About You, Ron Weasley.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven 

"Take me out tonight / take me anywhere, I don't care." 

Ron looked down at the pocket watch Rue had lent him for the night. It was broken – and shattered – and a bit dodgy. He groaned, watching as the hand seemed to quiver a bit at the top of the staircase, before going haywire back to the Grand Hall, and then back to the staircase in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower. He leaned back against the wall, tucking it back into his pocket and muttering a quiet, "useless," as he waited and waited.

It wasn't until he heard quiet gasps and whispers, did he look to the top of the stairs, and Rue – in the most elegant dress – tendrils of gold at the bodice, down the ballgown skirt of the maroon dress. A dipped neckline – one that Rue would've preferred without – but her mother insisted she wore it, as it was her favourite dress back in her school years – with alterations, of course, to take in consideration her daughter's measurements and taller height. Rue's scars were on display, but no one seemed to care as she held onto the bannister, and tried to make do with the awkward, uncomfortable shoes her mother had sent her – too polished and too fancy – and nothing like her worn in loafers, or her buckled-down mary janes. Ron watched, as the short sleeves hugged at her shoulders, and the skirt came down to foot-length – and her hair was done up in a beautiful up-do that Ron didn't realize Rue even knew how to do.

"Rue," he mumbles quietly, and she smiles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, and looking at him and Harry with a smile. "You look– Beautiful," he mutters. "Not beautiful, breath-taking." He rambles, and Rue silences him with a timid kiss on the lips, muttering a soft "thank you," as she takes his arm.

"Shall we?" She asks her entranced boyfriend, and he nods his head, watching her, still, as she guides him into the Grand Hall. They scurry off into the crowds, as Harry waits for Ginny – so he can be joined by the rest of the champions.

Harry, with his hands tucked into his pockets, waits – and finally, Ginny appears, with a dashing smile and in a red gown that her mother had sent her money to pick up in a nearby village over the break. She'd gone with Lestrange and some of the other girls – McGonagall signed their forums to let them go, and Ginny, with the excitement of the ball, jumped at the chance to go.

"Waiting for someone?" There's a playfulness, a sort of laughter to her voice, and Harry embraces her immediately. "You're here," he said, relieved, and she returned the hug, pulling away and looking at him curiously. "What, you thought I wouldn't join you? And risk you being the only champion without a date?" She jabs playfully, and he rolls his eyes, smiling and offering her his arm, which she accepts. They try to avert their eyes away from a couple in the corner, snogging – the pale hands of a girl in the tendrils of a boy's mess of dark hair, and her lips on his neck. They pull away as Harry and Ginny walk by, and it's then do they realize.

"Oh, hi, Harry!" August spoke chipperly, as he pulled away from his girlfriend – and Ginny laughs, Harry realizes this is normal for the seventh year and sixth year, who are sitting comfortably against the wall – waiting for the champions to enter. They don't mind the stares or the prodding of the other students – in fact, they welcome it – as August wraps an arm around Arden and offers her his hand, kissing her on the hand as they join Harry and Ginny. Out of all the champions, this was the only actual couple to exist – Harry was hoping to change that, and so was Ginny.

"Gus," Harry greets, awkwardly.

"How're you both? Excited for the dance?" August asks, dismissing the last topic, as if his public displays of affection with his girlfriend didn't bother him. He'd been caught numerous times, and it only became a normal thing as of late last year. Arden continued to frolic in his footsteps, and remained coddled at his side – the two of them like two peas in a comfortably nestled pod.