Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and the setting of this universe, are the intellectual property of JKR and Warner Brother, not myself- the proceeds and revenues are theirs and theirs alone. All that I own is the OC characters, and the AU information exclusive to my own fanfic.

Chapter 1- First on the Floor

Thursday 3rd December 1994

"En Garde!" Harry brandished the fake wand Ron had tossed his way a few seconds earlier, one of Fred and George's latest creations, which promptly turned into a rubber haddock in a puff of smoke as he did.

"Touche!" Ron parried the swipe with his own fake wand, grinning as it transformed into a tin parrot, and countering with a stroke of his own.

It was practically the end of the lesson, and they'd both finished their Transfiguration work a while ago. The guinea fowl which they'd spent the class changing into guinea pigs had all been locked away safe and sound in a large cage on Professor McGonagall's desk- though Neville's still had feathers- and they'd copied down their homework from the blackboard. "Describe, with examples, the ways in which Transforming Spells must be adapted when performing Cross-Species Switches". The bell was set to ring at any moment, and when Ron had invited him to have a play sword fight, Harry hadn't needed much persuading to join in. After all, he'd killed a basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor a couple of years ago- he couldn't lose. Or so he'd thought, anyway. His jaw dropped in dismay, Harry spluttering in protest as the tin parrot's beak slashed through the neck of the rubber haddock, almost slicing it clean off. "Oi, no fair...!"

"Potter! Weasley! Will you pay attention?" Professor McGonagall's extremely vexed voice cracked like a whip through the Transfiguration class. Harry jumped, dropping his stance and looking up toward the front of the class.

"Now that Potter and Weasley have been kind enough to act their age," said Professor McGonagall, tossing angry looks at both him and Ron, "I have something to say to you all. The Yule Ball is approaching — a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament, and an opportunity for us to socialize with our foreign guests. Now, the ball will be open only to fourth years and above — although you may invite a younger student if you wish—"

Sitting together at the table directly in front on his and Ron's, Lavender Brown let out a shrill giggle, while Parvati Patil nudged her hard in the ribs, her face working furiously as she too fought not to giggle. Harry cringed uncomfortably as they both turned around to smirk at him. Professor McGonagall ignored them, which Harry thought was distinctly unfair after she'd just told him and Ron off for nothing more than having a laugh.

"Dress robes will be worn," Professor McGonagall continued, "and the ball will start at eight o'clock on Christmas Day, finishing at midnight in the Great Hall. Now then…" She trailed off, staring deliberately around the class at all of them in turn. "The Yule Ball is of course a chance for us all to, er — let our hair down," she said, in a disapproving voice.

Lavender giggled harder than ever, with her hand pressed hard against her mouth to stifle the sound. Harry could see what was funny this time though. Minerva McGonagall, with her hair done up in a tight bun, looked as though she'd never let her hair down in any sense.

"But that does NOT mean, that we will be relaxing the standards of behavior we expect from Hogwarts students. I will be most seriously displeased if a Gryffindor student embarrasses the school in any way."

The bell rang, and there was the usual scuffle of activity as everyone packed their bags and swung them onto their shoulders. They'd already packed theirs before starting their little sword fight though, and in unison with Ron, Harry got up and started heading for the door.

"Potter! A word, if you please." Above the noise, the commanding tone of Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, halting him in his tracks. Mouthing Bad luck mate, offering a conciliatory pat on the shoulder, Ron kept on walking, out the door alongside Hermione, closely followed by a stream of all the others.

Assuming this had something to do with his now-headless rubber haddock, Harry proceeded gloomily to the teacher's desk. Professor McGonagall just sat there though, keeping him waiting in silence until everyone else in the class had gone, and they were the only ones left in the room. "Potter, the champions and their partners-"

"What partners?" said Harry.

Professor McGonagall looked suspiciously at him, as though she thought he was trying to be funny.

"Your partners for the Yule Ball, Potter," she said coldly. "Your dance partners."

Harry's insides seemed to curl up and shrivel. "Dance partners?" He felt himself going red. "I don't dance," he said quickly.

"Oh yes, you do," said Professor McGonagall irritably. "That's what I'm telling you. Traditionally, the champions and their partners open the ball."

Harry had a sudden mental image of himself in a top hat and tails, accompanied by a girl in the sort of frilly dress Aunt Petunia always wore to Uncle Vernon's work parties. "I'm not dancing," he said, shaking his head.

"It is traditional," said Professor McGonagall firmly. "You are a Hogwarts champion, and you will do what is expected of you as a representative of the school. So make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter."

"But — I don't…"

"You heard me, Potter," said Professor McGonagall, in a very final sort of way. Dumbstruck, Harry nodded, turned back around, and dazedly walked towards the door, that sentence still ringing in his ears. Make sure you get yourself a partner, Potter. You heard me...

