"He's a very skilled wizard...I shouldn't be worried...even if he has to battle a dragon." Beatrice had been trying to convince herself of this ever since Harry had told her about the first task. Since his name had come out of the Goblet, Beatrice had been one of the few people who was still friendly towards him, so she found herself spending a large portion of her time with him. Many people, including Ron, thought that he had somehow cheated to enter himself into the tournament, but she knew better than anyone that he would have to be mad to do such a thing. "He'll be fine...right?"

"Will you stop fretting about it? You're as bad as Granger...maybe worse." Fred grumbled, rolling his eyes as they settled into the stands surrounding the dragon pit. "Besides, he better do good...I bet five galleons on him."

Beatrice punched him in the arm. "How could you be betting at a time like this?! That's so insensitive, someone could be injured or be killed and you're just trying to make a profit!" Jude shifted uncomfortably on her other side, prompting her to turn to him. "And what's got you so antsy?"

He awkwardly cleared his throat before muttering his reply. "...I bet ten."

Without hesitating, Beatrice punched him in his arm even harder than she had hit Fred. "Gits."

"It's official." Said George, peering around his brother. "She's worse than Granger."

"Shut up." She scoffed, rolling her eyes at them. "I'm just nervous...where is Hermione, anyways? She was just here..." She looked about the stands anxiously. "Oh, where has she gone to? I need her here if I'm going to sit through both Cedric and Harry's turn as I'm quite certain you lot won't be much help with my nerves." She glared at them briefly before returning to craning her neck in order to scan the growing crowd of spectators.

"I think she went to check on Harry..." Ginny interjection, leaning over both of her brothers.

"Git." Ron mumbled. Crossing his arms over his chest. He had chosen to sit with Neville in the row in front of them and, for the most part, had been quiet all morning. "I hope that dragon gives him a right good fight."

"Oh, come off it, Ron." Hermione moved through the thickening crowd until she arrived at the seat that was saved for her between Neville and Ron. "He's frightened out of his mind as any of us would be. All of us are worried sick for him, Beatrice and I are just the only ones who care to admit it." She turned to Beatrice, taking her hand and offering her a small smile. "I'm here for you, not to worry."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm sorry for being insensitive." Her brother said, resting a hand on her knee. "Perhaps it would help if we were to talk about something to distract you from the fact that they'll basically be battling dragons?" He cowered briefly as she shot a glare in his direction. "Okay, not helping...er, Fred, George, your brother trains dragons, doesn't he?"

"Charlie?" Fred raised a questioning eyebrow. "Yeah, he brought these particular dragons from the training facility he works at in Romania."

"He's always been the outdoor type." George interjected. "Don't get him started on dragons...he can go on for hours."

Beatrice nodded, releasing a deep breath that she hadn't been aware that she was holding. "Dragons are fascinating creatures, when you think about it." She said, trying her best to remain calm and collected. She watched as the first of the four dragons was brought before the crowd. It was yellowish in color, a small, squashed head, and two large horns protruding from its snout. "W-what kind of dragon is that one?"

"Swedish Short Snout." Said George with a grin. "Unlike other dragons, the Short Snout breathes blue fire which is hot enough to reduce timber and bone to ashes in seconds! Truly fascinating creatures, they are. Charlie said the others he brought are the Welsh Green, Chinese Fireball, and the Hungarian Horntail. All dragons are fearsome in their own way, but that Horntail...it's one nasty piece of work."

Fred snorted, popping a piece of popcorn into his mouth. "Thanks for the 'fun facts', Charlie." He teased. "You are right about that Horntail, though. For the sake of my galleons and dear, sweet Beatrice's sanity, let's hope that our dear Cedric does not have to challenge that beast." He observed eagerly as the dragon circled the golden egg which had been placed in the center of the arena. "I hope this means that they're starting soon. I want to see some dragon action!"

"Don't remind me..." Beatrice groaned, balling her hands into fists. She jumped as the canon sounded. "Oh no...I suppose it's starting now..."

