Dramione and The Goblet of Fire

Chapter 16 ~ Yule Ball

Despite the very heavy load of homework that the fourth years had been given for the holidays, no one was in the mood to work when term ended, and spent the week leading up to Christmas enjoying himself as fully as possible along with everyone else. Gryffindor Tower was hardly less crowded now than during term-time; it seemed to have shrunk slightly too, as its inhabitants were being so much rowdier than usual. Fred and George had had a great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feather all over the place. Before long, however, all the Gryffindor's had learned to treat food anybody else offered them with extreme caution, in case it had a Canary Cream concealed in the center, and George confided to Harry that he and Fred were now working on developingsomething else. Harry made a mental note never to accept so much as a crisp from Fred and George in future. He still hadn't forgotten Dudley and the Ton-Tongue Toffee. Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. A new blanket of fresh snow. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a large, chilly, frosted pumpkin next to the iced gingerbread house that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship's portholes were glazed with ice, the rigging white with frost. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rich, warming stews and savory puddings, and only Fleur Delacour seemed to be able to find anything to complain about. "It is too 'eavy, all zis 'Ogwarts food," they heard her saying grumpily as they left the Great Hall behind her one evening (Ron skulking behind Harry, keen not to be spotted by Fleur). "I will not fit into my dress robes!" "Oooh there's a tragedy," I snap as Fleur went out into the entrance hall. "She really thinks a lot of herself, that one, doesn't she?" "Hermione — who are you going to the ball with?" said Ron. He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it. However, I merely frowned and say, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me." "You're joking, Weasley!" Crabbe says, behind them. Well, look who stepped up. "You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?" Harry and Ron both whipped around, boys... I roll my eyes, but I say loudly, waving to somebody over Crabbe's shoulder, "Hello, Professor Moody!" Crabbe went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew. "Thinking you'll turn into a ferret, are you, Crabbe?" I say scathingly, and Harry, Ron, and I went up the marble staircase laughing heartily. "Hermione," Ron says, looking sideways at her, suddenly frowning, "your teeth..." "What about them?" I say... he's finally noticing. "Well, they're different... I've just noticed..." "Of course they are — did you expect me to keep those fangs Crabbe gave me?" I say "No, I mean, they're different to how they were before he put that hex on you... They're all... straight and — and normal sized."

I smile very mischievously, mainly because I went against my parent's wishes. Harry noticed it too. "Well... when I went up to Madam Pomfrey to get them shrunk, she held up a mirror and told me to stop her when they were back to how they normally were," I say. "And I just . . . let her carry on a bit." I smile even more widely. "Mum and Dad won't be too pleased. I've been trying to persuade them to let me shrink them for ages, but they wanted me to carry on with my braces. You know, they're dentists, they just don't think teeth and magic should — look! Pigwidgeon's back!" Ron's tiny owl was twittering madly on the top of the icicle-laden banisters, a scroll of parchment tied to his leg. People passing him were pointing and laughing, and a group of third-year girls paused and said, "Oh look at the weeny owl! Isn't he cute?" "Stupid little feathery git!" Ron hissed, hurrying up the stairs and snatching up Pigwidgeon. "You bring letters to the addressee! You don't hang around showing off!" Pigwidgeon hooted happily, his head protruding over Ron's fist. The third-year girls all looked very shocked. "Clear off!" Ron snapped at them, waving the fist holding Pigwidgeon, who hooted more happily than ever as he soared through the air. "Here — take it, Harry," Ron added in an undertone as the third-year girls scuttled away looking scandalized. He pulled Sirius's reply off Pigwidgeon's leg, Harry pocketed it, and they hurried back to Gryffindor Tower to read it. Everyone in the common room was much too busy in letting off more holiday steam to observe what anyone else was up to. Ron, Harry, and I sat apart from everyone else by a dark window that was gradually filling up with snow, and Harry read out: