❝SO...YOU LOT GOT DATES TO THE BALL YET?❞

.・。.・゜✭・.

"So bloody cold," Lee mutters, wrapping his cloak tighter around him, sandwiched between Angelina and Ara on their way down to Hagrid's cabin. It is a particularly windy December day and although Ara adores Care of Magical Creatures, she finds herself wishing they'd canceled it.

"Man up, Jordan," Angelina retorts, but there's no bite to her words. "'S only forty minutes."

"My toes'll be frozen by then." Lee wrinkles his nose. "Couldn't they postpone it until the wind lets up?"

Ara shakes her head, laughing. "That's not until March, Lee."

"I said what I said!"

Angelina hits him playfully in the shoulder. "So, any idea who you're taking to the Ball?"

She is referring to the Yule Ball, which they found out about approximately two hours ago, when Professor McGonagall stopped them down after Transfiguration and told them about the traditional Christmas ball held during the Triwizard Tournament.

"It is an excellent opportunity to socialize and be hospitable toward the foreign students," Professor McGonagall had said, with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. (Ara guessed she wasn't too excited about it herself.) "The ball is open to fourth years and above, although younger students may be invited. You are required to wear dress robes, and anyone who does not do so will not be allowed in. The ball begins promptly at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, and will conclude at midnight."

Excited whispers had broken out after this, but a single look from Professor McGonagall silenced them. She continued, "While this is an excellent opportunity to relax during the holidays, this does not mean that you may act as you please." And she had cut her eyes pointedly at George and Lee. Ara assumed Fred was also included in that look, even though he wasn't there. "We expect you to represent Hogwarts respectfully and honorably, and I expect you to represent Gryffindor in the same way."

Ara loves the idea of dressing up and dancing–she's never really been to anything like this before–but at the same time, she is embarrassed by her first thought when Professor McGonagall mentioned the ball.

I'd like to go with Fred.

And of course she'd love to go with Fred! Fred is one of her best friends. And George, Lee, Angelina–they're all her favorite people in the world.

But that excuse is growing weaker and weaker by the day, and Ara realized this the moment she walked out of Transfiguration, and Fred was waiting there like always, looping his arm through hers and asking her how it went. It's getting much more difficult to lie to herself and pretend that it's the same as it's always been.

So Ara keeps her mouth shut as Lee rambles on about the prettiest girls in sixth-year, echoes the running joke that Angelina's secretly in love with him, and eventually decides he might ask Katie or Alicia, "but only as a friend, you know, don't want to give them the wrong idea," earning himself another hit in the shoulder from Angelina.

She spends Care of Magical Creatures deep in thought, absentmindedly listening as Hagrid muses about the hibernation of Skrewts, and drifts through Ancient Runes in much the same way, until Sausage the parakeet screeches "Focus!" at her and she spills ink all over her translation.

"Got something on your face," says an amused, familiar voice as Ara hurries out of the classroom and toward the Great Hall. "'S that ink?"

Ara stops, shaking her head, and looks up at Fred, who's leaning against the opposite wall, grinning at her. "Professor Babbling's parakeet yelled in my ear and it scared me."

"So you dropped your face in an ink bottle?" Fred chuckles, pushing himself off the wall and walking over to her. "That's talent, even for you. Let me–" He licks the pad of his thumb and swipes it gently across her cheek. Ara tenses, willing herself not to shiver beneath his touch.

"Much better," Fred says, tilting her chin up now to glance at her face. "Hungry?"

"Starved."

"Heard about this ball thing." Fred tugs Ara's book bag from her and slings it over his shoulder, guiding her toward the stairs. "Seems fun, hm?"

"I think so." Ara shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant. "I've never been to a ball."

"Me either. George and I are already planning–"

"Don't tell me. Planning on spiking the punch?"

"Please. Anyone could do that. Trust me, we've got something far more...memorable in mind."

"Oh, God..." Ara sighs heavily. "Will it land you in detention?"

"What do you think?"

"I'll probably be there with you, won't I?"

"Depends." Fred raises his eyebrows, trademark sly grin creeping across his face slowly. "You want to have fun or not?

"Hmm..." Ara pretends to think about it, even though she knows she'll be involved with whatever harebrained scheme he, George, and Lee have cooked up. "Shall I be a good little student and make Professor McGonagall proud, or shall I risk my record for one night of complete insanity?"

"Tough decision," Fred quips, as they join the back of the queue for lunch.

Ara stifles a laugh, and Fred wraps his free arm around her shoulder, chuckling as he pulls her into a hug. "Weirdo."

"Oh, but you love me."

And Ara wishes he hadn't, because it would've made things so much easier, but Fred hesitates a little, his lips against her hair, and whispers, "Always have."

Two little words, words that mean absolutely nothing, except right now. Ara's breath catches in her throat, but thank Merlin because Lee and George come bounding up and join them in line, to the chagrin of the fourth-year girls behind them, and immediately the boys are deep in conversation.

Fred's arm slips a little from her shoulder.

But his words stay in Ara's mind all day, so much so that she drifts through Potions as if in a trance and would have entirely mucked up her Wit-Sharpening Potion if Angelina hadn't yanked the armadillo bile out of her hand just in time. And it's a bloody miracle she makes it through double Arithmancy without Professor Vector noticing that half of her notes are just doodles.

"Oi, Sayer!"

Ara pauses in the corridor outside the Great Hall just before dinner, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. Roger Davies is waving her down, hurrying toward her with a strange sort of urgency.

"Ugh, what does he want?" Angelina mutters, scowling.

Davies catches up to them, breathing heavily. "Erm...could I talk to you...alone?" he asks, glancing at Angelina pointedly.

Angelina hesitates, but Ara nods. "Go on, I'll catch up."

