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Sage sits next to that Slytherin girl Daphne in Transfiguration. They've never really spoken, ever since last Hallowe'en when Sage hung around with all the Slytherin girls. So, one lesson in early December, Sage turns to Daphne and says, "Hello."
Daphne stares at her. "Er, hi."
"How are you spending your Christmas?"
The girl frowns at her. "Going home, I think. I go home every year for Christmas."
"Oh, that's sounds nice. Do you go on holiday or something, or just stay home?"
Sage is getting a really sour look from the girl. "Are you trying to be friends, or something? Because I don't want to be your friend just as much as Stephanie doesn't want to be your friend."
Ouch. Went right in for the kill. "I was just making small talk. It's a bit dull just sitting here for an hour every day in silence."
"Move seats then."
"Move seats then," Sage mimics under her breath. The bell for the end of class tolls, but McGonagall calls them to stay in her seats. Everyone looks around for the kid that did something wrong and got them all held in for lunch.
"Now," says McGonagall, the closest thing to an excited look on her stoic face. "As per the traditions of the Triwizard Tournament—" all eyes in the room snap to Harry, "—Christmas Day will uphold one of the most pleasant treats - the Yule Ball!"
"A ball?" Daphne wonders aloud, "But none of us have dresses!"
McGonagall continues, "The Yule Ball will commence at seven o'clock. It is a chance to let down your hair and mingle with the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. Students are expected to wear appropriate clothing; that is, dress robes for the boys and dresses for the girls."
Sage scowls. She doesn't want to wear a dress. Like, she will if she must, but she'd rather wear trousers. She voices this to Dean as they're moving to the middle of the room. McGonagall's making them all dance. Ron had to dance with McGonagall. She nearly shit herself holding in laughter.
"Well, we can't both wear suits," says Dean. "That would look a mess."
Sage hooks her arms around his neck and they start to sway to the music from the gramophone, unconscious of the attention they are drawing by not being completely disgusted at the thought of being close to the opposite sit. "Who said I was going with you?"
"Obviously we're going together," says Dean, looking across at Sage with furrowed brows. "Aren't we fake-going out with each other?"
Sage snorts. "It was one kiss, Dean. Surely you'd rather go with someone else?"
They both look across the room to see Seamus holding Lavender at arms length.
