Harry opened his mouth to argue instinctively, then shut it again; Pucey had never actually attempted to foul anyone on the Gryffindor team when they played one another, unlike most of the rest of his team. Even Draco. Harry certainly had no room to judge there. He remembered what George said about Slytherins being attractive, and wondered if the Weasley had a type. "I thought you said you didn't like pretty," he said thoughtlessly, and George smirked.
"I said I don't like the same kind of pretty you do. Adrian's not pretty, he's just got cheekbones."
Neville gave Harry a bit of an odd look at that, and Harry's stomach squirmed. He really had to tell Neville soon.
After breakfast they went back up to Gryffindor Tower, where the twins attempted to cheer Ron up a bit with several games of exploding snap. That didn't really work, but the youngest Weasley brother did perk up when they went down for Christmas lunch. The tables were groaning with the weight of all the food, Christmas crackers exploding all over the hall, everyone talking and laughing and excited for the evening to come. They were all kicked out of the hall as soon as lunch was over, so the house elves could re-decorate for the ball, and Fred and George managed to gather a crowd for a snowball fight out in the grounds. What started out as Hogwarts VS the other schools soon turned into a chaotic free-for-all as alliances were formed and broken, and sacrifices were made. Hermione had intended to just watch, but that went out of the window when one of Viktor's snowballs 'accidentally' went wide and hit her in the shoulder. Harry laughed as a flick of Hermione's wand had a whole host of snowballs chasing after the Bulgarian.
"Harry, duck!" He followed the instruction instinctively, looking up just in time to see Blaise Zabini get hit square in the face with a snowball. Harry hadn't even realised Blaise was out there with them. The Slytherin boy scowled, looking for his attacker — Cassius, hiding behind a snow bank Cedric and Cho had built and then been promptly run out of. "You're dead, Warrington," Blaise declared, sprinting away from Daphne's side and reaching down into the snow.
As the evening drew on and the ball grew ever closer, people slowly began to abandon the snowball fight in favour of getting ready. Ron seemed utterly baffled when Hermione declared she was heading up to her room at five, and even more bewildered when several other girls followed. "How can it take them three hours to get dressed?" he asked, and Harry sighed, sharing an amused look with Ginny.
"You don't understand girls at all, do you?" the redheaded girl said sadly. She hopped to her feet, sending one last snowball careening towards George. "I'm off, I'll see you boys later. Ron, don't lose track of time; you're supposed to meet Luna in the Entrance Hall at quarter-to." She still didn't seem thrilled at letting her best friend go to the ball with her brother, but Luna was so excited to get the chance to go at all Ginny wisely kept her mouth shut. Harry suspected she was just waiting for Ron to do something to give her the excuse to hex him.
By six, it was getting too dark to properly see where snowballs were coming from, so the remaining fighters called it even and went back into the castle after a few Drying charms, disappearing off to their respective common rooms. The closer he got to Gryffindor Tower, the more Harry started to feel his nerves. "What if I freeze up?" he fretted. "What if I trip and fall over in front of everyone and Susan hates me and never speaks to me again and I've ruined everything?"
Neville snorted. "Susan wouldn't let you fall over," he assured. "She'd hex you into dancing properly before it got to that." Harry didn't think that sounded like too bad a deal, and he said as much, making Seamus laugh.
"You'll be fine, mate," the Irish boy insisted. "Just don't stare at her tits and you'll be grand." Dean thwacked him over the back of the head.
Harry doubted that was going to be a problem for him, but kept that to himself.
His dress robes were folded neatly in his trunk, and Harry got them out, finding the shirt and trousers that went under them. The shirt was a tunic-style shirt in a muted gold colour, with a high collar and shiny gold buttons down the front. The trousers were so dark green they were almost black, close-fitting without feeling uncomfortably tight. They were surprisingly comfortable, and Harry looked himself in the mirror before he put the robes on over them. He'd chosen that particular shirt because it was vaguely Indian-inspired, and it took his breath away to see himself in it. He'd never worn anything remotely like it before — he'd worried he'd look silly, but it actually looked good!
Shrugging into the robes and buttoning up the front, he turned back to the mirror for the full effect. The robes were a dark emerald green, with gold embroidery around the cuffs and hem that was also Indian-inspired, to go with the shirt.
"Wow, Harry!" Seamus' appreciative whistle cut into his daze, and Harry blushed. The other Gryffindor wore light blue dress robes with a bright purple shirt beneath them.
"It's not too much?" Harry asked, unused to wizarding clothing at all, let alone formal wear.
"You look great," Neville insisted quietly from where he was buttoning up his own robes. They were much more traditional in style, a dark red colour that made his hazel eyes glow. It made him look older, and surprisingly handsome. Ginny was a lucky girl. Harry told him as much, watching the boy's ears turn almost as red as his robes. Across the room, there was a low curse.
Ron was stood in the middle of the dorm, staring at himself in the mirror with a look of utter disgust on his face. Harry tried not to laugh. His dress robes did look awful. Harry wondered how much he was regretting not taking Bill's old set. "I can't go out like this," Ron groaned. "I'll be the laughing stock of the school!"
"It's not that bad," Dean attempted, keeping a remarkably straight face. Ron glared at him.
"It's hideous! Look at this lace!" The robes didn't look much better on than they did on the hanger, like Ginny had laughingly assured her brother they would. They weren't terrible by themselves — old fashioned, sure, but not the worst — but the fraying lace… it wasn't a good look.
"Come here a second," Harry said, taking pity on the redhead. Luna would have a terrible time if her date was scowling and sulking all night.
A few Cutting charms later, and there was a… marginal improvement. Harry managed to get rid of the lace, but there were a few frayed edges, and he could do nothing about the old-fashioned style of the robes themselves. For Ron, it wasn't enough. "I look ridiculous," he muttered, scowling at his reflection. Harry shrugged. "Well, I tried," he said, heading back towards his own bed. Sirius had given him some hair potion that he insisted would tame the wild Potter hair — James swore by it, apparently. Harry was determined to at least try.
Twenty minutes later, Harry hardly recognised his own reflection. With a comb, the potion, and a little help from Dean, Harry's hair was more 'tastefully mussed' than 'dragged through a hedge backwards'. It was by no means neat Harry thought that was asking far too much — but it was better.
"I think we're ready," Neville declared, appearing at Harry's shoulder. "Even if we're not, we have to go. McGonagall will kill you if you're late."
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