Great Hall
8:00 p.m.

A soft sprinkling of snow fell lazily from the sky, adding another layer to the already blanketed grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Thestral-drawn carriages, decorated for the festivities, brought magnificently dressed guests down the sloping lawns of the castle to deposit them lightly upon the soft snow in the entrance courtyard. Here, the snow had been trodden on so much that it created a hard packed surface, making it much easier for ladies in heels to traverse the beautifully decorated area.

Small bursts of white lights filled the shrubberies surrounding the courtyard, giving the entire area a soft glow. Centered in the courtyard, a large fountain cascaded buckets of water over and over, unable to freeze as it was wont to do. Standing regally in every cardinal direction, stood a large ice sculpture: a lion, badger, serpent, and eagle, showing immense pride for the host school. Live fairies twitted around the open air, alighting in the bushes and adding a special twinkle that even magic can’t reciprocate.

Upon entering the castle proper, one might be surprised at the vast amount of changes made in such a short amount of time. Suits of armor gleamed with new shininess; large trees lined the walls, draped with colorful garland and splattered with non-melting snow. The floors sparkled in response to their recent scrubbing and Peeves was nowhere to be found. Not even a mouse ran across the floors, though, in all honesty, since the instillation of the new caretaker, mice had been rather scarce around the castle.

The Great Hall, enchanted and enlarged, held the sound of cutlery scraping across plates and the din of voices, rising in anticipation of the next event. Gone were the long wooden house tables, and in their place sat several large round tables, courtesy of Millicent’s Magical Marquees. Each table could hold eight, and as it was nearing on eight o’clock and most had finished the last of their desserts, Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts, nodded her head slightly. Professors from both Hogwarts and the visiting schools moved swiftly from the shadows and ushered those seated at tables in the middle of the floor off to the sides.

The Hogwarts Orchestra, already prepped and ready, began a slow, quiet melody. With a small wave of the headmistress’s wand, the recently vacated tables in the center of the floor vanished into thin air. In the silence that followed, a smile crept upon the elderly witch’s face as she watched the champions of all four schools waltz into the room, seemingly in perfect step.

For the moment, this thread is closed to Tetrawizard Champions...

Fig was almost more nervous than he'd been down in the Chamber of Secrets.  Almost.  But here, in the light of day and with an audience, his nervousness didn't need to turn into anything productive.  No, he could squelch his nerves and just be a ham.  For once, he thought he looked good in dress robes.  His mother had insisted they spend some extra so that their family wouldn't be completely embarrassed by their son looking like a shabby louse.  And he hadn't been aloud to leave the commonroom without someone combing his hair.  But he had to admit - he struck a very mature silhouette. 

But...where was Sophie?  She'd been at dinner, said she had to run off to the loo, but she didn't arrive back at the Champion's Dance Queue.  And now Professor McGonagal was shooing them onto the floor.  There was applause, there was music, but Figaro was currently without a partner.

He held back and whispered to the Headmistress,  "Ma'am, I uh... Sophie's not back.  I don't have a partner."

He hoped that would be enough, perhaps, to get him out of the dance part...

Odd how the tables had turned somewhat.  For once, in an unusual reversal of roles, unlike Figaro, Sasha wasn't at all nervous.  Very little, if any, of his home life or upbringing had prepared him for the challenges and peculiarities he'd come  across at Hogwarts and in the wizarding world at large.  He was usually at a loss when it came to surprise parties in the prefect's bath or post-Quidditch celebratory bashes.  But, it had prepared him very well for an event like this. 

His custom Morgan dress robes fit him perfectly and the silver-threaded vest reflected the soft, wintery light.  On a normal day (at least outside the quidditch pitch), Sasha was rarely seen without carefully polished shoes and impeccable grooming.  This evening, there wasn't even a hint of dust on his shoes or a single hair out of place.  He looked very much the part of the aristocrat's son and he was certain, given another setting, he might have earned a nod of approval from his step-father. 

Except for the minor detail of the robes.  Oh well.

