Ron always knew he didn't stand a chance. Three years ago their one kiss had all the spark of a damp tissue. He was over her, anyway. Until he saw her dancing with Snape.

Hermione was aflame, glowing, mesmerising. Snape, tall, dark and saturnine, was entranced by her vivid intensity. Her bright flames, fuelled by Snape's smouldering embers, risked scorching those around them. Others on the dance floor seemed to realise that they too were in danger of being flambeed in the passion exuded by the oblivious couple.

Ron turned away from the inferno to the cold comfort of firewhisky.