Disclaimer: Vivian Goldstein, Becky Mayer and Daria Jaskowiak belong to yours truly. Everyone else belongs to the copyright holders (JKR/WB and associates.)

Notes: This is going to be posted as a three-shot, originally intended as a one-shot that got out of hand. It's all written for Rochelle (slightlysmall) for the GGE. Special thanks to Sam (moral support) Paula (resident honorary Brit) Kelly and Jess (idea-bouncers extraordinaire) and Jess again (beta-reads like a boss.)

Roo: I feel as if I should apologize that this is so long, and please don't feel the duty to pay it much attention, or to even read past Chapter 1. I know you're a busy lady and I'd hate to impose. I will confess, however, that I'm extremely glad I wrote this and, as always, ecstatic that someone cares about these kiddos as I do. Either way, I really hope you find at least some enjoyment in this (not gonna lie, I know I did!) I miss you lots, Roo!

Moral Obligations

Part 1/3

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Michael Corner - December 10, 19:06.

I just don't know how to feel about this Yule Ball thing they announced today. I did suggest to Terry that the three of us should go together - no girls, no pointless worries. He 'declined the offer' as if I was doing him a favor (what a berk) and Anthony looked far too happy about the ball for me to try and push it. It's not like I can't get a girl... I even had my chance today, since the ball had been all the talk among what remained of our Quidditch team. I only realized that I'd missed a chance when Diggory took Cho apart from us all after catching the Snitch.

Oh well.

The almost-empty Ravenclaw common room is a sight for sore eyes after the friendly game against the 'Puffs and a particularly difficult riddle. I'm not hungry. I'm tired, mostly, and wanting to be away from all Yule Ball talk. Even thinking of the Great Hall makes me shudder.

I scan the common room. There's Mandy Brocklehurst, huddled in an armchair with a heavy book. Near the fire, there's a group of upperclassmen comparing notes. Vivian Goldstein is sitting in a windowsill, so small and quiet that I almost didn't see her at first.

I head her way without hesitation.

"Alright, Vi?" I sit on a sofa by her feet. She doesn't even look my way.

"How was the game?" she asks.

"We lost."

"Shame on you."

I can't help but smile.

"Why aren't you at supper?"

"Why aren't you at supper?"

"Not hungry."

"Well, me neither."

I know not to insist. Whatever's going through her head, she'll tell me if she wants to.

Sure enough, she speaks immediately. I know her too well.

"Michael, do you know what makes me angry? The Charms Club is going to help with the arrangements for the Ball. So I can help. They're even asking us to stay for the holidays. But I still can't attend the Ball. Where's the logic in that? It's not fair."

I contain a sigh. Can people just shut up about the ball? But I can't really lash out on her, not when she's doing nothing wrong by confiding in me.

"You have to understand-"

"Don't, Michael. I won't understand. Is it because upperclassmen will be attending? What can happen? Do they even realize what goes on behind their backs? Those numpties." She finally looks my way. "A fourteen-year-old just fought a blasted dragon not a month ago, but God forbid the little ones go to a ball! And I'm not even getting house points for this! You'd think we'd get something out of helping..."

"You can say no. They can't force you."

"Well, I'm staying anyway. Dad's going to Israel to visit his relatives... no, just no. And if I'm here, I'll help."

She's still disgruntled, and I'm running out of options. It's rubbish. Why can't eleven-year-olds go to a stupid dance? They can put measures in place to make sure younger kids will be safe, but they're just making matters worse by only allowing them to attend if-

"You can still go as someone's date, can't you? Don't lose all hope."

She laughs. Well, that's progress.

"Thank God Anthony isn't around to hear you. He'd tell you I'm too young for dating. And maybe he's right... please don't tell him that I said this. I just want to go with my friends. I want to dance. Did Anthony ever tell you I dance a bit? I took jazz lessons before Hogwarts."

Anthony said something of the sort, but at the time, it wasn't a detail I particularly cared about. But hearing it now... Why didn't I think of this before? It's so obvious.

"I could take you, if you want." I have to be careful. "I can dance. Mum wouldn't let me live until I learned. So what do you say?"

I can only hope I made the proposal clear enough for Vi not to misinterpret it. She's not blushing, thankfully, nor does she express any excitement. I'd be offended, but this is much better than having her fancy me or form any kind of silly expectations, which I just can't allow.

There's a small smile on her face, however, as she turns toward me.

"Won't my brother murder you over this?"

"It's clear to you that this is not a date, right?" She rolls her eyes and sighs, nodding vehemently. "Then he may try, but I think we'll be okay."

Mandy Brocklehurst - December 13, 11:35.

For fuck's sake. I have to go out in this cold just so I can read in peace.

See, my dorm is not always an option. Not when Morag and Lisa gossip about their boyfriends, Padma whines about wanting to go just with the girls, and Su chimes in with derisive comments that make me wonder why she doesn't get the fuck out.

Girls are dumb. But it's not only girls, and it's gotten so bad that even the common room isn't safe. The library would be fine, if it wasn't for the horde of girls chasing Krum. As it is, the cold, snowy grounds are the only place I'm truly alone.

"Hello, Mandy."

Or not.

I look up to find Anthony Goldstein. He's all bundled up, with a Ravenclaw scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. His hands are clutching his cloak against his body, but he seems to be shrugging it all off with a smile.

"I know no one likes to be interrupted when reading," he says before I can greet him. "I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute."

Anthony isn't rude to people. I'm not about to be rude to him.

"I'm listening."

He kneels down in front of me as I put away my book. I look at him closely. His face is one I would've associated with a cruel person -all thin lines and angles, and a stare that reaches deep- but he speaks in a soft murmur and a good nature that erases such an impression at once.

