Hey Everyone, thank you for everyone who has followed and put this in their favorites, I hope you are enjoying it! I'm trying to write more when I can. It's exciting. The next chapters are going to be a bit more general. I don't own Harry Potter or anything.

Have fun!

Chapter 10

Dumbledore's announcement of the Yule Ball sent waves of excitement through the Hogwarts halls. Everywhere Hermione turned, students were giddy with anticipation, whispers of who would ask whom, what dresses they would wear, and how they might sneak in a bit of Firewhisky if Filch wasn't paying attention.

But for Hermione, the Yule Ball was the last thing on her mind. She had much bigger concerns to deal with—Sirius's trial was approaching, and the intricacies of her plan weighed heavily on her. Every spare moment was spent gathering testimony, studying the legal codes of the Ministry, and preparing Harry for the next Triwizard task. There was no time to think about dances, dresses, or dates.

That is, until one morning, when an official-looking owl dropped a letter onto her plate during breakfast in the Great Hall. The owl was regal—a barn owl, sleek and majestic, with the Ministry seal stamped in wax on the letter it delivered. Hermione's heart skipped a beat as she quickly untied the letter, her fingers trembling slightly as she broke the seal. She knew who this was from—Madam Bones.

She unfolded the parchment carefully, smoothing it out on the table before her. The formal, neat handwriting was unmistakable.


Miss Granger,

Following an extensive review of the materials you submitted, it is my duty to inform you that the Wizengamot has granted permission for a retrial in the case of Sirius Black. This is an exceptional ruling, as cases involving crimes of treason against the Ministry are rarely reopened. However, the testimony regarding the survival of Peter Pettigrew has been deemed substantial enough to warrant a reevaluation of Mr. Black's conviction.

Mr. Black will be required to turn himself in to Ministry custody no later than December 24th to formally present himself for trial. Failure to do so will result in the immediate reinstatement of his status as a fugitive. The trial itself will be held on January 1st in the Courtroom of the Wizengamot. As per Ministry law, Veritaserum will be administered to Mr. Black and all key witnesses, including Harry Potter and Remus Lupin. All supporting evidence and testimonies must be submitted no later than December 25th for review.

I would like to remind you that this is a highly unusual case, and the Ministry will not tolerate any discrepancies in the provided evidence. Your request for justice is not one we take lightly, and the integrity of your claims will be rigorously tested.

This opportunity should be seen as an exception, not the rule, Miss Granger. I trust you understand the gravity of the situation. Should the case be dismissed, Mr. Black will be subject to immediate sentencing for his previous charges, and all those involved in the case, including yourself, may be subject to Ministry scrutiny for misleading the court.

Prepare wisely.

Respectfully,
Madam Amelia Bones
Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement


Hermione's hands shook as she finished reading. The room around her faded into the background, the noise of the Great Hall reduced to a distant hum. This was it—this was the moment she had been fighting for. Sirius's trial was happening, and they had less than a month to gather everything they needed.

Her breath caught as the weight of the responsibility settled on her shoulders. This time, she wouldn't fail. She couldn't fail. Too much was at stake.

"Hermione? What is it?" Harry's voice broke through her thoughts, his brow furrowed as he leaned across the table, trying to catch a glimpse of the letter.

Hermione quickly folded the parchment, tucking it into her bag. "It's from Madam Bones," she said, her voice steady but her heart racing. "Sirius is getting a trial."

Harry's eyes widened in shock. "A trial? How did—Hermione, that's incredible!"

She nodded, though her mind was already racing with thoughts of everything that still needed to be done. "Yes, but we don't have much time. Sirius has to turn himself in soon, and we need to gather all the testimonies and evidence by Christmas."

Harry's face lit up with hope, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. "Do you think it'll work? I mean... the Ministry hasn't exactly been fair before."

"It'll work," Hermione said, leaving no room for doubt. "We've got Harry's testimony, Remus, and the truth about Pettigrew. This time, we'll make them listen. But we need to be prepared. Every detail has to be perfect."

Before Harry could respond, a loud burst of laughter came from across the Hall, drawing their attention. Fred and George Weasley were weaving through the tables, clearly up to their usual mischief. Fred, however, seemed to have his eyes locked on Hermione, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Harry raised an eyebrow as Fred approached, but Hermione barely had time to register it before Fred stopped in front of her, his hands on his hips and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Well, well, well, Hermione Granger," Fred said loudly, drawing the attention of everyone nearby. "I've been meaning to ask you something rather important."

