After that rather awkward incident with Professor McGonagall, it was hard to wipe the image from my head—Ron, red as a howler, shuffling stiffly around the dance floor with her, trying not to step on her toes.
And Fred, George and I had the time of our lives seeing how awkward it was for him. Holding her waist and everything.
When the music ended, he practically bolted, and I was about to follow him out of the Great Hall, still chuckling under my breath.
That's when I spotted Hermione. And she spotted me.
She stood there in the middle of the hall. She wasn't smiling. Not when she saw us slipping out like a pair of gnomes caught raiding the garden.
Around her, a cluster of boys from Ravenclaw and even a few from Gryffindor were eagerly asking her to dance, but she barely acknowledged them. And then—before I could even blink—Draco Malfoy appeared.
He offered her his hand. She didn't respond. And then he gently grabbed her both hands.
And to my absolute horror, she didn't swat him away. She... took it. Just like that. Her eyes flicked away from mine and onto him, as he leaned closer and said something I couldn't hear. She replied something.
I had no idea what they were talking about and I didn't stick around to watch more. Before Professor McGonagall could notice I was still partnerless and rope me into another dance (Merlin forbid with Filch), I made a hasty retreat.
Ron was nowhere in the corridor, but I had a strong suspicion where he'd be. And sure enough, I found him in our dormitory, legs up, surrounded by half-eaten pumpkin pasties. My treacle tart was untouched beside him.
"Thank Merlin you're back," he said, spraying crumbs.
"Yeah. Me too."
He sat up, brushing pastry flakes off his jumper. "So... what now?"
"What do you mean?"
"The Ball, mate. Who're you going with?"
"No idea," I said, plopping down beside him. "You?"
"Haven't thought about it."
"But you already have one partner though," I smirked.
Ron groaned. "Please don't."
"You and McGonagall made quite the couple."
"Shut it, Harry."
I grinned and took a bite of the treacle tart. Warm. Sweet. Perfect. Just like always.
Then I hesitated. Should I tell him what I saw? Hermione. Malfoy. The hand-holding. The talking.
"By the way... Hermione—"
"What about her?" Ron asked, still munching, as if he hardly cared.
"Nothing," I muttered quickly. "Didn't see her in the Great Hall, that's all."
Ron frowned. "But she was right at the front, wasn't she?"
"Maybe. I missed her."
"Whatever."
He shrugged like he didn't care. He got up and left the room, muttering something under his breath.
I watched him go. Did he even like her? It was hard to tell with Ron. One moment, he was teasing her, the next, sulking if she wasn't around.
I was left alone with my thoughts until a sudden uproar echoed from the corridor outside.
A group of Gryffindor boys had lifted Oliver Wood on their shoulders and were parading him like he'd just won the Quidditch Cup.
"What's going on?" I asked one of them.
"Wood finally asked out Penelope Clearwater!" someone said.
"She's the Ravenclaw Prefect," added another.
That was a big deal.
I laughed with them, but deep down, I was wondering—how was I going to find a date to the Yule Ball?
And Ron?
I turned back toward the group of people. He was nowhere to be seen.
He was gone.
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