She held her breath as Cedric stepped out into the arena. She could almost feel his eyes on her as he scanned the crowd. The dragon's back was to him, so it still hadn't stirred, much to Beatrice's comfort. The entire crowd seemed to fall silent as they watched him creep around the large beast, slowly drawing his wand from his robes. Pointing it at a nearby boulder, he transfigured the medium sized stone into a dog which skipped and scampered about the arena, catching the attention of the dragon.

As the beast began to move towards the transfigured dog, Cedric crept behind, reaching out to retrieve the egg. Beatrice bit her lip with apprehension as he reached for the golden egg, his fingers nearly touching its cool surface when the dragon suddenly wheeled around, her large, icy-blue eyes narrowing at Cedric. Her heart raced as the dragon released a plume of blue fire. Squeezing Jude's hand so hard that he yelped, she watched as Cedric lunged for the egg, cradling it in his arms before attempting to dodge the fiery plume before he was scorched, but he wasn't quite quick enough and suffered a burn to his face.

She watched speechlessly as the dragon trainers stunned and suppressed the dragon so that medics could come and attend him. Without a second thought, Beatrice stood and made to leave the stands. "Oi, where are you going?" Fred asked. "Harry still has to go."

"I have to go to him." She replied. She hadn't even bothered to look at him, the only thing that she cared about, in that moment, was Cedric.

Without waiting for a response, she shoved her way through the crowds and out of the stands in pursuit of the hospital wing. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as she hurried across the castle grounds, through the long corridors to the hospital. She'd known that he would get hurt in this competition and she had been right. It was only the first task and he had already landed himself in the hospital. When she had finally arrived, she was surprised to find the hospital wing rather empty; she supposed the the majority of the press and fans had stayed behind to watch the rest of the first task. She had to admit to herself that this pleased her immensely.

She hurried over to where Cedric lay, the half of his face that had been burnt was covered with some sort of pasty concoction and cloth. Taking a seat at his bedside, she took his hand in hers and smiled as his eyes fluttered open. His lips curled into a smile when he recognized her. "You're not as bad as Harry...but I would prefer to make less trips to the hospital wing to visit you." She teased, rearranging some of his hair. "The lightning was bad enough last year...now a dragon? Maybe you should take it easy for a bit."

"Sorry..." He muttered, giving her a lazy smile.

She moved to kiss him on his forehead when the sound of hurried footsteps met her ears. Looking back towards the entrance of the hospital, her eyes fell upon none other than Cho Chang. Beatrice stood suddenly, feeling heat coming to her cheeks, however, she was unsure if it was from anger or embarrassment...or, perhaps, a bit of both. Likewise, Cho bit her lip, awkwardly shifting her weight and nervously wringing her hands as she attempted to avoid Beatrice's gaze. "I-I just came to see if he was alright..." she said in a small voice. "I d-don't want to interrupt anything..."

Beatrice shook her head, holding back her emotion as she looked between the pair. She could see in their eyes how much they cared for each other and, although it hurt, she didn't have the energy nor the will to compete with it. "No." She said, as calmly as she could muster. "It's alright, I was just leaving."

"Look at this! I can't believe it, she's done it again!"

Beatrice looked up from her eggs and toast which she had been picking at for the last ten minutes. She hadn't had a chance to tell her friends about what had happened with Cedric yesterday and she didn't particularly want to just yet as she was still coming to terms with it, herself. She was pleased to learn that Harry had performed spectacularly against his dragon...even despite the fact that it had broken loose and was very grateful that everyone was seemingly too distracted by the tournament to notice her shift in behavior.

"What is it?" She inquired with halfhearted interest.

Clearing her throat, she aggressively spread out the paper across the table before reading aloud. "'Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards. Her latest prey, sources report, is none other than the Bulgarian bonbon, Viktor Krum.'" She spat, her voice shaking with anger and disbelief. "'No word yet on how Harry Potter's taking this latest emotional blow'."

