0627 Invitations

Hermione’s resolute attitude undoubtedly explained something significant to the gathered crowd. The onlooking students whispered excitedly to each other, eagerly gossiping about Roger Davies and his two failed attempts to ask a girl to the Yule Ball. Occasionally they burst into small fits of poorly suppressed giggling. This public humiliation made Roger Davies rapidly lose face, and his expression darkened.

“Alright, alright–” Davies spread his hands in what he hoped was a nonchalant way at Hermione. “What about the Yule Ball then? Surely you must want to attend with someone?”

“Hey, mate!” Ron glared fiercely at Roger Davies with an extremely displeased look. “Are you deaf or just thick? Didn’t you hear Hermione say quite clearly that she’s already accepted someone else’s invitation?!” 

“And who might you be?” Ron’s sharp words successfully drew Roger Davies’ attention away from Hermione. The tall, burly Davies looked scornfully over Hermione’s head, eyeing Ron up and down with obvious disdain, his tone dripping with arrogance. “What does any of this have to do with you anyway? This is between me and Granger.”

Ron had never been particularly good at facing such condescending attitudes, especially with so many people watching eagerly around them, hoping for more drama to unfold.

Redness visibly crept up from his freckled cheeks to the very tips of his ears at a speed visible to the naked eye. But despite his clear discomfort, Ron refused to back down in the face of Davies’ taunts. He puffed out his chest, trying to look as intimidating as he could.

“I’m Ron Weasley, not that it’s any of your business. Got a problem with that?” Ron panted slightly, struggling to control his temper. “As for what it has to do with me – well, if you must know, Hermione and I are friends. Good friends. So, I think I have every right to shield her from harassment by irrelevant gits like you who can’t take a hint!”

“Well said, Ron!” Harry exclaimed admiringly, thrilled to see his often-insecure friend standing up for himself and Hermione so boldly. He then shot Roger a sharp, warning look, hoping this big oaf would see the situation clearly and stop pestering Hermione.

Hermione turned her head to look back at the two boys standing behind her, her lips pursed slightly in contemplation, a curious glimmer flashing in her warm brown eyes. Her gaze lingered on Ron for a beat longer.

Looking at this red-haired boy, a wave of melancholy and sadness suddenly rippled in her heart. In a daze, she suddenly remembered that when she first entered Hogwarts in first year, it was due to Ron’s sarcasm that she was pulled into their little group.

Maybe everything should come to an end.

“Friends?” Davies looked doubtfully at Ron. “If you two are really just friends, then why…”

“Not JUST friends–” Hermione suddenly turned her head back. She stared confrontationally at the infuriatingly oblivious Roger Davies, her eyes turned hard yet her voice remained incredibly calm and steady.

“I’ll have you know that Ron has also invited me to attend the Yule Ball as his date. And I–” Here Hermione paused for emphasis, taking a deep breath. “I’ve already accepted his invitation!”

Whoosh! At that very moment, a fierce gust of chilly wind kicked up, sending loose snow swirling chaotically up from the ground. The gathered students standing on the marble platform outside the entrance hall were forced to squint against the icy bursts blowing directly into their faces. But despite the sudden assault, Harry and Ron remained still, seemingly frozen in place.

Harry stared at Ron in utter astonishment, an indescribable feeling beginning to bloom in his chest. Ron and Hermione were both his good friends, yet apparently, they had been secretly kept this from him. How could they?

However, when Harry finally managed to catch a glimpse of Ron’s gobsmacked expression through the swirling snow obscuring his glasses, he suddenly realized that what Hermione had said was very likely not the truth.

“Please–” Hermione began, then cut herself off. Even without turning around, she could easily guess at Harry and Ron’s respective reactions to her words. With the howling wind providing cover, she quickly turned her head, frowning at the shell-shocked Ron. Her lips barely moved as she hissed at him in a low, urgent voice, “Shouldn’t you react, Weasley? Merlin, say something!”

‘React?!’ Ron shook his head suddenly as if jolted by an electric shock, finally coming back to his senses and the situation at hand.

