You're a Bottom, Harry

Swallow

Harry eyed Seamus as he shuffled out of he common room, wand in hand. He desperately wanted to ask him where we was going, how his day was, how he was doing...

But Seamus left the room, leaving Harry alone. It was midnight, and the moon shone through the large windows. Harry peered outside, then at the fire, hoping for Sirius to appear.

He had been craving his godfather's company but had heard nothing for weeks. Christmas was near, and the wind howled through the school, hinting at a storm. Perhaps the next Triwizard task would be related to snow. Harry had yet to understand what the egg's screaming meant.

But a more important and scary task lay ahead: the Yule Ball. How the hell was Harry supposed to ask someone when everyone had dates? Cho did, Seamus seemed to, even Dumbledore had probably found someone. But Harry, The Boy Who Lived, was alone.

"Lesson three: swallow."

Harry jumped. Sirius's head was in the fireplace for the first time in a month. "I'd rather spit," Harry said sarcastically.

Sirius chuckled. "No, Harry. Swallow your pride. But if you're referring to lesson one, I guess you're right."

Harry winked, causing Sirius to laugh harder.

"James would've been so proud."

And so the laughter stopped. Harry was abruptly reminded of Rita Skeeter's article about how his parents must be proud of him for joining the Triwizard tournament. Lies! At least he could make them proud for finding a date. The clock was ticking.

Sirius decided to disappear, leaving Harry hanging. How would he swallow his pride? Did he even have any pride left? Of course, that would have been good advice for his "disagreement" with Ron, but that was over. Who else did he hold a drudge against?

Malfoy, he realized. The thought disgusted him. Malfoy was the last person he'd like to go with. But maybe, just maybe...