The Way Things Almost Were | Harry Potter Drabbles

The Yule Ball

Draco Malfoy

The way she was wearing a color so foreign to her house, emerald green velvet, she had picked it out with him, but that was before the fight. It was before the argument where she had declared she wasn't even going to the Yule Ball with him, she would not go with someone like Draco. Draco was heartbroken, but his pride got the better of him as he swore off the Gryffindor girl entirely. How were they supposed to make it work, when their houses always seemed to be sworn enemies? She stood proudly in the Great Hall, marveling at the ice sculptures and the flurry of activity on the dance floor. Her lips were stained red and her eyeliner sharp and prominent as she scanned the room. Draco stood with his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, not bothering to take anyone else. Everyone else, after all, had just assumed he was going with the Gryffindor. She escaped from the hall, instead embracing the chill night air of the courtyard. Draco followed. "Do you enjoy this?" He whispered, barely loud enough to hear, but she turned anyways, watching the way she frowned at him, how badly had he hurt her? "Do I enjoy what?" She shot back, "Your pain in not being in there, with me? Oh absolutely." She spoke loudly, a few others scurrying inside, "Love, I've never been in more pain in my life." Draco ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Good," She responded, pressing a deadly kiss to his cheek, "I thought I was going to be alone all evening." She wrapped her hand in his and pulled him back inside, she never missed the feeling more. 

Cedric Diggory

It wasn't that Cedric hadn't thought to ask her first...it was just he had asked Cho and she had said yes, and there he was, escorting her onto the floor of the Yule Ball, dancing with the other Tri-Wizard champions. His floor length robes swept the floor as he carried Cho Chang along, but his eyes were not on her's. He was staring across the room at the young woman who smiled sadly towards him. She had been friends with Cedric for years, they had grown up together and she was here with another Slytherin, someone who was standing next to her, but had not interest in dancing. Cedric couldn't take her eyes off her, she was wearing a light blue dress, all gossamer and tulle, looking light she was floating across the floor as she stood to dance. The dance ended and immediately, he left his date, headed to the girl, "Dance with me," He whispered quietly in her ear, already connecting his hands with her's, "I'm sorry." He whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple, "Dance with me, now, please." And that was all it took.

Fred Weasley

Fred Weasley was not one to be nervous. In fact, he thrived in the attention he and his twin got when they played pranks or thrived on the quidditch pitch. But this, this was different. The Yule Ball, seen as such a status symbol and a time for revelry was hardly the type of thing he was good at. He looked at the hand-me-down robes, something straight out of 1973, something his Dad had probably worn back in the day. And it shouldn't matter, it didn't matter, he reminded himself as he adjusted his collar in the mirror, trying his best to think about the fact that he was going to enjoy himself, he would not let some daft old robes stop him from having a good time. His mind wandered, time stopped as he neared the Great Hall, spying his date around the corner. What a pair they were. She was dressed in a bright yellow dress, her hair in thick braids down her back. He sighed, reaching to meet her. His hands shook softly, but she turned around, smiled, and locked her fingers with him. His hands stopped shaking; her hands were his home and he was happy.

George Weasley

George Weasley was the antithesis of his brother. He knew what he wanted, determined to get it, and went for it. He was going, as he proclaimed, the most brilliant girl in the entirety of Hogwarts. And he would go to his death believing that. She carried herself confidently, the Ravenclaw counterpart, nearly rushing down the stairs to greet him, tripping over the midnight blue dress in the process. He caught her in the fall down the bottom stair, "Too eager to see me," He murmured, watching the blush creep over her face, "Couldn't wait another step." He held her close, before releasing her, his hands still holding onto her own, "Gorgeous, simply stunning." He chuckled, "But missing just a little something," He paused, before releasing her entirely, his fingers trailing up her arm and around her neck. His hands fastened the clasp of a golden pendant, holding her birthstone in it, "Perfect," His hands snaked around her waist, his head on her exposed shoulder, "Simply perfect."

Neville Longbottom

Neville had been with the young Ravenclaw for a few months now and there was nothing more that he liked than to just curl up in the Gryffindor common room with her as they worked on homework, hands touching, eyes meeting, blush across both of their faces, so innocent and infatuated with each other. And as much as Neville was labeled as clumsy, as shy, as a coward, he knew that the Ravenclaw girl made him so much more than he ever thought he could be. Which was why he was so determined to get the Yule Ball perfectly. He practiced dancing nearly every night, much to the chagrin of his roommates, But he was determined to get it right for her. He greeted her sweetly, his hand stumbling to wrap the corsage around her wrist that he had carefully curated. Heather and a tulip, admiring her will and wit, and a small declaration of love, no matter how small the gesture might have been, she relished in his warmth. She drew him in closer, the roses applique on her dress swinging as they entered into the ballroom, her arm securely wrapped around his, an intimate and spectacular moment between the two.

Oliver Wood

Oliver was outside, watching the 6th year Slytherin cross her arms. She was wearing a white gown with open sleeves, flaring out behind her. She looked angelic in the light of the moon, she looked as pure as snow, dangerous, deadly as ice. And she looked sad. He had broken her last summer, the summer after Hogwarts, and it was his fault that she stood alone. She spun a silver and red ring in her fingers. It was the same one he had given her his final year at school. She wore it on a chain around her neck, "Is that what you want me to say? I'm sorry, love, I'm sorry. You look beautiful tonight, I'm sorry." He rehearsed to himself, but the second he was ready to appear in front of her, in a set of his own dress robes, her wand was at the ready. He could see the tears in his eyes as she silently illuminated the end of her wand, she always had a knack for wordless spells. The tears shown in her eyes, looking as broken and damaged as she did pure and holy. Her lips parted, softly at first and then in a wide, silent scream trying to force the words that she could not put into proper sentences. So, she turned around, she wrapped her fingers around the bodice of her dress, pulling herself in tighter, the invisible string broken between them. She had cried too many tears over Oliver Wood, she would not cry any more.