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In honor of some visiting dignitaries, the Headmaster of Hogwarts announced that they would be holding the Yule Ball before everyone went home for Christmas break. Enjolras listened to this announcement with amusement on his face, and elbowed Courfeyrac in the side, having decided to sit at the Gryffindor table that morning. “A Yule Ball?” he said dubiously in undertones.
Courfeyrac grinned at him. “Ah yes, an event right up your alley. I can just see you dancing the night away in your finest dress robes, a handsome young thing on your arm…”
Enjolras snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.” He paused and looked at Courfeyrac appraisingly. “Actually…do you want to go to the ball with me?”
“I…what?” Courfeyrac said, squeaked more accurately.
Enjolras raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want to go to the ball with me? You and Jehan aren’t dating anymore, right? And we could have fun, or…whatever.”
Courfeyrac looked at him closely. “Let me think about it,” he said.
Enjolras shrugged and turned away to make conversation with Bahorel, who was sitting across the table from them, and Courfeyrac stood and sidled across the Great Hall to plop down next to Grantaire at the Hufflepuff table. “So something weird just happened,” Courfeyrac announced loudly, breaking up Grantaire’s conversation with Bossuet.
“Yeah, apparently there’s going to be a ball,” Grantaire said dryly.
“Yeah, and Enjolras just asked me to go to the ball. With him.” Courfeyrac watched Grantaire’s expression closely, and was troubled when Grantaire didn’t seem to react to that. “As friends, of course,” he quickly added. “I mean, you know he doesn’t like me like that.”
Grantaire shrugged and didn’t meet Courfeyrac’s eyes, chasing a bit of sausage around his plate with his fork. “It’s fine,” he said easily. “Really. It’s not my business anyway.” He glanced up at Courfeyrac and managed a small smile. “Seriously. Especially since you know it’ll piss his parents off that he’s going with you, and that’s always a good thing for Enjolras.”
Though Courfeyrac nodded, and thanked Grantaire, and returned to his own table to tell Enjolras that he would go with him to the ball, he couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was going to go to hell.
It didn’t go to hell immediately; the next few weeks actually passed pretty easily, with the topic of conversation mostly being making fun of Enjolras for how many random guys and girls stopped him in the hallways to ask him to go to the ball. Grantaire was often at the center of these conversations, laughing loudly, but when asked if he was going with anyone, he would shrug and say that he wasn’t planning on going to a stupid ball anyway.
Courfeyrac was concerned, but couldn’t get a straight answer out of Grantaire when he tried to talk to him, and Combeferre was no help, telling Courfeyrac, “If he wanted to talk about it, he would talk about it. You gave him a head’s up and he could have said something, and he didn’t.”
Even if there was only so much that Courfeyrac could do, he still felt guilty. But that guilt fled from his mind when he saw Enjolras waiting for him in front of the Great Hall, looking immaculate in scarlet dress robes. “Holy shit,” Courfeyrac said to him in lieu of a greeting, followed by, “I figured you’d be wearing Slytherin colors.”
Enjolras smirked. “I figured I’d wear my date’s colors instead of my own.” He offered Courfeyrac his arm, and asked in far too cheerful a tone, “Shall we?”
Dinner went without a hitch, surrounded by their friends dressed to the nines (Courfeyrac had casually arranged for one of his sets of dress robes to mysteriously wind up in Feuilly’s laundry, and though they didn’t fit perfectly, Feuilly still looked happy from where he sat next to Bahorel, who was dressed in fuschia robes almost as ostentatious as Jehan’s flower-printed robes). And when it came time to dance, Courfeyrac obediently let Enjolras lead him out on to the dancefloor, where they danced cautiously the first dance, relaxing for the second and third.
Then Enjolras leaned in and asked over the music, “Want to go for a walk?”
Courfeyrac shrugged. “Sure.” He followed Enjolras outside, oo-ing at the pretty fairy lights (real live fairies that glittered prettily in the shrubbery). When they were far enough away from the castle that they could barely hear the music, Enjolras came to a sudden halt, and Courfeyrac almost ran into him. “Whoops, sorry,” Courfeyrac said, flashing Enjolras a grin.