Hermione blinked, momentarily caught off guard. "Fred, what are you—"

Fred pulled a single enchanted rose from his pocket, the petals glowing softly in the morning light. "I've given it some thought, and I've decided that I can't think of anyone better to take to the Yule Ball than the smartest witch in Hogwarts. So, what do you say, Hermione? Will you go with me?"

A hush fell over the nearby tables as students turned to watch. Hermione's cheeks flushed, her heart pounding in her chest. She wasn't sure if it was the public nature of the proposal or the intensity of Fred's gaze that made her feel like the ground had suddenly shifted beneath her.

She opened her mouth to reply, but out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Viktor Krum. He was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, his expression carefully neutral, though there was a slight tightening of his jaw. And then there was Ron, sitting across the table, his eyes wide with disbelief, a flush creeping up his neck.

Fred, sensing her hesitation, leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough for only her to hear. "Come on, Hermione. I promise, I'll make it a night you won't forget."

Hermione stared at the rose, the soft glow of its petals reflecting in Fred's eyes. There was something so genuine, so unexpected about the way he was looking at her, and before she knew it, she was nodding.

"Yes," she said, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. "Yes, Fred. I'll go with you."

The hall erupted in cheers and laughter, and Fred's grin widened. He leaned back dramatically, pretending to swoon. "You've made my year, Granger."

Hermione laughed despite herself, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. But when she glanced back at Viktor, she saw him stand abruptly, his expression unreadable as he exited the hall without a word. And Ron—Ron's face had turned beet red. He slammed his goblet onto the table and stormed out as well, leaving a trail of confusion.

Fred, however, seemed entirely unfazed. He gave a sweeping bow, causing several students to burst into applause, before winking at her. "I'll see you later, Hermione. Don't forget, dress to impress."

As Fred walked away, Hermione couldn't help but smile, though her thoughts were conflicted. The excitement of the ball, the looming pressure of Sirius's trial, and the simmering tension with Ron and Viktor all churned within her.


The next morning, a letter from Sirius arrived, carried by a scruffy-looking owl that Hermione recognized as one of the Black family birds. She unfolded the letter eagerly, her eyes scanning the familiar handwriting.

Hermione,

I got your message about the trial. I'll turn myself in. I have nothing to hide, and it's time to face the Ministry again. I trust you, and I trust Harry.

Thank you for doing this. I owe you more than I can say. I never thought I'd see the day when I might actually get a fair trial, but you've given me that chance.

I'll be in touch soon.

Sirius

Hermione smiled softly to herself. Sirius was willing to fight for his freedom, and she was going to make sure he had every tool necessary to win. But first, she needed to gather all the testimonies, Remus, Harry, Severus Snape, and others who had been there during the key moments leading up to Pettigrew's exposure.


As Hermione made her way down one of the dimly lit corridors of Hogwarts, the stone walls seemed colder than usual, casting long shadows in the flickering torchlight. She was on her way back to the Gryffindor common room after a long day of research. Her mind was racing, thinking of everything that needed to be done before the end of the month. It was late, and the corridors were mostly empty, save for a few students heading to dinner.

Just as she was nearing the staircase, a gravelly voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Well, well, Miss Granger, burning the midnight oil again, are we?"

Hermione froze, recognizing the rough voice instantly. Slowly, she turned to find Professor Moody standing a few paces behind her, his magical eye whirling in its socket, locking onto her with unsettling precision.

"Professor Moody," Hermione greeted, her voice steady, though her heart was pounding. Something about his tone made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

Moody limped toward her, his heavy wooden leg clunking against the stone floor with each step. He stopped a little too close for comfort, his scarred face twisting into what might have been a grin if it weren't for the intensity in his expression.

"I've been hearing things, Granger," he said slowly, his magical eye still fixed on her. "Word's gotten around that you've been stirring up trouble with this Sirius Black trial."

Hermione swallowed, trying to keep her voice calm. "It's not trouble, Professor. It's justice. Sirius Black is innocent, and we've found new evidence to prove it."

Moody's magical eye continued to whirl, now scanning her from head to toe as though he were assessing her every movement, her every breath.

"Innocent?" he repeated, his voice almost mocking. "That's a dangerous word to throw around when it comes to men like Sirius Black."

Hermione felt a flicker of indignation rise in her chest, but she tamped it down. "I've seen the evidence myself, Professor. This trial will show the truth."

