Thank You for Letting Me Know I Was Your First Choice

More and more people joined the dance floor, and Clara had to admit that dancing with Cedric was a pleasure.

At the very least, she no longer felt quite so much like finding a chair and sitting down to eat pumpkin cake.

Most of the time, she didn't have to think or even move much herself. Cedric could easily turn her wherever she needed to go.

Clara couldn't help feeling a little jealous. How could anyone be so good at everything?

He was good at Quidditch, had earned top marks in every compulsory OWL subject, was handsome, and could dance.

At that thought, she suddenly felt it was a little unfair, so she took the opportunity to step on his shoe.

Her sole brushed lightly over the gleaming leather of his black shoe, a tiny prank in retaliation.

Cedric's steps faltered for half a beat.

He glanced down at his feet, then looked back up at the girl in his arms. A flicker of surprise crossed his gray-blue eyes before it gave way to a helpless smile.

The music flowed on, figures moved all around them, and countless couples spun past. He didn't stop dancing, continuing to lead her steadily through the crowd.

After another two or three songs, Cedric sensed Clara growing restless and quickly led her to the edge of the dance floor.

At last, they were away from the noisy crowd at the center of the dance floor, and much of the exuberant music was muffled.

Clara let out a long breath and, without thinking, gently moved her ankles. The heels of her dress shoes had left the soles of her feet faintly aching. She had spent so long in the middle of the crowd with her nerves taut that, however effortless the dancing had been, her body was gradually struggling to bear it.

Cedric removed the hand from her waist but didn't let her go completely. He kept it loosely at her side to shield her from the people passing by.

He glanced down at her slightly furrowed brows, a lingering smile in his eyes.

"Tired?"

"My feet hurt a little," Clara admitted, reaching down to gather the silver-white skirt hanging around her and smooth out the creased satin. "I've been standing too long. These shoes are pretty, but they're hardly friendly."

The stars still shimmered overhead, and fine flakes of magical snow drifted down onto their shoulders, melting into cool droplets as soon as they landed.

In the middle of the dance floor, the Weird Sisters switched to a more energetic tune. Clara turned to look, and saw Fred and Angelina jumping up and down like two Nifflers who had spotted gold.

"Oh, Merlin, don't they ever get tired?" Clara muttered weakly.

A long table nearby was laden with Christmas treats: mead, gingerbread, and pumpkin cakes piled into little mountains, giving off a sweet aroma.

Rowle was beside the dessert table, busy piling all kinds of little cakes onto a plate. Dennis stood beside her, holding a plate for her with a helpless look.

Cedric's gaze swept over the long table laden with food, and he turned to her.

"Shall I get us something to eat? You can wait for me over there." Cedric pointed to a table behind her.

Clara spotted Harry and Ron sitting at the table, both looking glum.

She nodded. She could go over and say hello to Harry, and comfort the two of them while she was at it.

Though it probably wouldn't do much good.

A few unfinished cookies lay scattered across the marble tabletop. Harry rested his elbow on the table, propping his chin listlessly in one hand as he stared blankly at the crowd partying on the dance floor.

Ron, meanwhile, wore a long face. The goblet in front of him was almost untouched, and his eyes were fixed on the dance floor. There was no need to guess where he was looking: at Hermione, who was dancing with Krum.

Clara gently pulled out a chair and sat down, her silver-white dress spreading out around her.

"Hey, Harry, Ron."

"Hi, Clara. Aren't you two dancing anymore?" Harry turned at the sound of her voice and seemed a little surprised to see her there.

"I'm not very good at it, and my shoes aren't very comfortable. You two don't look very happy."

"It's been awful," he said gloomily. "Parvati dances very well, but we hardly had anything to say to each other. As soon as the song ended, she went off to find her friends."

Though he was talking about Parvati, his eyes stayed fixed on Michael and Cho, as if he meant to stare a hole through Michael.

Ron snorted beside him, his voice sour. "At least Michael is handsome. I can't believe Hermione actually chose Krum, that big Bulgarian bloke."

Clara pressed a hand helplessly to her forehead. She followed Ron's gaze to the dance floor, where Krum was leading Hermione in a spin, an excited smile on her face.

"It's only a dance, Ron," Clara said gently. "It's the Yule Ball. It doesn't mean anything."

But Ron wouldn't listen. He raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "But he's Krum! He's from Durmstrang!"

"So what?" Clara hadn't expected that reaction from Ron, and she was a little angry.

She and Hermione had become good friends because of Harry's First Task, and Hermione had come to see her after Krum invited her that day.

The fourteen-year-old girl was feeling rather sensitive, and she didn't even know whether accepting Krum's invitation had been the right choice.

"If you care so much about who she dances with, why didn't you invite her?"

That stopped Ron short. His mouth opened, but he couldn't come up with a single word.

The tips of his ears rapidly turned bright red. He hurriedly averted his eyes from Clara's and bowed his head, staring hard at the empty cake plate on the table as his fingers nervously picked at the stem of his goblet.

Harry watched from the side and fell awkwardly silent too. He looked from the mortified Ron to Clara, unsure whose side to take to smooth things over.

"Clara, Ron just thought that maybe Hermione would end up..."

After a few words, Harry realized he only seemed to be making things worse. He sighed and chose to keep quiet.

