CHAPTER NINE:
Third Person P.O.V.:
Charlie had been escorted to the medical tent after his encounter with the Chinese Fireball. Madame Pomfrey cleaned the cuts on his face, putting a few small bandages to stop the bleeding. Then, she wrapped his horribly mangled hands in gauze after cleaning them with a dab of some purple liquid that smoked and stung. As for his burnt leg, she poked it with her wand, and he felt it heal instantly.
(A/N: for reference purposes lol)
"Now, just sit quietly for a minute - sit! And then you can go and get your score."
Charlie didn't want to sit still. He was too full of adrenaline. He got to his feet, wanting to see what was going on outside, but before he'd reached the mouth of the tent, someone had come darting inside - Hermione.
"Charlie, you were brilliant!" Hermione said squeakily. There were fingernail marks on her face where she had been clutching it in fear. "You were amazing! You really were!"
"Thank you," he said softly, pulling the girl in for a hug - for a second there, he felt like he was never going to see her again; like it might've been the end for him.
Their hug was cut short, however, as someone else had entered the tent in a frenzy, and to Charlie's surprise, it was none other than his father.
"Charles, my boy," Fenwick beamed to which Charlie immediately rolled his eyes, "you were fantastic out there son! Fantastic! Now, I've set up a post-task interview with you and Rita -"
"No," Charlie cut him off quickly, "you can tell Rita Skeeter to shove it. I'm not doing anymore interviews with that nasty woman."
Fenwick was trying so hard to keep his calm around the other people in the tent, but his anger was evident through his clenched jaw.
"Listen, here, Charles," he said through gritted teeth, "that's not a very polite way to speak about someone, so I'd watch your tone."
Hermione had moved closer to Charlie out of protective instinct to which Fenwick's gaze focused in on her.
"And who might you be?"
"She's a friend," Charlie said simply, "I don't see how that's any of your concern -"
"It most certainly is my concern when it comes to the type of wizards my son surrounds himself with." Fenwick maintained harsh eye contact with Hermione to which Charlie stepped forward, pulling the gaze off of her, "Suddenly, the reasoning behind your outbursts becomes apparent -"
"She has nothing to do with -"
"Oh, I'm sure she does." Fenwick smirked devilishly, "No matter, that shall be a problem for another time. For now, I would very much appreciate it if your friend here would return to her place in the stands. We must prepare to hear your scores."
"Are you kidding me?" Charlie was taken aback, "Where do you get off making such demands?"
"I'm the Minister, Charles," Fenwick laughed bitterly, "typically, that means that whatever I say, goes."
"That is totally barbaric -"
"It's alright, Charlie," Hermione said softly, trying to calm the boy down, "I should probably go and find Ron anyway, so that we can watch Harry's performance. I'll see you later, okay?"
Before Charlie could even protest, the bushy haired girl had exited the tent; without saying another word and keeping her head down to avoid eye contact with the Minister.
"Very well," Fenwick said the second the girl had disappeared, "let's go hear your scores, shall we?"
Charlie shook his head in disbelief at his father before he walked out of the tent before him. Now that the Fireball had been taken away, Charlie could see where the five judges were sitting - right at the other end of the enclosure, in raised seats draped in gold.
"It's marks out of ten from each one," Fenwick said, and Charlie squinting up the field, saw the first judge - Madame Maxime - raise her wand in the air. A long silver ribbon of magic shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight.
"We can work with that," the Minister said as he joined his son's side; the crowd applauded. "I suppose she took marks off for your leg..."
Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a number nine into the air.
"Much better!" Fenwick yelled, thumping his son on the back in an attempt to perceive himself as a good father.
Next, his grandfather, Albus Dumbledore. He too put up a nine; not a ten, of course, that would be incredibly biased. The crowd was cheering harder than ever.
Ludo Bagman, however, put up a ten.
"Ten?" said Charlie in disbelief. "But... I got hurt... What's he playing at?"
Fenwick had smacked his son on the back of the head as a scolding technique, "Don't complain!"
And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his wand too - four.
