if nobody's asked you yet," Hermione yawned, the sunlight bouncing off of her curls, "you still need to find a dress to wear for the ball."

After a mishap in Transfigurations, I accidentally turned Seamus Finnigan into a portable mini-fridge, which, in turn, made the entire class confused on what kind of muggle invention it was, and made Mcgonagall give me the rest of the period off to 'think about my sins'.

Okay, she didn't say sins, but she was definitely thinking about it.

"To think I'd actually wear a dress," I scoffed, letting out a huff, "I'd show up dressed like Snape if I could."

I met up with Ron and Hermione in the courtyard, and they were listening to me rant incessantly about how bad my day was going. The current topic of conversation was—the yule ball.

"Doesn't Snape wear a dress, though?" Ron pitched in, scratching the top of his head in confusion.

That was enough to make me snort with laughter.

"No, you idiot," Hermione hissed, swatting him away, "those are robes."

"But they're so long..."

"That doesn't make it a dress!"

Just then, a loud cheering noise erupted from the school's corridor, a long file of students running into the courtyard with their wands in the air. It was a mix of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, the occasional Slytherin, but majority of Gryffindors that were making the loud commotion in the courtyard.

What the heckity heck was this madness?

I expected them to run past, or at least quiet down, but it soon became clear they had different intentions. The next thing I knew, I was being engulfed into a circle of screams and shouts, dragged to the center of the space, dizzy at the sight of people surrounding me.

All at once, they yelled out a spell, fireworks shooting out of their wands and creating a dazzling light show above my head.

I was confused.

At least I was, until I saw the familiar sight of raven-colored hair zoom past, and Harry Potter came flying down on his broomstick. He hopped off, landing on the ground with a thud, and parting the sea of people with a wave of his hand.

"[y/n]," he stated happily, "pleasure seeing you here."

The way his voice cracked when he addressed me, made me confused as to why he just floated down from the heavens on his beaten up Firebolt.

"What's going on, Harry?" I said, narrowly dodging someone's waving arm, "I feel like I'm being ambushed."

He shrugged, "because you are being ambushed."

"I figured that out for myself, thank you."

Where was the invisibility cloak when you needed it? I hated having attention drawn to me, especially in public, and I was disappointed that my best friend seemed to have forgotten that. Not to mention, It was weird seeing Harry like this. There was a bit of pride radiating off of him, and some sort of confidence, but then it all fell into place as I heard the next few words roll out of his mouth.

"Be my date?" he asked, giving me a pearly smile, "to the Yule Ball?"

The cheers grew louder.

As I stood there in shock, I opened my mouth to speak, but cut myself off. Harry was the most awkward romantic in the world, so this giant show clearly wasn't his idea. Glancing through the cracks in the crowd, I noticed a prideful grin on Hermione's face— which made it clear she thought of it.

People were still cheering, waiting for my response, but I could barely hear myself think over the noise.

"Well, um..Harry," I started, my cheeks starting to burn, "I don't think that—"

I glanced away for momentary solitude, but then I caught a glimpse of platinum blond hair from a few paces away. I snapped my mouth shut.

Draco.

I could barely see his figure through the spinning crowd, but I couldn't avert my eyes in fear I would lose sight of him.

He had a frown on his face, watching as Harry and his group of cheerleaders engulfed me into a parade of excitement, all of them chanting at me as they awaited a response. I didn't have one. I couldn't have one, because I didn't want Harry to ask me.

But the heartbroken look on Draco's face surprised me. It was common knowledge that we weren't allowed to talk in public, and it was something that we both had learned to accept, so the utter pain written in his eyes was new.

But then I saw the rose in his hand.

A small, bright red, yet ever blooming rose.

And just like he had appeared so quickly, Draco tossed it on the ground, spinning on his heels and running out of the courtyard before I could even blink.

He was gone.