I stood in front of the floor length mirror, looking at my reflection in complete fucking horror.

The dress (if you could even call it that) was a complete fucking monstrosity. I mean - I guess it had to be to make a fucking hag look like the prettiest thing on her wedding day.

"I CAN'T FUCKING GO DOWNSTAIRS IN THIS!"

"Well, you'll have to just to stand up Malfoy, then." Hermione said pompously, straightening her hair with her wand as she stood in a semi decent dress.

"And let him think he's won - never!" I cried, trying to rip off the many pink bows that were attached to the mouldy purple rags around me.

But somehow they were stuck fast.

"I've already told you, the dress must have some kind of anti-modifying charm placed upon it." Hermione sighed, spritzing perfume on her neck. "Possibly down to the bride fearing the bridesmaid making last minute alterations to make herself look more alluring."

I couldn't even see my neck for the huge fucking lilac ruff that surrounded it.

Realising I was defeated, I sighed. I just had to pray that no one was taking fucking photos that night.

*****

Draco Malfoy looked irritably at his watch as he waited in the Entrance Hall.

She was sodding late.

He heard the loud titter of Pansy, and glanced angrily in her direction where she was hanging off of Blaise's arm, kissing his cheek and laughing at everything he said.

She hadn't taken the news well that Weasley was his date. So she did the only thing that Pansy knew what to do: sulk and ask out his best mate instead.

She hadn't been interested in his excuses that it was all for a dare.

"A FUCKING DARE?!" She had screeched. "I'M BEING DITCHED FOR A FUCKING DARE?!"

He technically hadn't lied, he reasoned with himself. It was in the way Weasley had spoken - she had dared him.

And Draco Malfoy didn't like to back down from such challenges.

The whole Entrance Hall suddenly filled with loud sniggers and cat calls.

He looked around to locate the source of the commotion, and soon wished he hadn't.

His date had walked in, looking as though a fucking trifle had just thrown up over her.

*****

"What in gods name is that?!"

"It's a fucking dress, Malfoy." I sneered as I drew up beside him. "And anyway, at least I'm not done up to look like a fucking vicar!"

I watched in satisfaction as Draco looked bemusedly down at his black velvet dress robes.

He looked back up at me, glaring furiously.

"I'll have you know, these robes cost a fortune," he snarled, still staring disgustedly at my dress, "whereas I can only assume someone paid you to wear that!"

We stood, glaring heatedly at one another, ignoring the sea of bodies jostling around us.

"Excuse me," a squeaky voice spoke from behind me. I whirled around in irritation, ready to defend my dress.

I blinked, staring in confusion at the empty space before me.

"Down here!"

Oh - it was Professor Flitwick.

"All attendees and their dates must congregate in the Great Hall to await the champions grand entr-" he stopped, his face dropping as he noticed my dress. "Oh- I... lovely erm... dress."

"IT'S VINTAGE!" I bellowed.

"You can say that again," Draco muttered grouchily behind me.

*****

"What?!" I spat as Draco looked on at me with a repugnant look upon his face.

We were sat at one of the many disgustingly dressed tables, finally having dinner. I had ordered a huge plate of spare ribs and had started happily tucking into them.

"You've got sauce on your face, Weasley," he drawled, revulsion dripping from every note of his tone.

"Oh," I replied, using the scuff of my sleeve to wipe the corner of my mouth. "Better?"

He shuddered, his eyes glancing down to his salad as he picked up his fork.

"You know, you need to liven up," I said, biting into another rib and tearing the meat off with my teeth. I felt the splatter of sauce hit my chin and was careful to wipe it with the back of my hand.

I was on a date with the Slytherin Prince, after all.

"And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that?" Draco muttered, a forkful of lettuce pausing halfway to his mouth as his upper lip curled into a sneer.

"I don't know," I shrugged, tossing aside yet another empty rib, "smile or something."

"It's not as though I've got much to smile about," he twitched, his gaze lingering on the discarded rib that was staining the white table cloth by his elbow.

"Well you shouldn't have fucking asked me to be your date then!" I roared.

"I didn't!" He hissed, "you tricked me into it!"

"Oh, whatever!" I scoffed, throwing back my head to guzzle down my pumpkin juice.

Man, these ribs were making me fucking thirsty.

I slammed my empty glass back down onto the table, wiping the residue from my mouth with my sleeve.

"You can't get enough of me." I smirked, staring gleefully into his silver eyes. "So don't fucking deny it."

And I didn't miss the twitch at the corner of his lips.

He fucking loved it.