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◄✩༄*∗"Wonder if he'd stopped calling him 'Weatherby' yet."∗*༄✩►
☼
◄✩༄*∗Look into his angel eyes,
One look and you're hypnotized,
He'll take your heart and you must pay the price∗*༄✩►
— Angeleyes | ABBA
【 ✧ ☾⋆☼⋆☽ ✧ 】
RON HAD FINALLY FOUND A DATE TO THE BALL—Parvati Patil, actually—and once the term ended, the Gryffindor Tower seemed to have shrunk slightly now that everyone was much rowdier than usual. Fred and George had had great success with their Canary Creams, and for the first couple of days of the holidays, people kept bursting into feathers all over the place. Before long, however, all the Gryffindors 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 Y/N that he and Fred were now working on developing something else.
Snow was falling thickly upon the castle and its grounds now. The pale blue Beauxbatons carriage looked like a giant, powder sugar blueberry next to the sugared chocolate slab that was Hagrid's cabin, while the Durmstrang ship looked to be frozen over with ice. The house-elves down in the kitchen were outdoing themselves with a series of rick, warming stews and savory puddings, something Y/N had no problems in enjoying, patting her belly warmly after one great dinner.
"Hermione—who are you going to the ball with?" said Ron as they headed for Gryffindor Tower.
He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response by asking it when she least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me."
"You're joking, Weasley!" said Malfoy, behind them. "You're not telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?"
Y/N, Harry, and Ron all whipped around, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy's shoulder, "Hello, Professor Moody!"
Malfoy went pale and jumped backward, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew.
"Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?" said Hermione scathingly, and she, Y/N, Harry, and Ron went up the marble staircase laughing heartily.
"Hermione," said Ron, looking sideways at her, suddenly frowning, "your teeth . . ."
"What about them?" she said.
"Well, they're different . . . I've just noticed. . . ."
"Of course they are—did you expect me to keep those fangs Malfoy gave me?"
