The Yule Ball Solution

Originally posted on fanfiction.net and Archive Of Our Own

Watching Ginny go up the stairs to her dorm, Harry felt like banging his head on the table. 

The only problem with that plan, was that Ron’s head and lanky arms were taking up most of the room, and giving either of them a concussion was the last thing the situation needed.

It wasn’t so much the Yule Ball itself that Harry was dreading, as having to sit and socialize with someone he barely knew. Cho, at least, he could have talked Quidditch with, and she was pretty. But Cho was going with Cedric, and Ginny and Hermione, the other girls he talked to on a regular basis, were out of the question.

Reluctantly, Ron lifted his head. “Do you think you could get Katie or Alicia to take pity on you? I think Fred and George are planning to switch off with Angelina.”

That had been mentioned during the last Quidditch Bitch session, the quiet hangouts with all the Hogwarts players who were still salty about the Quidditch Cup being cancelled, when someone asked George who he was going with. Angelina had laughingly offered to share her attention, and then hexed Flint when he made an off-colour joke about threesomes. Even Malfoy (their usual animosity put aside only on extreme tolerance in the spirit of the season) had managed to refrain from commenting after that, though Harry attributed his sudden burst of common sense to the blond’s close proximity to Millicent Bulstrode’s fists.

Snapping back to the present, Harry shook his head, “They’re going together. Just as friends, I think, but I wasn’t about to ask, after the speech Davis got when he tried to interrogate them.”

He expected Ron to groan again, but instead the youngest boy Weasley looked thoughtful. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Going as friends, I mean.”

Harry blinked, then gave the idea serious thought. Why couldn’t they go as friends, after all? McGonagall’s wording aside, there was no reason that Harry had to find a girlfriend for a night, raise expectations, and then deal with the inevitable drama of a break up on Boxing Day. Going with Ron was a lot less stress, and in all likelihood would be a lot more fun. “We’ll have to practice dancing with two blokes, rather than with a girl.”

Ron shrugged, “Do what Fred and George did; switch leading after each rendition.”

That made sense. “Practice after everyone else has gone up to bed? I’m sure Dobby can find us music somewhere.”

Ron grinned, in a way that made it easy to see how he was related to Fred and George. “Just promise not to fall in love with me, OK? We have enough drama for one dorm as it is.”

Harry laughed, a weight lifting off his shoulders. No awkwardness, just a night of hanging out with his best mate. Hermione would be fine with… whoever her date was, and there was no reason they couldn't sit together for dinner. The bloke couldn’t be too bad, if he had actually caught on to how much of a gem she was, despite not spending as much time on her looks as some other girls. “Only if you promise the same.”

Their snickering was interrupted when the portal opened and Parvati and Lavender came through, both giving them odd looks. Harry waved a greeting, now in a much better mood. “Don’t mind us, we just finally managed to work out a plan for the Yule Ball.”

Both girls brightened at the idea of fresh gossip. “Oh? Lavender’s going with Seamus, but I haven’t got anyone I’m really interested in.”

Huh, if anyone was going to take advantage of the ‘just friends’ cover, Harry would have pegged it to be Dean and Seamus, who had been dancing around each other since puberty hit in the Summer before Third Year. But, if they weren’t ready to come out of the closet, Harry would be the last one to force them. “I don’t think Dean has a date yet. You could ask him.”

Parvati looked thoughtful. “That would work, I don’t suppose he’d read too much into it. Do you know if he’s in the tower?”

Harry shrugged, having no clue. Dean, like many Artists, tended to wander off to sketch whenever he didn't have to be somewhere specific like classes or mealtimes, usually with Seamus in tow. “I haven’t seen him, but I only got back to the Tower a quarter hour ago myself.”

Parvati nodded. “I’ll ask him during dinner, in that case. Do you have your date sorted out, then?”

Harry gestured at Ron. “Going as friends. Being mobbed by half the school wanting to be my date was not fun, and I don't even want to imagine what the Yule Ball would be like.”

Lavender giggled. “I’m looking forward to seeing the reactions when you show up together.” She sighed, “I’m going to have to adjust my dress robes again. This latest growth spurt has really bad timing.”

Harry made a conscious effort not to look at the other places Lavender was growing, and exchanged a look with Ron, who cringed slightly before dignity won out over pride. “Would you mind giving me a hand with mine? They’re…”

Harry stepped in to save him, “A bit old-fashioned. Good colour, but could use a bit of an update to the times, and you two are the best we know for that kind of thing.”

Both girls preened a little, and nodded. “Bring them down, and we’ll see what we can do about them.”

Dancing with Ron was a lot less nerve-wracking than the house-wide dancing lessons, even with Lavender and Parvati calling advice from where they were using a plethora of sewing charms on Ron’s robes.

That didn’t mean that there weren’t a few issues to work out. Ron had paused the music record while they argued out a solution. “Mate, you’re a short-arse. It’ll be a heck of a lot easier for me to lift you than the other way around.”

