Hermione Granger
Why I liked Krum
Survey Results
I liked Krum because he was famous. (Random members of Student body)
I liked Krum because he was fit. (Lavender and Parvati)
I didn't actually like Krum. (Ron Weasley)
But it wasn't any of the above.
Personal Insecurities
I guess I was insecure. Bossy, clever, know-it-alls generally are. I mean, it took a bloody mountain troll for me to get friends. For just two people to look past the exterior and see the girl inside. What would it take to get a boy to like me, and not just as friends.
I always prided myself on being realistic. I wasn't pretty – I didn't have a smooth mask of a face, and cherry red lips. My hair was an uncontrollable nightmare. I didn't care enough about clothes to do some decent shopping. Don't get me wrong, I did care about my appearance. I tried, read Lavender's magazines on cosmetic charms, thought about outfits for weekends, grasped at the chance to sort out my teeth.
But what I really wanted was a boy who would like me for (and this is the biggest cliché ever) for myself. I wanted someone who liked my not perfect face, but appreciated the effort I put in to conceal the spots. Someone who thought my wild hair was cute. Who didn't care about my fashion sense, or thought my outfits were perfect for me.
And then I felt terrible. I was Hermione Granger, why should I care what boys thought of my appearance? But I did, anyway. I confess I was upset when neither Harry nor Ron noticed my new teeth. Particularly Ron. If I'd had friends who were girls they'd have noticed straight away. That's when I knew Ginny was a real friend, when she congratulated me, and I felt warm that someone did actually notice.
But I felt that if someone did take the time to know me, then they would see that I was really a nice person, if sometimes a just a little controlling. That I wasn't really that clever.
First Meeting
Krum found me in the library. He was there a lot, I remember complaining about it to Harry. I never knew he was there for me. It was several months after he'd first come when he finally sat down opposite me at one of the tables. For once there weren't any giggling girls around.
He was painfully shy. Er…what's your name, he asked. And I answered. And then I felt sorry for him, because he was clearly trying to start a conversation. So I asked the next question. What book are you reading? And then I felt a hot flush of embarrassment creep upon me because that was the lamest question a girl could ever ask. Particularly to an international quidditch star. Who wasn't exactly ugly.
But he didn't seem to mind. He said it was Hogwarts a history. And then we had quite a long discussion about it. I invited him to join SPEW. He said he'd love to. I decided I liked him a lot. And then I couldn't think of anything else to say and so I turned back to my work and he sat and watched me.
I thought that I should say something seductive and sexy or toss my hair around and flatter him about his quidditch. That's what Lavender or Parvati would've done. But I couldn't. I just couldn't.
Victor
The thing was, he was nice. Hardly a muggle fairytale prince, to whisk me up in his arms, but he cared about me, and asked me questions, even tried to learn my name. He thought it was cute when I worked, didn't mind that I wasn't spending my whole time talking about him and too him. He even came round to the fact I hung around with Harry and Ron. (Well, I thought so at the time. Later, in one of the nights-in-a-tent, Harry told me that Victor had been a little jealous). But, to be honest, I didn't mind. A small part of me was pleased that he cared enough to be possessive, to check that I was still with him. But the bossy side of me berated him for not trusting me.
Yule Ball
I loved it. Stuck up Hermione with her nose in a book loved the dancing and the music and the boys. Loved being able to do my hair up, and flash my new smile. Loved charming my skin flawless, and ordering a dress, and finding a necklace to go with it. Loved getting ready, Lavender and Parvati for once completely involving me. All the girls rushing about our tower, crying out for a bracelet, some shoes, some good lip brightening charms.
I was able to put away the bookish, know-it-all Hermione, and be a teenage girl. Lots of other girls, even some of the older ones, came for me to do some charm-work on their faces. Felt pleased, rather than embarrassed.
And then I was able to walk in on Victor's arm, hearing the whispers. For once they weren't mean, not about chip monk teeth or bushy hair, but 'stunning' and 'beautiful' or 'who is that?' I don't normally feel vain, but sometimes, it's just nice to be complimented.
And Victor, beside me, tall and proud, and as graceful in dancing as in flight. I felt I was flying that night. Walking on clouds of confidence. Knew it would be gone tomorrow, but somehow I just didn't care.
Conclusion
I guess I never really loved him, but who at 14, does?
I liked him a lot. Liked kissing him, feeling his lips on mine, feeling sophisticated and teenager and real-life. Feeling excited, because he was a much older guy. Feeling wanted, not just the third in a trio, the one-who-does-the-research. But the girl with a boy.
He invited me to Bulgaria you know. Cared that much.
And so I liked him. For seeing me properly, for making me the girl of my dreams. Just for a night.
(A/N - Hi. Please review... Also, if you like this Hermione essay, I have another one entitled On My Two Best Friends. Check it out! Ok, that sounds like an advert. How irriating.)
