Fic: War of the Roses
Title: War of the Roses
Author: Lorien_Eve
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry goes to the Yule Ball with Parvati. Ron goes with Padma. But by the end of the night, the boys realise they didn't need the girls after all.
Disclaimer: As much as I love Harry and Ron, I only own them in my dreams.
Author's Notes: I've been listening to my GoF audio in order to get ready for HBP. The scene at the Yule Ball where Harry and Ron are hiding in the bushes is one of my favorite scenes in any of the books. So...I decided to write my own version of it. I borrowed heavily from the book in some instances, but I took poetic license in other instances. As always, a big thanks to Lena for shrugging off her SRP duties and getting my story beta-ed. :)
With a weary sigh, Harry propped his elbows on the table, placing his chin in his hands. He supposed things could’ve been worse. All in all, it wasn’t a terrible evening. Just very traditional, very boring, and very girly. Beside him, Ron leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He might’ve been trying to hide the lace on his dress robes, but, Harry hated to tell him, there was just too much lace to hide.
They’d chosen a table in the corner, away from all the dancing and socializing. It hadn’t taken long for Parvati to leave, and soon after, Padma left, too. This suited Harry just fine, as he had no idea what he and Parvati should talk about, and once the champions’ dance was over, he had no plans of dancing again. Ron seemed equally grateful that Padma was now dancing with a blonde boy from Beauxbatons.
The boy-and-girl couples swayed together with the music, some awkwardly and some with more refinement. Try as he might, Neville couldn’t seem to step clear of Ginny’s feet, while Malfoy and Pansy swaggered with practiced grace. Fred and Angelina were dancing too fast for such a slow song, but their movements were stylish and fluid. Even Hermione and Krum, neither of them known for their finesse, seemed to find a complimentary rhythm together. But regardless of whom was dancing with whom, the fact still remained that Harry and Ron were sitting alone at the table, dateless, uncomfortable, and very bored.
When the fifth consecutive slow song began, Harry felt like banging his head against the table, butterbeers and flowery centerpiece be damned. All the students were neatly paired up, making it even more obvious that Harry and Ron were the only two who had no clue, and no real interest, in how a proper date should go.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Ron suggested suddenly, uncrossing his arms and leaning across the table so that Harry could hear him over the blaring music.
Harry quickly agreed, and the two of them snuck easily out of the Great Hall and through the front doors of Hogwarts. The night air was cool, and a pleasant change from the stuffy, humid air inside. Off in the distance were the gurgling sounds of a fountain, then closer, the tinny sound of crickets chirruping. It, too, was a pleasant change from the loud, warbling music and the silly, giggling girls.
Large, tall rosebushes had been magicked outside, creating a maze-like pattern that was impressive in its height and complexity. Ron took off down a path, and Harry followed after him, their dress shoes clip-clopping on the cobblestones. Benches were set here and there along the path, though hardly any were occupied. Tiny fairy lights twinkled softly, airborne on the light breeze that blew through the gaps in the shrubbery.
Ron led the way deeper into the courtyard. Along the way, they passed several pairs of students who had fled the energetic atmosphere of the Great Hall in favor of the quieter, more secluded area outside. They seemed much too occupied with each other to notice Harry and Ron, who darted quietly past them in their haste to escape all things that were associated with the ball.
When Ron rounded a sharp corner, the hem of his robes caught on a thorny stem protruding from a hedge of rosebushes.
“Umph!” he grunted as he was jerked backwards a few steps. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake!”
He bent down to prise himself free, wrenching the robes angrily in his fist. There was a distinct ripping sound, but the hem came loose from the thorns, and Ron continued on his way, seemingly unaffected by the long tear along the edge of his robes.
They came to a halt at last, in front of a thick corner of rosebushes. Ron spun slowly on the spot as he looked around, satisfied with their hiding place. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and that horrible ball going on in the Great Hall. It had been a wretched evening, beginning with his dress robes and extending to his disaster of a date with Padma. She was nice enough, for a girl, but she seemed rather giggly and silly, and not nearly as interested in Quidditch as Ron had hoped.
The music from inside was scarcely audible this far away, and Ron listened gladly to the soothing sounds of chirruping crickets and the bubbling fountain. Harry stood next to him, his cheeks flushed from the crisp December air. A bench sat angled in the corner, and a stone reindeer stood nearby, the dew on its antlers glistening in the faint light.