Friday 4th December 1994

A week ago, Harry would have said that finding a partner for a dance would be a cinch compared to taking on a Hungarian Horntail. But now that he'd already done the latter, and was facing the prospect of asking a girl to the Yule Ball, he reckoned that he'd rather go and have another round with the dragon.

Harry had never known so many people to put their names down to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas. He always had, of course, because the alternative was going back to Privet Drive, but he'd always been very much in the minority before now. This year, however, everyone in the fourth year and above seemed to be staying, and to him, they all seemed to be totally obsessed with the coming ball. Or at least all the girls were, and it was amazing how many girls Hogwarts suddenly seemed to hold; he'd never quite noticed that before. Girls giggling and whispering in the corridors, girls shrieking with laughter as boys passed them, girls excitedly comparing notes on what they were going to wear on Christmas night…

"Why do they have to move in packs?" Harry asked Ron as a dozen or so girls walked past them in the corridor, sniggering and staring in his direction. "How're you supposed to get one on their own to ask them?"

"Lasso one?" Ron suggested. "Got any idea who you're going to try?"

Harry didn't answer. He knew perfectly well whom he'd like to ask, but working up the nerve was something else. Cho Chang was a year older than he was, she was very pretty, she was a very good Quidditch player, and she was also very, very popular.

Ron seemed to know what was going on inside his head. "Listen, you're not going to have any trouble. You're a champion. You've just beaten a Hungarian Horntail. I bet they'll be queuing up to go with you."

In tribute to their recently repaired friendship, Ron managed to keep the bitterness in his voice to a bare minimum. Moreover, to Harry's amazement, he turned out to be quite right.

"Harry! Harry Potter!"

Harry stopped in his tracks, staring across at the girl who'd waved and called out to him in the corridor. Walking alongside him on the way to the most boring class ever, History of Magic, the other Gryffindor guys, Ron, Dean and Seamus, turned to stare as well, as the Hufflepuff girl hastily walked over to them. What'd she want? She wasn't wearing one of those stupid Support Cedric Diggory badges though, unlike practically all the other girls in her house had been for the past few months, so with any luck, she wouldn't be looking to have a go at him.

"Who's she?" Dean asked, out of the corner of his mouth.

"Dunno," Ron murmured. "Swear I've seen her before though — yeah, she's a 3rd year, in the same year as Ginny…"

"Hi, Harry," she said breathlessly, standing right in front of him and nervously twisting a lock of her curly cinnamon-brown hair around one of her fingers.

"Hey there…" Harry trailed off, racking his brains trying to remember what her name was. He could swear he'd seen her around before as well- that shoulder-length curly hair, that roundish face, and those amber-hazel eyes of hers, which were staring up at him right now, definitely rang a bell- but he was pretty sure he'd never spoken to her before in his life. What was her name?

"I — I just wanted to ask you… Something…" She stood there for a moment, blushing fiercely. Then, she clenched her fists and scrunched her eyes tightly shut, before blurting out the last thing he'd been expecting to hear. "P-p-please w-would you go to the Yule Ball with me?"

"Eh…?" Completely taken aback, so much so that he didn't hear the loud 'OOOOH's of his classmates around him, Harry didn't even stop to consider the matter. "Yeah, I…"

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" And before he knew it, the Hufflepuff girl had leapt forward, putting her arms around him to hug him, leaning in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, before running off in the direction she'd come, almost jumping for joy. Shocked speechless, all that Harry could manage to do for a few moments was to just stand there, rooted to the spot, while Dean, Seamus and Ron all burst out laughing.

All the way through History of Magic, Harry had to endure Dean's, Seamus's, and Ron's taunts about the curly-haired Hufflepuff third-year girl. But he couldn't pay either them or the incessant droning lecture of Professor Binns much attention- he was too preoccupied with going over what had happened in the corridor on the way there, basking in the afterglow of that cuddle, and that kiss. Touching the spot on his cheek where he'd been kissed, tracing the outline of her lips with his fingers. Who was that girl? And why had she decided to ask him out?

A/N: Writer's block struck, AGAIN, so after more than two months' worth of sitting at my desk, bashing my head against the keyboard into the small hours every single night, trying and trying, harder and harder, to make even a few words' worth of progress on the other fanfics without dropping below the standards I set myself- to no avail, of course- I tried to build on a few of my own story prompts, mesh them together into one and to make a start on yet another new story which I don't yet* have writer's block on. AGAIN. Once again, I apologize for being such a worthless, useless, incapable excuse for a writer. And, well, here it is. If there are ANY beta readers out there, any at all, then please, PLEASE can you help me? Because otherwise, I don't think I'm going to able to complete even a single work.

* As of the publication date of this fanfic.