Our Entangled Lives // Oliver Wood

Chapter Thirty Three : Bright Expectations

Y/n's POV:

"You're kidding. Tell me you're kidding."

"I promise you I'm not," I laughed, "it's true!"

Gasp. "No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

"No."

A frown. "What?"

"Lynn!"

They gasped again. "Oh this is so great, isn't this great?"

I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. "Definitely."

"I mean, can't believe it. You've finally been asked to the ball! I was worried it wasn't going to happen. The boys in our year can be so dense."

I cackled.

It was getting close to the end of January, and the delayed new year's ball was so close it was breathing down our necks.

Dumbledore was forced to move it towards the end of the month for Merlin's knows what reason, and when he told us we all had to mask our disappointment. But we managed.

And in a way, it was good. Because while Fred and George where going to scramble together a suit at the last second, Lynn and I had decided to be practical about this. After all, this might be the only ball we would ever get to attend.

And with a detailed dress code listed on our individual invites, we had a feeling it was going to be dramatic, and truly ball-worthy.

McGonagall had been the first to address the rumours flying about and stated that we where indeed going to be taking ballroom dancing classes. Staring Wednesday.

"So," they began again, pushing up and down their eyebrows, "who is it?"

I bit the corner of my lip, smile ever-growing. "You wouldn't know him."

"Okay so we've confirmed it's a him."

I snorted. "Yes, it's a him!"

Lynn suddenly grabbed me by my hands, forcing me to look deep into their eyes. I was already squirming on my seat. "Y/n, you're killing me here. Please tell me who asked you. I am begging you."

I rolled my eyes. "You're so dramatic. I can see why we're friends."

Lynn's eyes where threatening to pop out of their sockets, hands clamping mine in a tight, vice like grip.

I forcefully pulled my hands back. "Okay, you have got to get some drama of your own. Or a television."

Lynn shot me one final desperate puppy dog eye and I caved. With a groan, I mumbled, "it's Nicolai. You know, from my transfiguration class with McGonagall?"

"Oh yeah," Lynn confirmed with a nod,
"pretty boy."

"Pretty boy?" Fred asked, inserting himself in our conversation. Not as if he and the boys hadn't already been sitting here for the duration of our conversation.

Lynn shrugged. "It's just what I've always call him. He's really-"

"Pretty? I gathered."

Lynn blinked. "If you'd let me finish my sentence, sure."

Fred didn't have anything to add to that, and just stewed in silence with a second mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Honestly, what was up his arse lately?