"What?" The Minister bellowed furiously. "Four? You lousy, biased scum-bag! Just wait until I get ahold of him -"
"It's fine," Charlie muttered before returning to the tent as instructed by Madame Pomfrey once again; he couldn't care less about Karkaroff's score, he just wanted to get as far away from his father as possible.
At the end, once all of the champions had competed, Charlie and Harry were tied in first place with forty points, Krum barely came second with thirty-eight points, and Fleur was right behind them with thirty-seven points; it was still anyone's game.
----------------
Returning to the Gryffindor common room that night was a sweet relief for Charlie after a whirlwind of emotions provoked earlier in the day.
They were in a huge celebratory mood after the results of the task had been revealed; the two young Gryffindor champions sat on the top of the leaderboard! Meaning, that as soon as Charlie and Harry stepped foot into the common room that evening, they were hoisted in the air, the cheers and screams of their fellow Gryffindors surrounding them.
"We knew you wouldn't die!" bellowed Fred, "Lose an arm..."
George had smacked Charlie's healed up leg for indication, "Or a leg!"
Fred continued on, "But pack it in altogether?"
"Never!" The two twins shouted together, causing the crowd to go wild.
Charlie helped himself to food, as he was put back down on the floor; he had almost forgotten what it was like to feel properly hungry. He couldn't believe how happy he felt; he had gotten through the first task, and he wouldn't have to face the second one for quite awhile.
"Blimey, this is heavy," said Lee Jordan, picking up the golden egg, which Charlie had left on a table, and weighing it in his hands. "Open it, Charlie, go on! Let's just see what's inside it!"
"He's supposed to work out the clue on his own," Hermione said swiftly, coming to his side. "It's in the tournament rules..."
Charlie sighed, "It's okay," - he moved back to the centre of the room and stood on the coffee table so everyone could see him - "bring it here. Where's Harry?"
Lee passed Charlie the egg as Harry joined him on the table. The two of them dug their fingernails into the groove that ran all the way around it and pried it open.
It was hollow and completely empty - but the moment they opened it, the most horrible noise, a loud and screechy wailing, filled the room. The nearest thing to it Charlie had ever heard was the ghost orchestra at one of Nearly Headless Nick's deathday parties, who had all been playing the musical saw.
"Shut it!" Fred shouted.
Quickly, Charlie slammed the egg shut again, before looking around and seeing that everyone was holding their ears in attempt to draw out the sound. When the egg closed, a familiar voice filled the room:
"Bloody hell! What was that?"
Everyone looked toward the portrait hole. It was Ron, standing there, holding his ears. His eyes were shifting uneasily between Charlie and Harry, suddenly aware that he was in the spotlight.
"Alright everyone!" Fred addressed the crowd, "Go back to your knitting. This is going to be uncomfortable enough without all of you nosy sods listening in!"
As the hum of conversation resumed amongst the crowd, Charlie and Harry got down off of the table to stand directly in front of Ron.
Harry was glaring at the ginger boy, waiting for him to say something. Charlie stood there awkwardly amongst the tension, and Hermione sat a little bit further away watching the three boys cautiously.
It was then that Ron spoke up, in the greatest apologetic tone he could muster, "I reckon you'd have to be barking mad to put your own name into the Goblet of Fire..."
"Caught on, have you?" said Harry coldly. "Took you long enough."
"I wasn't the only one who'd thought you two had done it," Ron said, trying to defend himself, "everyone was saying it behind your backs."
"Brilliant," Charlie said sarcastically, "that makes us feel loads better."
"Well," Ron said quickly, "at least I warned you about the dragons!"
Harry furrowed his brows, "Hagrid warned us about the dragons?"
"No, no, I did, don't you remember?" Ron inquired, "I told Hermione to tell you that Seamus told me that Parvati told Dean that Hagrid was looking for the both of you! But Seamus never actually told me anything, so it was really me all along. I thought we'd be alright, you know, after you figured that out..."
Charlie had to stifle a laugh, "Who could possibly figure that out? That's absolutely mental!"
"'Tis, isn't it?" Ron said softly, "I guess I was a bit distraught..."