Unfortunately, Ron had a very good point there. That didn’t mean that Harry had to like it. “Fine, but you have to dip me, as well.”

He squawked as Ron promptly did so, barely getting his feet in the right position before they both went arse over teakettle. Sitting with Lavender, transforming her British dress robes into something a little more in line with her Indian heritage, Parvati stifled a smirk. Harry banished a cushion at her, and Parvati didn’t even look up before gracefully swaying out of the way.

It made Harry wonder, a little, where his own bronze skin came from. Not his mother’s side, obviously – Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been very clear about that, and how his mother's green eyes, an oddity in "people like him" was his only acceptable feature – but had it been a grandparent, or someone further back? Was this ancestor from the Middle East, or somewhere around the Mediterranean, like Blaise Zabini’s dad? Somewhere in the African then-British Colonies, or India, like the Patil twins?

Harry didn’t know how much it really mattered, in the grand scheme of things, but it was another reminder of just how little he knew about his own heritage. Another thing that he should have grown up knowing, but was ignorant of. Hermione might have a lot to say about how her maternal grandfather, a Caribbean sailor who settled down with an English nurse he met in WWI, was treated in the early 1900s, but at least she knew who they were and where they came from.

Perhaps that was something to ask Sirius, the next time Harry saw him.

A voice from the stairs interrupted them. “What are you lot doing? It’s late.”

Seamus wasn’t a nocternal person, and valued his sleep, and his accent made him easy to identify. Saiorise and Sybil Branson, from Sixth Year, and Kathy - no, Kathy had come out over the summer - Conner Malone in Fifth Year were harder to pick apart from each other, though Conner was getting easier to distinguish, the transition potions deepening his voice somewhat. The Branson twins … not so much.

They'd stood out at Harry's Sorting Feast, being particularly smug, and having caused a lot of whispering when Harry and the other then-Firsties were led in. According to Katie, who'd been Sorted alongside the Branson twins, their foster parents hadn't been supportive, and sent Saiorise to Hogwarts as Sean... until the Sorting Hat called her true name, and both of them walked up the girl's staircase without issue that night. Katie and Sybil had bonded over hexing anyone who gave Saiorise a hard time, and Madam Pomfrey supposedly spent most of the first term fighting for her to be allowed the potions - Madam always went above and beyond for her patients - and now the twins were almost as difficult to tell apart as Fred and George.

Dean’s voice was just as easy to recognise, mostly because it was so often in company with Seamus. “Mate, we keep telling you, beauty sleep isn’t going to do anything, even at Hogwarts.”

Harry glanced over to the stairs, just in time to see Seamus make an obscene gesture at the taller boy. “Practicing for the Yule Ball. Want to join us? We’re doing a quadrille next, but Lavender and Parvati won’t join in until we can promise not to step on their feet.”

Seamus laughed and said something in Irish Gaelic that Harry didn’t need a translation charm to tell was something about the English and dancing. He dodged Dean’s elbow with the ease of long practice, “Yeah, why not? Dean?”

Harry and Ron exchanged a discreet eyeroll as the four of them squared off. ‘Just friends’, yeah, right…

A vivid snowball fight took up most of the afternoon on Christmas Day, followed by a minor skirmish over the showers in the Fourth Year boy’s dorm. Narrowly losing out to Dean and Seamus tag-teaming them, and Neville darting around the scuffle while they were distracted, Harry attempted to get his hair under control while Ron fetched his robes from Lavender. It was a pity there was some kind of ward against magic in the bathrooms; apparently the Founders had been over-cautious and taken precautions against teenage boys.

Ron came back with an expression of baffled wonder as Harry finally managed something closer to ‘stylised’ than ‘tangled mess’. “When I get a job, I’m hiring those two as my personal tailors.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, and Ron unfolded the robes. Lavender and Parvati had not only managed to tailor the robes into a more modern cut, but transformed the clashing maroon colour to a warm brown that emphasised Ron’s hair and eyes much better. The ragged lace was gone, replaced by a dark blue braid that brought out his eyes. “Wow.”

Ron beamed, “Yeah.” He turned to the showers, where steam was wafting smugly out. “I know what the girls are wearing, and if you buggers don’t shift yourselves, I’ll make sure you can’t be appropriately surprised!”

Neville came scrambling out, towel hastily wrapped around his waist, and Harry tried not to laugh as he waved Ron through. “Go ahead, I can wait.”

Hermione was the first of the Fourth Year girls to emerge, and Harry almost didn’t recognise her. Mostly it was the hair, tamed into an elegant twist and set off with a brass comb of in the shape of a flower. Periwinkle blue robes set off her darkly-tan skin beautifully, and Harry had to take a moment to re-boot his brain. “Wow, Hermione! You look great!”

