"Have you heard?" Lucy Vane asked, catching up with her fellow Slytherins after a particularly trying Transfiguration class. Professor McGonagall had delivered yet another stern lecture, this time about the perils of Human Transfiguration. She had warned them—yet again—about the importance of their work, and how they were expected to use the Christmas break wisely to catch up on their studies.
Berenice, who had been struggling to keep her composure after the class, sneered. "What should I have heard?" she asked, lifting her satchel onto her shoulder with a bit more force than necessary. Her eyes flicked to the back of her hand, which now glistened with faint scales.
"The Yule Ball!" Lucy announced, her voice tinged with excitement. "Just heard from a Ravenclaw. It's happening at eight o'clock sharp, on Christmas Day."
"What?" Berenice cried out, her tongue flicking out in surprise before she quickly clamped her mouth shut. "How can they announce it now? We've only got a fortnight to get ready! Gala robes and everything!"
"And are we meant to go with a partner, or is it free-for-all?" Greg Jennings, another Slytherin in their year, piped up, sounding equally vexed.
"I believe it's expected," Lucy said with a nod.
Berenice groaned and looked around, as though hoping for a solution to fall from the ceiling. "This is madness. Two weeks? I haven't even thought about my robes."
"I think we should take Berenice to Madam Pomfrey first," Eleanor remarked, glancing pointedly at Adrian. "We don't want her to start acting like a chameleon again." Adrian nodded, looking concerned, and hurried off with purpose.
"What's the matter, Bunny? You've been going on about a traditional Yule Ball for ages, haven't you?" Eleanor teased as they began making their way down the corridor toward the hospital wing.
"And besides," Adrian added with a small grin, "the Triwizard Tournament always has a Yule Ball, doesn't it?"
Berenice sighed. "Yes, I suppose I knew that somewhere, but I hadn't really thought about it." She paused, rifling through her satchel before pulling out a crumpled letter and handing it to Eleanor. "My father sent me this yesterday."
Eleanor raised an eyebrow at the letter, and with a glance at Adrian, unfolded it. Her eyes skimmed the words quickly, and Adrian leaned over her shoulder to read along.
"Oh," Eleanor muttered, her voice flat with surprise.
"We'll talk more about it tonight," Berenice said softly, pushing open the double doors to the hospital wing and walking inside.
Adrian and Eleanor exchanged glances, then walked back in silence toward the Slytherin Common Room.
"Everything all right?" Adrian asked, his voice gentle.
Eleanor took a deep breath. "No, not really," she admitted. For weeks, she had been walking through Hogwarts as if in a daze, unsure of where she stood with anyone. She had kept her distance from the Gryffindors, as promised, and now, after reading the letter from Mr. Yaxley, she felt more certain than ever that keeping her distance had been the right choice.
Thanks to the Triwizard Tournament, the uproar over the Dark Mark at the World Cup had died down somewhat. But the important wizarding families still had questions that were going unanswered. An investigation was ongoing, but something lingered in the air—an unease that wouldn't go away.
And then there was Berenice's nightmares. The girls hadn't told Adrian yet, but Eleanor knew it wasn't just a passing fancy. Every time Berenice cast a glance at Harry Potter, Eleanor couldn't help but shiver with foreboding.
No wonder Berenice had been caught off-guard by the Yule Ball announcement.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Nell?" Adrian asked, squeezing her hand gently.
Eleanor shrugged, her mind elsewhere. "No, I don't think so. I'm just waiting for my mother to send me a letter about the Yule Ball arrangements. Any minute now."
Adrian smiled encouragingly. "You don't have to go, you know."
Eleanor didn't answer him, her thoughts already drifting elsewhere. She released his hand, her heels echoing on the stone floor as they approached the Slytherin Common Room.
"Dulce periculum," Eleanor muttered, and the stone walls parted obediently before her. She walked in ahead of Adrian, her chin lifted high as she passed the familiar faces in the room, not sparing a single glance at anyone.
Lucian Bole, a year above her, blocked her path just as she reached the stairs leading to the dormitories.
"Bole," she said coolly.
"Seymour," he replied, his tone deliberately condescending.
Eleanor arched an eyebrow, saying nothing.
"I've heard about this Yule Ball," Bole continued, smirking. "Seems they're even allowing scum like you to attend. Do you want to accompany me?"
Eleanor's eyes flashed dangerously, and the room seemed to fall into an eerie silence as she held his gaze. She didn't reply immediately but let the tension stretch between them.