Harry and Charlie stood there for a moment, unaware of what to say next. Ron opened his mouth uncertainly. Charlie knew Ron was about to apologize again and suddenly he found he didn't need to hear it.
"It's okay," he said, before Ron could say anything. "Forget it."
"No," said Ron, "I shouldn't've -"
"Forget it," Harry said firmly, accepting his attempt at an apology as well, "It's alright."
Ron grinned nervously at them, and Charlie and Harry grinned back; the three of them were friends once again.
Hermione had rolled her eyes from the nearby armchair, listening in on the their conversation.
"Boys," she muttered, watching the three of them crack on as if nothing had happened.
-------------
Over the next couple of days, both Charlie and Harry were in recovery mode. They were insisted to have daily checkups in the hospital wing after their encounter with the dragons, which Charlie didn't mind much as it got him out of his classes most days.
Things were seemingly better than ever. Ron was back on good terms with Charlie and Harry, which ultimately made their small friend group feel like it had been made whole again. Hermione had quickly forgiven Charlie for being a prat after watching him have a near-death experience with a dragon. She came to realize that she was wasting precious time with him by being angry at him for something he couldn't control; Elaina's flirtatious actions weren't his doing.
As for Elaina, Charlie had seemingly made time to show her around the castle after dinner most nights, but the boy was a lot more cautious of Hermione's feelings towards the matter, so he made sure to keep things between him and Elaina strictly platonic. Romilda Vane's group of Charlie Hawthorne fans had now recruited more members from not only Hogwarts, but Beauxbatons and Durmstrang as well; it was safe to say that after his performance in the First Task, the hazing from the Slytherins and the badges had seemed to disappear.
Before breakfast one morning, Charlie had made time to go see his grandfather again for the first time since he had begun competing in the tournament. He strode up to the gryffin-shaped door, said the password, and climbed the stairs to the office. He knocked twice, as always, before letting himself into the room.
His grandfather was sat at his desk, but his gaze had moved from the paperwork he was doing towards his grandson upon his arrival.
Albus immediately smiled as he peered over his half-moon spectacles, "Charles! Lovely to see you, how are you feeling? Have you seen Madame Pomfrey today?"
Charlie laughed as he walked closer to the desk, "I seem to see Madame Pomfrey everyday..."
The boy trailed off as there appeared to be movement in the shelves above Fawkes's cage. He had one brief glance of the bookshelf before something small hurtled toward him from the middle of the room, squealing, "Charlie Hawthorne, sir! Charlie Hawthorne!"
Next second all the wind had been knocked out of him as the squealing elf hit him hard in the midriff, hugging him so tightly he thought his ribs would break.
"D-Dobby?" Charlie gasped; Albus watched in delight as the two interacted
"It is Dobby, sir, it is!" squealed the voice from somewhere around his navel. "Dobby has been hoping and hoping to see Charlie Hawthorne, sir, and Charlie Hawthorne has come to see him, sir!"
Dobby let go and stepped back a few paces, beaming up at Charlie, his enormous, green, tennis-ball-shaped eyes brimming with tears of happiness. He looked almost exactly as Charlie remembered him; the pencil-shaped nose, the batlike ears, the long fingers and feet - all except the clothes, which were very different as he was now, of course, a free elf.
"Dobby, what're you doing here?" Charlie said in amazement.
"Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, sir!" Dobby squealed excitedly before looking to Albus who sat contently at his desk. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, sir! Dobby was just organizing the bookshelf when Charlie Hawthorne came to visit!"
"Winky?" the boy said with wide eyes. "She's here too?"
"Yes, sir, yes!" said Dobby, and he seized Charlie's hand and pulled him up the large staircase that led up to the boy's bedroom in which he stayed in for the summer while his friends were away.
"Winky, sir!" Dobby said.
Winky was wiping down the bedside table in Charlie's old room. Unlike Dobby, she had obviously not foraged for clothes. She was wearing a neat little skirt and blouse with a matching blue hat, which had holes in it for her large ears. However, while every one of Dobby's strange collection of garments was so clean and well cared for that it looked brand-new, Winky was plainly not taking care other clothes at all. There were soup stains all down her blouse and a burn in her skirt.