He's so infuriatingly soft, I can't even be angry at the interruption.

"Look, I know this is going to seem weird, because we don't really talk, but... I was just wondering, Mandy, if you would like to go to the ball with me."

It was a question posed with too much exactitude for me not to be wary.

"As a... date?"

Anthony doesn't answer right away. His jawline becomes more marked, but he doesn't show any other signs of being taken aback.

"Yes," he says finally. "I'm asking you out on a date."

"We don't really talk."

"Can't imagine why." His open palm is pointing at my book, and his tone, harsher than usual, is clearly intended to mean 'didn't I just say that?'

Before I realize what's going on, I'm smiling. I can even picture Anthony trying to find a moment, trying to get me alone... and maybe if it was someone else, I would indulge in questions like why? why me? is this a joke or something? did you lose a dare? But when it comes to Anthony Goldstein, those questions are an insult. No. I can't doubt him. There's overwhelming evidence indicating that he's a genuine bloke that, for some reason, wants to take me on a date.

He must be nuts.

"Alright," I find myself saying, against my better judgment. "I'll go with you to the ball."

"Really? Okay. Great." He smiles wide. I look down. "Right. Well. My minute is over, isn't it? Enjoy your read."

"Talk to you later," I manage to say, and it's more of a promise than a casual goodbye.

Right now I need the solitude I'm used to. But I can't go back to my book. Do I have a date to the Yule Ball? Is said date a bloke that's actually interested in me? A bloke I have a high opinion of?

These things don't happen to me.

I wonder if I'm on time to mail-order some dress robes...

Daria Jaskowiak - December 17, 21:12.

It's been a month since I met Terry Boot in the library. Let me tell you, he's so puzzling.

He's cool, don't get me wrong. But it's the first time in my life I've managed to become friends with a bloke that doesn't act like he wants under my skirt - especially one as young and awkward as he is. From what I understand, he belongs to the house of the smart people. So maybe that's got something to do with it. I could tell right away, when he approached me out of the blue.

"Is that a fidelity ring?"Terry had asked, staring at my hands. "I'm sorry- it's personal, isn't it? But... isn't that considered Dark Arts? What happens if any of you does cheat? What happens if any of you tries to lift the enchantment?"He then went red, and only then looked at me in the eye. "I'm so sorry, I don't mean to imply anything, not at all. I'm just curious."

I was a bit bothered by his nosiness, but could tell he meant no harm. Either way, I was surprised he recognized what my ring means. I found that to be an interesting conversation starter. We sort of became friends after that, or at least we remained in a sitting-at-the-same-table-on-the-library basis.

Let me tell you, this is the first time a Hogwarts boy promised he'd teach me proper English, and actually teaches me English.

"...though you don't need help with it," he was telling me now. "You speak brilliant English-"

"Not enough for a job in International Magical Cooperation. I speak it well... I mostly have issues with written English. Which I'll need."

"Well, you can write my assignments for me. That'll help you practice." He does that thing in which I don't know whether he's serious or not. "You can read. Take a good book you enjoyed and read it in English."

"That's also how I learned Russian."

"You must be so clever." There is nothing insincere in the gleam in his eyes.

"Yeah, well. I'm very much forced to. If you want to go to Durmstrang, you have to learn Russian. My boyfriend is a native speaker, so that's extra incentive..." But thinking about that makes me sad. "I was supposed to go back to see him these holidays."

"Why aren't you?"

"Distance can't kill me. Karkaroff can. He's telling us that we'll disgrace Durmstrang if we don't go to that ball, and it's part of our obligation as a delegation, blah blah, you know the drill. International Magical Cooperation, now isn't it? Yet, I've got nothing to do there, Terry. Nothing."

Remind me again why I'm whining to a fourteen-year-old?

"Me neither." He shrugs. There is something bitter about the way in which he's suddenly looking away, playing with his quill so harshly that he almost breaks it in two.

"Why not?"

"I just... don't like big events."

"What about your friends? Or a girl?"

"Yeah, well. None of it's going to happen, okay?" He pauses for a second and looks away. Terry never loses his cool like this. It's all the more intriguing. "I'm sorry. It's just... she's got a boyfriend, and she's going with him, of course." He says this in a whisper that is hard to hear. I wonder just how hard it's for him to confess this. "My friends... they have their own plans. I have no business there."

"Let's go together, then." The words escape me before I can truly think them over. "I want Karkaroff off my back and don't lie, I can tell you want to go. I'd like to be introduced to your friends, too."

"Anthony won't stop asking questions about the Jewish Holocaust. And Michael won't stop flirting with you."

"I think I can handle it. That's unfair of you, anyway, considering you haven't stopped asking me questions since I met you... and you flirt, if only a little." Okay, I'm the one being unfair. He doesn't flirt. I just want to gauge his reaction.

Sure enough, there's a faint blush on Terry's face, but no shame in the way he glares at me and crosses his arms.

"I'm not flirting with you, Daria, and I really hope that's clear." He pauses, then points an accusatory finger at me. "You are the one asking me out, Miss Fidelity Ring."

I was used to him stuttering, being almost perpetually apologetic. But he's incensed now. Now I know I've made the right choice.

"You're completely right. I am asking you to the ball. You can either be bitter and stay in your dorm, be a fifth wheel, or go with me. I'd personally find it boring to go alone - it's either you, or dateless."

"You flatter me," he says flatly, with a straight face. Is he serious or...? I'll never understand these British people. "We have a deal."

I smile tentatively, but he doesn't return the gesture. I know him enough not to expect him to. And I guess this means we're really friends now.

"Now tell me, Terry… who is this girl, anyway?"