Romilda Vane watched her target across the room, planning. A twelfth-level potions text lay open on the library carrel, with the notes she'd taken on love spells copied out in neat rounded letters onto her favorite roll of parchment. She tucked the parchment into her rucksack, research complete.
She pushed her chair back, letting the leg scrape loudly across the polished floor. At the main desk, Professor Snape's eyes never left Harry, though Pince's flicked toward her in irritation. Romilda smiled sweetly, bobbing her head as she rose to her feet, and the librarian went back to her conversation. She pressed the potions book to her chest, trying to be brave, and started walking.
She passed the low table where Harry was seated, catching a few words. Hermione was hissing to him about an assignment past due. Romilda frowned, and stepped deliberately into the Professor's sightline. She was gratified to see his coal black eyes flicker up to her for a moment, as she passed between them.
"Thank you, Madam Pince," she said to the librarian, as she thumped the advanced potions book down onto the desk in front of her professor. "It's been most helpful."
Look at it, she thought. Notice me. She held her breath, hoping. But her professor's attention had already slid back to the trio at the table, where the chosen one was convincing his friend to do his homework.
"Professor," she said, and only the twitch of his hand showed that he'd heard. When she didn't move, he cleared his throat irritably.
"Miss Vane," he said, acknowledging her at last. Her heart pounded, as those long, slender fingers rose above the surface of the desk. He made a dismissive gesture, flicking them in her direction, and her heart shattered. "Good day."
She turned on her heel and fled, fighting back tears.
No more.
She would brew the most complicated of potions, tonight, from a potions book so advanced he'd have to be impressed. Where four years of meticulous work and perfect attendance had failed, her boldness would succeed. She'd bewitch Harry, like the witches of old. The strongest wizard of her age in her thrall, and her professor would have to notice. Wit and cunning were not so different after all. She would make him respect her, love her, even if she had to destroy the chosen one to do it.
Romilda Vane was done being ignored.