Yule Ball

Loren's senses seemed to be amplified by magic, allowing him to clearly perceive the feedback from every nerve.

With a gentle sip, the subtle sweetness of the delicate wine aroma exchanges and is savored...

Loren held her tighter and tighter, almost melting her into his body, feeling her delicate body gradually go limp, as if melting into a puddle of liquid. The hands that were wrapped around his neck went from stiff to soft.

As the song ended, the two slowly parted ways.

Loren looked into her watery eyes, rested his chin on her forehead, and was absolutely certain that this was not their first kiss, nor would it be their last, but even decades from now, he would still remember this moment.

Hermione?

"Um."

"Still dancing?"

I want to rest for a while.

"Shall we go back to our seats and get something to eat?"

Hermione shook her head, her ears twitching slightly. "Go outside for some fresh air."

"I'll listen to you."

Loren took her hand, led her away from the dance floor, across the seating area, and into the courtyard, where a cold wind blew in the crisp, refreshing air.

The front door was open, and below the steps was a rose garden, surrounded by low shrubs, ornately decorated winding paths, and huge stone statues. Fairy Lights filled the garden, making it sparkle and shimmer.

Loren and Hermione strolled along the path, able to hear the splashing of water from the Magic Fountain.

"I dug up the biggest pumpkin from Hagrid's pumpkin patch and made a pumpkin carriage to pick you up." Loren squeezed the soft little hand.

Hermione smiled and said, "Winky told me that Professor McGonagall forbids pumpkin carriages from entering the Castle."

"Damn it, there's no such rule in the school regulations."

"Actually, there is a rule: bringing large magical artifacts into the school is prohibited..."

Loren glared at her. "Which side are you on?"

Hermione didn't answer, but smiled brightly, her eyebrows curving, her delicate, curled eyelashes trembling slightly, her fair face reflecting the radiance of the moon and snow.

Loren was stunned for a moment.

Just then, we stepped out of the path and found ourselves in a wide-open space. The heavy snow that had been falling for several days had finally stopped.

A crescent moon hung in the sky, its clear, bright light casting long shadows of the two people on the snow.

Loren murmured softly, "Between the moonlight and the snow..."

"What?"

"I'm also reminded of a poem."

"Then read it."

"I said, Miss Granger Hermione Granger, I like you."

Reciting poetry? What a load of rubbish!

Loren lowered his head slightly, staring into her eyes, where he could clearly see the light shining. He took her hand and pulled her close, embracing her again. He lowered his head slightly and kissed her lips once more.

The wine was slightly sweet with a delicate aroma, and I couldn't help but be captivated by it, already feeling pleasantly tipsy.

Fireflies shimmer with endless romance, while wild roses and love flourish freely.

Castle Great Hall.

"Ginny, shall we sit down?"

"But Harry, this piece of music is really nice!"

"Then, let's dance one more dance."

"..."

"This is the most popular song right now!"

"..."

"This song is a tribute to Gryffindor!"

"..."

Why do men's steps involve so many more movements than women's steps in these upbeat songs?

Harry was puzzled.

While others danced for a while and then rested, he was pestered by Ginny to dance more than a dozen dances in a row, and now his limbs feel sore and weak, and he feels like he's floating when he walks.

Harry leaned halfway against Ginny, waving his hand wearily, "I can't go on anymore. Even if this song is praising Dumbledore, I need to rest for a while now."

"Oh, okay..."

Ginny said with feigned regret, then pinched the corners of her mouth that were about to burst out, and silently made up her mind to dance a dozen more dances.

The two left the dance floor and walked toward the table where Ron and Lavender were sitting, carefully avoiding Hagrid and Madam Maxime's waltz as they danced so wildly that people around them scrambled to avoid being knocked off the dance floor.

Harry sat down next to Ron. Ginny and Lavender exchanged a glance, their eyes met, and they quickly found common ground and started chatting away.

"How does it feel to have my sister as your dance partner?" Ron asked sarcastically, handing over a bottle of Butterbeer.

Harry sighed. "Ginny's fine, just a little tough."

"Nonsense, you were clearly having a lot of fun dancing!"

"..." Harry paused for a moment, looked around, and searched the dance floor again, somewhat puzzled, "Where are Loren and Hermione? Where are they?"

"They went out to play a long time ago."

"A wise choice..."

Phoebe Delacour, sitting not far away, withdrew her gaze, declined another boy's invitation to dance, and looked at Roger Davis beside her. "The redhead sitting next to Harry Potter, that's Ron Weasley, right?"

"Yes, it's him."

Tell me about him.

"His talent is mediocre, his achievements are average, and he once stood out at the Year-End Feast, but those were all achievements he made with Harry Potter. There's nothing else he can boast about."

Roger Davis spread his hands and smiled, "I heard he invited you to dance in the Entrance Hall, right? There are plenty of people like that. Don't they know how to look in the mirror? Look at his freckles and his old-fashioned suit. Don't pay them any mind."

Phoebe glanced at him indifferently. "I'd like to invite him to dance. You don't mind, do you, Davis?"

"What?" Davis looked astonished.

Before he could say anything more, Phoebe had already gotten up and walked over. As the only female Champion and the most beautiful Witch in the entire arena, her every move attracted the attention of many people.

Harry and Ron were the same, staring blankly as she slowly approached.

"Merry Christmas, Harry. Ginny, thank you for taking care of Gabrielle for me," Phoebe said gently.

Harry nodded cautiously. "Merry Christmas, Miss Delacour."

"You're welcome. Gabrielle and I are friends," Ginny replied matter-of-factly, her inner vigilance Sneakoscope.

Ron's face flushed red, but he dared not look directly at that stunningly beautiful face. Memories of that day played uncontrollably in his mind; all he wanted to do was dig a hole and bury himself in it.

Phoebe laughed, "Ron Weasley, I was going to accept your invitation that day, but you ran off without waiting for my reply."

"Ah, uh, this..." Ron's pupils dilated, and he was completely dumbfounded.

Am I dreaming...? No.

Wouldn't that be a Muggle?

"To thank you for taking care of Gabrielle, Ron Weasley, may I ask you to dance?" Phoebe extended her right hand, pure white and seemingly glowing.

Ron placed his hand on the chair with slight trembling, and managed to stand up by holding onto the chair.

Phoebe grabbed his hand and pulled him straight to the dance floor.

Amidst the envious, jealous, and hateful gazes of the surrounding boys, Ron's hands and feet trembled with excitement. He had only one thought in mind:

Long live Loren Morgan!