Moody's real eye narrowed, and he took another step forward, his face darkening. "The truth, is it? The truth is slippery, Granger. You think the Ministry's going to let go of a man they've spent years calling a traitor just because you say so? You think they're going to admit they made a mistake?" He let out a low, dangerous chuckle. "The Ministry doesn't like to be proven wrong. And when people start poking their noses where they don't belong, they find themselves in very uncomfortable situations."

Hermione's heart began to race faster, but she stood her ground. "I'm not afraid of the Ministry," she said firmly. "What matters is the truth, and I won't stop until it's heard. Sirius Black deserves that much."

Moody's magical eye bore into her, unblinking, as if he were seeing straight through her. The tension between them was palpable, the air around them thick with unspoken threats. Hermione's pulse quickened, but she refused to back down.

"You're a clever witch, Granger," Moody said, his voice dropping lower. "Too clever, sometimes. But you need to understand how the world works. People like Sirius Black don't just walk free"

She replied, her voice steady. "It's about doing what's right, sir. I believe in justice, and so should the Ministry."

Moody's expression twisted, his real eye narrowing while his magical one continued to spin. "Justice?" he growled. "Justice is what they tell you it is, Granger. The Ministry's full of people who don't care about your so-called justice. They care about power, control, and maintaining order. If you upset that balance... well, let's just say you'd better watch your back."

Hermione clenched her fists at her sides, her knuckles turning white. "Are you threatening me, Professor?"

Moody let out a harsh laugh, a sound that sent a chill down Hermione's spine. "Not a threat, girl. A warning. You're meddling in things you don't fully understand. Sirius Black is no innocent lamb. The Ministry's not going to roll over just because you think they should."

Hermione's heart hammered in her chest, but she met Moody's gaze, refusing to let him see the fear that was building inside her. "We will see soon, won't we professor.," she said, her voice menacingly.

Before Moody could respond, a voice echoed down the corridor, smooth and cold.

"Alastor."

Severus Snape appeared at the far end of the hall, his black robes billowing as he approached. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were locked on Moody with a dangerous glint.

"I wasn't aware that threatening students was part of your... expertise," Snape drawled, his voice dripping with contempt.

Moody turned slowly, his magical eye whirling to focus on Snape. "Just offering some advice," he said gruffly, his tone sharp.

Snape stepped closer, his dark eyes flickering toward Hermione for a brief moment before returning to Moody. "Advice that is neither wanted nor needed, I'm sure," he said smoothly. "Miss Granger is perfectly capable of handling herself without interference."

Moody sneered but didn't reply, his magical eye continuing to spin as if searching for some unseen threat.

Snape raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a mocking smile. "Unless, of course, you feel the need to intimidate students now? A bit beneath you, don't you think?"

For a moment, the tension in the corridor hung thick in the air. Moody's scarred face twitched, and for a brief second, Hermione thought he might say something more. But then, with a final grunt, he turned and limped away, his magical eye still swiveling behind him as he disappeared around the corner.

Snape watched Moody go, his expression cold and unreadable. Then he turned to Hermione, his dark eyes assessing her with a mixture of curiosity and something else she couldn't quite place.

"Are you alright, Miss Granger?" he asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

Hermione nodded quickly, her heart still racing from the encounter. "Yes, Professor. Thank you."

Snape's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he spoke again. "Be careful, Miss Granger. There are forces at play here that even you do not fully understand."

Hermione frowned, unsure of what he meant. "I—Professor, about the trial. I was hoping to speak with you about your testimony."

Snape's expression remained impassive, though a flicker of something passed through his eyes at the mention of Sirius's name. "I am aware of the trial," he said slowly. "And I have been summoned, and will attend."

Hermione straightened, hope rising in her chest. "Thank you, Professor. Your testimony could make all the difference."

Snape's lips twisted into a faint, sardonic smile. "Do not thank me yet, Miss Granger. I will do what I believe is necessary. But I suggest you tread carefully. The Ministry is not fond of being made to look foolish."

Hermione nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. "I'll be prepared, Professor."

Snape's gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, as if weighing her resolve, before he gave a slight nod. "I will speak to you further at a later time. For now, go."

With that, Snape turned and swept away, his black robes billowing behind him as he disappeared down the corridor. Hermione stood still for a moment, the weight of the conversation settling heavily on her shoulders. Both Moody and Snape had warned her—one with subtle threats, the other with surprising cryptic advice.

Was Snape helping her now too?


A couple of days after her unsettling conversation with Professor Moody and Snape's subtle offer of help, Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room, her thoughts far from the Yule Ball.

