfectly good choice right in front of you and she would have gone with you. Must be mad to have the easy way out and choose Parkinson instead, I reckon."
Ron's heart sank. Maybe Hermione might have gone with him. It would have been much easier. Hermione was a girl. She was his friend. And Ron, well, he wouldn't admit this to himself let alone anyone else— but he did maybe fancy her a bit. Not that he could make any sense of that fact. Maybe that's why he didn't ask her. Girls, especially Hermione and now Parkinson, made little sense to him.
"So why didn't you ask Hermione?" Ginny asked coolly. Ron looked at his little sister. Her hands were on her hips, and she wasn't even acknowledging Harry who was standing right beside her.
"What does it matter to you?" Ron snapped.
Ginny rolled her eyes, "She's my friend. And last time I checked she's yours too, though maybe not anymore. Parkinson, Ron, really? You've got a whole school to choose from and—"
"It was an accident!" Ron exclaimed. It was the truth, but somehow saying it made Ron feel like an even more monumental git.
"How do you ask someone to the ball on accident?" George said with a chuckle. Ron looked at Harry, the only person who had not said anything in the conversation. Harry gave him a knowing look and remained silent. He wasn't going to save Ron from this situation.
"It was a joke, I mean," Ron tried to come up with some kind of believable reason, "You know, get back at Malfoy. Steal his date. Right— that's it."
Ginny shook her head and looked ashamed, "You really hate Malfoy more than you like Hermione? I don't think that's right." Then, surprisingly, she looked towards Harry. She pointed at him, "And how could you go along with something so stupid?"
His sister left without saying another word and followed Hermione out of the portrait hole. Harry looked like had just been hit with a stunning spell. Ron knew Ginny was always weird around Harry. He guessed it was all because Ginny fancied Harry. She had gotten a bit better about the whole thing this year and she was at least forming whole sentences around him. But his friend had just gotten the first real look at how touchy Ginny could be.
After his sister left, Fred and George turned from mocking him to just pitying him. "You really messed this up," one of them said. "Hermione will get over it soon, you are going to have to apologize at some point," the other added. Somehow, the twins trying to comfort him made the situation seem entirely worse. If Fred and George felt like they had to make him feel better— Ron had truly made a mistake.
The trudge down to the Great Hall for breakfast was excruciating. Between the whispering and pointing, Ron had already had enough for the day even though it was only nine in the morning. Ron thought he understood what it was like to be the focus of rumors and drama. Standing next to Harry had put him in the line of fire many times before, like their second year when most of Hogwarts thought Harry was Slytherin's Heir.
But when you were the one at the center of the attention, the feeling was completely different. Ron felt anger, embarrassment, shame, and rage all at once. But he couldn't show any emotion because then people would just laugh and point more. It grew increasingly frustrating as he followed Harry to the Great Hall.
If Ron wasn't already feeling like the world's biggest prat for how he treated Harry this year, he was now after as he was experiencing what his friend's life could be like. It was not a good feeling. Ron determined he would not make the same mistake again when it came to standing by his only friend. Harry truly did feel like his only friend at that moment.
Luckily, the Great Hall was almost cleared out. Ron and Harry found a spot at the Gryffindor table away from everyone else and began to eat silently. Hermione and Ginny were nowhere to be found. Ron had hardly taken a bite when he heard a voice from behind him. "Harry Potter. Ronald Weasley. I was hoping we could speak about scheduling one more dancing lesson."
Daphne Greengrass, who was drawing far too much attention to them, was standing with her hands behind her back. She was smiling, seemingly unaffected by the stares and the pointing.
Harry, to Ron's relief, spoke quietly, "Daphne. Hi. Maybe we could— uhh… talk somewhere, y'know?"
The girl understood Harry and nodded to them. She still wasn't looking around at anyone and Ron wondered how the stares and the glances did not get to her. Harry got up to follow Daphne, but Ron shot a look at his friend. "Do we really have to go?" Ron mouthed silently to Harry. His friend looked at him, then at Daphne, then up and down the table to the Gryffindors who were staring shamelessly. Harry just nodded.
