Gryffindor Lioness
A/N: I don't own Harry Potter. A gift for my lovely friend, Avendya.
Harry and Ron disappeared around the corner, leaving Hermione by herself, angry and hurt. She sank down into a sitting position on the steps that she had so gracefully descended only hours before. Tears and straggly curls covered her face as she began to cry. It had been so perfect, such a fun evening, and Ron had had to go and ruin all of it with a few annoying words. What in the world did he mean, "Fraternizing with the enemy"? He was being ridiculous. Wasn't she free to do what she wanted? Ron had no right to tell her who to become friends with, and it was her business with whom she went to the ball, not his. He had no right to budge in on her business. He'd taken his time, hadn't he? And when he'd finally thought to ask her, his first words were, "Hermione, you're a girl!", as if he'd been surprised or something. And she was supposed to just ignore that?
She heard a pair of people hurry up the stairs, their shoes clacking on the stone. As they turned the corner, her ears caught a female whisper.
"Isn't that that Granger girl? Wasn't she with Krum?"
Yes, she had been with Krum, but no, she didn't like people whispering about her. They'd done that enough after Rita's article, hadn't they? Why couldn't everyone just leave her alone? Why couldn't they quit condemning her? Why couldn't she do anything without being told she was wrong?
She looked up, her face red and tear-streaked.
They had no right. Ron had no right. It wasn't their business what she did. She sniffed and wiped tears from her eyes, feeling a bit embarrassed for crying. Well, she certainly wouldn't give them satisfaction. She wouldn't let them see that they were getting to her. She stood, straightened her gown and brushed her hair from her face. Then, her head held high, she ignored the tears that remained in her too-bright eyes, smiled at the people still waltzing about the ballroom, and made her way up the stairs.
Let them say what they wanted. What did it matter, anyway? It was her opinion that was important, and her opinion only. They could talk all they wanted; she would just block them out.
She strode from the room, feeling much better with her newfound confidence. Her curls bounced, her lips stretched into a smile, and in her mind, she walked to the Gryffindor common room like a warrior queen who had just won the war, like a lioness that truly belonged to the house she'd been sorted into.
Something inside her hoped that Godric Gryffindor would have been proud.