Hermione had just settled down beside Harry, who was lounging in one of the armchairs by the fire, when the latest edition of the Daily Prophet arrived in the hands of several excited students.

Hermione's stomach flipped. She had a sinking feeling that whatever had gotten the students so worked up wasn't going to be good. Sure enough, when Seamus handed Harry a copy of the Prophet, Harry's face darkened almost immediately.

"Rita Skeeter's at it again," Harry muttered, handing the paper over to Hermione.

Hermione snatched it quickly, scanning the headline.

"Love Triangle Shocks Hogwarts: Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley Fight Over Hermione Granger!"

She could feel her blood boil as her eyes flew over the article. Rita Skeeter had twisted Harry and Ron's recent falling out into a salacious story about jealousy and betrayal, making it sound as though she was the center of all their conflict. As if that wasn't bad enough, Lavender Brown had apparently given Skeeter an interview, adding fuel to the fire.

"Well, it was obvious something like this was going to happen," Lavender was quoted as saying. "Hermione's always been a bit too close to both Harry and Ron, don't you think? I mean, the way she hovers around them, like she knows best—it was only a matter of time before they started fighting over her."

Hermione's grip on the paper tightened, her knuckles turning white as she seethed with rage. Rita Skeeter had twisted everything, made it sound like her friendship with Harry and Ron was some kind of melodramatic love story—and now the entire school would be gossiping about it. Worse still, Lavender's nasty remarks were just adding fuel to the fire.

"This is outrageous," Hermione spat, tossing the paper onto the table in front of her. "She's made up everything."

Harry groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. "I can't believe this. She just won't stop, will she?"

Hermione clenched her fists in frustration, her mind already working furiously. She knew exactly how Rita Skeeter was getting her information. It wasn't through interviews or observation; it was through spying in her Animagus form. Hermione had discovered it last time, in another timeline, and she had caught Skeeter before. But this time? This time would be different.

"She's been doing this for ages, Harry," Hermione said, her voice tight as she fought to keep her anger in check. "But I'm going to stop her. She won't get away with it this time."

Harry frowned, looking at her with concern. "How are you going to stop her? She always finds a way to get dirt on everyone."

Hermione shook her head, her mind already forming a plan. She couldn't tell Harry the truth—that Rita Skeeter was an unregistered Animagus, transforming into a beetle to spy on private conversations. That was information she wasn't supposed to know yet. It was something she had uncovered in the future, and she had to be careful not to give anything away.

"I have... an idea," Hermione said vaguely, her voice a little too calm. "But I need to think it through first."

Harry raised an eyebrow but didn't press her further. "Whatever you're planning, just be careful. The last thing we need is more attention from Skeeter."

Hermione nodded, though her mind was already elsewhere. Last time, she had been merciful. She had caught Skeeter in her Animagus form and trapped her in a jar, only to let her go once the damage had been controlled. But this time, Hermione knew better. Skeeter couldn't be trusted, and her lies were hurting too many people.

I'll catch her again, Hermione thought darkly. But this time, I won't let her out. She'll stay in that jar until she's learned her lesson—or until I decide otherwise.


One evening, a week before the ball, Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room, reviewing a stack of parchment while Harry slouched in a chair opposite her. He had been unusually quiet all evening, flipping absentmindedly through his Quidditch Through the Ages book without really reading it.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking up from her notes. "You've been distracted all night."

Harry shrugged, avoiding her gaze. "It's nothing. Just... everyone's got a date to the ball, and I haven't really thought about it."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply but stopped as a thought crossed her mind. "What about Luna?" she suggested, her voice casual. "She'd probably love to go with you, and you get along well with her."

Harry blinked in surprise. "I hadn't thought of that."

"She's nice," Hermione said. "And she wouldn't make a big deal out of it. It doesn't have to be romantic, just... two friends going to the ball together."

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, then a small smile crept onto his face. "You're right. Luna would be perfect. I'll ask her tomorrow."

The next day, after Transfiguration, Harry found himself walking down the corridor with Hermione when they spotted Luna Lovegood at the edge of the courtyard. She was standing near one of the trees, gazing dreamily up at the sky as though lost in thought.

Hermione gave Harry a nudge. "Go on, ask her."

Taking a deep breath, Harry approached Luna, feeling oddly nervous. "Hey, Luna."

Luna turned her wide, dreamy eyes toward Harry and smiled serenely. "Hello, Harry. Beautiful day, isn't it? The clouds look like Thestrals."

