It's now Halloween evening, and Dumbledore gathers everyone to hear which names have been chosen before the feast. We all clap along, hearing the three names, Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff being selected from our school. Then, out of complete nowhere, the goblet spits out another name, a fourth name, and it's Harry's name that is called. The room goes silent. Harry's name is bellowed by the headmaster once again, and I turn to him in front of me, the boy slouching down. Once Dumbledore yells out Harry's name once more, shaking the room altogether, we all urge him to go, and he quickly stands up and walks to the headmaster. No one is saying anything, they don't dare speak. How can this be?

We all look at each other confused. How could Harry's name be put in when Fred's and George's potion didn't work? Did Harry put his name in himself and the goblet just accepted it because it was from The Chosen One? No. He couldn't. He wouldn't. That's not like Harry, not at all.

I get a feeling in my gut, much like the beginning of this year. The bad feeling has returned, blanketing me like a dark cloak of despair as I observe my friend making his way to the back exit, where the other Champions made their way after happily exiting from the Great Hall, unlike Harry. I cannot ignore it this time. I continue to wonder what my intuition is trying to tell me, but I can't seem to figure it out, and that itself worries me more than one of my close friends being in possible danger because of something he didn't even want to do.

The next few days pass, after it has been announced that we would have the Yule Ball on Christmas Eve. All the girls are excited about it, rather sickeningly, but much like the boys, I couldn't care less. Fancy dresses and dancing weren't really my thing, despite all the events my family has hosted in our villa. But, it seemed a bit mandatory, and I thought it would be fun with my friends.

—

We all are gathered in a room with Professor McGonagall, who is apparently teaching us how to dance. She asks Ron to dance with her, and the entire room twists into laughter as the melodic music started playing at the hands of Filch.

As I laugh with Hermione and the rest of the room, I take notice of Harry whispering to the Weasley twins. Probably something dealing with Ron and his prominent two left feet.

McGonagall calls everyone to stand up, and all the girls eagerly stand, even Hermione, rather surprisingly. I never struck her as one of those girls who would throw themselves at an opportunity like this, but I suppose it's just a bit of young excitement. I keep myself planted into my chair, wanting to spare myself the headache. I notice all the boys sitting down as well, looking very reluctant to even come into this room. I get lost in my thoughts when I hear someone beside me, the person making their presence known.

"Not a big dancer, eh?", asks Draco, startling me even though I knew someone was next to me. I turn my head to see him leaning down over my chair, his blonde hair falling over his face. Of course he has to bother me once again, he never failed to do so.

"No, but I bet you are.", I reply, smirking.

Draco sighs, "Well I haven't had enough practice, but I'll bet I can easily sway you off your feet.", he replies, perfecting his posture and raising his head in pridefulness.

"And that's supposed to mean, what, exactly?", I ask him, not sure where he was going with this. He hasn't insulted me yet, and I don't like where he's going with this interaction. I take in his appearance. he's wearing his usual uniform, but without the robe. His hair is slightly disheveled, as if he didn't have time to perfectly style it when he woke up this morning. His rings are still very much placed in his fingers on both hands, and he's wearing his metallic bracelet today. He almost looks...good? No. Nevermind. Not that it matters.

"Well, it means that you are a girl, I presume.", Draco sneakily passes to me.

"Wow, quite the charmer, aren't we? You know exactly what a girl wants to hear.", I say to his slightly rude comment, rolling my eyes and turning my head away to watch the pairs dance horribly in front of me. I notice some girls dancing with each other, finding a solution to the boys staying in their seats and refusing to get up and dance with them. If only they'd get over their stupid pride, I can tell that at least a few of them are actually excited. I wanted to see if either George or Fred would dance with someone, it'd be a sight to witness for sure.

"And I am a boy. See, dancing partners are usually girls and boys. Especially at balls.", he says. It seems like he's trying to say something, but I can't tell what it is. So, tired of his company already, I say,

"Malfoy, whatever it is you're trying to say, just spit it out.". I have never enjoyed the sensation of not knowing things, so I always try to find out whatever it is, it's like a little puzzle or challenge that I give myself from time to time, I find it satisfying to decode and solve things before anyone else can.

Draco smiles a bit, somewhat kindly, and opens his mouth. "What I'm trying to say is, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?", he asks me.

It's silent. I'm not even breathing in anymore, my heart is beating quicker by the second. Everyone around us stops, as they heard the proposal.

Draco Malfoy. Asking me. To the ball.

That git. The nerve of him! How dare he ask me to the ball? Would he think I would act like one of those doe-eyed ditzes and jump into his arms saying 'yes'? I'm not like that one horrendous girl who's obsessed with him. What was her name? Pug-Pansy. It was Pansy. I've never liked her. I'm brought back to reality when I realize Draco's embarrassed me in front of all the students in my year and higher.

I keep staring at him, my features neutral, but his little cheeky smile never moves. I set my jaw and glare at him with an angry stare, rage taking over my senses.

I abruptly stand up and strike him across the face, he turns his head and holds his hand up to his cheek where I had hit him, but instead of looking hurt, he starts laughing. He's laughing of amusement. What the bloody hell is wrong with this boy?

"Are you mad? Why would I ever say yes to doing anything pleasant with you at all, Malfoy?", I angrily grit out, my jaw is still clenched, my eyes on him.

McGonagall pops up from the other side of the room, students gathering around us. Before she can reprimand me for slapping another student, I leave the room. I can still hear Draco's howling laughter from behind me, my cheeks heating up from embarrassment in front of the whole class.

I end the day by going to sleep furiously, everyone in the classes, in the halls, and during lunch and dinner has been talking about Draco and I. I wake up, not having dreamt anything. I walk myself to the Great Hall, dressed in my robes, ready to forget about the day before. My friends greet me and I greet them back, getting my plate ready for breakfast. If I pretend nothing had happened, surely people would forget about it. Right?

Then, an owl comes in. There's only just the one, and it seems to be holding a howler. Who's could it be? It flies over the Gryffindor table, every student looking up at it in anticipation, and it lets go of the verbal letter right where Ron sits, two seats away from me. It's meant for me. I realize that the owl had been my own, not wearing my glasses had easily reprimanded me of my vision. I'd have to remind myself to wear them for quidditch practice next week. Since last year, I've been a chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Despite my small frame compared to the other chasers, Harry saw it fitting that I could easily maneuver myself between players on a broom.

I grab the howler, and give my friends a quizzical look before I open the letter, hoping it wasn't from one or both of my parents, I've almost forgotten about them both this year, what with all the commotion. Once I tear it open though, I regret it, all thoughts of my parents escaping my now panicking brain. 

The howler opens and reads, "Are you a Snitch? Because you're the greatest catch here!" The howler then proceeded to blow a kiss at me and it ripped to shreds.

Everyone in the Great Hall bursted into laughter. Everyone but my friends, of course, for the exception of Ron, who was chuckling lowly so I wouldn't hear. Unfortunately, I did anyway, and Hermione nudged him in the side. I hadn't even realized that everyone was awaiting me to open the letter, all of them on the edge of their seats.

I seemed to be in my own head. Everybody's laughter was tuned out, I couldn't hear them. I didn't even need to rack my brain to know who sent the howler, I recognized the dragging, deep, invigorating voice instantly.

It belonged to Malfoy.