Yule Rhymes with Fool

It should have been a fairytale ending for Fiona Grimm to be asked to accompany Ducky Baker to the Yule Ball. She was, after all, in love with her best friend, and had been pretty much once she realized he truly did care about her. Besides Nora, he was one of the few people in Hogwarts that made her feel like leaving her dragon-guarded castle and entering into a world of danger and compassion were worth it. His asking her should have meant the world. But it had been casual, asked as though it were a favor she was doing him, a favor only a friend could fulfill. He needed a guardian for the evening, someone to keep him from making any mistakes. And apparently, she was a very safe option.

Nevertheless, she had dressed in the expensive dress her father had insisted on purchasing for her, taking careful time with her hair and her makeup, feeling a fool the whole while. There was no point, no purpose, no meaning. He was never going to love her, and tonight would only be a shy tease. Yet, she could not help but persist because... what was life without a little hope? Even if it only remained long enough to be crushed.

Still, her heart fluttered when she saw him, dressed casually but as nicely as he could, though she knew he would chalk it up to not believing in suits. He smiled and wolf whistled, embarrassing her in front of everyone, though the flush in her cheeks had more to do with his appreciation than the mass recognition. She took his arm and entered the room, glad not to be alone, while he whispered the plans of all of his other friends.

"And my other date, Nora, rude temptress she is, is being distracted by some dolt named Rufus. I'm glad to have you - much more reliable than that wench."

Her heard pounded as the music began to play. They had not discussed- but here they went. He was awful, just horrible at dancing. But he acted as though he were the jewel of the ball, cutting wide through crowds, a wide grin stretching across his face. She struggled to meet his eyes but, when she did, she felt rooted three. He held her tightly, squeezing her wrists reassuringly, and whispered bad jokes under his breath.

Halfway through the song, she found the nerve to suggest she lead, for fear of harming someone else. He agreed and soon, there were eyes following them. It seemed that no one seemed Finn capable of doing anything with such grace, but years of training and practiced had groomed her into one of the most handsome dancers in the entire castle.

The music ended and those who had not danced applauded. Finn turned around, beaming, finding that this was indeed attention she did not mind horribly. Her eyes came back to Ducky's, who was shining with pride. "You're going to be the belle of the ball. Make sure I approve them though. I'm like a protective brother."

She felt a crash somewhere within her soul, and she heard him call out another girl's name, dropping her arm's to rush and greet his friend. The warmth of the limelight that followed his every movement left her, leaving her cold and desolate. The legs that had once crowned her the best dancer in the castle now deemed her the most hesitant walker in the room, as she stumbled towards a wall, where she turned and rested. Her heart needed to catch up to the fallen hopes.


Ducky had started his ball off right. One of his closest friends had helped start the party, and now she was off, recovering from the time in the center of attention, a place he knew she fully resented and feared. He had relieved her of her duties, and was certain she was thankful for it as she headed for a more secluded area. He had needed to track down Sofia Vanguard, who had promised him a dance.

"Sofia, goddess, where's that dance? I demand it now."

"Ducky, you idiot, I'm here with Carter."

"Carter's a good boy, he can wait. C'mon, lady!"

He danced quickly and closely with Sofia, much to Carter's agitation. When he returned Sofia to Carter, he quickly assured the younger boy that his love affair with Sofia was long over. He turned around and surveyed the room, looking for his next form of entertainment. He snagged a loose Firewhiskey from seventh year girls who were proudly pouring flasks of it into the punch and managed to down a flask for himself. He strolled along the rim of the room, smiling and greeting those around him.

What joys lay in store for him?

Frank was running. Well, after a fashion. It was harried walking, really. Sort of. No, let's face it, he was running. He'd gotten caught up with a group of other people making their way out to the dance floor and he'd panicked. Panicked and ran away like a headless chicken caught in the flashlights of a speeding care. He wasn't doing too well with this ball and it was needless to say that he wasn't going to be endeavouring to try another one any time soon. It was going almost painfully when it got ridiculous – the story of Frank Longbottom’s life, really.

