HP: Wormwood and Lightning Wood

Ever since Draco agreed to go to the ball with Harry, Harry has been grinning like an idiot every day.

While eating, I couldn't help but giggle at the figure beside the Slytherin table; in class, I couldn't help but giggle as I stared at Draco's slender fingers turning the pages of his book; I couldn't help but giggle as I followed Draco to the next classroom.

"Hermione, I'm serious, I've had enough!" Ron clutched his head in panic. "Harry seems to have gone mad! Look at him!"

Hermione glanced at Harry, who was grinning foolishly, then turned away, unable to bear the sight. "Didn't you know? He successfully got Draco as his dance partner."

"Of course I know!!!" Ron shouted. "He's been saying it at least thirty times in the dorm!"

Just then, Ginny walked over and sat down next to Ron and Hermione. "My dear brother, I don't think this is something you should be worrying about?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Have you found a dance partner yet?"

Ron suddenly looked dejected. "No, you tell me—should I go and invite Fleur?"

Hermione froze, while Ginny rolled her eyes in disbelief. "You can try."

Ron sighed, then suddenly looked up at Hermione with a burning gaze. "Perhaps, Hermione, we can make do."

Hermione slammed her book on the table with a loud bang. "I told you, I've already accepted someone else's invitation."

"Please, how could this be... Ouch, Ginny!" Ron was about to say something when Ginny pinched him hard.

The youngest sister in the family was staring at him with wide eyes, as if he, her older brother, were a complete idiot.

When Ron looked up, Hermione had already left with the book, leaving him with only her back view.

"Hermione did accept the invitation," Ginny said angrily. "You shouldn't say things like that! If you wanted to invite her, why didn't you say so sooner?"

Ron was taken aback. "Whose invitation did she accept? She didn't tell me her name, I always thought she was just...?"

"Just talking big?" Draco's voice rang out.

Before anyone knew it, Draco was sitting next to Harry, helping him revise his paper, while Harry grinned foolishly.

Ron hesitated before saying, "Isn't that right?"

Draco and Ginny took a deep breath at the same time.

"Ginny Weasley, stay away from your brother," Draco said sympathetically. "Don't let his stupidity affect you."

Ginny didn't even refute Draco's words, saying calmly, "You'll find out who Hermione's dance partner is at the ball. Don't be jealous then."

"I'm jealous?" Ron asked, his face full of disbelief.

What did he have to be jealous of when Hermione danced with other boys? Ron imagined Hermione dancing with others in his mind and felt an uncontrollable surge of anger and sourness welling up inside him.

"Don't regret it." Ginny didn't bother to say anything more and turned to leave.

Draco pulled Harry up, "Come on, Harry, let's go practice dancing."

Ron sat there alone, lost in thought.

"Harry!" Draco couldn't help but frown after Harry stepped on his foot for the fifth time. "I'm serious, you're really good at dancing."

Even if Harry were slow to realize it, he could tell that Draco was being sarcastic.

Harry pursed his lips shyly, his thoughts drifting back to the beginning—at first, he was still debating who should dance the female steps.

It wasn't until Draco explained to him that same-sex couples were very common in the wizarding world, and there were even ballroom dances specifically designed for same-sex couples, that he finally understood.

"Sorry, Draco," Harry said, "I am indeed a little... uncoordinated..."

It wasn't just a lack of coordination. Draco's eye twitched.

He calmed down and looked into Harry's gentle green eyes, and his anger gradually subsided.

"Continue," Draco said, pulling Harry's hand to his waist with an arrogant look on his face. "I refuse to believe that I, a Malfoy, can't teach a Potter."

Holding Draco's slender waist, Harry felt inexplicably shy and nodded obediently, "I will try my best."

Fortunately, things didn't turn out as badly as Draco had imagined.

He led Harry, slowly circling around, their pace gradually becoming harmonious.

After finally finishing the entire song, Draco breathed a sigh of relief. "You're truly the worst student I've ever taught."

Harry's voice was hoarse, with a hint of displeasure. "Hmm? You've led other people in dancing before?"

"...Porter, that's not the point."

In the cellar, West was showing Snape the custom-made robes.

A deep black velvet robe, made of the finest fabric, with subtle patterns that appear and disappear on the material like flowing shadows in the night. The collar and cuffs are trimmed with dark green silk, understated yet luxurious.

Snape: "...May I refuse?"

Only then did he realize how reckless his previous promises had been.

What's the difference between the Potions professor and the head of the Somerset family attending the Christmas ball together and announcing that all the gossip is true?

West's upturned lips gradually faded, and a hint of sorrow appeared in his deep green eyes. He lowered his robes and sighed, "Severus, it's alright, it's just that I'm unworthy..."

"...Stop your awful performance," Snape said coldly. "I'll get you."

West immediately looked up. "Let's try them on now!"

West Porter Somerset, a renowned master of disguise in the wizarding world.

On Christmas night, West changed into a white robe just like Snape's.

West's gowns are all custom-made, with clean cuts, smooth and straight shoulder lines that extend naturally to a narrow waistline.

He stood at the door of Snape's bedroom, his posture straight, like a snow-covered pine tree.

After a while, the bedroom door opened.

Snape came out, looking rather uncomfortable, and was still adjusting his robes with his hands.

West's eyes lit up instantly, and he became visibly excited, his round pupils transforming into vertical pupils.

The black robe clung to Snape's slender frame, its lines sharp and defined. As he strode, the loose hem of the robe fluttered gently, subtly revealing his long, straight legs encased in black trousers.

Snape wore a pair of gleaming black leather boots that complemented his robes perfectly.

His black hair was combed meticulously, with a few strands falling casually over his shoulders, yet it couldn't hide the aura that kept people at a distance.

He was like a lone star shining in the darkness, exuding a unique and aloof charm.

"Severus, a Christmas present." West chuckled and took out a simple silver badge, pinning it to Snape's robe.

The badge bears the Somerset coat of arms, a large snake coiled around its body.

Snape sensed the familiar, gentle magical energy emanating from the badge and acquiesced to West's actions.

West smiled with satisfaction and planted a kiss on Snape's forehead.