“Shall we?” Ron moved to take a seat on the cool stone bench, but the hem of his robes caught once more on a thick green stem armored with thorns. “Bloody hell!” He took a fistful of velvet and pulled furiously, but other than violently shaking the rosebush, his efforts were unsuccessful.
“I’m taking this ruddy thing off,” he said at last, jerking at the sleeves hard enough to rip the arms out at the armholes.
He tugged at the cuffs, pulling at the frayed edges where the lace had been before he’d tried to spell it away. The more he tugged, the more frustrated he became and the more difficult it was for him to get his arms out of the sleeves. Harry bit his lip, trying his best not to laugh. It would only make matters worse, and right now Ron’s situation was looking increasingly bleak.
“Hang on,” he chuckled, grabbing one of Ron’s sleeves. “Alright, now pull.”
Ron jerked back, and to his surprise, his arm slid easily out of the sleeve. With one arm freed, he was feeling better already.
Harry moved to Ron’s other side and grabbed the other sleeve. “Alright, pull again.” Ron pulled again, and soon his other arm was freed.
“Thanks, mate,” he said appreciatively. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.” He then grabbed the back of his robes and slid them over his head, fully removing them and tossing them to the ground. With the hideous maroon pile now successfully lying at his feet, he was feeling better than he had all night. “I’m never wearing those again,” he swore, and with a well-aimed kick, he sent the robes sailing across the path and into a nearby rosebush.
Ron looked considerably disheveled after his frantic, clumsy rush to shed his robes. During the struggle, his hair had been pushed forward, the front half hanging thickly down in his face and the back half sticking up like a peacock’s tail. It looked almost as messy as Harry’s.
Again, Harry had to bite back a laugh. “Ron, your, er…hair.”
Ron ran his hands quickly over his head, trying to force his hair back into its original shape, which, at this point, was quite the task. Harry stood by patiently and watched. But in the end, Ron only made things worse. His part was completely off-center, large tufts stood out on the side of his head like wings, and several plumes were still sticking up in the back.
“Here, let me…”
Harry stood on his toes to reduce the difference in their heights. He reached up to smooth a few stubborn strands in the back, and when he did, his eyes met Ron’s. Harry had never been able to look Ron directly in the eye before, and thanks to Ron’s sudden growth spurt over the summer, there was an additional five inches’ difference in their heights. But now, standing here among the thorny rosebushes, they were almost the same height. This discovery caught Harry off guard, and he paused, studying Ron’s eyes.
Ron seemed to have noticed something different, too. Harry was suddenly right there, his face just inches from Ron’s. Though instead of looking Harry eye-to-eye, Ron’s eyes were drawn to Harry’s lips. He’d never really noticed them before, always being at least a head taller than Harry. But now, up close, Ron found that Harry’s lips were quite interesting.
Harry sensed a change in the air around them. No realignment of planets or other cosmic forces, but something had definitely passed between them. He just wasn’t sure what it was. He quickly brushed through Ron’s hair, and then lowered his feet back firmly to the ground.
“There, all better,” he said, though Ron’s hair didn’t look any better than it had mere seconds ago.
Ron cleared his throat nervously. “Er, thanks.”
In the strained silence that followed, hushed voices were heard from a large, thick clump of rosebushes nearby. Using it as a distraction from the sudden, unexplained tension, Harry crept closer, careful that his shoes didn’t make any noise across the cobblestones. Ron followed after him, relieved to have something other than Harry’s lips to occupy his curiosity.
Crouching, Harry peeked through a small gap in the rosebushes. There, on one of the stone benches, were Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies. They looked very cozy, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and her pale arms circling his neck.
“Who is it?” Ron whispered, straining to see around Harry.
“Er…no one. It’s no one.”
“Bollocks. I can hear their voices.”
Ron pushed Harry out of the way and peered in for himself. His body tensed immediately, as though he were frozen.
“Forget it, Ron. C’mon, let’s go.”
Wordlessly, Ron turned around, ready to bolt. But as he took the first step, new voices were heard in the opposite direction. Two figures emerged from a tall growth of dense foliage, then stopped directly in front of Harry and Ron’s intended path. Ron stopped dead, and behind him, Harry did the same. It was Snape and Karkaroff.