He was apparently going to attend the Yule Ball with Hermione as his dance partner?! But wait just a bloody minute – he definitely hadn’t invited her, had he? Hermione was his friend, right? One of his very best mates, in fact. Going to the ball with her – well, sure, objectively speaking she wasn’t exactly bad looking, just had a bit of a temper sometimes and was a horrible nag about homework. Going with her as a friend surely wouldn’t be a problem, as long as she didn’t mind being seen in public with him in his absolutely dreadful, ancient “vintage” dress robes.

Ron’s heart began to thump erratically, pounding so loudly against his ribs that he was sure Hermione must be able to hear it even over the howling wind.

Was it just his imagination, or did Hermione suddenly look much prettier than he ever remembered noticing before? What was different about her? Oh, that’s right, it must be her teeth, Ron realized – he had never paid much attention before, too caught up in bickering with her, but at some point, Hermione’s front teeth were no longer as large or prominent as they used to be! When did that happen and how had he missed it?

In the span of those few short seconds, standing there in the chilly, snowy courtyard with what felt like half the school intently watching their every move, Ron’s head was absolutely stuffed full of wild, jumbled thoughts speeding around each other.

But he knew he had no time to keep pondering the mysteries of Hermione and her confusing, unpredictable behavior because Roger Davies was already giving him a very pointed, very suspicious look, clearly wondering what in Merlin’s name was going on.

“Ahem, uh–” Struggling under the combined pressure of Hermione’s sharp, prompting gaze and Roger’s disbelieving one, Ron blurted out the first thing that came to mind without really thinking it through. “Yes, that’s absolutely right, what Hermione said. I mean, that’s just how it is, exactly like she told you, Davies!” 

Ron couldn’t help but notice the amused curve of Harry’s lips that he was clearly struggling to suppress, which of course just made Ron blush even harder. But he ignored Harry’s poorly hidden laughter, and he stared back at Roger Davies, refusing to back down in the face of his incredulity and disdain.

“Yeah, I invited her to the ball, that’s right! So, piss off and leave her alone already, would you mate?”

The gossip spread through the watching crowd like fiendfyre – Gryffindor’s young champion Hermione Granger had found herself a date to the Yule Ball, and it was none other than her good friend and frequent verbal sparring partner, Ron Weasley!

The surrounding chattering crowd of young wizards showed some surprise as they enthusiastically discussed this shocking new development amongst themselves, their earlier disappointment at the lack of a duel was instantly forgotten.

How to put it precisely – this juicy revelation wasn’t exactly earthshaking news, by itself. The potential romantic prospects and dance partners of the four Triwizard champions had been a scorchingly hot topic of enthusiastic conversation and wild speculation for weeks now.

Regarding Hermione Granger specifically, most Hogwarts students had simply assumed that she would of course be attending the ball with either the famous Harry Potter or his faithful sidekick Ron Weasley as Draco used to call Ron. After all, anyone who was even slightly familiar with the trio knew just how incredibly close the three were.

What surprised the eagerly gossiping students was that most of them had assumed Granger would end up picking Potter to escort her to the ball if she had to choose. After all, he was much more famous and presentable than that lanky, awkward Weasley boy, and widely considered to be more handsome.

Roger Davies’ face flushed an ugly purple color. Rejected by two different girls in the span of a single morning – well, if it had just been the beautiful Fleur Delacour who had turned up her nose at him, that would be one thing.

Davies could potentially write that off as an accident, or her not understanding his invitation properly due to her thick French accent. But to be instantly shot down in front of a gawking audience by this little Granger girl?

Hermione Granger, that annoying, unattractive swot, who was frankly lucky to even be in this tournament? It was unacceptable! 

Davies opened his mouth silently for a moment, his lips wriggling like worms on a hook as he desperately tried to think of a sufficiently cutting parting shot to save face. But the sharp, threatening look that Harry Potter shot him in that instant made him choke on whatever sarcastic insult he’d been about to spit out.

Reflexively avoiding Harry’s cold green gaze, Davies suddenly noticed just how many people had gathered around them to witness his utter humiliation.

