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The Yule Ball is tonight, but you won’t be attending because you’re only a third year and it isn’t permitted. Your best friend will be there, though. She was lucky enough to be asked by a nice boy in the year above you (not the one she had hoped for, but still). She was so, so excited when she told you, her brown eyes shining radiantly and a smile that could reach the moon. When she had made you swear to keep it a secret, you had to suppress the urge to laugh. Who else did she expect you to tell? It’s not like you have any other friends. You know what your peers think of you. You know the not-so-clever nickname they use. It’s not exactly hard to notice the whispers and snickers and dirty looks tossed in your direction. Fortunately, your wonderful best friend helps you to ignore it all, brush their cruelty aside. She’s possibly the only living person in the castle who treats you like a real person; doesn’t call you nasty names, doesn’t give you strange looks when you mention the creatures your daddy taught you about, doesn’t hide your belongings because it’s supposedly amusing.
Speaking of your belongings being hidden, it seems that your schoolbag went missing somewhere in between the time you dropped it off in your room after your last lesson and when you returned from dinner. Usually you’d just wait it out, knowing your things will pop up somewhere around the castle, but right now you can’t. You actually need your bag tonight in order to finish a Potions essay for Professor Snape, which is due tomorrow afternoon, so now you have to go on a search and rescue mission.
With the older students at the Ball and those too young to attend or those who just didn’t want to go dateless stuck in their respective dormitories, the hallways are practically deserted. You (thankfully) don’t even run into Mr. Filch or his cat, the eagle-eyed Mrs. Norris, as you walk about the castle, looking thoroughly in every unlocked room you come across. As you get closer and closer to the Great Hall, you begin to hear the festivities. Boisterous music fills the air; it’s The Weird Sister’s who’re performing, if you’re not mistaken. While you personally don’t like them, you know your best friend is a huge fan, just like most of her brothers. You hope she’s having a good time with that nice, nice boy. You’re happy for her, really, but it doesn’t stop the jealousy that stirs inside your chest. You wish you’d both been just a few months older so you’d be fourth years and could be at the Ball together, no nice Gryffindor boy necessary...If only.
You’re passing by one of the first floor girls’ bathrooms, distracted by your thoughts, when you bump into something solid enough to send you crashing to the floor. A hand reaches out to help you up and you grasp it firmly until you’re back on your feet. Now you’re face to face with your best friend. Your heart almost skips a beat. She looks incredible tonight, all dressed up. (Not that she doesn’t always look incredible or anything.)
“Oh, hello...,” you say shyly, almost certain that you’re blushing.
“What are you doing down here?” she asks.
“Looking for my schoolbag, someone’s hidden it again,” you explain. She gives you a sympathetic smile.
“C’mon then. I’ll help you.”
“What about the Ball? What about your, um, date?” She giggles lightly.
“He’ll manage without me, I'm sure. Besides he wanted a rest anyway. I think I’ve worn him out a bit; too much dancing, you know.”
“Okay.”
The two of you search the remainder of the first floor in a comfortable silence, but find nothing. At this point, you’re getting quite upset. You’re last option is to check the dungeons and you’d much rather go on holiday with a family of Heliopaths than step foot down there when you don’t have to. Sensing your feelings of distress, your best friend suggests going for a walk. “The nighttime air will make you feel much better,” she insists.
The grounds are exceptionally pretty tonight, covered in an explosion of twinkling fairy lights. You’re not the only ones who’ve come outside to take advantage of the fresh air. Here and there, students mill about in pairs, clumps, and a few on their own.There’s a couple snogging by a massive stone fountain, blissfully unaware that Mr. Filch is on his way over to reprimand them. Even Hagrid is out and about with that rather large, slightly terrifying woman from Beauxbatons. Your friend grabs your hand as the two of you slowly make your way to her favorite place, the Quidditch pitch. It’s nice and quiet when you reach your destination, the music fading behind you as you walk farther and farther away from the castle.
You lie in the grass together for what feels like hours, still holding hands and listening to the sound of each other breathing. It’s nice, calming even and your friend was right about the fresh air making you feel better. Except, the air really has little to do with your change in mood. You mostly owe that to the hand you’re currently clutching tightly in your own. You’re not entirely sure why, but you nervously blurt out “I love you”, and anxiously count out in your head the six seconds it takes for her to say it back, heart hammering in your chest as you wait. The silence between you is a comfortable one that lasts until she says she that she should probably get back to the Ball and at least say good night to her date because he’s probably trying to figure out where she is by now. So you two walk back to the castle, hands still held with fingers intertwined until you get inside and part ways. You’re about to ascend the staircase that will lead you to your dormitory when she stops you and kisses you gently on the cheek before turning and heading back into the noises of the Great Hall. The skin where her lips brushed is tingling and a smile breaks out on your face, a real, genuine smile that’s still there when you reach Ravenclaw Tower. Your schoolbag can wait and that Potions essay can be a little late, you decide. After all, a pretty girl just kissed you and that pretty much trumps everything.