"Ron, Hermione was never anyone's second choice. If you wanted to dance with her, you should have asked her the day the ball was announced, not chosen her only after you couldn't find anyone else. Believe me, no girl would want to hear those words."

"If you can't see what's good about her, someone else will. No one was born to wait for you."

Ron said nothing more and simply lowered his head and began poking at his cake.

Clara also realized she seemed to have said a little too much, but she really felt it was unfair to Hermione.

She truly didn't understand the roundabout ways of some boys. If you liked someone, then say so.

Whether she turned you down or not, ask her first.

And if you didn't like her, what were you doing sitting here in a huff?

She could understand Harry, since Cho and Michael were a proper couple. Ron, on the other hand, she really wanted to punch a couple of times.

"Clara." At some point, Cedric had appeared behind her by the table. He looked rather busy, holding a plate of cake in one hand and a glass of Butterbeer in the other.

He greeted Harry and Ron, but quickly sensed that something was wrong with the atmosphere.

Cedric didn't press them about what had happened. Some things didn't need to be laid bare and dissected in public.

He gently set the plate of sliced pumpkin cake in front of Clara, then pushed the Butterbeer, at just the right temperature, within her reach.

"Do your feet still hurt?" he asked Clara quietly, his voice just loud enough for the two of them to hear. "Would you like to go for a walk outside? It's a little hot in here."

Clara nodded and turned to look at Harry and Ron. Harry smiled and waved at her; Ron was still poking at his pumpkin cake.

Cedric patted her hand, signaling for her to wait a moment, then turned and went over to Ron.

"The Yule Ball is supposed to be an evening to enjoy, Ron," he began slowly. Clara didn't know what they said, but Ron was visibly less agitated.

"If you want to, why not try asking her? I just saw Krum get called away by his headmaster."

With that, he patted Ron on the shoulder and said no more. He returned to Clara's side, took the glass of Butterbeer from her hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and used his other hand to lift her silver-white skirt a little, freeing her hand to eat the cake she had been longing for.

"What did you say to him?" she asked in a low voice.

"Nothing much." Cedric turned his head and frowned, as though searching for an amusing way to put it. "Wished him a little more courage."

The two slowly left the noisy table, passing students chatting and laughing in twos and threes as they made their way toward the exit of the Great Hall.

Behind them, Ron's voice sounded faintly. Was he asking her to dance?

Oh, Mr. Diggory got top marks for negotiation too.

As they reached the garden, the evening breeze swept through the castle corridor, brushing coolly against their flushed cheeks.

Clara finally found a place to stop. She quietly slipped her heels partway out of the uncomfortable shoes and let out a long breath.

The flames in the corridor's wall lamps flickered gently, casting their long, overlapping shadows across the stone floor.

Cedric noticed her discreetly rubbing her feet against the ground to ease them.

"Does it hurt badly?"

"A little. Pretty dress shoes really are torture."

Clara wrinkled her nose and complained under her breath.

Cedric looked down at her and hesitated for a moment. Seeing no one else in the corridor, he turned slightly toward her and lowered his voice.

"We can rest for a little while."

Cedric took off his dress robes and spread them over the somewhat cold marble edge of the fountain, making a place just big enough for the two of them to sit.

"Thank you."

Clara suddenly spoke out of the blue. Cedric turned his head, his face full of puzzlement.

I don't seem to have done anything today, have I?

"When I was talking to Ron just now, I thought about the day you invited me."

Clara lowered her eyes to her shoes. "I thought I wouldn't mind being your second choice after Cho, but when I said those things just now, I realized I minded very much."

As though she had gathered a great deal of courage, she turned to look at Cedric. "So thank you for being willing to tell me that day that I was your first choice for this Yule Ball."

"Ten points from Ravenclaw, Fawcett!"

Snape's voice suddenly rang out behind them, and the two sprang up from the edge of the fountain.

Clara jumped in fright. One foot was still half out of her high heel, the shoe hanging crookedly from her toes. The marble ground beneath her feet was a little slippery from the recent snow, and she staggered, about to fall backward.

Cedric swiftly wrapped an arm around her waist and steadied her, while his other hand caught the black dress robes as they slid onto the fountain's stone rim.

The two hurriedly stood up straight.

"And ten points from Hufflepuff, Stebbins!"

The rosebushes across from the fountain rustled, and two flustered students emerged with their heads down and collars rumpled. Snape quickly sent them back inside the castle archway with a sharp scolding.

Snape turned around and looked at the two of them standing by the fountain.

We're done for. Hufflepuff is about to lose thirty points!

But the expected loss of points never came.

Professor Snape's gaze paused briefly on Clara's face.

Then his eyes shifted to Cedric, and a cutting sneer immediately appeared on his lips.

"Diggory."

His tone was leisurely, carrying its usual sarcasm.

"Spending the evening idling away at the ball, I see. Have you solved your Golden Egg yet? Or do you intend to leave all your Triwizard Tournament homework until after the Christmas holidays?"

Cedric straightened his back slightly, but before he could answer, Snape glanced again at the two standing side by side. His eyelids lowered, and there seemed to be a hint of gloating in his voice.

"And one more thing."

His thin lips curved into a mocking smile.

"Surely I won't have to watch Hogwarts' Champion being chased all over the classroom by his Yule Ball partner again next lesson?"

With that, he turned away, the wide hem of his black robes sweeping over the loose stones as he strode straight toward the castle. His footsteps gradually faded into the shadows deep in the corridor.