"He swerved, trying to distract me, and I gave him my meanest look – like this, yes – then he shot, and I dived about a foot, and – wham! – I had the ball going super fast – yes, faster than a Nimbus – and my Chaser caught it. We won that match 354 to nil," Cormac McLaggen boasted, looking impressed with himself.
"Oh, uh, wow," Hermione said, her glass of butterbeer nearly empty, "But I have to go to the… um… toilet, no?" Hermione let out a giggle.
"But we're under the mistletoe!" Cormac complained.
"Uh, well, sorry, but I'm busting!" She said, jiggling her foot to show it. Cormac knew why she was leaving, but put on a smile and let her go off.
"I'm sorry!" She said, looking into Cormac's eyes.
"I understand," He said softly. She hiccoughed.
"You do?" She whispered. He nodded.
"You're in love with Potter," He said, "You were with him in fourth year, you broke up over Cho and you're trying to get him before he dates Ginny Weasley," Cormac summarised. A look of horror fell over Hermione's sobbing face.
"That isn't right," She wailed, becoming angrier by the second. Cormac's face fell.
"But the prophet said –"He began.
"Who cares what the prophet said? They were wrong about Voldemort, weren't they!" She shrieked, her shrilly voice echoing around the room. Cormac's heart shattered.
"I – I – I didn't mean that," Cormac stuttered, trying to work his way out of it.
"SURE!" Hermione raged, throwing her fist angrily at Cormac. She ran off, tears streaking her face.
"Hermione," He whispered, realising she was finally gone.