Ron groaned as they left their breakfast and followed Daphne out of the Great Hall. There were more curious looks from passing students in the halls, but luckily Daphne moved swiftly. Ron and Harry had to step quickly to keep up. They were in the Clock Tower Courtyard when Daphne finally stopped. There were a few Ravenclaws nearby, but they only stared for a moment before turning away. The courtyard was quite cold with a light blanket of snow, but it was at least there were not many people around which Ron thought was worth shivering for.
"How does tomorrow at seven after dinner in the same classroom sound for our lesson?" Daphne said without missing a beat from their conversation in the Great Hall. "Pansy and I need to finish up a Charms essay during the day but—"
"Parkinson still wants to do this?" Ron interrupted bluntly. There was no way his so-called date wasn't looking for a way out. Ron, at this point, had nothing else on his mind but trying to formulate ways to escape his situation. He thought maybe screaming at Parkinson that he wasn't going with her to the ball would do the trick. There had to be plenty of people around to hear but then he could be done with it. He could ask a third year Gryffindor after. He might still make it out of this mess with some small amount of dignity.
"While Pansy does feel she made a mistake—"
"That makes two of us," Ron butted-in again. Harry looked at him as if to tell him to let Daphne speak, so Ron relented and quieted down.
"I was saying," Daphne stated a bit harshly, "Pansy feels she made a mistake, but she would rather not leave me alone at the ball since we had all agreed to go as a group. She is a proper friend."
Ron grunted, "Sure, I bet she is. Well, it doesn't matter because I'm done with this. I'm going to tell her off and that's—"
"Ron," Harry interrupted.
Daphne quickly spoke after that, "Please, don't make this any worse for her. In fact, another reason I came to speak with you today was because I wanted to ask that you be nice to Pansy, at least until the Yule Ball is over."
Were Ron's ears deceiving him? Was he really being asked to be nice to Pansy Parkinson? George's nickname for the girl was spot on. Prissy Parkinson had only ever treated Ron, Harry, and Hermione terribly. Telling her off and dumping her was the right thing to do.
Ron was turning red with anger just thinking about the situation, and Daphne obviously caught on. "Please, Ronald. Pansy thought that going with you would get back at Malfoy. But now that he's found a date, she is feeling—"
"Malfoy found a date?" Ron asked inquisitively.
"He asked my sister," Daphne said quietly, "I thought everyone knew."
"Your sister?" Ron asked again. If he had known Daphne had a sister, he would have told Pansy to sod off yesterday and would have found a way to ask whoever Daphne's sister was. But here he was again, losing out on every opportunity to get out of this situation.
"My sister is Astoria. She's two years younger than us but she's quite pretty. I'm very glad that my sister will be attending the ball, but Pansy is my friend as well— and she is quite hurt at the moment. So please, Ronald, all I am asking for is a week's worth of kindness. After the Yule Ball I'm sure things will return to normal."
Ron did not want to think about the situation any longer, but there was something he needed to know. "Did one of you let it go that we were going to the ball together?"
Daphne looked away, "I may have told some close friends about how Harry Potter asked me to the Yule Ball, yes."
"And did that story you told happen to include that me and Parkinson were going together?" Ron fumed.
"I'm afraid so," Daphne said so quietly that Ron could hardly hear.
He thought Daphne was too good to be true— but now he had found the trait that made her a Slytherin indeed. Daphne Greengrass was a gossip. Surely he was overreacting, but at the time he needed to place his anger somewhere.
"Everyone was going to find out anyways," Harry said, in a tone Ron thought was far too kind, "We're both going to show up to the ball with them so everyone would have seen us together then. Not like we could hide it forever. Not that I want to… y'know, hide it—"
Ron looked at his friend. Harry, much to Ron's chagrin, seemed quite thrilled to be going to the ball with Daphne Greengrass. Obviously she was pretty, but she was also helping Harry learn to dance so he wouldn't make a fool of himself in from of the entire school.
Between how Ron had acted earlier in the year and Harry offering to help Ron pay for better dress robes— Ron owed Harry, even beyond him finding Harry a date in the first place. He owed him enough that Ron felt compelled to make Daphne happy. And to do that there would be no screaming at Parkinson and telling her he'd rather go to the Yule Ball with a Blast-Ended Skrewt.