Harry glanced at the sky and, seeing only normal clouds, chuckled. "Yeah, I suppose they do. Um, Luna, I was wondering... the Yule Ball is coming up, and I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?"

Luna's eyes lit up, her smile widening. "That sounds lovely. I've never been to a ball before."

Harry felt relief wash over him. "Great! We'll have fun. It's just for a good time, nothing too fancy."

Luna nodded, her expression completely serene. "I'm sure it will be wonderful. Thank you for asking, Harry. I'll make sure to wear my radish earrings for good luck."

Harry grinned, feeling lighter than he had in days. "I'll see you there, then."

As he returned to Hermione's side, he felt a sense of calm. Hermione smiled warmly. "See? That wasn't so hard."

Harry nodded, feeling more confident about the ball. "Thanks, Hermione. I think it's going to be a good night."


The night of the Yule Ball had finally arrived, and the castle itself seemed to shimmer with excitement, as though every corner of the ancient stone halls had been touched by magic. Even the suits of armor appeared more polished, reflecting the flickering lights of the enchanted sconces that lined the walls. It was as if the entire school had been transformed, and as Hermione stood in front of the mirror in her dormitory, she could hardly believe she was about to be part of it once more.

Her pearl like gown flowed elegantly to the floor, shimmering like diamonds. The dress was simple yet stunning, and the subtle sparkle in the fabric caught the light every time she moved, making her look angelic. Ginny had volunteered to help her with her hair, taming her usual wild curls into soft, graceful waves that framed her face. For the first time in a long time, Hermione felt more than just the girl buried in books—she felt confident, and, dare she admit, excited for the night ahead.

"Hermione, you look amazing," Ginny said, standing back to admire her handiwork. "Fred's going to be gobsmacked when he sees you."

Hermione blushed and adjusted the bodice of her dress, still not quite used to seeing herself in such an elegant outfit. "It's just Fred," she muttered, though her heart fluttered slightly at the thought of seeing him.

Ginny raised an eyebrow, smirking knowingly. "Just Fred, huh? Well, you're going to turn some heads tonight, that's for sure."

Hermione rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. She was looking forward to the ball—more than she had expected to. For once, she wasn't going to be worrying about exams or Sirius's trial or even the future. Tonight was about fun.

"Ready?" Ginny asked, grabbing her own dress and giving Hermione a playful nudge toward the door.

"Ready," Hermione said, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as they made their way down to the common room.

When Hermione descended the staircase into the Gryffindor common room, the buzz of conversation quieted momentarily as students turned to look. Fred was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in deep black dress robes that suited him perfectly. For a moment, Hermione felt a flicker of self-consciousness, this wasn't her usual element. But when Fred caught sight of her, his face broke into a grin so wide and genuine that any doubt she had melted away.

"Well, well, Hermione Granger," Fred said, offering her a low, exaggerated bow. "You've outdone yourself. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to steal the show."

Hermione blushed, smiling despite herself. "I think you're exaggerating, Fred."

Fred straightened up, his grin never fading. "No exaggeration needed. Merlin, you look amazing."

Before Hermione could respond, Fred offered her his arm with a flourish. "Shall we, then? Let's not keep the world waiting."

She took his arm, feeling a little lighter as they walked together through the castle toward the Great Hall. The sounds of laughter and excitement echoed down the corridors as other students, dressed in their finest robes, made their way to the ball as well. The anticipation was contagious, and for the first time in weeks, Hermione allowed herself to feel the excitement.

The moment they stepped into the Great Hall, Hermione felt as though she had walked into a fairytale. The entire room had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Snowflakes drifted lazily from the enchanted ceiling, which shimmered with the soft glow of a thousand twinkling lights. Icicles, enchanted to sparkle like diamonds, hung from the walls, reflecting the light in a dazzling display. The tables, which had been set up for dinner, were adorned with silverware so polished it shone like mirrors.

Students were already mingling, their laughter filling the hall as they admired one another's robes and gowns. Some were gathered around the punch bowl, while others were excitedly discussing who would take to the dance floor first. It was as if every worry, every stress of the school year, had melted away, leaving only joy and anticipation.

"Wow," Hermione whispered as she looked around the hall. "It's beautiful."

Fred grinned, his eyes twinkling. "It is, isn't it? But not as beautiful as you, of course."

Hermione rolled her eyes, though she couldn't suppress the smile that spread across her face. Fred had a way of making her feel at ease, even in a setting as formal as this.

