“Well, if you don’t like it, you know what the solution is, don’t you?” yelled Hermione; her hair was coming down out of its elegant bun now, and her face was screwed up in anger. “Oh yeah?” Ron yelled back. “What’s that?” “Next time there’s a ball, ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!” Ron mouthed soundlessly like a goldfish out of water as Hermione turned on her heel and stormed up the girls’ staircase to bed. Ron turned to look at Harry.