"Allo," Sasha offered Abby, extending an elbow as he started into the Great Hall.  "Are you ready?  You look-"  Sasha hesitated.  He'd already told Abby she looked beautiful at the start of the evening and at dinner.  That was where his previous experience with such events left him high and dry.  There was no vagueness in the dynamics between ten-year-olds so the etiquette rules had been far less murky.

"You look perfect."

Try as he might, Heinrich couldn't keep the grin off his face.  Any evidence of his fight with Rohan was long faded, if not by nature then by magic.  With Chloe on his arm, he couldn't do anything but feel like he was the centre of the universe that night.  He might have been one of Durmstrang's champions but tonight it was taking second place to being Chloe's boyfriend.

"Have I told you how amazing you look tonight?" he whispered in her ear as they waltz out into the Great Hall.  The dancing was child's play when she was in his arms.  He felt like he was three feet off the floor when Chloe was in his arms.  He had fought for her and she was his.  All the rest was just window dressing.

He'd conspired to learn what Chloe's dress was going to look like and had matched it.  He had, of course, acted suitable surprised and impressed when he'd seen her in it for the first time.  Not all of it had been acting.  A quick waved of his wand had altered the cut and colour of his robes to match hers, something he'd planned from the beginning.  The one thing he didn't change was the kerchief she had embroidered with their initials.  He wore that proudly, tied to his upper arm.

Chloe was beaming. She felt like all eyes were on her, and she was with the man of her dreams. Heinrich looked amazing in his robes, which he had matched to her dress. She looked up at him, a large, white smile on her face. The night before, Thea had helped her whiten her teeth, making them look dazzling. But of course, what really made her dazzling was the man by her side.

"Have I told you how amazing you look tonight?"

Chloe smiled looking up at him. "Heinrich..." She started, a warm smile on her face. "Heinrich, I am the luckiest girl in Hogwarts today, and everyday. Because I know that I am dating a man who can and will protect me, and well," She giggled a little. "Is the most amazing looking guy ever."

Josh was nervous, unusually for him. For one, he wanted to be sure sky would have a good time, even if they were only going as friends. For another, Josh was worried about Shade's reaction t josh going with Sky; the guy was overprotective, Josh just hoped he didn't spoil the Champions Dance. "Looking forward tot he dance?" Josh asked Sky.

Sky stood next to Jost and noticed how nervous he was.  Sky wasn't.  She was going to be the center of attention for a little while, along with other champions and their dates.  Shade wouldn't even be able to ruin this moment for her.  She had a cape covering her dress so that when she walked down to the Great Hall no one would see it, but now that she and Josh were about to go into the dance she took it off and tossed it aside.  "Not the dancing part, but seeing people's faces when they see my dress." she told him and looped her arm in his and waited to enter the hall.

Oh, Merlin. Dancing.

Raine addressed the venture of dancing in the same way she did most all other things in life- with grace and an earnest sort of resolve. Such events were not unfamiliar to her and she was (for the most part) unconcerned by an observant audience. This was simply another formality. Her manner might have been intimidating to any other partner- but Theo Whitman, it could be supposed, was accustomed to this.

The Gryffindor moved to join her escort, dress trailing fluidly in her wake, and smirked once they were close enough to fasten arms. A sharp pair of heels had somewhat helped with their disparity of height.

"You look rather sharp this evening," she commented as they drifted together towards the dance floor with the other champions. "Not that one expected any less. Now tell me..." Raine's lips pulled into a confident smile. "Would you care to lead or shall I?"

The tables had definitely turned tonight. Sasha seemed calm and composed, while Abby kept wanting to bounce her foot and burst into laughter. People were watching them take their places on the dance floor. It was a good thing she'd grown up with this kind of dancing, or she'd have an unfortunate case of bats in the belfry.

Abby just giggled when he complimented her for what felt like the millionth time that evening. She was glad he noticed all the details, as she'd suspected he would. Her sister had made her sit still for a whole hour just to smooth her curly hair into waves and find the right shade of rosy lipstick.

"You do too! Not that that's surprising."

