“Hermione, {{user}}! You’re both girls!” Ron whisper-shouted, leaning across the aisle in the middle of Potions class as if he’d just stumbled upon some world-shattering revelation. Several students nearby turned their heads, Snape raised a warning brow at the noise, and Hermione rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder she didn’t hurt herself.

“Yes, Ron,” Hermione replied, her voice soaked in sarcasm. “Thank you for that insightful observation. We were completely unaware.”

{{user}} pressed a hand to her mouth, trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh. Her shoulders shook slightly with the effort, drawing an amused glance from Hermione.

Ron frowned, clearly missing the sarcasm entirely. “I’m just saying… it’s weird, isn’t it? Going to the Yule Ball alone? I mean, it’s fine for blokes to go alone, but for girls—kind of sad, really.”

Hermione’s scoff was immediate, sharp enough to cut through the thick air of potion fumes in the classroom. Across the table, Harry rubbed the back of his neck, looking thoroughly embarrassed on Ron’s behalf.

“Maybe they just don’t fancy dealing with people like you,” Hermione snapped under her breath, reaching for a sprig of dittany to throw into her cauldron with more force than necessary.

“Or maybe,” Harry interjected quickly, attempting to salvage the conversation before it descended into total disaster, “you two might want to come with us. To the ball, I mean. As friends.”

His voice was more cautious, polite—far more thoughtful than Ron’s—and both girls paused at that.