The Christmas Ball
The Hogwarts ballroom was decorated with enchanted snowflakes, floating candles, and fairy lights swaying gently in the air. The haunting music of the Hogwarts Orchestra floated around them as students from all over the houses mingled and danced happily under the enchanted stars shining through the windows. It was the night of the Christmas Ball, and even the most skeptical could not deny the spellbinding of the magical atmosphere.
For the first time, Harry Potter was surrounded by attention, but he didn't even realize it. Inundated with invitations, each accompanied by looks filled with admiration and desire, he was particularly unaware of those of the Weasley twins, who had taken particular care to reserve a dance for him. They had planned everything to make him feel important, hoping that this special moment could finally open his eyes. But of course, their hope remained a mirage.
At the ball, Fred and George dragged him into the dance, but Harry, true to his unconscious nature, did not understand the intentions behind their gestures, their smiles, or the more intimate closeness than usual. He was simply having fun, absorbed in the joyful atmosphere, without grasping the innuendos. Fred and George, while happy to share this moment with him, felt a growing frustration. Harry was dancing, but his gaze remained distant, as distracted as a child who doesn't understand what adults are trying to tell him.
"You're dancing well, Harry," Fred said with a smile that was a little too broad, but sincere.
"yes, you're almost as good as a broom dancer!" added George, his light tone betraying obvious embarrassment. But Harry only answered them with a distracted smile.
They tried to be more subtle, to make their gestures more suggestive, but each time their hands brushed slightly, Harry didn't seem to understand and remained as insensitive as he was with his best friends, Ron and Hermione. Fred glanced quickly at George, who shrugged back, an expression of despair on their faces. They had done everything, but Harry was still not receptive.
On the other side of the room, Hermione and Ron watched the scene, desperate. Hermione, who knew Harry well, wondered how he could be so oblivious to other people's feelings and felt frustrated by the situation. As for Ron, although he didn't capture the full intensity of the scene, he smiled wistfully. He had noticed the twins' looks at Harry, but he was too jaded to care.
"It's desperate," Hermione sighed, her face marked by incomprehension. "How can he not see what they're trying to do?"
"I know... It's like talking to a wall," Ron replied, glancing at Harry who continued to dance, still naïve.
McGonagall, watching the scene from the edges of the room, seemed incredulous. She was impressed by Harry's utter unconsciousness in the face of such obvious attempts at seduction, but she was also desperate. She knew that Harry had always been a bit out of this kind of situation, but she didn't think he would be so disconnected from her emotions.
"But he must understand something, right?" whispered McGonagall, watching Harry still in the middle of the dance. "It's like total denial."
Lupin, worried, also remained in denial. After years of protecting Harry and watching him grow up, he couldn't accept the idea that Harry could have romantic feelings outside of his family or friends. It was unacceptable to him. He reassured himself by telling himself that all this was only a phase, a stage of growth.
"He's too young, Minerva," Lupin said in a weak voice, almost to convince himself. "He's too young to understand this kind of thing. And you know that very well."
McGonagall stared at him, a look of incredulity in his eyes.
"Remus, Harry is not as naïve as you think. You will have to accept reality."
The twins, on the other hand, had resigned themselves. After dancing with Harry, everything they hoped for seemed to fade away. Harry, on the other hand, hadn't even noticed that he had just shared an intimate moment with two people who genuinely loved him.
And as this bittersweet dance continued, the students around him could only watch, almost frightened by his unconsciousness. The laughter and furtive glances all seemed to be directed at him, but Harry was still just a child lost in a world of emotions he didn't understand.
"Dance is a poetry of movement." — Friedrich Nietzsche