Chapter Text
Hermione
The day was grey, and although Hermione enjoyed attending Quidditch matches to support both Ron and Harry, she didn’t fancy sitting in what was likely going to be a very wet practice. She wouldn’t be making her way down to the pitch if Ron hadn’t begged her to go, and she means begged. He had scrunched his brows in such a way that Hermione couldn’t refuse to turn him down. Like all the times he asked to see her notes and homework, Hermione had to at least pretend to put up a fight knowing fully well she would eventually relent.
She was in the common room about to make her way out when someone poked her shoulder from behind.
A curtain of vibrant red hair alerted her to Ginny being the culprit.
“Aren’t you coming down to watch practice?” asked Ginny.
“ Yes ,” replied Hermione, rolling her eyes. “You’re just like your brother, you know?”
“I think you like my brother a little more than me,” mumbled Ginny with a smirk. “Don’t be late!”
She turned back and winked before disappearing through the portrait hole.
What in Merlin’s sake could that be about? Wondered Hermione.
It was as if suddenly, everyone was expecting her to be watching a practice. She was thrilled for the boys, of course. Harry was captain and Ron was keeper, but why on earth would Ginny care if she was there? Hermione puzzled over Ron and Ginny’s sudden interest in her attendance as she made her way through the castle and onto the grounds, lost in her thoughts.
Once outside, the frosty air immediately froze her cheeks, making Hermione shudder into her scarf while cursing Ron for being the only one that could make her sacrifice the warmth and comfort of the common room, and all to watch him practice.
“Oi! Granger!”
What the…
Hermione looked around, unsure of who had called her. None of the professors called her by her surname. Even Snape would at least add “Miss” beforehand. Only Malfoy tended to address her as Granger, but the voice that had just called her didn’t have his usual venomous sneering tone. Also, she was sure that since second year, he hurled his preferred insult rather than her name.
“Granger!”
The voice was coming from above. In fact, it was zooming towards her. Cormac McLaggen was flying straight at her, but he wasn’t alone. Three other guys that Hermione had seen hang out with him were soon hovering around her in a circle.
Cormac drew his wand out and pointed it at the sky. It emitted a loud whistling that exploded into a series of cracks and wheezes, with streaming red swirls in the air.
Hermione let out a gasp that was inaudible against the commotion.
The red jets hadn’t been twirling around aimlessly – they had been writing .
Blazed across the grey sky, scarlet words had been inscribed.
HERMIONE GRANGER,
GO TO SLUG PARTY WITH ME?
-MCLAGGEN
If those words weren’t enough to mortify Hermione, then the vibrant heart surrounding them were.
Just as she thought this couldn’t get any worst, McLaggen’s friends began to chant “McLaggen! McLaggen!” while they circled around her, drawing in a crowd of students from inside the castle.
This was the last place Hermione wanted to be. She would rather be trapped wandless in a cage with all of Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts. All she wished for was to disappear, evaporate, turn into nothing, maybe even hide in that damn vanishing cabinet that Flint had disappeared in last year. Where the hell was Harry’s invisibility cloak? Could she perform a silent Disillusionment Charm and slip away? No – she hadn’t even learnt the actual spell for that! Oh no – her lungs needed air, she’d forgotten to breathe.
Just as she opened her mouth to gasp in enough oxygen to keep her body functioning to a minimum level (her feet seemed to be glued and her limbs had gone numb), McLaggen called out.
“Well? What do you say Granger?” he yelled, a disgustingly smug smile smeared across his face.
How could she turn him down surrounded by people?
With her mouth still gaping, she croaked out a small, “Yes.”
No. No, that’s not what she meant to say.
There was a loud cheer from the crowd that had gathered, and McLaggen’s friends flew to high-five him.
Truly, she was about to be sick.
What had she done? She would go with McLaggen and explain in private that she intended to ask someone else to the Christmas party. He would have to understand, after all, he’d just put her on the spot in front of the entire bloody castle.
The beaming letters in the sky were beginning to fade, and just as the heart surrounding them disappeared, Ron flew through them, breaking the words entirely.
Was that…? Hermione wasn’t sure, he had blurred past, but in a flash of a second, she was sure she’d seen a rose in his hand.
Oh no.