"Hello, Winky," Charlie said softly.
Winky's lip quivered. Then she burst into tears, which spilled out of her great brown eyes and splashed down her front, just as they had done at the Quidditch World Cup.
"Charlie Hawthorne," she said through her tears. The boy couldn't tell if she was happy to see him or not.
"Yeah," Charlie gave her a small smile before she quickly went back to her work. He turned to Dobby, "How long have you two been here?"
"Only a week. Charlie Hawthorne, sir!" said Dobby happily. "Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir. You see, sir, it is very difficult for a house-elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, sir, very difficult indeed -"
At this, Winky howled even harder, her squashed-tomato of a nose dribbling all down her front, though she made no effort to stem the flow.
"Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, sir, trying to find work!" Dobby squeaked. "But Dobby hasn't found work, sir, because Dobby wants paying now!"
Charlie was beaming; Hermione would be so thrilled, he couldn't wait to tell her.
"That's great, Dobby."
"Thank you, sir," Dobby said happily, "and then Dobby had an idea. Charlie Hawthorne, sir! Dobby had learned that his friend, Winky, had been fired too, sir! So, Dobby thought they should find work together! Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!"
Dobby beamed very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes again.
"And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week and one day off a month!"
Charlie furrowed his brows, "That's not very much..."
"Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off," said Dobby, suddenly giving a little shiver, as though the prospect of so much leisure and riches were frightening, "but Dobby beat him down, sir... Dobby likes freedom, sir, but he isn't wanting too much, sir, he likes work much better -"
Dobby was cut short at the sound of a loud slam coming from the office downstairs. In the far distance Charlie could hear the shouting of a familiar voice to which he furrowed his brows before turning back to the two house-elves who were now cowering in fear at the loud noises.
"You two, stay here, alright?" Charlie said quietly before turning to move towards the door again, but Dobby seized his hand.
"Charlie Hawthorne... can Dobby come and see you sometimes, sir? And maybe Harry Potter, too, sir?" Dobby asked in a tentative whisper.
"'Course you can," Charlie said with a small smile, and Dobby beamed as the boy disappeared back down the hall.
"Can you believe this?!"
"Everything I've been working for!"
"Thrown away thanks to this article!"
The stern voice kept growing louder and louder as Charlie approached the balcony, and it didn't take long for the brown eyed boy to put a face to the voice. It was none other than his father, once again.
Charlie peered over the balcony once he got to the end of the hall. Looking down, he saw his father waving a newspaper from the Daily Prophet angrily in his hand, while his grandfather sat still, behind his desk, seemingly unbothered.
(A/N: room reference)
As soon as Fenwick caught sight of his son on the balcony above him, he pointed an angry finger in his direction, "You!"
Charlie had to stifle a small laugh before he walked over to the stairs, descending them slowly, "You know father, for such a busy man, you seem to be hanging around the castle a bit too much this year."
However, Fenwick didn't seem find anything the boy said funny. Instead, he walked over to him as Charlie reached the bottom of the stairs, and shoved the newspaper article into his chest.
"What. Is. This?!?" He said angrily, taking a pause after each word as if letting the anger consume him for each syllable.
Charlie furrowed his brows, turned the article around, reading the title aloud in his head;
CHARLIE HAWTHORNE'S SECRET HEARTACHE
The subtitle was as follows:
Charlie Hawthorne thought he had found solace and love in Miss Hermione Granger...
Below that, a heart-shaped moving photograph of Charlie and Hermione's hug in the tent right before the First Task. The boy couldn't help but laugh as he read the top left hand corner; Me, Myself, and I by Rita Skeeter - of course.
"What is this?!?" Fenwick repeated, still furiously awaiting an answer.
"It's a load of rubbish," Charlie laughed, throwing the article down on Dumbledore's desk.
"A load of rubbish?!" Fenwick bellowed, "This could cost me everything that I've been working towards with Pierre Dumont! He's under the impression that you and his daughter are dating -"
Charlie's eyes had widened, "And where could he have possibly gotten that impression from?!"
