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The Yule Ball Fiasco by angelchaser13
Chapter 1 : The Yule Ball, Part One
Rating: MatureChapter Reviews: 7

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Stupid git, that Krum is. Stupid, slimy, arrogant, bushy-eyebrowed git.

How dare he put his hands on my girl? Uh, I mean, she’s not my girl. She’ll never be my girl. A friend, yes, but a girlfriend? No way. I know she doesn’t feel the way I do.

In case you’re wondering, I’m Ronald Billius Weasley, youngest redheaded Weasley boy out of seven kids, and I’m in love with my best friend, Hermione Granger. Yeah, I reckon I’m a bit pathetic, liking a friend who likes me…as a friend, of course, nothing more. This really, really, really is stupid of her. She’s oblivious, basically.

Right now I’m at the stupid Yule Ball and a slow song’s playing. Krum and Hermione are dancing really slowly together. It’s sooo pathetic. What’s he thinking, touching the untouchable Hermione? Merlin, she doesn’t even let me touch her, even by accident. And here she is, all dressed up in a slightly revealing pair of periwinkle dress robes and her hair looking greasier than Malfoy’s attitude, allowing this…this foul older boy (I will not go into too many insulting remarks. I will not, even though I really want to) to stroke her hair, her cheek, her mouth with his huge hands.

If you touch her one more time, bastard, I swear I’ll kill you. There. That’ll work for now. I haven’t wanted to kill any boy this much since second year, when Malfoy called my Hermione a mudblood. Wait. Not my Hermione, Krum’s Hermione, judging by the look of sheer happiness on his stupid face.

“Aren’t you going to ask me to dance at all?” says Padma Patil crossly to me.

“No,” I say, my eyes still focused on Hermione and Krum.

“Fine,” snaps Padma, and she leaves to join her twin Parvati.

Why is it that I’m hopeless with girls? I’m charming, handsome, tall, sporty…any girl would just love me, right? RIGHT?

I guess not, then. Fine. I’m not so great after all, if Hermione pretty much forgets me because she loves dancing with Pretty-Boy over there. Oh, great—here she comes now!

Okay, Ron, fix your hair, straighten your ugly Aunt Tessie’s dress robes, smile, make sure you don’t have anything caught in your teeth, say hello…don’t jump for joy that Hermione’s over here and without Krum…

She smiles when she sees me, her face red from dancing with that idiot. “It’s hot, isn’t it?” she says, fanning herself. Even with pink cheeks she looks sexy. Oops, you didn’t think that, Ron! “Viktor’s just gone to get us some drinks.”

Without thinking, I snap, “Viktor? Hasn’t he asked you to call him Vicky yet?”

Hermione looks hurt. Again, oops. There goes my mouth again. Why do I have to get so sarcastic when I talk to her?

“He doesn’t like the name Vicky,” she retorts.

“Yeah, sure, but he loves getting his hands on you, doesn’t he?”

“Ron!” She glares at me. “Viktor is very nice, and you know that.”

I snort. “In your head, obviously.”

“Oh, well, who was all excited when he came to Hogwarts? Who wanted his autograph?” She’s getting really riled up now--definitely not good because when Hermione gets mad, well, you don't want to know. Believe me. “How dare you? Fine, if you really want to know, he—he said he’d been trying to talk to me every day, but he hadn’t been able to pluck up the courage!” As she said this she blushed very deeply.

“Yeah, well, that’s his story,” I sneer. “You’re fraternizing with the enemy, you are. He’s just trying to get close to Harry— or near enough to jinx him”—Hermione scowls and is clearly hurt, but I won’t stop—“I suppose you two’ve been putting your heads together during those cozy little library sessions—”

“I’d never help him figure out that egg! Never,” says Hermione bitterly. “Harry knows that, don’t you, Harry?”

At this Harry Potter, who’s sitting rather quietly off to the side next to me and is intently watching Hermione’s and my little disagreement, jumps.

“Ron,” he says, “I haven’t a problem with who Hermione fancies—”

“Not with a bloody git!”

“He is not a git!” Hermione shouts. Then she leaves to find Krum obviously.

And who should appear but the amazing Krum himself, clutching drinks in his hands?

“Vare is Herm-own-ninny?” he asks. He can’t even pronounce her name properly! How mad is that?

“No idea,” I say, looking up at him. “Lost her already, have you?”

I seriously want to punch him now.

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