Ron's Side of Things
Ron knows that he's sulking.
He knows it and he doesn't care because he's bloody miserable.
He's sitting there next to his best mate- and his best mate's moogly eyes or whatever the phrase is muggles say because honestly, what in bloody hell is a moogle? - in the Great Hall, dressed in robes that look straight from his Great Aunt Tessie's regency-era phase, abandoned by his other best mate off galivanting with her famous, brooding, professional quidditch player boyfriend.
Oh, and also abandoned by his actual date.
A date whom he got by chance because her sister got lucky enough to be the Boy-Who-Lived's date while she got the leftover best friend. Not a huge loss when looking from the big picture, considering she doesn't give two figs about Ron aside from the fact that he rubs shoulders with the famous Hero to the Wizarding World, but it doesn't sit well with him at all.
Ron knows he's got his own defining merits- he's brilliant at chess, he has a family he would die for and who would die for him, not to mention two best mates who he's somehow been able to inspire loyalty from despite his many shortcomings during this particular school year. He also knows he lives in a shadow that just seems to be getting bigger every year; between Hermione's academic brilliance and burgeoning disregard for the rules (bloody scary how she's turning out), Harry's ability to overcome any and all obstacles that come his way, his older brother's varied successes academically and socially, and hell even Ginny is showing a lot of promise in Quidditch to the point where she be a shoe-in for the Gryffindor team whenever she deems herself ready.
All this to say, when he panic-asked Fleur to be his date to the ball and immediately panic-ran from the scene, he thought he'd hit an all-time low. But no, then he just had to point out to his brilliant scary friend that she was a bloody girl and assume that she didn't have a date for the Yule Ball yet, only to be put in his place and upset her in one fell swoop.
And didn't that just make him feel that much smaller.
Even Harry wouldn't do something so oblivious- which is saying a lot.
So yeah, once again, Ronald Bilius Weasley very much has the right to sulk and surreptitiously glare at his ridiculous best mate. Said best mate is sitting the next seat over, not so subtly glancing-staring at a Slytherin of all people. While Ron still holds to the thought that Slytherin's are, at their core, very slimy and not worthy of trust in the slightest, he knows that Harry isn't of that opinion on the Slytherins that don't harm his own. Both friends agree Malfoy is the slimiest of the slimiest; Blaise, however, has never caused any direct harm. He stays out of the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry and insults astoundingly well, and thus has not earned Ron's ire in any fair way. Ron supposes. Yet.
So Ron attempts to huff from time to time, get Harry's attention without outright nudging or drawing attention to Harry's completely obvious crush which has been building over the months steadily- little random glances in potions or the hallways, Blaise's smug face smiling at Harry, Harry blushing and ducking to attempt to avoid anyone noticing. All gagging-ly sweet and gross in Ron's humble opinion. However, the staring contest between the two tips him over the edge of his patience and he finally pulls his friend’s head out of his arse and gives Ron's blessing.
Not to say Blaise gets blanket approval. The git has a lot to prove and better not hurt his best mate.
Ron has twin brothers and he's not afraid to use them.
Anyway, mission accomplished for the time being and Harry safely deposited onto his crush, Ron makes his way to the refreshment table. Maybe Gred and Forge have managed to spike the punch already- Ron's never had a true drink before but this seems like a night he could use one.
Grabbing the disappointingly-not-spiked punch from the table, likely due to a hovering black cloud known as the Dungeon-Bat keeping a close eye for potion-minded deviance around the snacks, Ron lets his eyes wander the crowd. Not for the first time this evening and likely not for the last, his eyes drift to his other best friend and her date.
They look good together. Hermione is gorgeous this evening, her blue dress complimenting her skin tone, making her glow on the outside just as much as she usually does through her wit and mind. Ron humbly believes she's always been beautiful; he just hadn't realized he did until he put his gargantuan foot into his own mouth and pointed it out to both her and himself that she was in fact a girl. Which she's always been, of course, but now that he's pointed it out to himself so blatantly...