“Not a problem,” Enjolras said, suddenly looking nervous, playing with the cuffs of his dress robes and biting his bottom lip.
Courfeyrac frowned. “Is everything alright?”
“Fine,” Enjolras said, too quickly, and he swallowed hard before muttering, “I just…there was something I wanted to try…”
And without any warning, he leaned in and kissed Courfeyrac.
The kiss lasted all of two seconds, ending before Courfeyrac could even process what had just happened, Enjolras pulling away quickly and going scarlet. “I, uh, I…”
Courfeyrac opened his mouth and promptly closed it again. “Um,” he said, scrambling to make sense of what had just happened. “That…happened.”
“Yeah,” Enjolras said, blushing even darker. “I know I should have asked your permission or whatever, but I was actually hoping to maybe ask you out? Like on a date?”
Courfeyrac stared at him, completely flummoxed, and Enjolras took that moment to lean in as if to kiss him again, but Courfeyrac stopped him this time. “Enjolras.” Courfeyrac’s hand pressed against Enjolras’s chest, though there was something almost regretful in both the touch and his tone. “You don’t want to do this.”
Enjolras frowned at him. “I think I know what I want,” he said, though his sounded anything but certain, his voice even shaking slightly. “You’re single, for the moment, and I’m single, and—”
“And you don’t have feelings for me,” Courfeyrac said gently. “You never have. We’re best friends, and, sure, I’m pretty damn hot, and you’re not too bad looking yourself, I guess. But you don’t like me, not like that.”
Enjolras’s bottom lip stuck out, almost petulantly. “I could,” he said, but even he seemed to realize how weak that sounded. “You’re an amazing guy, so smart and brave and wonderful to everyone, and a loyal friend and…I could like you.”
Courfeyrac smirked slightly. “I am eminently likeable, it is true.” He reached up to touch Enjolras’s cheek. “But you’re not doing this because you like me, or even because you think you could like me. The whole reason you asked me to come tonight was because you knew nothing would piss your parents off as much as going to the Yule Ball with a blood-traitor Gryffindor. And if that would piss them off, imagine how pissed they’d be if you started dating a blood-traitor Gryffindor.”
Though Enjolras still looked defiant, a tinge of pink rose in his cheeks, and he glanced away. “You make it sound like I wanted to…to use you or something.”
“Hey, I’m used to being used, for my body if not for anything else,” Courfeyrac said breezily, though the smile he gave Enjolras was gentle. “I don’t think you consciously wanted to use me, and like you said, you could like me, in time. But fortunately or unfortunately as the case may be, I’m not interested in waiting to see if you could like me. Especially when I think you like someone else.”
Now Enjolras looked up, startled. “I don’t like someone else!” he protested.
Courfeyrac shrugged. “Maybe not. But while you’re spending Christmas break here, you might want to give it some thought. Because, you know, you might realize differently. And dating someone because you like him is a lot more compelling and lasting a reason than dating someone to piss your parents off.”
Enjolras nodded, looking troubled, and asked tentatively, “We’re still friends, right?”
Smiling, Courfeyrac grabbed Enjolras’s hands and squeezed them. “Of course.” When Enjolras still looked troubled, Courfeyrac sighed and leaned in, kissing him on his forehead. “We’re still friends. I promise you that.” Enjolras still didn’t look convinced, and Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and asked, “Would anyone but a friend do this?” before kissing Enjolras square on the lips.
Enjolras’s eyes widened, because this was a real kiss, not like the quick peck that he had given Courfeyrac before, and after a long moment, Courfeyrac pulled back, smiling at him. “See? Friends.”
Enjolras smiled and shook his head. “Fine, friends.” He let go of Courfeyrac’s hands and shoved his own into his robe pockets. “I think I’m just gonna…go.”
Courfeyrac raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?” he asked, mock-wounded. “You’re just going to abandon your date?” Enjolras’s smile faded, and Courfeyrac sighed. “Go, back to your dormitory or wherever you were planning on going. Grantaire was hanging out in the library, I think, since he didn’t want to come, so you could always go find him.”
For a moment, Courfeyrac was afraid he had said too much, judging by the expression on Enjolras’s face, but then Enjolras nodded slowly. “Yeah. I might…I might do that.” He glanced at Courfeyrac. “You sure you’ll be alright?”