"Come on," Fred said, gently pulling her toward the dance floor. "Let's show them how it's done."

Hermione laughed but allowed herself to be led onto the floor. The music had just begun, a soft, enchanting waltz that filled the hall. As Fred spun her around, she couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom, as though the weight of everything she had been carrying—Sirius's trial, the tension between Harry and Ron, the stress of her studies—had lifted, even if just for a little while.

Fred was a surprisingly good dancer, and as they moved together across the dance floor, Hermione found herself laughing more than she had in weeks. They weren't the most coordinated pair, but Fred's infectious energy made it fun.

"Not bad, Granger," Fred teased as he spun her again. "I knew you had some rhythm in you."


Meanwhile, at the champions' table, Harry sat with Luna, Viktor Krum, Fleur Delacour, and Cedric Diggory. He had been nervous at first, but Luna's calm presence had a way of making things feel easy. She was dressed in a shimmering silver gown that caught the light with every movement, her radish earrings swinging gently as she chatted with the other champions.

Harry glanced around the table, watching as Viktor and Fleur exchanged quiet words in Bulgarian, Cedric talked animatedly with one of the other Beauxbatons girls, and Luna looked around the hall, her usual dreamy expression firmly in place.

"You having a good time, Luna?" Harry asked, leaning toward her.

Luna smiled, her eyes twinkling. "Oh yes, Harry. It's such a lovely night. The snowflakes look like they've been enchanted to sparkle with Crumple-Horned Snorkacks."

Harry blinked, unsure of how to respond. "Er... right. Well, I'm glad you're enjoying it."

Luna looked at him, her gaze soft but focused. "It was kind of you to ask me to the ball, Harry. Most people wouldn't have thought of it."

Harry felt his face heat up slightly. "I just wanted to go with someone I could have fun with. I knew you wouldn't make a big deal out of it."

Luna smiled serenely. "Exactly. Fun is the most important thing tonight. You deserve to enjoy yourself."

Harry glanced around the hall, seeing couples laughing, dancing, and chatting. It was a rare moment of calm in a school year that had been filled with tension, and he felt grateful to have Luna's easy company. He noticed that, unlike the others, she wasn't preoccupied with appearances or gossip. She simply existed in the moment, and it was a relief to be around her.

As the night wore on, Hermione and Fred took breaks between dances, sitting at a nearby table to catch their breath and enjoy the festive atmosphere. Fred was busy telling a story about one of his latest inventions for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, and Hermione found herself laughing so hard her sides ached. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt this carefree.

But as they talked and laughed, Hermione caught sight of Ron sitting alone at a table on the far side of the hall. His face was set in a deep scowl, his eyes dark as he watched her and Fred. He had been brooding in the corner all night, barely speaking to anyone. Lavender Brown sat beside him, trying to chat and keep his attention, but it was clear Ron was paying little attention to her. Hermione could feel the tension rising.

She tried to ignore it, turning her attention back to Fred, but the nagging feeling that something was about to happen wouldn't leave her.

It wasn't long before her fears were realized. He was going to pick a fight again.

As Hermione and Fred stood to head back to the dance floor, Ron stormed over to them, dragging a confused-looking Lavender in tow. His face was flushed with anger, and it was clear he had reached his breaking point.

"Hermione!" Ron shouted, his voice cutting through the noise of the hall.

Hermione froze, her heart sinking as Fred stiffened beside her.

"What do you want, Ron?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"What do I want?" Ron spat, his eyes flashing with fury. "I want to know what the hell you think you're doing!"

Hermione blinked, taken aback. "I'm... dancing, Ron. What does it look like?"

"With him?" Ron growled, glaring at Fred. "You're dancing with Fred, laughing, acting like everything's fine, while I sit over there looking like a bloody idiot?"

Fred opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione held up a hand to stop him. "Ron, we're just trying to enjoy the ball. You could have done the same if you hadn't spent the entire night sulking."

"Oh, sure, I'm the one sulking," Ron snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're all having a grand time, aren't you? Laughing, dancing, forgetting all about me while I'm stuck here with—" He glanced at Lavender, who was standing awkwardly beside him, looking confused and increasingly irritated.

Lavender narrowed her eyes. "Stuck with me, Ronald? That's how you see it?"

Ron ignored her, his attention still fixed on Hermione. "You think you're so much better than everyone, don't you, Hermione? Always telling people what to do, always acting like you know best. Well, guess what? No one cares what you think."