Harry grabbed Ron by the arm and pulled him deeper into the shadows, crouching behind the stone reindeer. Snape was always hateful to him, and he knew tonight would be no different. No doubt Snape would gloat about Harry’s failed experiment in dancing and would love nothing more than to find him, dateless and dejected, hiding in the rosebushes with his equally dateless and dejected best friend.
“Wait until they leave,” Harry whispered to Ron.
Ron nodded silently. He glanced over his shoulder, and through the gap in the bushes, he could just make out Fleur and Roger. They were still sitting on the bench, murmuring quietly to one another, though they seemed to be sitting closer together than before. Ron quickly turned away.
In front of them, Snape and Karkaroff talked in hissing voices, obviously arguing over something. Harry strained his ears to listen, but he couldn’t decipher any of the words. He looked to Ron for assistance, but Ron wasn’t paying any attention to Snape and Karkaroff at all. His neck was craned backwards, peering once again into the bushes behind them.
Fleur and Roger’s voices had stopped, and wet, smacking sounds were now coming from the area where they were sitting.
“Busy, those two,” Ron muttered, his eyes irresistibly drawn to them.
“They obviously want their privacy,” Harry whispered, failing to hide his annoyance. Something very strange was going on between Snape and Karkaroff, yet Ron was more interested in ogling some Veela he never had a chance with in the first place. “Quit staring, would you?”
“Right, sorry,” Ron mumbled, forcing his eyes away and concentrating instead on a beetle crawling along the stone reindeer’s back.
Harry focused his attention on Snape and Karkaroff once more, his curiosity increasing with each minute. Their arguing continued until Karkaroff suddenly pushed up his left sleeve and showed Snape something on his inner forearm. Snape’s surprised reaction was evident even from Harry’s hiding place. He needed to know what was on Karkaroff’s arm, but crouching behind the stone reindeer gave him a very poor vantage point.
“Can you see anything?” he whispered to Ron from the corner of his mouth.
But there was no answer. Ron was turned around once again, staring at Fleur and Roger, a far away expression on his face.
“Ron!” Harry hissed.
“Looks like fun, doesn’t it?” Ron asked dreamily, not bothering to face Harry.
With a frustrated sigh, Harry glanced over Ron’s shoulder to see what had captured Ron’s attention so completely. Fleur and Roger were so tangled together that it was difficult to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Their lips were in constant motion, but they certainly weren’t talking anymore. Harry had never seen anyone kiss like that before. He hated to admit it, but what Fleur and Roger were doing did look like fun.
“Wanna try?” Ron asked, seeing that far away look appear on Harry’s face as well.
“Do you think we…I mean…” Harry’s cheeks were flushed, though Ron reckoned it wasn’t from the crisp night air. “Well…alright.”
Ron leaned forward, licking his lips nervously. His mouth brushed softly against Harry’s, and both boys blushed deeply as they pulled away. The kiss was wet, but nice, and without thinking, Harry leaned forward to try it again.
The second kiss was even wetter than the first, but decidedly better. Taking the initiative, Harry parted his lips just slightly, moving them across Ron’s. Ron seemed to think this was a good idea, as he then parted his own lips. The kiss became wetter than ever.
Ron, mimicking what Roger had done to Fleur, slid his arm around Harry’s waist. Harry was startled, all his attention focused on trying to kiss Ron properly and not make a fool of himself. But Ron’s arm was warm and protective, and Harry quickly decided that he liked it. Not to be outdone, he circled his arms around Ron’s neck.
They kept kissing, breaking only momentarily to breath, then quickly starting up again. Though neither was very experienced, their equaled enthusiasm made up for what they lacked in technique. Harry wished they’d come outside sooner instead of wasting so much time in the Great Hall. Ron was a much better date than Parvati.
“Potter, Weasley!”
Harry and Ron jerked apart, almost falling backwards in their haste. Professor Snape was peering angrily down his long, crooked nose at the two of them.
“Just as I suspected,” he sneered, his black, beady eyes glinting in his sallow face. “Back into the castle! And ten points from Gryffindor. Apiece!”
Harry and Ron scampered away from Snape, but once he was out of sight, they took their time getting back to the castle. The entire Yule Ball was going on without them, and they didn’t mind a bit.
