Disgrace - George Weasley

Chapter 8

Dorothy raises a brow as she approaches the Gryffindor table, "I didn't realise that sort of thing was your style, Ronald."

He gives her an unamused smile as she slips into the spot between Hermione and George, "Ginny, these must be for you."

"I'm not wearing that, it's ghastly."

Hermione giggles and shows Dorothy the note making her snort, "What are you on about?"

"They're not for Ginny." Dorothy says.

"They're for you. Dress robes." Hermione says through her fit of giggles.

"Dress robes? For what?"

~~~~~

"The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament since its inception. On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests gather in the Great Hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity. As representatives of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to out your best foot forward, and I mean literally because the Yule Ball is first and foremost... a dance."

The girls begin to whispers amongst each other causing McGonagall to raise her hands, "Silence! The House of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for ten centuries. I will not have you in the course of a single evening besmirching that name by behaving like babbling, bumbling baboons."

Dorothy bites her lip to suppress the laughs escaping as she watches the twins try to say the sentence faster.

"To dance is to let the body breather. Inside every girl a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst forth and take flight."

Ron mutters something to the boys making them laugh and look over to one of the girls, "Inside every boy, a lordly lion prepared to prance. Mr. Weasley!"

"Yes?"

"Will you join me, please?"

Harry pushes Ron to his feet and he slowly walks towards the Professor, "Now, place your right hand on my waist."

"Where?"

"My waist." She repeats. Someone wolf whistles making him attempt to give the middle finger only to be stopped by McGonagall.

George catches Dorothy's gaze and pretends to slow dance making her look down to avoid smiling, "Everybody come together! Boys on your feet!"

They all reluctantly get to their feet and George walks straight to Dorothy not wanting to have to actually dance, Fred grumbles knowing he'll have to dance with someone who will actually try.

"May I?"

"You may?"

The pair attempt to dance and both end up in a giggling mess as Dorothy trips over her own feet and George steps on her toes, "I don't think I'm cut out for dancing."

"You danced pretty well at the Quidditch Cup."

"Oh, inside me is a secret leprechaun waiting to perform the Irish jig and sing about Ron's undying love for Krum."