"Does it matter?" Fenwick spat bitterly, "Our partnership was riding on the backs of your relationship! Now Pierre is threatening to pull the deal because he believes that you have left his daughter heartbroken after recent revelations!"
"You're joking, right?" Charlie raised a brow, "First of all, nothing was going on with Elaina Dumont, and second, nothing is going on with Hermione! Rita Skeeter is a nasty woman, like I've said! She's a liar!"
Fenwick had clenched his hands in anger, "It doesn't matter! The people still believe her - people like Pierre Dumont! This potential partnership deal between England and France could be legendary, and I will not have it fall through simply because your fourteen year old romance has gotten in the way! You need to fix this!"
"Yeah?" the brown eyed boy challenged, "And how do you suppose I do that?"
"You'll be taking Elaina Dumont to the upcoming Yule Ball," Fenwick said simply.
"Now, Fenwick, that is not even remotely your decision to make -"
"Shut it, Albus!" Fenwick barked.
"Wait, what?" Charlie said, puzzled, "The Yule what?"
"The Yule Ball," Dumbledore sighed out, "It's a Triwizard Tournament tradition. Every year that the tournament is held, there is Ball held on Christmas, which is supposed to help celebrate the unity of the schools participating. Every champion is required a dance partner -"
"And yours will be Elaina Dumont," Fenwick finished.
Charlie was taken aback, "Shouldn't it be my own decision who I wish to bring to the Ball? How is that even remotely fair?"
"Life isn't fair," Fenwick laughed bitterly towards his son, "you're the the one who messed up by becoming friends with the mudblood -"
Charlie had clenched his fists and opened his mouth to curse out his father for such profanity, but the Minister held up a hand, that was shaking with fury, and ultimately, was not meant to be questioned.
"Don't you dare try and rebuttal this, Charles," Fenwick snapped harshly, "you will be taking Elaina Dumont to the Yule Ball, and you will make a good impression. If not, I promise you, there will be severe consequences."
Albus had begun to lose his temper, "Fenwick -"
"He is my son, Albus!" The Minister barked before looking back at Charlie with a very cold, emotionless expression, "And he will do as he is told."
With that, Fenwick straightened himself up, took a deep breath, repositioned his tie, and walked back out of the room without saying another word.
"Charles -"
"You heard him," Charlie muttered sadly, "I must do as I'm told. I don't fancy another issue like the one we had during second year, do you?"
---------------
After such a heated encounter with his father, Charlie had left his grandfather's office to join Ron, Harry, and Hermione in the Great Hall for breakfast.
They all sat at the Gryffindor table; Ron was stuffing his face with food as per usual, an injured Harry was gawking at Cho Chang from across the room, and Hermione, who sat opposite the two boys, was staring at Rita Skeeter's latest article with a furrowed brow.
"Hey," Charlie said softly, as he took his seat next to Hermione.
Ron grunted with food in his mouth as his way of saying hello, while Harry had acted like he wasn't gawking over the Ravenclaw Seeker. His head snapped back to the conversation like nothing was happening, while Hermione had instantly shoved the article in Charlie's direction.
"Have you read this?" she asked, slightly aghast.
Charlie chuckled lightly, "Only the title."
"She's done it again! Listen," Hermione said before she read a key point from the article aloud, "'Miss Granger a plain but ambitious girl seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards. Her latest prey, sources report, is none other than the Bulgarian bon-bon, Viktor Krum. No word yet on how Charlie Hawthorne's taking this latest emotional blow as apparently the two have a history.'"
"I wouldn't quite call it history," Harry muttered under his breath, "that entails that it's in the past..."
Charlie sent a sharp glare over to his friend before turning back to Hermione, "Don't get so worked up about it. She's making stuff up to stay relevant. I mean, adding Dumb Krum in there? Ha! You've never talked to that pumpkin head in your life."
The brown eyed boy laughed to himself before grabbing himself an apple from the tray of food passing by. He took a bite, sharing an amused glance with Ron, who was trying his hardest to stifle a laugh.
