"Ginny, I see you've got yourself a date to the ball."
"Oh, hello Percy!" said Ginny, as her third oldest brother approached her table. "Happy Christmas!"
Neville had just left to use the bathroom. Percy took his vacated seat.
"I don't know if you've heard, but I've been promoted!" said Percy. "I am now Crouches personal assistant, and I'm here representing him."
"Oh, really?" said Ginny. She took a sip from her glass of butterbeer. "Has he got your name right yet? Or does he still call you 'Weatherby'?" She was unable to resist the question.
Percy flushed and stiffened.
"Crouch has much more important things to worry about then such trivial things as names," said Percy haughtily.
"Oh," said Ginny, nodding with understanding.
"Never mind that," said Percy, suddenly stern. "Does Mother know your on a date?"
"Yeah?" said Ginny with a confused frown. "But it's not really a date . . . Neville and I just went as friends-"
Percy wasn't listening.
"Personally I think you're a little young for boys yet, Ginny," said Percy. "I would wait a few more years before even thinking of entering the dating scene-"
Luckily at the moment Neville arrived.
Ginny jumped from her seat.
"Want to dance?" Ginny asked eagerly.
And it was perfect timing. Dumbledore had just stood to clear away the tables and create the dance floor.
"It's the Weird Sisters!" Ginny said in excitement as the band took the stage. "C'mon Neville, lets go! Bye Perc!"
Ginny grabbed Neville's hand and pulled him on to the dance floor as the music began.
It didn't take long for Ginny to discover that Neville wasn't the most artful of dancers.
She winced as the boy stepped on her toes with his rather large feet.
"Sorry," Neville mumbled.
"It's alright," said Ginny with a grin. She didn't want Neville to feel bad about it.
Harry was dancing nearby with Parvati Patil, who wore robes of stunning pink.
Ginny caught Harry's eye just as Neville stepped on her toe once more and she winced again. Ginny blushed and Harry gave her a small sympathetic smile.
Despite the fact that he kept stepping on her, Ginny quite enjoyed the ball with Neville. He was an incredibly sweet boy, and Ginny considered herself lucky to be his partner.
🦇🦇🦇
When Viola finally finished crying in the bathroom as if she were the second Moaning Myrtle, she returned to the ball. She didn't know what else to do. She could've gone back to her dorm, but she couldn't face the humiliation of doing so.
Instead she just returned to the festivities with red eyes and a tear streaked face.
She immediately spotted Benjamin (the bloody git). He was already dancing with another girl, and seemed to be having a good time of it. Viola felt an ache in her chest. She was hurt.
Viola wandered a couple of seats nearby and slumped into one. She didn't even care as the skirt of her pretty dress crumpled beneath her. What did it matter anyway? It wasn't like she'd ever get to where this dress again.
She was so lost in her melancholy, she failed to notice someone sitting nearby who didn't appear to be having the best of times either.
It took Viola a moment to realize that someone was staring at her. It was a boy she had seen in the halls before. He had dark-brown hair slicked back, blue eyes and Viola was pretty sure he was a Ravenclaw. Viola blushed under his gaze.
"Hey," he said. He straightened from the unhappy slump he had previously been in. "Your date go badly as well then?"
"I guess you could say that," said Viola with a dry laugh.
"I went with a Beauxbatons girl," said the boy, his expression hard as he turned to stare at a girl dancing in the crowd. "Never again."
Viola looked at the same girl, and her eyes widened. She was a gorgeous girl and looked about twenty-five years old.
"How old is she?" Viola blurted.
"Seventeen," said the boy rather bitterly.
"And how old are you?" Viola asked.
"Fourteen," said the boy.
"Well . . . That must've taken a lot of courage to ask her to the Yule Ball!" said Viola.
"She asked me," said the boy, "And now she's dancing with some Durmstrang bloke . . . But never mind that. I'm Michael Corner."
He held out a hand and Viola leaned forward to shake it.
"Viola Lestrange," Viola replied.
Michael nodded. "And what house are you? I'm a Ravenclaw."
"Slytherin," said Viola cautiously. She knew there was this stigma around the name of her house.
Michael stiffened. "Oh," was all he said.
"But I was almost a Ravenclaw," Viola said quickly. "Really the only reason I was put in Slytherin was because I asked to be. You see my dad would've been really disappointed if I hadn't."
"Ah, I see," said Michael. "So do you play for your house Quidditch team?"
"No . . . " said Viola, "I might like to though . . . "
"I don't either," said Michael, "But I'm very invested in watching the sport. Did you go to the Quidditch World Cup this summer?"
"Yes!" said Viola.
And the two began avidly discussing the subject. Viola found it wonderful how easy it was to talk to this boy. Every time she caught his eye she would blush, but it was in a pleasant way. And what were the chances of them both being dumped by their dates and then meeting like this . . .
Throughout their conservation Viola absentmindedly downed several glasses of butterbeer and now found that her bladder was quite full.
"I'm sorry," said Viola, getting to her feet. "But I really have to use the bathroom."
"Go on ahead," said Michael.
So Viola hurried away. On her way to the bathroom, little grins kept spreading across her face as she thought of things Michael had said during their conversation.
After relieving herself, Viola headed straight for where she and Michael had been seated. However something made her stop in her tracks. There was somebody already sitting in her chair. Someone with vibrant red-hair. Someone whom Michael was talking animatedly to, as if he had already forgotten all about Viola. Someone who
was, of course, Ginny Weasley.
A sick feeling filled Viola. She stood there a moment, hoping Michael might look up and see her, but he didn't.
This had been a horrible night. All she wanted to do was go back to her dorm and cry, so that was exactly what she did. Other people were leaving the ball now, so it wouldn't be so humiliating to leave as it would've been before.
Viola turned away from the sight of Ginny and Michael chatting and walked as quickly as she could out of the Great Hall without attracting attention, although it was doubtful anyone would've noticed her over the loud music the Weird Sisters were blaring, or the wild dancing going on.
It certainly hadn't been a Happy Christmas for Viola Lestrange.