He always looked sharp, and at the ball, Sasha was clearly in his element. They looked quite the pair.

Though she had the urge to glance around at everyone, Abby focused on him as the music began, moving her hand from his elbow to his shoulder and taking his other hand.

"Don't tell anyone," she whispered. "But the music box song is so much better. Or maybe I'm biased."

This was the most annoying part about being a Champion, even worse than coming in second-to-last to a bloke who hadn't even completed the acromantula maze. Beside Carys Erin fidgeted in his shiny dress shoes, his grip tightening minutely on her arm as they waited to sweep into the Great Hall. His date for the evening was pretty, but Erin didn't think about telling her that. He himself was all pale gold and white, matching Carys' dress per her adamant request. One pair of dress robes was more or less the same as any other to him, no matter what color they were, but their blonde heads together made them even more the pair.

Erin led Carys out stiffly, uncomfortable in his clothing and with the public dancing. "I won't step on your feet," he told her, gruff, delayed, realizing she might think he would. Landis' torture House dance lessons had seen to that, renewing hated memories of his early education.

Balls were, regrettably, second nature for Cécile. Ever since she was old enough to pull herself up on fat little legs, her mother and grandmother stuffed her into elaborate, and usually uncomfortable, dresses and paraded her around for the wizarding elite to ogle like they were at some high-end zoo. Élodie had it worse though. Unlike Cécile, who could sink into the walls the moment the parade was over, Élodie was expected to be center of attention and entertain the crowd like a trained monkey in a silk chiffon dress. Cécile didn't envy her sister for her popularity as she preferred to not be the center of attention. Too much was expected of you and the reward was far too little.

This was, in part, why she was miserable this evening. As a chosen champion, she was forced to dress in her most expensive gown and prance around in front of not one but four schools worth of her peers. Certainly there were other beautiful girls in elegant gowns that were more eye catching, but Cécile couldn't help but feel like she was being observed with more scrutiny than she would like. This, however, could be blamed on the hand latched onto her arm with more possessive control than it had a right to. The owner of the hand was the other part of why she was miserable. It was a hand that was to soon bear a wedding ring attached to her own; a hand that would soon know her more intimately than she would prefer; a hand whose touch felt like acid on her skin and filled her with rebellious resentment.

She wanted nothing more than to slap the hand away and abandon the dance floor, but Cécile knew better. Her grandmothers letter, which arrived with the cage dress that Cécile was trapped in, made it clear that Cécile was to attend the Yule Ball with her fiance and that if she did not, Constance would know of it and the punishment would be severe. She didn't know if that meant that Lyov would run to his mother with the news, who would then inform her grandmother, or if someone else was watching. Although she had a feeling that Lyov was just as dissatisfied with the arrangement as she was, she hoped that he was the spy. If he wasn't, it meant that there was someone else loyal to her family that was spying on her and the idea that she did not know who it could be made Cécile feel angry and nauseous. It meant she would never truly escape their gaze.

This being the case, all she could do was cast one last longing look at the man she would prefer to dance with before turning to Lyov, saying stiffly "It is our turn. You must lead." before they swept onto the dance floor in the spotlight of hundreds of eyes.

The night had been going well so far, too well, in fact. In an event as large as the Yule Ball, one expected hiccups and small mishaps; it was the way of things. Of course, Minerva always hoped that the mishaps would be with the other schools, leaving Hogwarts blemish free, but that wasn’t always the case. She was stood by the antechamber, where the champions were filing out to the slow waltz. As Figaro slinked over to her, dateless, Minerva’s eyes flashed. Surely he didn’t think to come to the Yule Ball alone? Wasn’t he dating a Gryffindor? Sure, Minerva hadn’t been back in the post long, but she was a pretty quick study, and she tended to remember things when they pertained to the school’s reputation. A dateless champion would definitely be a rather large blip in the evening’s activities, that’s for sure.