Beatrice opened her mouth to comment on the article, but they were interrupted by the arrival of a rather anxious looking first year carrying a fairly large parcel. He stopped beside Ron, presenting the package to him sheepishly. "Parcel for you Mr. Weasley."

Ron smiled, happily accepting the large box, placing it on the table in front of him. "Ah, thank you Nigel." He paused, noticing that Nigel hadn't left yet. Leaning closer to the boy, he whispered urgently to him. "Not now, Nigel, later. Go on."

They all watched as Nigel left before collectively turning their gazes to Ron, demanding an explanation. Ron rolled his eyes in response to their expectant gazes, turning his attention back to the large parcel before him. "I told him I'd get him Harry's autograph." He said with a shrug before proceeding to rip off the wrappings. "Oh look, Mum's sent me something!" His look of excitement quickly melted into that of confusion when he lifted out of the box a rather frilly, rather antique looking robe from the box. "Mum sent me a dress..."

Harry grinned. "Well, it does match your eyes." He said, trying and hopelessly failing at stifling his chuckle whilst continuing to rummage through the box. "Is there a bonnet? Ah ha!"

Ron rolled his eyes, snatching the clothing from Harry's hands and throwing them back into the box. "Clothes down, Harry." Sighing heavily, he walked a ways down the table to where Ginny sat and held up the robes for her to see. "Ginny, these must be for you."

"I'm not wearing that," she declared, wrinkling her nose in distaste, "It's ghastly."

Further down the table, Hermione and Beatrice had began snickering among themselves and Ron shot them a glare. "What are you two on about?" He demanded.

"They're not for Ginny," Hermione explained, in between giggles. "They're for you. Dress robes."

The entire Gryffindor table burst into hysterical laughter at Ron's expense. His eyes widened as he examined the robes again, deciding that the second analysis was worse than the first.

"Dress robes?" Ron whimpered, furrowing his eyebrows both out of horror and confusion. "For what?"

Professor McGonagall had summoned the entire Gryffindor House to the Transfiguration classroom for some sort of assembly concerning the Triwizard Tournament. There was much speculation and anticipation about what the assembly could possibly be about. When they arrived at the classroom, they were surprised to find that all of the desks had been cleared from the room, the only seating that remained were two long rows of chairs situated in two straight rows on opposite sides of the room from each other.

The Head of Gryffindor House, Professor McGonagall, stood at the center of the room beside what looked to be a overly large antique record player which Mr. Filch stood next to looking almost equally confused as to why he was there, but then again that seemed to be a rather usual expression for him. Professor McGonagall greeted them curtly before ordering them to organize themselves by gender, instructing the girls to sit to her left and the boys to her right. Once everyone had been properly situated, she promptly cleared her throat to silence them before beginning her announcement.

"The Yule Ball has been a tradition of the Triwizard Tournament since its inception." She declared, exchanging glances with the students situated on both sides of the room. "On Christmas Eve night, we and our guests gather in the Great Hall for a night of well-mannered frivolity. As representative of the host school, I expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward, and I mean this literally because the Yule Ball is, first and foremost, a dance."

The room erupted with excited chatter from girls from one side of the room, intermingled with the exasperated groans which issued from the boys at the other side. "Silence!" Demanded the professor, looking sternly about the room. "The House of Godric Gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. I will not have you, in the course of a single evening, besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons." When she was satisfied with her reprimand, she continued. "Now, to dance is to let the body breathe. Inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst forth and take flight. Inside every boy, a lordly lions prepared to prance...Mr. Weasley."

The youngest of the Weasley boys quickly turned away from Seamus, who he had just been whispering to, and shrank with embarrassment as the aging witch approached his seat. "Yes?" He said in a small voice, unsure of what, exactly, to expect from her.

Much to his surprise and utter astonishment, Professor McGonagall offered him her hand. "Will you join me, please?" Reluctantly, he accepted, not that he had much of a choice in the matter, and followed her to the middle of the room. "Now, place your right hand on my waist."