"Scum like me?" she repeated, her voice cutting through the silence like ice. "Need I remind you, Bole, that despite my Muggle surname, my blood is purer than yours?"
Bole's smirk faltered.
Eleanor drew herself up, her voice icy and firm. "My father, yes, is a Muggle, but he's richer than anyone here—including Malfoy. He is the Duke of Norfolk, which makes him more important than anyone in this room, regardless of blood. And I'll have you know, Bole, that I've got no troll blood running through me, unlike some people I could mention."
The room was so quiet now, Eleanor could hear the faint rustle of parchment in the air.
Bole opened his mouth to speak, but Eleanor drew her wand with a fluid motion, placing it gently but firmly against his throat.
"Did I make myself clear enough?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Bole's face paled. He nodded, his arrogance vanishing in an instant.
"Good," Eleanor said crisply. "Step aside, troll-blood."
Without another word, she pushed past him, leaving the room to fall back into its usual chatter, but not before a self-satisfied, blood-red smile tugged at her lips.
That little confrontation would cost Eleanor, she knew it. But she didn't regret it. Not even slightly.
The next morning, as Eleanor had predicted, a thick envelope arrived via Pegasus, delivered with the customary flourish of Astraea's handwriting.
Berenice raised an eyebrow as Eleanor pulled out the contents, five pages of parchment filled with meticulous details about the Yule Ball.
"So?" Berenice asked, leaning in curiously as Eleanor folded the pages carefully.
Eleanor's dark eyes flicked to her teacup. "Is there a trip to Hogsmeade planned before Christmas?" she asked distractedly, before taking a sip. Her face wrinkled slightly in distaste. "Ugh, it's lukewarm."
"No," Berenice replied, her voice dripping with disdain. "Our last trip was ages ago, before the First Task. Honestly, it's like Dumbledore doesn't know the first thing about preparing for a Yule Ball."
At the mention of Madam Pomfrey, Eleanor's eyes softened briefly. Berenice, after all, had been much better since her visit. The stormy grey of her eyes had returned, and she looked almost her usual self again.
Eleanor swung her legs off the bench with a grin. "Maybe we'll use the privilege of being prefects to our advantage, Bunny," she teased, rummaging through her bag for her History of Magic textbook. "Meet me just before lunch in the Great Hall? We've got some planning to do."
Berenice nodded enthusiastically. "Fine, but I want a huge slice of chocolate cake from Puddifoot's afterward," she said with a mischievous wink, before dashing off to Divination.
Eleanor grinned and turned to Adrian, who was lazily piling tomatoes and scrambled eggs onto his plate.
"Any plans?" she asked with a teasing glint.
"Well, unless you want to drag me into your fancy robe trials," Adrian said with a smile, "I suppose I'll just be studying."
In the Gryffindor Common Room, Fred and George Weasley were deep in discussion over how to invest the money Eleanor had given them a month ago.
"Well, hiding it in a stocking under the mattress is clearly not the best idea," George said, sounding as though he had made this point several times before.
"Then what else do you suggest?" Fred asked, sounding more than a little irritated.
"Simple," George replied, "we talk to Bill."
"Bill?" Fred repeated, raising an eyebrow. "As in, our brother Bill?"
"Yes, that Bill," George confirmed. "He works for Gringotts, he's the only one in the family who'll understand our plans. And honestly, what have we got to lose?"
Fred sighed and agreed to send a letter to Bill, arranging a meeting in Hogsmeade on the next free weekend.
Just as Fred finished signing the letter, Ron set off a card castle that collapsed in a cloud of soot, half of his eyebrows gone.
"Nice look, Ron," Fred quipped. "Goes well with your dress robes."
Ron scowled, brushing soot off his face. "What are you two up to now?"
"None of your business," Fred muttered, waving him off. "Got any dates for the ball yet?"
Ron shook his head. "Nope."
"Well, you'd better hurry up, or you'll be left with the scraps," Fred said, grinning.
Before Ron could ask another question, Fred shot his brother a wink. "You'll want to get a move on if you want to avoid the second-hand options."
Back near the Beauxbatons carriage, George watched two figures making their way slowly toward the Forbidden Forest.
One of them wore a white cloak he recognised immediately. The pale blonde hair beside her only confirmed his suspicions.
The two figures were joined by a group of Beauxbatons students, and their laughter echoed through the air, piercing the silence.
George, though, simply shook his head. "You know what? I'll stick with the team," he muttered to himself.
He wasn't surprised. Not in the least.