"Actually, I have," Hermione said quietly, causing Charlie to choke on the piece of apple in his mouth. "He comes into the library all of the time."
Charlie held his breath, trying to process what he had just heard. All three of her friends were now staring at Hermione with the utmost curiosity.
"Krum?" Harry questioned, completely dumbfounded, "In the library?"
"Yeah, he -"
"What did he want?" Charlie said a little too quickly, cutting the girl off which caused her to look in his direction with a curious, yet intrigued gaze.
"How am I supposed to know?" Hermione said, shocked that he was reacting in such a way; she thought he might've moved on by now...
"You said he comes into the library all of the time," Charlie said matter of factly, "Surely, he had a reason - what did you two talk about?"
"I just helped him with a book once that's all," Hermione said simply, but Charlie felt an unfamiliar feeling swell up inside him, "he said he needed my help to understand some of the words - why do you care so much, anyway?"
Charlie raised a brow, "I don't - I just never realized you two were so close."
"We've only talked a few times -"
But Hermione was cut off from explaining herself further as Dennis Creevey had approached Ron with a large package in his hands.
"Parcel for you Mr. Weasley!" The young boy beamed.
"Thank you, Dennis," Ron said kindly, but Dennis' gaze was too fixated on Charlie across the table.
"Not now, Dennis," said Ron again, "later - go on."
Reluctantly, Dennis left the table, but Harry, Charlie, and Hermione had all looked at Ron with a curious expression as to what just happened.
"I told him I'd get him Charlie's autograph," Ron explain hesitantly before he opened the parcel, "Oh look! Mum's sent me something." - he furrowed his brows as he pulled out these hideous maroon robes with a bunch of lace - "Mum's sent me a dress!"
Charlie and Harry roared with laughter, and even Hermione had to hold back a laugh.
"Well, it does match your eyes!" Harry said amused, "Is there a bonnet?"
But Ron shrugged him off and walked over to his little sister, Ginny, who sat down on the other end of the table.
"Ginny," he called, "these must be for you."
The young redhead witch looked at the robes in disgust, "I'm not wearing that, it's ghastly!"
Charlie was practically howling with laughter at this point to which Ron had sent him a glare.
"What are you on about?"
"They're not for Ginny," Charlie said through his laughs that were now provoking tears, "they're for you. They're dress robes, mate."
"Dress robes?" Ron questioned, "For what?"
"You'll see," Charlie laughed again.
----------------
"The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament for centuries," addressed Professor McGonagall as all of the Gryffindors gathered in a large, cleared-out room with a huge record player, "On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests will gather in the Great Hall for well mannered frivolity. As representatives of the host school I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward, and I mean this literally, because the Yule Ball is first and foremost... a dance."
Groans emerged from the boys side of the room, while the girls broke out into squeals.
"Silence," called McGonagall again, "The House of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you in the course of a single evening besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons -"
Charlie could hear the distant chatter and laughter from Fred and George has they tried to repeat what McGonagall said without stuttering, but apparently McGonagall didn't seem to pay them any mind.
"Now," she said, "to dance is to let the body breathe... inside every girl a secret swan slumbers longing to burst forth and take flight -"
Ron had leaned over to Charlie and whispered, "Something's about to burst out of Eloise Midgen, but I don't think it's a swan..."
Charlie shook his head, trying to stifle a laugh, before smacking Ron on the back of the head for being a prat. Apparently, they were causing too much noise as McGonagall had continued only for her to shift their gaze towards them.
" - Inside every boy, a proud lion prepared to prance - Mr. Weasley!"
Ron immediately cowered as he was singled out.
"Yes?" he said softly.
"Would you join me, please?" McGonagall said with an amused smile.
Ron glanced around in a panic, then slumped forward off of his chair, like a man heading to the gallows. The boys side of the room was trying to hold back their laughter to the best of their ability.
"Now then," McGonagall said as Ron joined her in the middle of the room, "place your right hand on my waist."
Ron was taken aback, "Where?!"
"My waist," McGonagall repeated, and shortly after they began to waltz around the room.