Ron's eyes widened. "Where?"

"My waist." She repeated, seemingly annoyed for having to do so. "And extend your arm." She said, continuing to instruct him, having to manually place his hand in the correct position on her waist. "Mr. Filch, if you please." The Caretaker placed the needle on the record and after a pop or scratch or two the light sound of a waltz resonated throughout the room. Guiding Ron to begin dancing, Professor McGonagall counted the steps as they went. "One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three." After they had danced for a short while, Professor McGonagall beckoned for the rest of Gryffindor House to join them whilst still, for the most part, leading Ron. "Everybody come together. Boys, on your feet!"

Although it took awhile for the boys to join in, eventually people began pairing off. Beatrice watched as Dean Thomas approached Ginny and how Harry had made a beeline for Hermione, Ron still being partnered with Professor McGonagall. Even Jude had partnered with girl in his year who she recognized to be Audrey Aitken. She had considered asking Neville, who seemed very eager to dance, having been the first boy to come to his feet when prompted by McGonagall, when she was approached by Fred Weasley.

He grinned down at her sheepishly. "I'm not much of a dancer, but..." he offered her his hand, "May I? I'll try my best not to step on your toes."

Returning his grin, she happily took his hand. Leading her out to the center of the room to join the other dancing couples, he reluctantly put his right hand on the small of her back as she rested hers upon his shoulder. Beatrice smiled, averting her eyes from his in a poor effort of hiding her blush. "I've always liked dancing." She admitted, wanting to break the silence that lingered between them. "When I was little, my father used to stand me on his feet and dance with me all about the house..." She pursed her lips, stifling her emotion. "That's one of the few memories I have of him, from before...he was a good father, he just made some bad decisions."

"I was wondering where Jude learned to be so light on his feet." Fred teased, nodding in the direction of her brother who appeared to be a natural at the waltz. "Is there anything he isn't good at?"

"Everyone has their flaws and shortfalls." She said with a shrug. "But my brother is truly one of the best people I know. I have no idea what I would do without him. He, honestly, has all of the best qualities between us. He's selfless, kind, strong...nearly flawless, unlike me..."

"Don't sell yourself short, Mitchell." Fred scoffed as he paused the repetition of the waltz to twirled her. Surprised by the sudden action, she allowed herself to be spun around before returning to the familiar position, his guiding hand resting on the small of her back. "You're pretty damn amazing, if I say so myself."

"What is amazing is the fact that you never mentioned that you knew how to dance. 'Not much of a dancer' my arse." She said, not entirely jokingly, still rather shocked at how well he lead her around the makeshift ballroom. "Where did you learn to dance so well?"

Fred shrugged nonchalantly. "Mum was very keen about it." He explained. "I don't exactly like to flaunt it. It's not the most 'manly' skill. Honestly, I find it quite embarrassing."

"You shouldn't!" She protested. "Loads of girls are impressed by a man that can dance. It's quite a rare quality now, anyways."

Fred shrugged, continuing to expertly lead her about the room, occasionally spinning her when the opportunity arose. "'Suppose Diggory's a good dancer." He said after a time. "Such a put-together bloke like him ought to be. You're quite lucky to already have a date lined up, I've been going mad since McGonagall announced what this whole fiasco was about, trying to think of how I'm going to find that even comes close to you...sounds cheesy, but I'm trying to impress you. Is it working?"

Beatrice grinned, feeling heat coming to her cheeks. "Well, actually-"

Before she could tell him that she didn't plan on attending the ball with Cedric, her brother had (literally) waltzed over to them, effectively interrupting their conversation. "Oi, Weasley, I think you've had your fun with my little sister. Mind if we switch partners for a bit?" Looking between him and Beatrice, Fred appeared as if he wanted to decline, but, knowing that rebuffing the older brother of the girl he fancied was not the best idea, he reluctantly handed Beatrice off to him, graciously accepting Audrey Aitken as his new partner.