Author: Lorien_Eve
Pairing: Harry/Ron
Rating: PG
Summary: Harry goes to the Yule Ball with Parvati. Ron goes with Padma. But by the end of the night, the boys realise they didn't need the girls after all.
Disclaimer: As much as I love Harry and Ron, I only own them in my dreams.
Author's Notes: I've been listening to my GoF audio in order to get ready for HBP. The scene at the Yule Ball where Harry and Ron are hiding in the bushes is one of my favorite scenes in any of the books. So...I decided to write my own version of it. I borrowed heavily from the book in some instances, but I took poetic license in other instances. As always, a big thanks to Lena for shrugging off her SRP duties and getting my story beta-ed. :)
With a weary sigh, Harry propped his elbows on the table, placing his chin in his hands. He supposed things could’ve been worse. All in all, it wasn’t a terrible evening. Just very traditional, very boring, and very girly. Beside him, Ron leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He might’ve been trying to hide the lace on his dress robes, but, Harry hated to tell him, there was just too much lace to hide.
They’d chosen a table in the corner, away from all the dancing and socializing. It hadn’t taken long for Parvati to leave, and soon after, Padma left, too. This suited Harry just fine, as he had no idea what he and Parvati should talk about, and once the champions’ dance was over, he had no plans of dancing again. Ron seemed equally grateful that Padma was now dancing with a blonde boy from Beauxbatons.
The boy-and-girl couples swayed together with the music, some awkwardly and some with more refinement. Try as he might, Neville couldn’t seem to step clear of Ginny’s feet, while Malfoy and Pansy swaggered with practiced grace. Fred and Angelina were dancing too fast for such a slow song, but their movements were stylish and fluid. Even Hermione and Krum, neither of them known for their finesse, seemed to find a complimentary rhythm together. But regardless of whom was dancing with whom, the fact still remained that Harry and Ron were sitting alone at the table, dateless, uncomfortable, and very bored.
When the fifth consecutive slow song began, Harry felt like banging his head against the table, butterbeers and flowery centerpiece be damned. All the students were neatly paired up, making it even more obvious that Harry and Ron were the only two who had no clue, and no real interest, in how a proper date should go.
“Let’s go for a walk,” Ron suggested suddenly, uncrossing his arms and leaning across the table so that Harry could hear him over the blaring music.
Harry quickly agreed, and the two of them snuck easily out of the Great Hall and through the front doors of Hogwarts. The night air was cool, and a pleasant change from the stuffy, humid air inside. Off in the distance were the gurgling sounds of a fountain, then closer, the tinny sound of crickets chirruping. It, too, was a pleasant change from the loud, warbling music and the silly, giggling girls.
Large, tall rosebushes had been magicked outside, creating a maze-like pattern that was impressive in its height and complexity. Ron took off down a path, and Harry followed after him, their dress shoes clip-clopping on the cobblestones. Benches were set here and there along the path, though hardly any were occupied. Tiny fairy lights twinkled softly, airborne on the light breeze that blew through the gaps in the shrubbery.
Ron led the way deeper into the courtyard. Along the way, they passed several pairs of students who had fled the energetic atmosphere of the Great Hall in favor of the quieter, more secluded area outside. They seemed much too occupied with each other to notice Harry and Ron, who darted quietly past them in their haste to escape all things that were associated with the ball.
When Ron rounded a sharp corner, the hem of his robes caught on a thorny stem protruding from a hedge of rosebushes.
“Umph!” he grunted as he was jerked backwards a few steps. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake!”
He bent down to prise himself free, wrenching the robes angrily in his fist. There was a distinct ripping sound, but the hem came loose from the thorns, and Ron continued on his way, seemingly unaffected by the long tear along the edge of his robes.
They came to a halt at last, in front of a thick corner of rosebushes. Ron spun slowly on the spot as he looked around, satisfied with their hiding place. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and that horrible ball going on in the Great Hall. It had been a wretched evening, beginning with his dress robes and extending to his disaster of a date with Padma. She was nice enough, for a girl, but she seemed rather giggly and silly, and not nearly as interested in Quidditch as Ron had hoped.
The music from inside was scarcely audible this far away, and Ron listened gladly to the soothing sounds of chirruping crickets and the bubbling fountain. Harry stood next to him, his cheeks flushed from the crisp December air. A bench sat angled in the corner, and a stone reindeer stood nearby, the dew on its antlers glistening in the faint light.
