There Is Beauty in Magic

Oliver never really paid much attention to girls, his mind was always on Quidditch and winning Gryffindor’s next match. Sitting with the team at breakfast, Oliver’s focus was split between the conversation going on around him and the group of girls sitting at the other end of the table.

With his mind far away from his friends, Oliver missed the conversation and was brought back to reality by Fred Weasley snapping his fingers in front of his face.

“What?” Oliver asked, pulled his attention away from the girls and back to his friends.

“Who are you taking to the Yule Ball?” Fred replied.

“I’m thinking of asking Freya,” Oliver told them, glancing over at the raven-haired girl at the other end of the table.

“Well, now is your chance,” George added, motioning towards Freya who was standing up and heading out of the Great Hall.

“Freya,” Oliver called, leaving the Gryffindor table and rushing to catch up, “Wait up.”

Oliver watched as Freya spun round, causing her books to fall to the floor and rushed forward to help as she snapped at Malfoy. Crouching down, Oliver picked up the last fallen book and handed it to Freya just as she reached for it.

“You shouldn’t let that blond idiot get to you,” Oliver stated, smiling at Freya as they both stood up.

“Thanks,” Freya mumbled, returning the smile and avoiding Oliver’s gaze.

“You’re welcome,” Oliver replied, feeling suddenly nervous, “The reason I stopped you was because I was wondering if you’d… I’m useless at dancing but… I’d like to take you to the Yule Ball and I’m hoping that no one else has asked you already.”

“Nobody has asked me and I’d love to go with you,” Freya told him, causing relief to wash through him and his nervousness to subside.

“Great, I’ll meet you right here at eight o’clock on Thursday.”

XXX

Christmas day arrived quicker than Oliver had hoped and with it came the Yule Ball. Changing into his dress robes, Oliver stood in front of the mirror and shrugged as he headed off to meet Freya.

Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Oliver shifted nervously from foot to foot and waited for Freya. He felt like he was waiting to enter the Quidditch pitch, the same anticipation of what was to come driving him on and yet, on the inside, he was terrified.

He couldn’t dance… he was like a baby giraffe taking its first steps, shaky and falling all over the place. Glancing up, Oliver’s eyes landed on Freya standing at the top of the stairs and watched in awe as she made her way down to where he was waiting.

“You look beautiful, Freya,” Oliver said, offering her his arm and smiling when she linked it with her own. Watching everyone else dance in silence, Oliver made a decision and stood up, offering Freya his hand, “I can’t dance and I’ll probably end up treading on your dress, but may I have this dance?”

“Yes,” Freya mumbled, taking his hand and causing Oliver to relax a little as he led her onto the dance floor.

Once they started dancing, Oliver found himself staring into Freya’s eyes and the fact that he couldn’t dance seemed to fade from his mind. The song soon came to an end and Oliver left the dance floor, followed closely by Freya. The night had turned out completely different to what Oliver had imagined and he realised that it was because of Freya.

As the night came to a close, Oliver took a leap of faith in the moment and pulled out his wand. Pointing it above them, he focused on a fixed point and produced a sprig of mistletoe.

Freya glanced up at it and for a few seconds Oliver couldn’t read her expression, but any nerves he felt quickly disappeared as Freya kissed him. Moving his hand up to cup her cheek, he pulled back and smiled, watching Freya blush as he kissed her once more.

There was beauty in magic, just like there was beauty in Freya, and Oliver had always seen that. She didn’t need a fancy dress or her hair done, because Freya had a beautiful heart and that was rare to find.