Beatrice's heart sank as she watched the pair fade into the crowd, and she didn't bother to hide her irritation from Jude as she begrudgingly rested her hand on his shoulder. "You couldn't have waited one more minute to cut in, could you?" She grumbled. "I swear, your timing is impeccable...if it's intended to ruin my life, that is."

Jude rolled his eyes in response to her angst. "I'm sure that cutting short one conversation will disrupt whatever spell you've got that bloke under." He assured her. "As much as I like Fred and all of the Weasleys, I'm still not completely comfortable with the way he looks at you sometimes. Regardless of what I think about him, you're still my baby sister and he's still older...in fact, because I know him so well and I know how much he's like me...well, it makes me nervous sometimes. Speaking of older guys which I'd rather you not date, what happened to Cedric? I assumed that he'd be your date to this thing, you know, seeing as he's your boyfriend."

Beatrice felt her cheeks burning at the mention of his name. "I wouldn't count on him taking me." She admitted. "And, if it's the same to you, I'd rather not talk about it right now...things are...complicated, to say the least."

Jude merely nodded. "So...you're hoping Fred Weasley might ask you?" He chortled. "Blimey, what a downgrade." He teased. "Well, like I said before, the poor boy is mad about you...I doubt that one interrupted conversation would deter him from asking you to the ball. Mark me, he'll ask you the minute he knows that you aren't planning on going with Cedric."

She shook her head, allowing herself to giggle as he swiftly led her around the classroom. "I suppose you're right." She said, allowing herself to relax. "What harm could one shortened conversation do?"

Inwardly, Beatrice sighed, eyeing Fred Weasley who sat across the table from her. Ever since McGonagall's assembly, she'd had little to no opportunity to speak to Fred and absolutely zero chance to tell him that she had no intention of going to the ball with Cedric...besides, she was quite certain that he'd already asked Cho Chang to go with him anyways. He hadn't spoken to her since the incident in the hospital wing and she was too stubborn and, quite frankly, embarrasssed to be the one to initiate conversation. There were a few occasions when they would make eye contact in the library or in the corridors between classes; sometimes it would appear like he wanted to speak to her, but he never actually did...or Cho would appear and she was pushed the back of his mind again. She'd be lying to say that it didn't hurt her, the silence, seeing him with her, but then there was Fred...if only the opportunity would arise!

"This is mad." Ron grumbled, aggressively scratching notes in his notebook as he spoke. "At this rate, we'll be the only ones in our year without dates." He was right, Beatrice thought glumly. People had wasted no time at all getting dates and already both boys and girls without partners were scarce...well, the good options, that is. Again, she eyed Fred almost hopefully, expectantly as Ron snorted. "Well, us and Neville."

Harry grinned. "Yeah, but, then again, he can take himself."

Clearly eavesdropping on their conversation, as she was, Hermione leaned over to them, whispering as she spoke. "It might interest you to know that Neville's already got someone."

Deflating, Ron once again grumbled in frustration. "Now I'm really depressed."

He made to return to his work along with the rest of them when Beatrice noticed Fred furiously scribbling on a spare piece of parchment before passing it to Ron. Checking over his shoulder to make certain that Professor Snape wasn't looking (as he had already been shoved in the back of the head countless times over the course of the study hall period) and quickly scanned over it. His brows knitting together, he shoved the parchment back at him, barely giving Beatrice enough time to read what the note said before the elder Weasley boy took it back: 'Get a move on or all the good ones will have gone'. "Who are you going with then?" Ron demanded as Beatrice's heart leapt into her throat.

Her heart pounded wildly in her chest as he crumpled the piece of parchment into a ball. She had completely stopped writing her lab report to observe and she could've sworn that her heart skipped a beat when he hesitated for a moment, his eyes meeting hers for a split second, considering her before they shifted to another girl a few seats down, a Chaser on the Gryffindor Qudditch team, Angelina Johnson. Throwing the paper ball with expert aim, he hit her square in the shoulder, prompting her to look at him almost angrily as her eyes shifted between the paper ball and Fred Weasley. "Oi, Angelina?"