She shines so brilliantly it almost hurts.
And then, of course, there's her date. Nothing could really tarnish Hermione this evening, but her date only magnifies her bright smile. He's being attentive, Krum giving her his full attention, keeping his hand on her arm, pulling out chairs for her respectfully, dancing with a grace he rarely displays anywhere besides on a broom...
An astoundingly obvious match, which Ron feels silly for ever doubting when he saw her come in on Krum's arm.
Krum deserves Hermione's attention, he saw what Ron didn't despite knowing Hermione for years now. Krum didn't need to realize Hermione is a girl.
Which in hindsight was such a bloody idiotic thing to say.
So Ron stews in his own mind, listlessly shifting his gaze between Harry dancing with the poncy Italian wanker and staring into the depths of his punch, not even noticing the couple break off from the Durmstrang students to approach him.
A throat clears way too close for Ron's comfort, drawing his attention from plum colored liquid up- and up- to Krum's dark eyes set in his stupidly handsome face.
Wait...
Stupidly handsome?
Ron blanks for a moment before taking in his surroundings fully- Hermione watching his mounting panic with a somehow smug-yet-fond look on her face which makes no sense whatsoever- then switching back to the rugged features of his favorite Quidditch player. Which is saying A LOT considering Krum isn't even a member of the Chudley Cannons.
A shame, that. They really need a good seeker to get out of their slump.
When it becomes obvious to Hermione that Ron doesn't have the mental capacity at the moment to make his own introduction, she graciously introduces, "Viktor, this is Ron, one of my best friends. Ron, it's my pleasure to introduce Viktor since I don't think you've met yet."
Viktor turns his intense gaze to Ron and nods firmly, "Ah yes- your chess player. A pleasure."
And Ron... really isn't sure what to say. Panicking internally, feeling his face heat by one thousand degrees per second, likely becoming a worrying shade of red clashing with both his face and hideous robes.
Shite, I'm meeting VIKTOR KRUM in maroon and lace!
Also- Hermione's chess player?
When it becomes glaringly obvious to Hermione that Ron wouldn't be contributing immediately to the conversation, Hermione rolls her eyes and flicks her silky mane over her shoulder, accentuating the elegant line of her shoulders and neck in a way she never thinks to do in her school robes and carries on. "I've been wanting to introduce you for a while now, but with everything that's been going on...," everything meaning Ron's misplaced jealousy of Harry, Harry's panic over the tasks, and Hermione's own apparent secret rendezvous-ing or whatever with Krum, "it's just never felt like the right time." Here she glances up to lock eyes briefly with Krum, something fond passing between them that makes no real sense because Ron is clearly missing context. "But don't worry, I've been telling Viktor all about my best friends and how much I love them- even when they attempt to use me as an owl."
Viktor glances between the two bemused. "Hermione has spoken of you both. I have met Harry of course, though he has been very busy and is technically my competition." Viktor pauses and searches for the correct words, Hermione standing by to clarify if needed, and Ron still can't feel his face beyond the blazing heat. "If you would like, we could get to know each other better outside." Here he points at the grounds which have been turned into a winter-defying garden filled with roses for the ball, Hermione beaming at him then looking to Ron with expectation for a response.
And Ron finally feels his thoughts creeping back into his brain. Truly mortifying, how long it took to realize he had not yet said anything to either of them. Krum and Hermione both stand there, ridiculously beautiful- wait, why are they both beautiful- waiting for his answer, and though thoroughly overwhelmed Ron knows what he wants to say.
Or, as it turns out, squeak because that's just his life these days.
"Yes!”
Hermione beams at him and offers out a hand to take his arm with the one not holding Viktor's already. Ron hastens to give his own.
He's sure the three make quite the sight exiting the Hall, but Ron can't really focus on what the others are saying or may be thinking.
He's too busy reeling from the fact that they chose to reach out to him in the first place.