Talking About the Yule Ball in Snape’s Study Session

It was a study period under Snape’s watch at the end of the day, and you were sat opposite Ron, Harry and Hermione. George tapped his wand against the desk next to you, fidgeting as he tried to focus on his work. The Hall was fairly quiet, and it would have made for perfect studying if you hadn’t been so preoccupied with the Yule Ball looming. It was still a while away, but you, Ron and Harry still had no one to go with. You weren’t too worried - you were fairly sure Neville was going to ask you. After his behaviour when you’d helped him practice the previous week, it felt almost inevitable. It was quite exciting, really. Ron huffed, and put down his quill, making Hermione roll her eyes.
‘Oh, what?’ He said, exasperatedly.
‘Can’t you just concentrate for five minutes?’ She hissed, checking to see that Snape wasn’t near. He was haunting the Slytherin table.
‘You’re thinking about the Ball, aren’t you?’ You smiled, knowingly. Harry had now put down his quill too.
‘Of course I am! There must be five hundred girls at this school, and I can’t even ask one of them? Why’ve we got to do this stupid dance?’ He grumbled. Hermione closed her book and began to get up,
‘I don’t have time for this.’ She strode over to Snape, handed him some parchment, and left the hall. Ron and you watched her, then look at each other.
‘Mental, she is.’

Soon, people began to trickle out of the hall, the Gryffindor table especially bare, with only you, the twins, Ron, Harry, and a squabble of second year’s at the end of the table. Ron looked at you as if he’d remembered something.
‘Who’re you going with?’
You cocked your head and gave him a sympathetic frown.
‘No.’ You smiled. Harry was smirking into his drink, while Ron looked genuinley peeved. Fred had come to sit by ron so that you were more of a group and could exchange Fizzing Whizzbees under the table.
‘Can’t believe Longbottom’s got a date before us. It’s really a new low, Harry.’
You felt your breath get caught in your throat. Your mouth parted and your expression loosened for a moment, before you tried to recompose yourself.
‘N-Neville Longbottom?’ They looked at you, brows furrowed.
‘Yeah,’ Ron said, slowly, studying you slightly.
You nodded, biting your inner cheek.
‘Who?’ You chocked.
‘Don’t know. He said she’s third year but won’t let on exactly who.’ He continued, nonchalantly. You started to feel sick - not angry sick, but quite literally, queasy. And hot, very hot. If you left now, it would be fairly suspicious, but you had to go. Fred leaned in close.
‘I overheard Karkaroff saying that there are these carriages-‘
‘Sorry,’ You blurted, clutching your two books and standing up. Looking back at the four of them, you wondered whether to say goodbye. Instead, you offered a weak smile, and watched your feet as you left the Hall.
‘Excuse me.’ Came a familiar, nasal drawl as you walked through the huge hall doors, but you ignored it, feeling a surge of adrenaline as you clutched your book even tighter. Usually, this would have given you such a thrill, but not today, not now. Had Neville really asked someone else already? Within a week of the Ball being announced in the first place?

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