Charlie put two fingers in his mouth, whistling loudly at his ginger friend as a joke, but Ron simply sent him a glare.
Then, Charlie leaned over and addressed Fred and George, "You're never going to let him forget this, are you?"
The twins smirked devilishly, "Never."
"Everyone," McGonagall called again, "come together! Boys to your feet!"
The music swelled and the girls instantly rose to their feet, but none of the boys had moved - they were all too embarrassed.
The bell rang shortly after, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders.
Professor McGonagall called above the noise, "Potter - Hawthorne - a word, if you please."
Charlie and Harry proceeded towards McGonagall reluctantly as the rest of Gryffindor house moved towards the door.
Professor McGonagall waited until they had gone, and then said, "The champions and their partners -"
"What partners?" said Harry quickly, looking to Charlie, who stood there, listening intently.
Profesor McGonagall looked suspiciously at Harry, as though she thought he was trying to be funny.
"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your dance partners."
Harry's insides seemed to curl up and shrivel.
"We need dance partners?" He felt himself going red, "But, I don't dance."
"Oh yes, you do," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "That's what I'm telling you. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the Ball."
"I'm not dancing," Harry said again, and Charlie watched in amusement.
"It is traditional," said Professor McGonagall firmly. "The two of you are Hogwarts champions, and you will do what is expected of you as representatives of the school. So make sure you get yourselves partners."
"But - I don't -"
"You heard me, Potter," said Professor McGonagall in a very final sort of way.
--------------
"Why do they have to travel in packs?" Harry asked Ron and Charlie as a dozen or so girls walked past them in the courtyard, sniggering and staring. "How're you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?"
"Lasso one?" Ron suggested. "Got any idea who you're going to try?"
Harry didn't answer. He knew perfectly well whom he'd like to ask, but working up the nerve was something else... Cho was a year older than he was; she was very pretty; she was a very good Quidditch player, and she was also very popular.
Charlie seemed to know what was going on inside Harry's head.
"Listen, you're not going to have any trouble. You're a champion. You've just beaten a Hungarian Horntail. I bet they'll be queuing up to go with you."
"Oh yeah?" Harry said coming to a halt to stop and look Charlie dead in the eye, "Who are you going with then?"
"I - uh -"
Then, as if on cue, Elaina and a group of her friends from Beauxbatons had entered the courtyard in a huddle. It didn't take long for Elaina's eyes to meet Charlie's, and she immediately waved at him.
The brown eyed boy suddenly remembered what his father had instructed him to do. Trying to shake off the nervousness that was beginning to form within him, he turned to Harry and Ron, saying, "I'll be right back."
His two friends watched him intently as Charlie strode across the courtyard towards Elaina and her friends. Her eyes still connected with his as he approached.
"Hey," he said softly as he reached her, "can we, uh, talk?"
All of Elaina's friends, including Fleur Delacour and her sister, Gabrielle, had squealed, almost as if they had knew what was coming.
"Yeah," Elaina blushed, "of course."
Charlie took Elaina's hand in his and guided her to an empty window alcove that was close by the courtyard.
He looked around, making sure no one was there to witness him embarrass himself before he smiled down at Elaina.
"What's up?" she asked, teasingly; she knew what he was about to do, but she wanted to make squirm a little bit.
"I, uh," he stuttered - he didn't really want to do this, as heartless as it sounded. There was something missing with Elaina, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but his father would probably kill him if he messed this up. "I was wondering... if maybe, you'd want to go... to the Yule Ball with me?"
Elaina couldn't help the wide smile that appeared on her face; finally, it took him long enough.
"Of course, Charlie! Yes!" she beamed at him, practically squealing.
The boy smiled, relieved, "Really? Great, because I thought that maybe -"
What happened next was something that Charlie would have never saw coming in a million years -
The boy was cut off as Elaina had pulled him down by the neck, connecting their lips in a completely unexpected kiss. Charlie held his lips on hers for a second - just a single second - only to see if there was something there; something he had been craving. However, it took him all of a single second to realize and get confirmation of what he was missing; what he truly wanted - or who he truly wanted.