Ron nodded solemnly at Harry, and his friend seemed to instantly understand that what he was about to do was for the sake of their friendship. "Right. Sorry, it's fine. Harry's right. Everyone would have found out anyways," he said dully, looking at Daphne. He sucked his breath in. He had to force the next words to come out, "I s'pose I'll try. Being nice to Parkinson— for the week. I can try that."
The girl clapped her hands together, "Marvelous! Thank you," she smiled at Ron, seemingly no longer affected by his passing anger, "She did want me to ask once more about the color of your robes. Were you able to take care of that?"
"We were going to go down to Hagrid's today to ask him to go to Hogsmede to get what Ron needs. You know, match the color, and maybe get him… new robes entirely," Harry explained while trying to rush through the last part.
"Indeed," Daphne raised her eyebrows suspiciously, "Have you gotten your measurements taken?"
Ron looked at Harry. The boys exchanged confused looks. When Ron looked back at Daphne she had her wand out and was stepping forward towards him. "Since you will not be there in-person to get fitted, allow me perform a measurement-finding charm."
Daphne squatted down and picked up two small rocks from beneath the thin layer of snow. With a quick flick of her wand, the rocks turned into a piece of parchment and quill. Then, Daphne pointed her wand at the newly transfigured quill and parchment. "Camisium Scriberum!"
The quill and parchment were now floating between Daphne and Ron. With a final flick of her wand, the quill shot forward and started taking measurements of Ron's waist and chest.
"Stand still, if you would," Daphne politely commanded, "The spell works much better if you resist moving too much."
Ron held his breath. He never remembered his mother using this sort of spell, but then again Ron wore mostly hand-me-downs. Once the quill had taken a few measurements, it flew back over to the parchment and began to write down what it had learned. After that, it resumed, this time measuring Ron's arms.
"Brilliant," Harry seemed genuinely enamored watching the quill glide through the air and take Ron's measurements, "How'd you learn that?"
"My mother taught me," Daphne said to Harry, "She was always very—"
"Alright, blimey," Ron interrupted. The way Daphne spoke to Harry truly made Ron a bit queasy and he did not want to hear about how Daphne's mum taught her how to make a quill take notes for her. The thought of having to show up to the Yule Ball with Pansy Parkinson would keep Ron in a bad mood this entire week— especially since he had just agreed to be nice to her. The last thing we wanted to hear was Harry and Daphne gushing over each other.
"Oh! That's right, Harry," Daphne clapped her hands together again as she giggled. The quill had moved onto Ron's legs now. "I put some thought into your mysterious shrieking egg."
"You told her about that?" Ron asked while scrunching his face. That queasy feeling once again took hold.
"Figured it was worth a try," Harry responded, then looking back to Daphne.
The girl smiled and held her hands together, "Well, you said it sounded like a banshee. To me, if something sounds like a banshee then it is at least very likely not human. If it's not human then Hagrid might be able to help you figure out what kind of creature a screaming noise like that could come from."
"That makes sense. But he's a professor and he's already helped me out with the last task," Harry stopped to think for a moment before he spoke again, "I don't want to get him in trouble for helping me."
"It's simple then," Daphne rolled up the parchment paper with Ron's measurements and smiled, "Don't let anyone catch you when you ask him."
Later that day, the boys stopped by to see Hagrid. Harry had collected all the Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts he had on him. Ron felt guilty and ashamed— but he truly did need Harry's help.
Hagrid did not need any convincing to help get Ron new dress robes, but Ron and Harry both offered to help with taking his Blast-Ended Skrewts for walks on the weekends. Hagrid welcomed the help, and Ron immediately cringed at having to do that again.
Hagrid also needed no convincing to help Harry with the egg. Ron covered his ears preemptively when the egg shirked loudly. Fang darted under the table and did not come out for the rest of their time there. When Harry finally closed it, Hagrid looked like he was thinking.
"Don' think it's a banshee," he crossed his massive arms as he spoke, "Could be Mermish. I've heard 'em screech like that before 'n that sounds pretty close to me."