Hermione's temper flared, and she took a step toward Ron. "That's not fair, and you know it! You've been nothing but horrible to Harry and me ever since his name came out of the Goblet. We've tried talking to you, tried to make things better, but you've pushed us away at every turn!"

"Oh, so now it's my fault?" Ron sneered. "Of course it is. Everything's always my fault when it comes to you. You think I'm too thick to notice, don't you? That you and Harry are so much smarter, so much better than me?"

Hermione's patience snapped. "That's not what I think at all, Ron! But you've been acting like a complete git, and we're all sick of it!"

Ron's face twisted with rage, and he jabbed a finger at her. "Maybe you should stop sticking your nose in other people's business for once, Hermione. You're not as clever as you think you are. You're just a know-it-all who can't stand it when things don't go your way!"

Fred, sensing the tension escalating, stepped in front of Hermione slightly, his voice still light but his expression serious. "Alright, Ron, that's enough. No need to make this worse."

Ron turned on Fred, his eyes blazing. "Oh, and look at you. The big hero, sweeping in to save Hermione. What, are you going to try to snog her next, Fred? That why you're hanging around her all night?"

Fred's face hardened, but he stayed calm. "Don't be an idiot, Ron. You're making a scene."

But Ron wasn't finished. His gaze shifted back to Hermione, his voice lowering into a harsh growl. "You know what, Hermione? I'm glad you're with Fred. You two deserve each other. You're both so full of yourselves. I don't need friends like you."

Hermione's chest tightened. The words stung more than she expected, but her anger burned hotter. "You don't mean that, Ron. You're just angry, and you're taking it out on everyone around you."

Ron's expression darkened. "Maybe I do mean it. You're not as important as you think you are, Hermione. No one cares what you do. You're just some know-it-all who can't even see when she's being used."

That was it.

Without thinking, Hermione drew her wand, her frustration reaching its peak.

"Expelliarmus!" she cast the spell sharply, sending Ron's wand flying out of his hand and across the floor. He stumbled backward, his eyes wide with shock.

But Hermione wasn't done. She flicked her wand again, this time casting a nonverbal Stinging Hex that hit Ron squarely on the arm.

Ron yelped in pain, clutching his arm as he glared at her, his face a mix of anger and disbelief. "Are you mental?!"

Hermione's chest heaved as she stood there, her wand still raised. "Maybe if you'd stop being such a coward and actually talk to us, we wouldn't be in this mess!"

The hall had fallen into a tense silence. Students had stopped dancing, their eyes wide as they watched the confrontation unfold. Fred, who had been watching the exchange with a stunned expression, finally stepped forward.

"Blimey, Hermione," Fred muttered. "Remind me never to get on your bad side."

Hermione turned to Fred, her chest still tight with frustration. "Sorry, I just—"

Fred shook his head, giving her a soft smile. "No need to apologize. He deserved that."

Harry, who had been standing nearby with Luna, rushed over to intervene, pulling Ron back before he could say anything else. "Let's just calm down," Harry said, his voice tense. "This isn't helping."

But Ron wasn't done. He yanked his arm out of Harry's grip, his face twisted with bitterness. "Oh, sure, Harry. You'd side with her, wouldn't you? You two are thick as thieves now. Guess I was just the third wheel all along."

"Ron, that's not fair—" Harry started, but Ron cut him off.

"Fair? What's fair, Harry? You didn't even bother to tell me about the Tournament, and now you're acting like I'm the one who's been unreasonable? You two have been off together for weeks, and I've been left out of everything!"

Lavender, who had been standing awkwardly beside Ron, finally snapped. "If you didn't want to come to the ball with me, you could have just said so, Ronald!"

Ron barely spared her a glance. "Not now, Lavender."

"No, you don't get to brush me off!" Lavender's voice rose in pitch as she crossed her arms. "You've been sulking all night, and I've had enough. You didn't even bother to have fun with me!"

Ron opened his mouth to argue, but before he could say anything, Lavender huffed and stormed away, her dress billowing dramatically as she disappeared into the crowd.

Hermione stood there, her chest still heaving with anger, but she felt a deep pang of regret settling in. Ron had crossed a line, but so had she. The confrontation had spiraled out of control, and now everything felt fractured.

"I'm sorry," Hermione muttered, turning to Fred, her voice shaking slightly. "I didn't mean for it to get this bad."

Fred gave her a reassuring smile, though the tension in the air remained. "It's alright, Hermione. Let's just try to enjoy the rest of the night."