She beamed, smoothing the fabric of her robes nervously. “Really? It took a lot longer than I thought, but I suppose there’s no harm in looking pretty sometimes, even if Mum does struggle to be taken seriously when she dresses up.”

Parvati and Lavender sailed down, in a gold-patterned red lengha and flowing purple robes, respectively. “We told you so. Special occasions, anyway. How did Ron like his robes.”

Harry smirked. “They look amazing. He’ll probably worship at your feet, as soon as he and Seamus stop fighting over the mirror.”

The other Gryffindor boys appeared as they got their laughter under control, armed with similar compliments. Neville lingered behind, “I’ll go down with Ginny when she's ready."

Harry nodded, checking that he hadn't forgotten anything. "Hermione, are we waiting on your date, too?”

Hermione beamed, ignoring his un-subtle attempt to find out who she was going with. “No, I’m meeting him there. Boys?”

Ron rolled his eyes, “Why do we have to live in a tower? Six floors of beating everyone who sees you off with a stick…”

Hermione laughed, her offence from a few days ago forgotten. “That's appreciated, but probably un-necessary.”

Ron shrugged as they scrambled through the portal. “You’re our friend. Besides, Ginny threatens to hex me whenever I try to be protective.”

Harry had expected Professor McGonagall to be annoyed at him for showing up with a friend rather than a date, but she confined herself to an annoyed sigh. “Why is it always you three? Potter, over this way, with the other champions. Bring whichever one of your friends you roped into tonight’s shenanigans.”

Harry gallantly offered Ron his arm, while Hermione split off… walking over to Viktor Krum, who clicked his heels together, wearing the same nervous smile that Hermione was.

Ron opened his mouth, then closed it again with visible effort. Harry grinned, nodding at his fellow champion as he elbowed Ron gently in the ribs. “Excellent, now Hermione can’t pretend she doesn’t know what we’re talking about when we discuss Quidditch.”

Cedric, Cho and Fleur’s date, the Ravenclaw Captain, all perked up. “Oh, thank Merlin! I was worried we’d be stuck acting like one of Dad’s boring dinner parties!”

Krum smiled hesitantly. “I vas hoping to continue our debate on Ancient Runes. Muggles apparently made new discoveries about the el-Nasir tablets.”

Harry tried to think, that had come up on the news over the summer… “Oh, the discovery of a whole room full of complaint letters. Yeah, I heard about that. Have they translated any, yet?”

Cho laughed, before they all snapped to attention when McGonagall reappeared. “All right, stop gossiping and try to look dignified.”

The music was nice, and the opening dance was an easy one. Ron was right, trying to lift his friend would have been a disaster, but Harry could have done without the giggling from the audience when Ron swung him around and lowered him into a dip. Watching Karkaroff slowly turn purple as he glared between Krum and Hermione, and Harry and Ron was fun, though.

It wasn’t like that between them, obviously, but Harry would never miss a chance to infuriate a homophobe, as the Dursleys could attest.

After the first dance, other couples started drifting onto the floor, and Harry was pleased to note several same-sex dance partners among them. Abandoning the floor to the masses, He and Ron found a table near Percy (and, for some reason, Oliver Wood), shooting him an apologetic glance but gesturing at the other champions, and then at the limited number of seats for each table. Cedric and Cho were the first to join them, followed by Krum and Hermione, both shooting glares over their shoulders at a gaggle of disappointed fangirls.

Harry sympathized with the Quidditch Star. “I know it doesn’t help, but I do appreciate you taking their attention off of me for a bit.”

Krum mock-scowled. “I vould say it is pleasure, but…”

He gestured expansively, and the entire table laughed, Cedric propping his head on his hand. “I’m glad I only have to deal with the attention from being a Champion. If this is what you two have to deal with every day, you have my profound condolences.”

Krum smiled faintly. “Is why I asked Hermy-own. Is nice change, having actual discussion with girl who will tell me when I’m wrong.”

Hermione blushed, looking pleased. Ron poked her. “It comes from hanging out with us so much. Hard for Her-mi-oh-nee, or the rest of us who know Harry, to be impressed by celebrity when you realize how much most of them hate it, and that the Boy-Who-Lived is actually a sarcastic little git.”

Harry pretended to be hurt, even though Ron and Hermione’s ability to treat him like a normal person was one of the things he valued most about their friendship. Dinner appeared, roast goose with some kind of sauce, and a variety of sides, and Fleur materialised, notably without her date. "Try being part-Veela. I 'ad 'oped that he might continue being ze exception, but non."

With the way Davis had spend most of the opening dance either staring at Fleur's cleavage or looking like he'd been hit with a two-by-four, it wasn't surprising that Fleur had ditched him. Harry patted her hand sympathetically. "We'll do our best not to be creeps."

Surrounded by friends and having a wonderful time, Harry had another reason to be grateful Ron had suggested going together. He shuddered to think how the Yule Ball might have turned out otherwise.

Look, Harry deserves one good night out with his friends, ok?

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