THWACK

Into a suit of armour, the boy wonder went. He banged his head on the breastplate and he was sent sprawling back across the floor, his back hitting it first before his head bumped down onto the stone. A few people looked around at him and though there was a moment’s pause in the chatter, it was just that: a pause. Life went on and people stepped around him as Frank slowly blinked up at the ceiling, wondering to himself what on earth he had done to deserve this sort of fate.

It was painfully clichéd and Frank half hated himself for it. Still, it was better than walking into someone with a drink and spilling it all down their dress. Groaning, Frank tossed one arm over his eyes for a few seconds before turning over and pushing himself back up onto his feet. With quaking hands he straightened his robes, muttering “ow” to himself before making his way over to a spare table that had some water jugs on it.

Abandoning himself into one of the chairs, Frank spilled water into a glass and brought it up to his mouth, drinking out of it greedily as he fought to regain his countenance. Once the glass was cleared he smacked it down on the top and sloshed in some more before dropping his head into his arms which he folded primly on the surface before his forehead fell. Down. That’ll do, he thought to himself.

Ducky had finished up with Sofia and Ellie, and was now dancing with Isabelle, though he took the time to look around to check on Finn, poor girl. She had retreated to a corner and was eating scones like a chipmunk, both hands lifted to her chin as she nervously chowed down, seemingly unaware of the mess happening around her. There was suddenly a small spattering of noise and Ducky spun around in time to see a poor fellow take the plunge and fall flat on his stomach onto the dance floor. Naturally, waves of chatter rippled from the poor Gryffindor, who Ducky now recognized as Frank Longbottom.

Isabelle snorted, rolling her eyes. "All the Longbottoms, Potters, Weasleys, think they're so cool - they're all a bunch of goofs."

Ducky stopped dancing. "Now, Isabelle, you may be pretty, but don't ruin it with an ugly soul. Frank's my boy!" He turned, dropping Isabelle's hands, leaving her to huff indignantly. He scouted about the hall to see that Frank had sat himself next to Finn, who was now looking over at him in horror - Frank sitting next to her meant loads more attention, especially considering that people were still seeking Frank out to point and ask if anyone had seen his spill.

Seemed like Ducky needed to come to the rescue.

He walked between couples and gaggles of people, reaching out to squeeze hands and pat backs, until he made it to the drink table, scooping up two glasses. He walked over to the chairs, plopping a glass in Finn's hand, whispering with a charming smile, "Relax, darling, you're a star." He continued two seats over to drop into the seat next to Frank.

"Frankie!" he cheered, clapping a hand on his fellow Gryffindor's back. "How are we, mate? Where's your arm candy?"

Frank nearly jumped out of his skin.

He was too busy licking his proverbial wounds to really care about what was going on. He hurt a bit, in actual fact, but it was nothing in comparison to the shame and embarrassment that was coursing through him and made him want to lose himself in his arms that he’d buried his face in. He hadn’t meant to knock over the armour – everyone knew that who saw him scrabble on the floor, or he hoped so at least. Nevertheless, it didn’t stop the stares and with no one to hide behind he had to hide in himself.

It was different on the Quidditch pitch. He didn’t mind people staring them because it usually meant he was doing something right. Off of a broomstick, though, he was useless with two left feet and no social skill. He was half tempted just to slink off back to the Gryffindor common room and then to his room to get into his pyjamas, draw the curtains around his bed and hide. He wasn’t going to live this one down. He could already hear the Slytherins in his Transfiguration class after Christmas still taking the piss.

But he nearly jumped out of his skin. Why? Because a hand clapped on his back and a voice sounded by his ear that he wasn’t expecting.

Jerking up, Frank looked around to catch sight of Ducky. His year mate. Swallowing heavily, Frank raised a smile to his lips and wondered why he couldn’t be as confident. His sister was more confident than he was, let alone this bloke. He rested his cheek in his hand and looked over at Ducky with an amiable though no less wry and unamused expression.

“You saw what happened,” he accused. “I’m a nightmare, and there’s no arm candy or I would’ve knocked her over, too. What about you? Don’t you have someone more interesting to talk to?”