The two boys thanked Hagrid and headed back to the Gryffindor common room. On their way there they brainstormed ideas for what the second task could be based on what Hagrid told them. Ron thought Harry would be fighting Merpeople, and tried to console Harry that it did not seem as bad a Hungarian Horntail. Harry seemed only minorly relived.
Once back in the common room, Ron spotted Hermione sitting alone with her nose in a book. Ron nodded at Harry and went towards the girl alone. She looked up before Ron could get too close, so he decided it was best to just try and say anything at all.
"Hermione—"
"Don't," she interrupted him before he could get another word out, "Don't say anything. I'm not ever going to be in mood to hear it."
Ron had never heard Hermione so upset. Even when they were fighting last year about Crookshanks and the rat he thought was Scabbers, they were still friends during it. This seemed different. "Please, Hermione," he practically begged, "Look, I'm sorry. Just say something, I just want—"
She shut her book loudly enough for most of the common room to turn to see what the commotion was, "I have nothing to say to you."
With that, Hermione stomped away. Between what happened with Harry earlier in the year and now how he had hurt Hermione, Ron could not help but think Fred and George were right and that he was truly one of the thickest people around. Ron felt like he was perceptive enough to see these situations coming but couldn't help be always fall into them regardless. Maybe growing up was about finding ways not to always be an idiot.
When he returned back to Harry again, his friend picked up on Ron's failure quickly, "Didn't go so well with Hermione, then?"
"Tried to apologize," Ron said quietly, "She wasn't having any of it. It was just a mistake after all. I swear she always sees the worst in me."
"Kinda like how you thought I put my name in for the tournament?"
Ron cringed. Harry did not often come right out and say it, but it was a fair point to make. "Right," he admitted, "I guess so."
"How long did it take you to come around?"
"Too long," he answered confidently.
Harry nodded and smiled, "Keep trying and she'll get there." Ron wasn't very comforted by his words, only because he was not sure if he believed them. He had never seen Hermione this angry with him. He hoped that she would come around— because while Ron would not admit this to anyone, he did miss her terribly.
The next day was filled with more of the same. Rumors, finger pointing, and snide remarks. He had gotten used to it a bit but was also expecting it to die down by now. But with Christmas Day approaching quickly, it seemed like more and more people had joined in on the mocking as that date grew closer.
After dinner that night, Harry dutifully reminded Ron that it was time for their dancing lesson. Ron supposed he would be right giddy as well if his date was sweet like Daphne Greengrass. "Oh, Ronald," her quiet voice would have said to him. His date with shrieking Parkinson was a far cry from gentle Daphne. Pansy's screeching made Harry's screaming golden egg sound as sweet as Daphne Greengrass in comparison.
Ron followed Harry again towards Ravenclaw Tower. Unfortunately for them, when they turned down a particular hallway Malfoy and his usual gang of Slytherins were walking towards them from the other way.
"C'mon," Harry said confidently, "Don't let them mess with you."
Ron had not seen Draco since the news broke. He was the one person Ron wanted to find out, if only to see his reaction. But learning that Draco had found a date, a pretty one at that, completely ruined any satisfaction Ron would get from the situation— even if his date was a second year. Neither group wavered from walking forwards, and they met after a few tense moments.
"What's wrong, Weasley?" Malfoy spat first before Harry or Ron could speak, "Embarrassed you were caught picking through my trash? Nothing to be embarrassed about— your family does it all the time, I'm sure."
Ron wasted no time firing back, "Had to go with a second year, huh, Malfoy? Your date got stolen away and you couldn't find a third year to fool. Had to ask someone with no other options, then?"
Malfoy had his wand in his grip and stepped closer. Ron had his at the ready as well. They were walking towards each other when Malfoy spoke again, "She was always annoying. Now I know it's because she likes to dirty herself with blood traitors and Mud—"
"McGonagall!" someone nearby yelled.
The attention of all the boys was immediately drawn to Professor McGonagall, who had joined a group of seventh year students to chat at the end of the long hallway. She had not yet noticed what was happening between Malfoy and Ron.
Suddenly Malfoy shoved Ron hard with his shoulder as he, Crabbe, and Goyle passed by them, "Have fun with my trash, Weasley," Malfoy said harshly as he left.