But as the music slowly resumed and the students turned back to their conversations, Hermione couldn't shake the heavy feeling that lingered in her chest. The night had been magical, but the tension between her and Ron had left a dark cloud hanging over everything.

As she and Fred walked back toward the dance floor, Hermione couldn't help but wonder if things would ever go back to the way they were.

Meanwhile, across the room, Harry was standing awkwardly near the punch bowl, watching the aftermath of Hermione's confrontation with Ron. The ball had taken a sharp turn for the worse, and though the music had resumed and the other students were back to dancing, the weight of what had just happened hung heavily in the air.

Ron stood a few feet away, his shoulders tense, still rubbing the spot on his arm where Hermione's hex had struck. His face was set in a grim expression, his jaw clenched tightly, and his eyes burned with a mixture of anger and something darker—hurt, betrayal.

Harry took a deep breath, knowing this needed to be addressed. He hadn't wanted to spend the Yule Ball like this, but Ron had been stewing in his resentment for weeks, and now things had finally exploded. They couldn't leave it like this. Not after everything.

"Ron," Harry said quietly, stepping closer.

Ron didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the floor, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, but his entire posture was rigid, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair. "Look, I know you're angry. You've been angry for a while now, but... I don't want things to be like this."

Ron's glare flickered upward for a brief moment, but he said nothing. His jaw remained clenched, and his eyes darkened with resentment.

Harry pressed on, his voice soft but firm. "I didn't put my name in the Goblet, Ron. I wouldn't have done that. You know me better than that."

Still, Ron didn't say anything. His eyes flicked away from Harry's, focusing instead on some point far off in the distance, but the tension in his shoulders only grew.

Harry swallowed, frustration bubbling in his chest, but he pushed it down. He needed to get through to Ron. He needed to try. "I don't care about being a champion or having people look at me. I never wanted any of this, you know that. I just... I just want things to go back to how they were. To how we were."

Ron's eyes finally locked onto Harry's, but there was no warmth in them—only cold, simmering anger. He said nothing. The silence between them stretched painfully, and Harry's heart sank.

"I miss my best mate," Harry continued, his voice barely above a whisper now. "I miss you, Ron. But I can't fix this if you won't talk to me."

For a moment, Harry thought he saw something flicker in Ron's expression—something softer, something close to regret. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same steely glare.

Ron's lips tightened, his gaze hardening. He still didn't speak, but his glare said everything. He wasn't ready to forgive. He wasn't ready to let go of his anger.

Harry let out a frustrated breath, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Ron, please. I'm trying here. I know things haven't been easy, but—"

Ron's sharp glare cut Harry off, and though he didn't say a word, the look in his eyes was enough to silence Harry. It was a look of deep resentment, one that burned with all the feelings of betrayal and jealousy that had been building inside him for weeks.

Harry's heart sank further. He had hoped—desperately—that extending this olive branch would make a difference. That maybe, just maybe, Ron would soften and they could start to mend the rift between them. But now, looking at the cold anger in Ron's eyes, Harry realized that wasn't going to happen. Not tonight.

The silence between them grew heavier, suffocating. The sounds of the ball—students laughing, music playing, feet shuffling on the dance floor—felt distant, like they were in another world entirely.

Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice tight with frustration and sadness. "I don't know what else to say, Ron. I can't make you forgive me, and I can't change what's happened. But I'm here, and I'm trying."

For a long, tense moment, Ron just stared at Harry, his lips pressed into a thin line. Then, slowly, he uncrossed his arms and turned his back on Harry, walking away without a word. His posture was stiff, and the air around him crackled with unresolved anger. He didn't even glance back as he left the Great Hall, the door swinging shut behind him with a heavy thud.

Harry stood frozen in place, the weight of Ron's silence pressing down on him like a lead blanket. The door to reconciliation had been slammed shut, and Harry couldn't help but feel the ache of that loss deep in his chest.

He had tried. He had reached out. And still, Ron had walked away.

With a heavy sigh, Harry turned back toward the table where Luna was sitting, watching the whole exchange with her usual serene expression. She gave Harry a small, sad smile as he approached.

"You did the right thing, Harry," she said softly. "Sometimes people just need more time."

Harry nodded, though his heart wasn't convinced. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice rough with emotion. "I hope so."

But as he sat back down, the weight of Ron's silence still hung heavy over him. The night had lost its magic, and Harry couldn't shake the feeling that things might never go back to the way they were.