Frank did not respond as jovially as Ducky had approached, but it took more pessimism than the Longbottom boy possessed to deter Ducky from cheering someone up and on. So Frank had tripped, tearing a suit of armor with him as he went. Big deal! Ducky had been made an example of by nearly every single professor, usually floating him into the air or forcing him to tap dance. Course, it was a bit different as Ducky seemed impervious to bad gossip. The Hogwarts population had always been generous to him.

However, Frank had even more opportunities than Ducky did to have a good impression on his peers. His father was a legend, and he spent holidays with some of the most impressive figures of their society. Moreover, he was a smash flyer, a handsome kid, and definitely a better student than Ducky. He was more humble too - if Ducky's father had fought in a war, Ducky would be constantly name dropping. The problem was, Frank didn't believe he was awesome. Ducky was fully aware of how cool he was, and it was this that helped him remain so. Confidence, even the laid back assuredness of the Baker boy, was key.

"You're not a nightmare," Ducky scoffed. "It was a pretty pathetic failure to ruin your whole night. You would have had to taken down at least two professors for the night to be impossible to save. Two drinks of Fire-Juice and you'll be fine!"

Frank asked about his date and Ducky snapped, making guns of his fingers as he 'shot' Finn. She turned pink and dropped her head, taking a drink, before deciding she should perhaps address the Longbottom boy who was planted between her and her date. She lifted a hand to wave as Ducky said, "My date - Finn Grimm. She's a darling, but convinced that she's hopeless - you two would make a great pair."

All her confidence left and she immediately distracted herself by lifting her glass to her lips.

It was a pretty pathetic failure, Frank had to grant that Ducky was right. Only, Frank was a pretty pathetic failure. That was him all-round, he thought. His dad seemed almost to expect it and with a grim smile he’d pat him on the shoulder and tell him that it would get better. Frank wasn’t waiting on a revelation. He wasn’t expecting puberty to turn up late – especially given that he could already grow a pretty convincing goatee – and make him walk with a right and left foot and all of the confidence in the world. He’d more or less resigned himself to the fact that he’d be dead before any of that happened.

“Peeves will probably be on my case for a week about the armour,” Frank moped, picking at the table cloth absently. “Not to mention the Bloody Baron, Ducky. You know how he gets about his retainers or whatever he calls them. Thinks he’s riding into battle or some such nonsense,” the Gryffindor shook his head miserably, half-wishing he had bowled over a couple of teachers just for the vilification of some detention. That would have made all of the shame worthwhile.

“Hi Finn,” Frank offered with an apologetic look, only just realising he’d been in the way for some time now. “Your name rhymes,” he pointed out with a half-smile, adding, “that’s pretty cool, huh? And sorry but I um … I don’t think I can really be paired with anyone, me. I should leave you two to it, shouldn’t I? Dan—” a non-descript roommate of theirs snogging a Travers girl across the hall, “brought some Firewhisky with him in his luggage. Told me about it yesterday. So, I reckon I’ll probably pay him back and drown my sorrows in that. Sorry I got in your way,” Frank added as he made to go.

Ducky leaned back, lolling his head as he stretched his  arms out behind him to shake the tension out of his muscular arms. He rolled his eyes, yawning, and sat back up. "That's what you're worried about? Peeves and the Bloody Baron? They're a bunch of dead guys, there's very little to lose in front of them." He swept a hand across the room. "And these fools? The living? They're even less scary than the ghosts." He grinned, fully aware that the two people on either side of him were mildly terrified of having to deal with any sort of being, living or dead, but especially those who were alive and their peer group.

Finn glanced over, still pink in the face, the flush growing and spreading and warming her significantly. She raised her hand tipped it by means of greeting. He mentioned her name and she grew pinker. "Yeah, I know," she said. She shrugged. Cool? "I guess, yeah." Panic mode. Panic mode.

Ducky patted his friend's shoulder, impressed she had managed that much, really. Frank once again tried to bail and Ducky rolled his eyes dramatically, clamping his hand on Frank's shoulder too. "No, no, no. Don't worry - your company is more than welcome. I hardly get time to hang out with my fellow crimson brothers. So, lay it on me. What's the scoop? How's the team shaping up this year, huh?"