After they left, Harry put his away his wand, and Ron followed suit after. "He's a git," Ron mumbled to himself, "I hate him, I bloody hate him."
"C'mon," Harry said consolingly, "He's not worth it. We're already late."
When they finally made it to the empty classroom near Ravenclaw Tower, Pansy was waiting for them with her arms crossed. "You're late," she scolded them.
"We ran into Malf—"
"My fault," Harry interjected quickly, "I uhh… had to finish something."
"That is quite alright," Daphne immediately said as she popped out from behind Pansy. Then she moved towards the wireless. "Now do not tell anyone but I've managed to ascertain what song they will be using for the opening dance— the one we will be leading, Harry."
She waved her wand and in a quick moment the dreamy opening waltz filled the air. Harry and Daphne were off to spinning and chatting like last time.
The awkward pause between Ron and Pansy lasted much less longer than during the previous lesson, and Ron did not have to be told that dancing required two people to stand very close to one another. Soon enough, the pair were painfully near again and their feet moved in sync. His hand still felt like it was burning as it rested on her waist.
"So, you ran into Malfoy," Pansy stated, breaking the silence between them.
"No, who told you that?"
"C'mon, you were about to say that when Potter stopped you. Did you end up with slugs in your mouth again? Or did you finally get revenge for that? Not sure which one of you I'd want to see with a mouth full of slugs more right now."
"Hilarious," Ron said through his teeth, "What'd he do to make you hate his guts anyways?"
"That's none of your business," Pansy coldly retorted.
"Well, by the way he was talking it sounds like he hates you as much as us Gryffindors."
"Draco doesn't hate you because your Gryffindors."
"Sure, he also hates me because I'm a Weasley. But Harry, what reason has he got to hate him besides that Harry's a Gryffindor?" He felt a knot in his throat after speaking. Their parents were on opposite sides of a war, and Ron wondered if Pansy was about to dive into that uncomfortable topic.
"Do you remember first year on the train? Draco tried to shake Harry's hand."
Ron vaguely recalled the incident. He wondered how Pansy even knew about that. "A handshake? Malfoy hates Harry 'cause he wouldn't shake his hand?"
"Do you need everything spelled out for you, Weasley? Draco hates Potter because he's the only student with a last name more famous than his. Obviously he envies Potter. But I also think he envies you. He doesn't hate you just because you're a Weasley, but because Harry picked you over him— in his mind, you got the second-best thing to being the most famous student at Hogwarts and he was denied that. That's why the handshake mattered."
What Pansy said made absolutely no sense in Ron's mind. He tried to think back to what happened exactly between Harry and Malfoy on the Hogwarts Express their first year— but it was so long-ago Ron had nearly forgotten the conversation entirely. He was still processing Pansy's explanation of Draco. Could Draco really be jealous of him? It was silent between the two as they danced.
Harry and Daphne's conversation pulled him away from his thoughts. They were talking about how Harry felt about being entered in Triwizard Tournament against his will, and it was just a little too sincere that Ron couldn't help feel that queasiness again.
"We should talk," Pansy broke the silence between them, "I mean, while we dance. It's good practice. If you can talk and dance at the same time, that means you've got it down."
"Who told you that?" Ron said sarcastically.
"My mother," Pansy snapped, "Unlike you I was raised with culture."
"Sound boring," Ron snorted.
"Well, I suppose most of it was," Pansy said dryly. He was caught off guard that Pansy just said something self-deprecating.
Daphne stopped by the wireless briefly and swished her wand. The same song repeated, and Ron wondered how many more times he was going to have to hear the same song over again.
Pansy's grip on Ron's arm loosened as they danced in silence again. Ron suddenly remembered the promise he made to Daphne. He let out a sigh, and for the sake of Harry he continued their conversation, "Your mum," Ron tried his hardest to speak cordially, "She made you talk and dance at the same time, then? Why'd she teach you that?"
Pansy, for once, did not respond with an insult, "The conversation is a distraction. If you can manage the distraction while not missing any steps, it means the dance is truly ingrained into you. There are going to be distractions at the ball, people wanting to talk while we dance, so it's good practice."
"Right," Ron nodded, "That actually makes sense."
