The Goblet Of Fire - Hermione Granger x OC

The Yule Ball

"Wait, so she's going with Krum?!" Henry exclaimed, his voice reflecting his shock as he meticulously adjusted his dress robes.

Oliver, his emotions raw and barely masked, let out a sigh and nodded. "Yup," he replied with a hint of hurt evident in his voice.

Henry, understanding his brother's pain all too well, gently placed a reassuring hand on Oliver's back. "Oh, dude, that sucks. I'm sorry," he offered sympathetically, his voice filled with genuine concern.

Oliver attempted to shrug it off, a façade of indifference slipping into his tone. "It's fine. I don't really care," he stated, masking the hurt pulsing beneath the surface.

Seeing through his brother's bravado, Henry shook his head with a knowing smile. "Cheer up, Ollie," he encouraged, his voice filled with brotherly affection. "You're a good-looking guy, and there is gonna be a bunch of pretty girls out there. I'm sure you'll find one who will dance with you."

Oliver managed a weak smile, grateful for his brother's support.

Harry and Ron descended the stairs, their groomed appearances signaling their readiness for the ball.

"Oh wow, look at you two," Henry exclaimed as they approached, admiration reflecting in his eyes.

"You boys ready or what? It's gonna be a great night for all of us!" Ron chimed in, wearing a contagious grin of excitement.

The group smiled in response, a collective buzz of anticipation filling the air. However, Oliver's face remained stoic, his emotions carefully concealed beneath a mask of indifference.

Ron's excitement faltered for a moment as he noticed Oliver's lackluster expression. "Oh, right. I'm sorry, mate," he apologized, sensing the weight of Oliver's unspoken turmoil.

Oliver shook his head, attempting to dismiss the concern. "No worries, Ron," he replied, his voice tinged with resignation. "Let's just focus on making it a memorable night for everyone."

"That's the spirit!" Ron bellowed, his voice erupting with enthusiasm, as he, Harry, and Henry strode into the great hall, brimming with anticipation for the ball to commence.

Oliver stood, entranced by their departure, torn between joining the festivities and retreating to the solace of the common room. A torrent of emotions surged within him as he grappled with his inner turmoil. Moments stretched into what felt like an eternity, each second a battlefield of indecision.

But then, with resolute determination etched across his face, Oliver's mind became resolute. In that pivotal instant, he made a fateful decision, like a solitary wolf choosing to stray from the pack. He turned on his heel, his footsteps heavy with resignation as he trudged his way back to the familiar comforts of the common room.

But as he ascended the stairs, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor, Oliver's solitude was abruptly interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked up, his heart pounding like a captive bird desperate for freedom. And then, in that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still.

Descending the stairs with an ethereal grace was none other than Hermione Granger, a vision of beauty that left Oliver breathless. In her flowing pink gown, accentuating her every curve, she seemed to radiate an otherworldly glow. Her cascading curls framed her angelic face, and her eyes sparkled with a captivating warmth that could ignite even the coldest hearts. But what captured Oliver's attention the most was her stunning smile, a smile that could melt away any remnants of heartache or despair.

Transfixed and powerless to move, Oliver stood paralyzed, lost in the overwhelming presence of Hermione. How could mere words describe the wave of emotions crashing within him?