“As soon as you leave, I will have guys on girls on me so quickly you’d think I doused myself in amortentia,” Courfeyrac said solemnly, though he smiled when Enjolras reluctantly cracked a grin. “Now go, shoo, let me get my game on with people who may actually be interested in me.” He kissed Enjolras’s cheek and shoved him towards the door, smiling fondly as Enjolras gave him a half-hearted wave and slouched off.
Combeferre appeared at Courfeyrac’s shoulder so quickly and quietly Courfeyrac felt like he might have apparated there. “Enjolras is leaving?” he asked quietly.
Courfeyrac nodded. “Yes, abandoned by my date,” he sighed, though when he turned to face Combeferre, he was smirking. “I told him where he could find Grantaire.”
Combeferre considered Enjolras’s retreating back. “I wish I was there to see Grantaire’s face when he sees Enjolras in his dress robes.”
“Yeah, poor kid,” Courfeyrac snorted. He glanced at Combeferre. “Want to dance?”
Combeferre looked surprised for a moment, then smiled. “Well, you were abandoned by your date, after all…” he said slowly, his grin widening when Courfeyrac took his hand and pulled him back in to the dancefloor.
Grantaire was doodling on a spare piece of parchment in the library, the flask of firewhiskey hidden in his robes only half-drank, and he looked up when he heard someone approach and felt his jaw drop open. “Um, hi,” Enjolras said, running a hand through his blond curls (Grantaire would have followed that motion with his eyes if he wasn’t so busy admiring what that particular shade of red did to bring out the blue in Enjolras’s eyes and the gold in his hair). “Courfeyrac said you were here.”
“Nnng,” Grantaire managed, closing his mouth with a snap and smiling weakly at Enjolras. “Uh, yeah. Here I am.” He darted a glance at Enjolras before looking back down at the parchment in front of him. “Tired of the ball already?”
Enjolras shrugged and sat down across from Grantaire. “Something like that,” he muttered. “What about you? You didn’t want to come?”
Grantaire shrugged as well. “I don’t really do balls,” he said. “Besides, I wasn’t exactly top on anyone’s list to ask, so, you know, there’s that.”
Frowning, Enjolras said, “I somehow doubt that no one wanted to ask you.”
Grantaire wanted to tell him, “No one asked me because they all know I’m in love with you”, but he settled for giving Enjolras an easy grin and telling him, “Well, we can’t all be like you. You were practically beating off potential dates with a broomstick.”
Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well. Having a date didn’t work out so well for me, either.” He paused before saying, a little awkwardly, “You should have come to the ball anyway. It would have been fun.”
Grantaire’s mouth fell open again, but he recovered quicker this time, turning his attention back to his sketch. “Well,” he said, a little gruffly, “that ship has unfortunately sailed.”
Pursing his lips slightly, Enjolras stood, offering Grantaire his hand. “Come on,” he said brusquely.
“Come on…where?” Grantaire asked, staring at Enjolras.
“To the ball. For just one dance.”
“With…you?” Grantaire asked, before he could stop himself, and blushed. “I mean, uh, I’m not really dressed or anything, so…”
Enjolras rolled his eyes. “Like you really care about any of that. Come on. One dance and then you can disappear back here or wherever.” He gestured expectantly and Grantaire reluctantly let Enjolras pull him to his feet. “See, that’s not so hard.”
Grantaire smiled a little nervously at Enjolras. “Yeah, well, you haven’t danced with me yet, so.”
“Please,” Enjolras said dismissively. “I’ve watched you waltz around the Room of Requirement with basically every single one of our friends. You’re an amazing dancer. And no one will even notice that you’re not wearing dress robes.”
“Only because they’ll be too busy staring,” Grantaire muttered, and they lapsed into silence as they headed to the Ball.
Once they reached the Great Hall, Enjolras turned back to Grantaire and raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, noble leader,” Grantaire said, and allowed Enjolras to pull him into the ball, a small grin on his face (a grin which only grew wider when Enjolras put his hand on Grantaire’s shoulder and took his other hand in his, a grin which didn’t fade until much later in the night when Grantaire was finally in bed).