“Shall we?” Ron moved to take a seat on the cool stone bench, but the hem of his robes caught once more on a thick green stem armored with thorns. “Bloody hell!” He took a fistful of velvet and pulled furiously, but other than violently shaking the rosebush, his efforts were unsuccessful.
“I’m taking this ruddy thing off,” he said at last, jerking at the sleeves hard enough to rip the arms out at the armholes.
He tugged at the cuffs, pulling at the frayed edges where the lace had been before he’d tried to spell it away. The more he tugged, the more frustrated he became and the more difficult it was for him to get his arms out of the sleeves. Harry bit his lip, trying his best not to laugh. It would only make matters worse, and right now Ron’s situation was looking increasingly bleak.
“Hang on,” he chuckled, grabbing one of Ron’s sleeves. “Alright, now pull.”
Ron jerked back, and to his surprise, his arm slid easily out of the sleeve. With one arm freed, he was feeling better already.
Harry moved to Ron’s other side and grabbed the other sleeve. “Alright, pull again.” Ron pulled again, and soon his other arm was freed.
“Thanks, mate,” he said appreciatively. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.” He then grabbed the back of his robes and slid them over his head, fully removing them and tossing them to the ground. With the hideous maroon pile now successfully lying at his feet, he was feeling better than he had all night. “I’m never wearing those again,” he swore, and with a well-aimed kick, he sent the robes sailing across the path and into a nearby rosebush.
Ron looked considerably disheveled after his frantic, clumsy rush to shed his robes. During the struggle, his hair had been pushed forward, the front half hanging thickly down in his face and the back half sticking up like a peacock’s tail. It looked almost as messy as Harry’s.
Again, Harry had to bite back a laugh. “Ron, your, er…hair.”
Ron ran his hands quickly over his head, trying to force his hair back into its original shape, which, at this point, was quite the task. Harry stood by patiently and watched. But in the end, Ron only made things worse. His part was completely off-center, large tufts stood out on the side of his head like wings, and several plumes were still sticking up in the back.
“Here, let me…”
Harry stood on his toes to reduce the difference in their heights. He reached up to smooth a few stubborn strands in the back, and when he did, his eyes met Ron’s. Harry had never been able to look Ron directly in the eye before, and thanks to Ron’s sudden growth spurt over the summer, there was an additional five inches’ difference in their heights. But now, standing here among the thorny rosebushes, they were almost the same height. This discovery caught Harry off guard, and he paused, studying Ron’s eyes.
Ron seemed to have noticed something different, too. Harry was suddenly right there, his face just inches from Ron’s. Though instead of looking Harry eye-to-eye, Ron’s eyes were drawn to Harry’s lips. He’d never really noticed them before, always being at least a head taller than Harry. But now, up close, Ron found that Harry’s lips were quite interesting.
Harry sensed a change in the air around them. No realignment of planets or other cosmic forces, but something had definitely passed between them. He just wasn’t sure what it was. He quickly brushed through Ron’s hair, and then lowered his feet back firmly to the ground.
“There, all better,” he said, though Ron’s hair didn’t look any better than it had mere seconds ago.
Ron cleared his throat nervously. “Er, thanks.”
In the strained silence that followed, hushed voices were heard from a large, thick clump of rosebushes nearby. Using it as a distraction from the sudden, unexplained tension, Harry crept closer, careful that his shoes didn’t make any noise across the cobblestones. Ron followed after him, relieved to have something other than Harry’s lips to occupy his curiosity.
Crouching, Harry peeked through a small gap in the rosebushes. There, on one of the stone benches, were Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies. They looked very cozy, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and her pale arms circling his neck.
“Who is it?” Ron whispered, straining to see around Harry.
“Er…no one. It’s no one.”
“Bollocks. I can hear their voices.”
Ron pushed Harry out of the way and peered in for himself. His body tensed immediately, as though he were frozen.
“Forget it, Ron. C’mon, let’s go.”
Wordlessly, Ron turned around, ready to bolt. But as he took the first step, new voices were heard in the opposite direction. Two figures emerged from a tall growth of dense foliage, then stopped directly in front of Harry and Ron’s intended path. Ron stopped dead, and behind him, Harry did the same. It was Snape and Karkaroff.