Feeling her heart suddenly drop from its high to the pit of her stomach, she couldn't bring herself to write, breathe, move, or do anything, for that matter, except helplessly watch the scene playing out before her. "Do you wanna go to the ball with me?" He said, flashing her his signature smirk. Beatrice felt as if she might be sick.

Angelina grinned, leaning her cheek upon her hand, her eyes turning dreamy. "To the ball?" She repeated softly. "Yeah, alright."

Looking back to Ron, Fred gave him a wink. Not wanting to be there a moment longer, Beatrice quickly began gathering her things together, stuffing her quill, ink, and spare parchment in her bag with little regard. Standing sharply from the table, she was well aware of their eyes being on her as she aggressively shouldered her bag. She glanced briefly at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, then George, reserving a glare for Fred before she roughly collected her journal containing her lab report, closing the book with a light 'pop'. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll be going." She spat before turning on her heel, sharply presenting her journal to Professor Snape who accepted it with equal abruptness.

Hermione returned to her work, completely aware of the reasoning behind Beatrice's behavior. For a moment, she considered going after her, but she knew that it would be best to leave her be for a moment before seeking her out...besides, she still had a few more lines to add to her own lab report. The boys, however, looked after her with utter confusion. "If I didn't think that she was already going with Diggory I would've asked if she'd go with Harry or I." Ron mumbled, dipping his quill into his inkwell thoughtfully. He paused, mid-sentence, looking up at Hermione, a thought mulling about in his brain. "Oi, Hermione. You're a girl."

Hermione looked up from her work, raising her eyebrows at him. "Very well spotted."

"Come with one of us?" Fred shifted his attention from the door which Beatrice had just hotly exited and observed as Hermione opened her mouth to respond as Snape came up behind his younger brother to whack him and Harry on the back of the head with his book. He cringed as the Professor stalked away, but continued to observe as his younger brother addressed the frizzy-haired witch. "Come on." He continued. "It's one thing for a bloke to show up alone, for a girl, it's just sad. Since you're here, you can have your pick of Harry and I and then Beatrice can have whoever's left over. It's the least we could do."

Wait, what? Fred felt his heart sink as he watched Hermione's lip curl angrily. "I won't be going alone, because, believe it or not, someone's asked me!" She declared, gathering her book in a flourish, just as Beatrice had done mere moments before, even handing her report to Professor Snape with a similar abruptness. Stalking back to where she left the rest of her paper and books, she quickly gathered her things. "And I said yes!" She added sharply before exiting the Great Hall with similar fury.

Ron gaped, looking between the doorway and Harry. "Bloody hell." He breathed. "I wonder what's got their knickers in a twist..." He paused for a moment, leaning closer to Harry. "She's lying, right?"

Harry shrugged, looking equally taken aback by Beatrice and Heriome's aggressive displays. "If you say so." He muttered in response.

"I don't think I'll ever understand girls." He said with a shake of his head, as he heaved a heavy sigh. "Look, we've just gotta grit our teeth and do it. Tonight, when we get back to the common room, we'll both have partners. Agreed?"

Harry nodded agreeing to Ron's terms moments before Professor Snape shoved the back of their hands once more. But Fred didn't cringe this time. In fact, he didn't do anything except stare blankly at the space before him...Beatrice isn't going with Diggory. What a bloody fool he was. True, he hadn't seen her with Cedric since that day he and George had come across them arguing outside of the Common Room...nor had she spoken about him since she'd returned from the hospital wing following the first task, but he still assumed...hell, why didn't he just ask?

He glanced down the table to where Angelina sat. Catching his eye, she smiled, blushing slightly as she waved flirtatiously at him. What had he done? It was out of the question to tell Angelina that he had changed his mind...he knew her too well...she would skin him alive if he backed out now. Turning back to his lab report, he stared blankly at the page, feeling as if he might puke. What had he done?