Somewhat reluctantly, Angelina follows Cedric Diggory and Adrian Pucey into the Great Hall, and Davies waits until she's out of earshot before he looks Ara in the eyes again. "So... how've you been?"

Ara is stunned by Davies' strange new interest in her wellbeing. Usually all he cares about is how her arse looks from behind. "Um...fine, I suppose."

"Good. Great." Davies nods, grinning. "Look, you know about the ball coming up, and how we're meant to go with a date, and I was just wondering... if you'd like to go with me?"

Oh, Merlin. Ara is not mentally prepared for this today. All she wants to do is shout NO as loudly as she can, but that wouldn't be polite. So, in an attempt to restrain herself, all she can manage is, "What?"

"Well, I've always thought you were well fit, and we'd look great together, and–"

"No." Ara shakes her head. "Sorry."

"No?" Davies frowns. "What d'you mean, no? Have you got a date already?"

"Not yet, but I–"

"Well, then what's the problem?" Davies asks, sneering at her. "No way you'll get better than–"

"Ara?"

Both Ara and Davies turn to see Harry standing there, looking perplexed. Ara is relieved and immediately runs over to Harry, leaving Davies alone in the queue before he's swallowed by the swell of students.

"Oh, thank God." Ara drops her head into her hands. "I had no idea how I was going to get away from him."

"Was he asking you to the ball?" Harry asks.

"Yes, and he wouldn't take no for an answer."

"Prat." Harry nudges her forward in the queue. "Have you got a date yet?"

"No, but I really didn't want to go with Roger," Ara replies miserably. "S'pose I'll just go with the twins. Have you?"

Harry grimaces.

"What's wrong?" Ara asks, frowning.

"I...finally got up the courage to ask her, but...she's already going with someone else."

"Oh, Harry." Ara puts her hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently. "I'm sorry. That's awful."

"'S alright. I should've known she'd be taken. Way out of my league."

"No one's out of your league, you're the Boy Who Lived!" Ara's joking, of course, but it makes Harry smile just a little. "Have you got a backup plan?"

He shakes his head. "And Professor McGonagall told me I've got to have a date, because the champions open the ball with the first dance."

Ara pauses, an idea forming in her head. "Then I'll go with you."

"What?" Harry's eyes widen.

"Why not? Neither of us have got a date, and it won't be awkward since we're friends, and it'd be bloody strange watching you dance by yourself." Ara smiles. "It's settled."

Relief washes over Harry as he processes this. "Brilliant. Saves me having to ask someone I don't know. D'you know how to dance?"

"No idea," Ara laughs. "But we'll learn together."

She's so pleased with the fact that she's saved Harry from misery and that she's escaped Roger Davies that she doesn't even think about Fred until that night in the common room, when she's sitting on the floor by the twins as they hash out another letter to Ludo Bagman. He's still being an arse and refusing to give them any money.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione are sitting at a table across the common room. Hermione is doing homework, Ron is attempting to build a castle out of Exploding Snap cards–and failing–and Harry is reading a book on Quidditch.

"Bet we could borrow Pigwidgeon," George suggests, after a moment of silence.

"Great idea. Let's ask." Fred hops up, shoving the finished letter into his pocket, and he and George hurry over to the trio's table just as Ron's card castle explodes in his face.

Ara is attempting to finish her Arithmancy homework, but she can't help but overhear their conversation.

"Ron, can we borrow Pigwidgeon?" George asks.

"No, he's off delivering a letter. Why?"

"Because George wants to invite him to the ball," Fred quips.

"Because we want to send a letter, you prat," George says.

"Who d'you two keep writing to, eh?" asks Ron, sounding suspicious.

"Nose out, Ron," says Fred, "or I'll burn that for you, too. So...you lot got dates for the ball yet?"

Ron says, "Nope," just as Harry says, "Yes."

"Who are you going with?" Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George all ask in unison.

"Ara," Harry says simply.

A chorus of replies ring out– "What?" - Hermione; "Bloody hell." - Ron; and "No way!" - George–but Fred is pointedly silent. Ara's heart begins to pound in her chest. She'd completely forgotten about this afternoon. He was probably planning to ask her. And she's just mucked it up.

Finally, Hermione bursts out, "When?"

"Right before dinner. She asked me."

This is the nail in the coffin. Ara wishes Harry hadn't said anything.

Ron whistles softly. "Can't believe you got an older woman, mate. And she's one of the prettiest girls in school."

"You'd better hurry up, Ron, or all the good ones will be gone," says Fred, breaking his silence, his voice slightly flat.

"Who're you going with, then?"

Fred pauses.

Ara's heart stops.

Then: "Angelina."

No.

"What? You've already asked her?"

Ara can't bring herself to look up. She can imagine it, though: Fred looks across the room, sees Angelina, shouts, "Oi! Angelina! Want to come to the ball with me?"

He says it so easily, so nonchalantly. Like he was planning this all along.

Ara doesn't want to hear her answer. She stands up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, gathers her homework up, and hurries up to the girls' dormitory before anyone can see the tears in her eyes.

She hurries to get ready for bed, and by the time Angelina and Alicia enter the room, she's already beneath the covers, pretending to be asleep so that they won't talk to her.

It's all her fault. She asked Harry before Fred even had a chance. It wasn't fair to him.

And it's her fault, but Ara can't help feeling betrayed. And if she and Fred are really meant to be just friends, then why does the thought of him and Angelina together hurt so much?

She's being ridiculous. It would never work. They've been best friends since their first year. It would crush George. It would ruin everything.

Wouldn't it?

.・。.・゜✭・.

the angsttttttt :(

sorry this update took so long! i was moving house (once again) and then trying to write this was like banging my head against a wall. but we made it!