He pulled away quickly, suddenly feeling incredibly guilty, which had confused Elaina immensely.
"Is something wrong?" she said softly, and for the first time ever, she showed him signs of insecurity.
"No, uh, I just," he trailed off slowly, "I'm sorry. I'm just super confused. I'll, uh, see you later, okay? Thanks again for saying yes..."
And with that, the brown eyed boy had practically ran down the corridor, trying to escape what had just happened.
Little did he know, however, that as he ran, he passed a small indentation within the wall, where none other than Hermione Granger sat still. Her hands were covering her mouth to muffle her sobs, tears were rolling down her face, and she could've sworn that she felt her heart break into a million pieces in that single moment -
- that single moment where she saw another girl kiss the boy that her heart had belonged to...
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After clearing his head, Charlie returned to the common room hours later to see Harry laying distressed on the couch and Ron was in a saddened daze in the armchair.
"What happened?" The brown eyed boy inquired as he took in the sight of his friends.
"After you left," Ron began, "I, uh -"
But Ron stopped there, embarrassed. Charlie raised a brow towards Harry to finish the story to which the boy with glasses sighed.
"He asked Fleur Delacour out," he said simply, "and she rejected him."
"What? Why?"
Harry tried his hardest not to laugh, "Because he sort of... screamed at her."
"What'd you do that for?" Charlie looked at Ron with an amused smile, "Thought that screaming would work as a pick-up line, did you?"
Ron groaned in frustration, "I couldn't help it! It just slipped out!"
Charlie stifled a laugh as he looked to Harry who stared solemnly at the fireplace, "Okay... so, what's up with you, then?"
Harry said nothing, instead he just sighed heavily.
This time, it was Ron who explained, "He asked out Cho Chang... but she's already got a date, Cedric Diggory..."
"Aw, mate," Charlie said softly, "that sucks."
"Now, Ron and I will be the only ones in our year without dates," Harry sighed once again, "so much for the dance partner that I promised McGonagall..."
"I'm sure, you'll find someone..." Charlie said in an optimistic tone, but trailed off at the sight of Hermione descending from the girl's dormitory staircase.
"Hey," he said softly towards her, but much to his surprise, she didn't saying anything back nor did she even acknowledge his presence; Charlie gulped immediately - what did he do this time?
"Oi Hermione!" Ron called suddenly, an idea forming in his head, "You're a girl!"
"Oh, well spotted, Ronald," she spoke as her eyes rolled.
"Come with one of us?" The ginger asked curiously, but he had to press on as Hermione immediately shook her head, "Oh, c'mon! It's one thing for a bloke to show up alone, but for a girl it's just sad..."
With that comment, Hermione sent a sharp glare in Ron's direction - blimey, if looks could kill...
"I won't be going alone because believe it or not, someone's already asked me!" She said coldly to Ron which immediately made Charlie's ears perked up; the unfamiliar feeling from before swelling up inside him once again.
"Wait, what?" Charlie said aghast, "Who?"
"It shouldn't matter to you," she spat bitterly towards Charlie, finally acknowledging he was even there, "all you need to know is that I said yes."
And with that, she stormed off through the portrait door without further questioning, leaving Charlie stood there completely dumbfounded and confused.
"She's lying, right?" he muttered softly.
"I don't think so, mate," Harry said as comforting as he could, while Ron simply sat there, almost sporting the same reaction as Charlie; confused and dumbfounded.
"Who the bloody hell are Harry and I supposed to take to the Ball now?" Ron said, exasperatedly.
Then, as if a gift sent from Merlin himself, Parvati Patil walked into the the common room, smiling widely at Harry to which Charlie nudged him in her direction.
Taking the hint, Harry walked over to the the girl and spoke quite nervously:
"Hey Parvati, do you and your sister happen to have dates to the Ball, yet?"
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Author's Note:
*this chapter was not proof read*
This chapter took WAY longer than I intended it to.
Okay y'all, I know you might be mad at me right now, but listen - it all needs to happen for a reason!
I wouldn't miss the next one if I were you... 👀
Much love!
xo, Selena