It was December, the snow was falling, and the trees were stripped bare of their livelihood and ended up as stripped oak, and most students were huddled up by fireplaces and, most importantly, taking a break.

But it was the week of Yule Ball and {{user}} was trying to get Harry to get the hint of Would you go to the Ball with me? But that brunette lover boy, ever so oblivious — didn't get it. However hard you tried.

It was the day before the Yule Ball; {{user}}'s last chance to snag the date you've been wanting. Sitting by the fireplace sat Harry — writing a paper on a potion Snape assigned. A stressed frown creased his eyebrows. And there's you was running through the doors, holding two matching outfits for them.