"Yes, well I'm glad even uncultured swine such as yourself can understand the intricacies of teaching one how to dance."
How was he supposed to be nice when she kept prodding him like that? Ron let out a puff, "It's not that hard at all. I didn't even need lessons, really."
"As your teacher, you very much did. If you don't like my methods then run back to Granger," Pansy sounded truly bitter, "She spends all day teaching you how to tell your head from your ass so this is just one more thing she can—"
"Don't talk about Hermione," Ron stated firmly. Pansy just stared at him, her grey eyes not giving anything away. But her face was scrunched up— Pansy couldn't hide her anger from him at all. He remembered he had to be nice, but he also needed to stand up for Hermione. "Listen, for this week and the night of the ball— don't talk about Hermione. Alright?"
"Whatever," Pansy responded. Ron imagined that was as much of an agreement as they were going to get between each other.
The next week passed by slowly and painfully. The stares and the rumors only got worse. He heard some Hufflepuffs saying that Pansy had Ron under the Imperious Curse. The Ravenclaws believed Ron had used a love-potion to steal Pansy away from Draco. The rumors weren't any nicer to Pansy than they were to Ron, and he almost felt a tinge of guilt and anger when he heard people speaking about her like that.
Christmas Day was rather uneventful. The Yule Ball, which was that night, hung over Ron's head and he hoped that the moon would just stay put for once and spare him.
But the moon did rise, and night came.
Ron was a nervous mess. His dress robes, at least, fit surprisingly well. They had stopped to see Hagrid and the robes were waiting there for him. The robes must have had some kind of charm built into them because while they looked quite uncomfortable— Ron felt like he was wearing simple school robes with plenty of mobility. Even still, he was feeling quite self-conscious. His bowtie and vest were lavender, which he was just thankful that they were more purple than pink. It was leagues better than what his mother had given him. He had Harry to thank for that.
After making themselves as presentable as two teenage boys could, Harry and Ron went to leave through the portrait hole together— but not before one final round of pointing and giggling from the Gryffindor common room. Fred and George intercepted them and said their farewells far too loudly.
"Give a kiss to Prissy Parkinson for us, Ronnie!"
"Hope she doesn't bite!"
After going through the portrait hole, they walked to their meeting place at the Clock Tower Courtyard. The four had decided meeting in front of either of their common rooms would add more unnecessary suffering to their situation. Harry and Ron waited under a covered hallway to avoid the gently falling snow of Christmas.
Ron could tell Harry was nervous, he was pacing and could only mumble a few words when he spoke. "We look alright," Harry stated, but it sounded much more like a question than a fact.
"Sure, mate," Ron tried to reassure him, "We look alright."
Ron was feeling sick. He was about to go to the Yule Ball with Pansy Parkinson. The whole school was about to see him with her, and his head was rightfully spinning. He imagined the laughing and the stares and the pointing—
Attending the Yule Ball with Pansy Parkinson was going to require no small amount of bravery on his part.
Just at the peak of his worrying, the sound of clicking heels against stone echoed from down the hall. When Ron finally looked over, his stomach twisted in knots.
Pansy's dress matched his lavender bowtie and vest perfectly. Her dress exposed her bare shoulders, and her black hair was curled just slightly enough so that when it bounced as she walked it just barely touched the skin of her shoulders.
The top half of her dress clung to her tightly— and Ron was confronted with the fact that she was very much a girl. Then the thought of holding her waist with only that little sliver of fabric between their skin creeped into his mind and it made Ron woozy. The bottom part of her dress waved outward with elegant ruffles, but Ron hardly noticed that.
Ron stared for far longer than he expected to. He kept imaging how he was going to place his hand on her waist. He stared at her bare shoulders. Then there were her black curls, her piercing grey eyes, and the scent of her airy perfume—
In a moment of clarity, Ron convinced himself that Prissy Parkinson looked absolutely terrible.
Didn't she?
_
A/N: Thank you for all the kind reviews! Ron & Pansy are obviously the main event here, but many of you came here for Harry & Daphne. If you want me to keep Harry/Daphne or don't mind where I take the side pairing for Harry- please let me know your thoughts! I will admit, I had another potential ship in mind for Harry for this story but Daphne is slowly winning out.