“Mr. Sellaphix,” She began calmly, a fake smile plastered on her face, “I strongly suggest that you find a partner.” The headmistress’s nose flared in irritation, this was not happening. She glanced around the hall quickly, looking for a girl, any girl that would look good on Figaro’s arm. She’d offer house points as a bribe if needed, and if Figaro didn’t come through, he and his date would be serving detentions for the rest of their Hogwarts careers.

“Stand in the back of the line, if your date hasn’t returned by time for your entrance, grab the first person you see out of the hall. Or you may sit it out, but you may not come out here and dance with yourself.” Minerva almost smiled, thinking of the unconventional dancing styles of Luna Lovegood.

Getting ready for the Yule Ball had taken a lot of time and meticulous planning on Carys Whitman's part. She was going with Erin Harper- school champion, quidditch captain, pureblood, and Slytherin student. She was quite proud of having him as a date, considering a great strategic move for her own reputation. She had taken great care with her hair- the rose-shaped up do having taken up most of her time. Her make up was lightly applied, gentle, understated. And with the flat shoes on beneath her gown, she did not tower over Erin... They were more or less the same height, which boosted Carys' confidence.

He had been rather quiet since the two had met for the evening. And that he would initially be concerned about stepping on her feet was... well, a tad odd. "Even if you did," she told him- voice quiet, "I would wait until after the dance to let you know." Because glaring at your partner during the champion's dance would be entirely inappropriate- something Carys was fully aware of. "But I have confidence in your dancing capabilities."

The two ought to look quite handsome out on the dance floor. With their matching attire and good looks. A Whitman always looked best on the arm of another blond- whit made Carys was glad for the fact Erin had light hair. While most of the girls gathered around them looked quite pretty in their flowing gowns, Carys couldn't help but to arch a brow at the brightly colored outfit of the Gryffindor on Harcroft's arm. He must have been desperate for a date to wind up going with that piece of work. She leaned in close to Erin and whispered. "At least I you're not with O'Connor. I can't imagine thinking that an appropriate outfit for the Yule Ball. McGonagall should have her head."

Oh Gordic's Garters! Sophie was completely exhasperated with herself. This was a pretty big night for Figaro, his being a champion and all and on a whim her stockings decided that it would be the perfect time to snag when she was leaving the loo. She'd tried two different spells before giving up and tossing the whole mess in the garbage, darting out of the girl's room just as the music cued up. She was always late for important things, it didn't matter that she really really wanted to be there to make this special for Figaro or that she was mostly completely crazy in-like with him (love was such a strong word). It was almost as if the universe conspired against her to never be on time when it really mattered.

Weaving her slender frame through the crowd of people surrounding the dance floor her cheeks flushed a hue of crimson that put her dress to shame. McGonagall was giving the poor Hufflepuff one of her signature smiles that could only mean he was living on borrowed time if she didn't get there in a hurry. The poor boy looked almost panicked, his eyes darting around, probably searching for his missing girlfriend. Between her short stature and his only mildly taller one, they might as well have been standing on opposite sides of the Great Wall in China (even in her very pretty heels, people just towered over Sophie). "Here I am," she squeezed through the final group of people separating them, stumbling a little though her smile was bright as she latched onto Fig's arm, breathless voice soft as she leaned toward his ear, "Terribly sorry to keep you waiting. Be glad I didn't break my face walking in these things. Shall you lead or shall I"?

Figaro was about to die at Professor McGonagall's innuendo, but the music was starting, the dancers were filing out and - SOPHIE.

Figaro laid eyes on and with only the most rapid of a smile at Professor McGonagall, he yanked Sophie out onto the floor by her wrist, just in time.

The music had hit the part where they'd all practiced and everyone was in their places, aaand...

One two three, one two three, one two three four five six seven...

Figaro knew the steps by rote.  He held Sophie, hand on the small of her back, holding her hand up in his left hand - it was technically correct but his form was less than graceful.  He was too busy with potty humor.

"Number two, then?" he asked her quietly, looking like a disappointed mother.  "You could have warned me it'd be number two.  I almost had to pay someone."

He cracked a smile.  Hur. He was asking her about poop during the biggest dance of their lives probably ever.