“Fine then!” He raged, realizing abruptly that if he continued to hang about and make a scene, he’d completely destroy his own reputation and become a laughingstock. Roger forced what he hoped was a magnanimous, gracious smile onto his face, though it came out looking more like a pained grimace. “What a pity, Granger. Your loss, really. Well, hope you and Weasley have a good time, then.”

With those parting words, Davies hurriedly turned on his back and squeezed into the watching crowd, rapidly vanishing from the trio’s sight.

The ending to this dramatic little episode was quite abrupt and anticlimactic, and the onlooking young wizards and witches didn’t seem entirely satisfied by it.

If only Roger Davies and Ron Weasley had whipped out their wands right then and there and dueled spectacularly over the bewildered girl standing between them – well, that would have been more exciting and satisfying! Alas, they could only imagine such a thrilling scene unfolding in their imaginations.

The young wizards and witches looked at the somewhat flustered, awkward expressions on the faces of the three people still standing in the center of their watchful circle, and their eyes gradually started to shine again with fresh excitement and mischief, even as they felt a twinge of regret at the missed opportunity. But still, maybe there was a good show yet to come!

Three best friends, two boys suddenly divided and competing to escort the same pretty girl to the ball?! What delicious drama! The romantic plot completely wrote itself.

“Hehe, how interesting!” a high, slightly hoarse laugh suddenly rang out, breaking the awkward silence and drawing everyone’s attention at once. All the eager young wizards, including the Golden Trio themselves, immediately turned to face the base of the marble steps leading up to the castle to see who was so amused by Hermione’s little romantic predicament.

It was none other than Fleur Delacour!

At some point during the argument between Roger, Hermione and Ron, the beautiful French witch had arrived unnoticed at the castle. She must have been observing the amusing melodrama playing out for quite some time, judging by her joyfully entertained expression. 

Fleur carefully crossed her way up the icy steps. She skated effortlessly to Harry, Ron and Hermione’s sides, seemingly indifferent to the freezing cold and harsh wind whipping her long silver-blonde hair into picturesque mess around her face.

Even in the midst of the raging snowstorm, Fleur took a moment to smooth down her shiny locks, a subconscious gesture that nonetheless managed to make many young wizard’s hearts flutter at the sight. She turned her face towards Hermione, flashing her a dazzling smile full of perfect white teeth that could make grown men swoon. 

“Zat boy, ze one ‘oo just left in such a ‘urry – e waz not so bad, non?” Fleur glanced at Ron before looking back at the now alert Hermione.

“I ‘eard zat ‘e is very skilled at Quidditch, and quite ‘andsome too. Going to ze ball wiz ‘im might not ‘ave been ze worst choice, I zink.”

“Is that so?” Hermione replied shortly, her displeasure increasing higher with every word out of Fleur’s mouth. She would bet her final exam scores that her strong dislike of Fleur had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with her being a rival in the tournament.

No, Hermione simply couldn’t stand the condescending, superior way Fleur spoke to everyone, as if she was confident in her dominance over all the ‘little people’ around her. Besides, Hermione had heard through the Hogwarts gossip rumor mill that Fleur had made several rather sarcastic remarks about their school, as if Beauxbatons was the pinnacle of magical education and Hogwarts was only a local finishing school for the barely competent. 

“If that’s the case, why did you reject him then?”

The two female champions of this Triwizard Tournament didn’t have much private interaction. Hermione remembered having only one proper conversation with Fleur – that time Harry broke her nose. In the middle of the night, she and Harry went on Professor Watson’s orders to deliver an apology gift to her. The two girls were merely acquaintances.

Fleur didn’t seem to notice the sarcasm and impatience in Hermione’s tone. Faced with Hermione’s question, she just tilted her head, pretending to ponder, while her cute appearance immediately elicited excited hoots from the onlooking young wizards. Even Ron, standing right beside Hermione, looked momentarily dazed, his eyes went a bit blank and unfocused as he stared at her.

“Maybe it’s because–” After a while, Fleur finally showed her true colors. Her flawless facial features worked together exquisitely as she broke into a “radiant” smile. Her gaze suddenly left Hermione and turned to Harry.

“I think there are better options…”

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