xi. stargazing at christmas

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chapter eleven

stargazing at christmas

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Autumn fell away, yielding to the snowy, frigid winter. Along with it, the attention to the first task of the Triwizard Tournament gave way to an all-consuming fascination with the newly-announced Yule Ball.

To my surprise, Harry had done very well (sorry, but he was very small and only fourteen, was I supposed to have high expectations?) retrieving the golden egg from the dragon by Summoning his broom. I thought it was rather clever of him.

For a week after, it was all the school could talk about—they'd dissect the performance of each of the champions, and it was not uncommon to come across students placing bets in the corridors. The ire directed towards Harry seemed to die down after his decent showing.

And then, as we neared the Christmas Holidays, the Yule Ball was announced. Hogwarts did not have dances normally, so fourth years and up were either thrilled or absolutely stressed out. Dates were not required or anything, but I could feel the nerves and raging teenage hormones as I walked through the corridors. Everyone was clamoring to ask someone.

Ginny was disappointed third years and below weren't allowed to attend unless they were asked by an upperclassman, but I was positively relieved. I didn't want to worry about whether or not I'd be asked (or, even worse, worry whether I should ask someone myself).

So, Ginny and I spent our time studying in the library, mostly watching people awkwardly navigate the perils of romance. We even kept bets on who would ask who.

Still, there was a silly part of me that secretly wished someone would ask me. It was absolutely ridiculous, considering I didn't talk to any boys except for Theo (who didn't count considering we didn't fancy each other) and, I guess you could argue, Draco (which, well—yeah right!).

But, I started to catch myself creating imaginary scenarios of some fourth or fifth year who I'd had Astronomy class with walking up to say they admired my passion for astrophysics and ask would I please accompany them to the dance.

Again: yeah right!

A few days before Christmas, I went outside to read my collection of Asimov's short stories. It was snowing lightly and below freezing so I was the only one sitting in the quad in my favorite little nook. But, with my Muggle ski coat and heavy wool socks, I was perfectly warm.

A group of Durmstrang boys crossed the quad about twenty minutes before dinner, none of them wearing their fur cloaks (Scottish Highland Decembers were nearly tropical compared to the brutal, unrelenting Arctic winter—there, you were lucky to get anywhere near as warm as the freezing point).

Included in the group were Krum, that cute one, and a handful of boys whose faces I didn't know. I was sitting perfectly still and, yet, one of the boys noticed me there. He broke out in a grin and punched the cute boy's shoulder to get his attention.

My stomach jolted and I suddenly realized how cold my hands were. The group of boys playfully pushed the cute one around until he waved them off and started to walk in my direction. I silently wished I could disappear. I wasn't prepared to speak to him. 

"Hello," the Durmstrang boy said to me. Nervously, I sat up straight and swung my legs onto the ground so I wasn't halfway laying down in what was almost certainly an unflattering posture. "My name is Esa. I've seen you around the castle."

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