Note: Once again, this does not relate to any of my earlier fics. The promised continuation of my first one is being developed every free, undistracted moment of my time, along with - dramatic intake of breath - actual plot-based, multi-chaptered fictions such as this. More on that in/at a more appropriate place/time. My sincerest appreciation goes out to you readers and reviewers; especially, those I forget or cannot reply to like "guests" I cannot contact in any other fashion than ANs. Which I try (but obviously fail) to avoid. Please let me know what you think. Hit my ignorance. Cheers.
There's a strong possibility that most of this story will actually take place after the usual Hogwarts 4th year setting. In fact, I just decided it will. The subsequent chapters will be longer.
Sitting right beside her, Hermione was the first and only person to turn when Ginny threw her fork on the tabletop beside her plate with a mad look in her eye.
"Hermione, she's staring and it's freaking me out," Ginny stated rather calmly for a girl who'd just abused her silverware.
Ginny wasn't specific, and Hermione didn't ask for it, didn't need it.
"What am I supposed to do about that?" Hermione asked rather calmly for a girl being stared at from across two dining tables.
She refused to meet those eyes watching her, and opted instead to look toward her friend with the fierce gaze steadily locked upon Hermione's watcher.
"Tell her to stop," Ginny forcefully instructed in something akin to a growl.
"Bonjour, good day, please stop staring at me..." Hermione tried to laugh it off while turning back to her dinner and stirring through her food, "Excellent opening lines."
She shook her head.
Ginny picked up her (butter) knife and poked at a chunk of meat on her plate to distract herself.
"I was thinking more like... Hello! Bugger off! Goodbye!" Ginny retorted with an aggressive stab at that chunk of meat.
Always to the point, that girl. It's something to be admired about Ginevra Weasley. She doesn't beat around the bush; she attacks... Like the meat with that butter knife.
Hermione found it was possible to wince and laugh in the same moment.
Ginny would go straight for Hermione's watcher if she weren't so insistant that Hermione fight her own battle for the sake of Hermione fighting. She insists on Hermione having a battle where Hermione could easily avoid it. To stand up for herself even though Hermione can't imagine it mattering.
"It bothers you more than me," Hermione pointed out indifferently.
"It should bother you. It should disturb you. She's staring. At you. Very stalker-like," Ginny huffed while returning to eating like a normal person. Outbursts aside, Mrs. Weasley would be proud at least one of her children could behave civilly at the dinner table.
Hermione couldn't explain why being stared at very stalker-like didn't bother her. Her thought process went through three stages, and none of them were annoyance.
1 - Denial: She must not be paying attention... Or is looking at someone else.
2 - Curiosity: Why is she looking at me?
3 - Acceptance: So... she looks at me. Okay.
She probably should have given it more consideration than that, but it simply wasn't the most important aspect of her life. She had other things to think about, and do. Like eating dinner.
She picked up a forkful of potatoes.
"...Maybe she likes you."
She choked on her potatoes.
Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw in Ginny's year and a more-than-occasional visitor of the Gryffindor table ever since hers began accommodating the influx of Beauxbatons, had arrived as Luna always seemed to arrive - suddenly and out of nowhere. She was sitting on Ginny's other side, joining the conversation as she always did things - distractedly. She had one of those far away gazes that frighten a person when it's suddenly directed to them - like Hermione right then.
"Likes me?" Hermione echoed unsurely with her mouth agape at this new and puzzling view on the situation. The cogs of her mind spun with renewed interest in her watcher, considering the person in a whole new light. Though, her mind was trying to reject the thought out of hand. Likes her? Improbable. Impossible. Right?
"Likes you, fancies you, has a crush on you... Curious expression, that... To have a crush on someone... Sounds violent..." Luna spun off on a tangent like Luna does, and Hermione wasn't paying attention to it. Suddenly, it was as though the cogs in her mind halted and were forced to spin backwards. Disorienting. She felt the idea was absurd and yet made all the sense in the world as she gave it a little consideration.
It couldn't be correct. They'd never met before. How can somebody like someone they have never met?
Hermione had always been a strong opposer to "love at first sight" theory, with it being both shallow and unrealistic. It works great as fiction fodder, but Hermione tended to keep away from that particular genre. She didn't need love stories mucking up her mind. She wasn't big on the glamorized film spin on it either. Disney may make a heartwarming cartoon, but her childish days of playing prince and princess were fortunately long behind her.
None of those prepared her for the idea of princess and princess either, but at least that she could look past.
For the first time that night, Hermione indulged in the rare act of returning her watcher's gaze, finding what she had always found: a Beauxbaton with eyes a steadily trained upon her.
The only difference was all the Beauxbaton's features were more apparent to Hermione. Now, she was not just looking at her. She was examining her. Seeing her.
Luminously blonde, pin-straight hair worn in a pony tail draped over her shoulder.
Reasonably tall, possibly older than herself, with high cheekbones.
Fixated dark blue eyes.
Gorgeous.
Yes, her liking Hermione was a far from plausible notion. Almost ridiculous.
So why was she smiling?
Not Hermione... the other girl... She was smiling now. Almost smirking.
Now, Hermione was smiling. Rather awkwardly, actually, but you know... what else could you do?
Her sight was obscured by the hand suddenly in front of her face. Not waving or moving at all, just in front of her face, blocking her view.
"You're probably sending the wrong message here, 'Mione..." Ginny warned.
Ginny's hand wasn't all that an extraordinary sight - as this girl was, now that Hermione got a right look at her - but she turned with only minimal reluctance to look at Ginny, who'd broken off from her conversation with Luna. Not that the Ravenclaw noticed much.
"Luna thinks you've got Nargles messing with your head."
Although there was never any sort of proof for Luna's bizarre creatures, there was something behind that idea. Something was messing with her head. And her chest. And her gut.
Oh gosh, don't be stupid. You're being stupid.
A discreet glance back at the Ravenclaw table gave Hermione another glimpse of that same blonde looking rather pleased with herself, and a more disoriented feeling in her chest, her gut, and her mind.
The cogs were spinning frontward again, rationality catching up with Hermione's romanticism.
Was it at all possible that girl liked Hermione? It would explain the staring, but that was unreasonable. They'd never met.
Was it at all possible for Hermione to like that girl? It would explain the feelings Hermione was feeling, but that would be unreasonable. They'd never met.
There was something that bothered Hermione about the girl's staring after all. One thing... She didn't know why. She didn't know her. They'd never met.
The problem here was obvious.
They had never met, but Hermione intended to fix that.