George whistled merrily as he walked down a corridor in pursuit of the One-Eyed Witch statue and the Hogsmeade passage that was hidden behind it. He had asked Fred if he wanted to come to Zokos with him to replenish their joke hoard, but he was too concerned with waiting in the Common Room for Beatrice that he had immediately declined. George had sat with him in one of the overstuffed crimson armchairs for awhile until he grew bored of waiting and decided just to head to the joke shop on his own. Besides, he'd rather not be there when the girl arrived...he was quite certain, knowing her, that his brother had it in for him...if he was fortunate enough to get her to speak to him before she jinxed him and retreated to the girls' dormitories, that is.

He was about to turn a corner when he heard a rather loud crash issue from within a broom cupboard followed by muffled string of curses. George raised his eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk at the familiar sounding voice as he approached the door. As expected, he opened the cupboard to reveal a rather disheveled fourth year girl, tangled in a mess of mops and brooms, staring up at him. She didn't seem angry at the sight of him (a good sign), but, rather, defeated. Her eyes were puffy and red rimmed, her skin blotchy, evidence that she'd spent a fair amount of time crying.

Without saying a word, George helped lift the cleaning supplies off of her, making certain that they were stored far from where she sat, ensuring that they were leaned against the wall at a proper angle so that they wouldn't topple over again. She muttered a 'thank you' once he had finished, her body still slightly turned away from him. "I suppose you think I'm rather pathetic, hiding in this broom cupboard, don't you." She said, breaking the silence that had begun to settle between them. "I-I didn't know where to go...I wasn't ready to see him..." Fred, the unspoken word.

George opened his mouth to respond when he heard voices from down the hall. Turning back to her, he shut the door to the broom cupboard to offer them more privacy. Muttering 'lumos', a gentle light illuminated the tip of his wand as he settled himself beside her. "He's going mad, you know." He said. "Merlin knows how long he's been waiting in the Common Room, jumping up every time the portrait hole swings open."

Beatrice shook her head, more tears beginning to collect in her eyes. "I'm so stupid, George." She said. "It's my fault...I should've told him, I should've made a point to tell him, but I didn't. It's my fault, and now it's too late." She sniffed, her eyes cast downward. "Somehow, I manage to ruin everything."

Looking around, George found a box of tissues. Pulling off the cardboard seal, he offered her the box. "Surely that's not true." He said as she gratefully accepted the tissues, trying to be as discrete as possible about relieving her nose. "Besides, you can't blame yourself for all of this." He continued. "Fred told me that he intended to ask you to the ball regardless if you were still with Cedric...said he didn't give a damn about him. In fact, I think he almost did it today at study hall...but he chickened out."

Beatrice shook her head again, staring down at her half-used tissue. "It doesn't matter now." She said. "Cedric is going with Cho," it didn't pass George's notice how she seemed to spat the girl's name with immense distaste, "And Fred...Fred's going with...with Angelina..." She bit her lip, sighing as if she had just come to terms with it. "And I? I suppose I'll have to go with one of the sorry blokes who are leftover." She hung her head miserably. "Maybe it would be better if I just go alone, actually."

"You don't have to." He said, cocking his head to the side. He bit his lip as she stared up at him questioningly. He cleared his throat, trying to make his proposition seem less awkward. Truthfully, he hadn't put much thought into who we wanted to take to ball, much less how he intended to ask them...he glanced around the broom cupboard. It wasn't the most ideal setting...and he didn't exactly picture asking a girl to the ball mere moments after she'd been crying over his twin brother...but he supposed that it would have to do. "I-I don't have a date yet." He said sheepishly, heat, which he hoped was masked enough by the darkness of the broom cupboard, flooding his cheeks. "W-would you want to go to the ball with me?"

For a moment, she just stared at him, stunned. Perhaps just trying to process what he had just said. But then she smiled, making him release a breath that he hadn't noticed he'd been holding. Her cheeks had also flushed pink as she nodded, agreeing to his request. "Sure." She decided. "It would be an honor, George Weasley."