Harry grabbed Ron by the arm and pulled him deeper into the shadows, crouching behind the stone reindeer. Snape was always hateful to him, and he knew tonight would be no different. No doubt Snape would gloat about Harry’s failed experiment in dancing and would love nothing more than to find him, dateless and dejected, hiding in the rosebushes with his equally dateless and dejected best friend.
“Wait until they leave,” Harry whispered to Ron.
Ron nodded silently. He glanced over his shoulder, and through the gap in the bushes, he could just make out Fleur and Roger. They were still sitting on the bench, murmuring quietly to one another, though they seemed to be sitting closer together than before. Ron quickly turned away.
In front of them, Snape and Karkaroff talked in hissing voices, obviously arguing over something. Harry strained his ears to listen, but he couldn’t decipher any of the words. He looked to Ron for assistance, but Ron wasn’t paying any attention to Snape and Karkaroff at all. His neck was craned backwards, peering once again into the bushes behind them.
Fleur and Roger’s voices had stopped, and wet, smacking sounds were now coming from the area where they were sitting.
“Busy, those two,” Ron muttered, his eyes irresistibly drawn to them.
“They obviously want their privacy,” Harry whispered, failing to hide his annoyance. Something very strange was going on between Snape and Karkaroff, yet Ron was more interested in ogling some Veela he never had a chance with in the first place. “Quit staring, would you?”
“Right, sorry,” Ron mumbled, forcing his eyes away and concentrating instead on a beetle crawling along the stone reindeer’s back.
Harry focused his attention on Snape and Karkaroff once more, his curiosity increasing with each minute. Their arguing continued until Karkaroff suddenly pushed up his left sleeve and showed Snape something on his inner forearm. Snape’s surprised reaction was evident even from Harry’s hiding place. He needed to know what was on Karkaroff’s arm, but crouching behind the stone reindeer gave him a very poor vantage point.
“Can you see anything?” he whispered to Ron from the corner of his mouth.
But there was no answer. Ron was turned around once again, staring at Fleur and Roger, a far away expression on his face.
“Ron!” Harry hissed.
“Looks like fun, doesn’t it?” Ron asked dreamily, not bothering to face Harry.
With a frustrated sigh, Harry glanced over Ron’s shoulder to see what had captured Ron’s attention so completely. Fleur and Roger were so tangled together that it was difficult to tell where one of them ended and the other began. Their lips were in constant motion, but they certainly weren’t talking anymore. Harry had never seen anyone kiss like that before. He hated to admit it, but what Fleur and Roger were doing did look like fun.
“Wanna try?” Ron asked, seeing that far away look appear on Harry’s face as well.
“Do you think we…I mean…” Harry’s cheeks were flushed, though Ron reckoned it wasn’t from the crisp night air. “Well…alright.”
Ron leaned forward, licking his lips nervously. His mouth brushed softly against Harry’s, and both boys blushed deeply as they pulled away. The kiss was wet, but nice, and without thinking, Harry leaned forward to try it again.
The second kiss was even wetter than the first, but decidedly better. Taking the initiative, Harry parted his lips just slightly, moving them across Ron’s. Ron seemed to think this was a good idea, as he then parted his own lips. The kiss became wetter than ever.
Ron, mimicking what Roger had done to Fleur, slid his arm around Harry’s waist. Harry was startled, all his attention focused on trying to kiss Ron properly and not make a fool of himself. But Ron’s arm was warm and protective, and Harry quickly decided that he liked it. Not to be outdone, he circled his arms around Ron’s neck.
They kept kissing, breaking only momentarily to breath, then quickly starting up again. Though neither was very experienced, their equaled enthusiasm made up for what they lacked in technique. Harry wished they’d come outside sooner instead of wasting so much time in the Great Hall. Ron was a much better date than Parvati.
“Potter, Weasley!”
Harry and Ron jerked apart, almost falling backwards in their haste. Professor Snape was peering angrily down his long, crooked nose at the two of them.
“Just as I suspected,” he sneered, his black, beady eyes glinting in his sallow face. “Back into the castle! And ten points from Gryffindor. Apiece!”
Harry and Ron scampered away from Snape, but once he was out of sight, they took their time getting back to the castle. The entire Yule Ball was going on without them, and they didn’t mind a bit.