Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and I do not own the second part of italics. That is taken straight from Goblet of Fire.
The library has always been my safe haven; a place to study and read freely without the normal dramas of adolescent life. No one of importance ever came into my haven, so that's what surprised me about Viktor Krum.
He spent practically all of his time there; simply reading. Actually, I'm not so sure he was reading. I don't think I've ever seen him turn a page. It wouldn't bother me that he was there if his stupid fangirls would keep quiet and not twitter around nervously, giggling and constantly having whispered contemplations about who should go up to Viktor first and ask for an autograph. I'm pretty sure none of them have actually plucked up the courage to do it.
Anyway, when he came over to me a few days after McGonagall told us about the Yule Ball, I was baffled. He had never spoken to me and I was pretty sure he had no idea anyone else was in the library was actually there.
"Hello," He said nervously, "I am Viktor." He stuck his hand out for me to shake.
"Hermione," I say, and am horrified that I have a strong urge to giggle at his poker straight poster. I shake his hand.
"I vas vondering if you already haff a date for the Yule ball?" He asked. Wait. What does that have to do with anything?
"Er…no," I said, a tad confused.
"Vould you like to come with me?" He asked formally.
"I'd love to," I said, my face flushing. He seems very sweet.
With a slight bow, he took my hand and quickly kissed it. Viktor walked off towards his table and collected his things.
I've been replaying that scene in my head for about three days, now. I just can't believe he wants to go the ball with someone like me; an unpopular bookworm with two boy best friends. Oh, yeah, who wouldn't?
The next day Neville Longbottom asked me to the ball, and I felt so bad saying no to him; he's just so nice. I suggested he ask Ginny Weasley, because I know she really wants to go and she doesn't have a date. I told her about Viktor because if I hadn't told someone soon, I was going to burst.
And now, today, I am sitting at the Gryffindor table, alone, eating dinner. Harry and Ron are nowhere to be found and I feel like a complete idiot sitting here all by myself. I finish up, and go back to the common room.
I walk in and see Harry, Ginny, and Ron sitting in a corner. Ron and Harry are laughing about something.
"Why weren't you two at dinner?" I ask, going over to join them.
"Because – oh shut up laughing, you two – because they've both been turned down by the girls they asked to the ball!" Ginny answered me. I suppress a snort when both boys suddenly stop laughing and start looking rather sour.
"Thanks a bunch, Ginny," Ron says.
"All the good-looking ones taken, Ron? Eloise Midgen starting to look quite pretty now, is she? Well, I'm sure you'll find someone somewhere who'll have you." I say loftily. He's just such an insensitive wart. Oh, stop that staring at me, you're making me nervous!
"Hermione, Neville's right – you are a girl…" Dumb boy. Of course I am.
"Oh, well spotted," I say acidly.
"Well – you can come with one of us!" He says…well, that was rather unexpected, wasn't it? Figures I'd get a date and then the guy I sort-of, kind-of maybe a little bit of a crush on asks me.
"No, I can't," I snap.
"Oh, come on," he says impatiently, "we need partners, we're going to look really stupid if we haven't got any, everyone else has…" Heavens forbid you might not have a partner…Outrageous!
"I can't come with you," I say, now starting to blush, "because I'm already going with someone."
"No, you're not!" said Ron. "You just said that to get rid of Neville!"
"Oh, did I?" I say in a dangerous voice. This is absolutely infuriating! "Just because it's taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn't mean no one else has spotted I'm a girl!"
He stares at me. Then his face then twisted into a grin.
"OK, OK, we know you're a girl," he says. "That do? Will you come now?"
"I've already told you!" God, this boy is enraging me. "I'm going with someone else." And then I stormed off to the girls' dormitories.
The nerve of that boy! It's none of his business who I am going with and even if I did tell him, I know he'd take the mickey out of me. Sometimes I hate having boys for friends. I just pray to god that Ginny doesn't tell them.
The days leading up to the ball have been rather hilarious. Everybody is scrambling around, trying to find dates, making sure their dress robes fit and all the girls have gone mad with buying make-up. You have no idea how much make-up Lavender and Parvati have…its crazy! And then they keep badgering me: "Who are you going with, Hermione?" "Is it someone really embarrassing, Hermione?" "I saw you talking to Justin Flinch-Fletchy yesterday, Hermione, are you going to the ball with him?" Dear Lord, you'd think they'd just get tired of asking and wait until tonight, but no sir! Not those vultures.
Well, saying they're vultures is a bit harsh. They're probably just excited.
But then there's Ron. He keeps springing the question on me as thought hoping he might surprise me enough for me to answer. I pride myself on being quick-witted, so it's rather irritating having him keep asking me like I'm just some stupid girl who can't figure out which questions to answer and which questions to ignore. Jeesh.
The day leading up to the ball I went outside with Harry and Ron to play in the snow, but I refused to actually do much. My hair has enough frizz as it is, thank you. I leave with a few hours to spare before the ball, and Ron springs the question on me one last time. I smile wittily at him, and then depart to the confines of my room.
Parvati and Lavender's irritating twittering is so annoying I could scream. They keep insisting they do my hair and make-up.
"No, really girls, it's OK. I can do it." I say for the umpteenth time.
"Well, alright. We just want you to look pretty for Mr. X," Lavender says. Since I refused to tell them who I am going with, they have started calling him Mr. X. They think it's clever, but frankly, I think it's rather unoriginal.
Finally, those two with their lipsticks and foundations, got on my last nerve. I shut myself in the confines of my four-poster bed and put a silencing charm on it. Ah, finally, some peace and quiet.
I'm not overly fond of this hair potion. It's seems like a lot of work.
Directions: Immerse your head in Potion, massaging your scalp and hair. Do this for five minutes, and rinse. Repeat if necessary. For super curly hair, keep the potion on your hair and scalp for ten minutes.
Well, looks like I'll need the bathroom for this.
I can't believe I just wasted thirty minutes of my precious three hours. Frankly, my hair has never been of much importance of me. It does look rather amazing, though. I put it in a French twist and used every bobby pin I owned…and since that didn't suffice, I used a holding charm. It better stay.
My mum sent me some make-up last week because I told her about the ball. Oh joy. I get to experiment with glitter. Someone kill me now, please. I suppose this mascara would be nice…and maybe a little blush…and some lip gloss. She told me to put the glitter (which isn't actually glittery. It's white and shimmery) on the inner corners of my eyes and my eyebrow bones. Well, that wasn't so hard. I think that's enough; I don't want to look too made up.
I put my periwinkle blue robes on and look in the mirror. I look like a different person…my tooth reduction is even more pronounced now. I like this look on me.
It seems as though maybe I could catch someone's eye. Too bad it's not my date's eye I want to catch.
I hate liking you, Ronald Weasley.
Author's Note: Well, that was a bit of Hermione's thoughts. I was going to go into the ball, but I decided against it. Tell me what you think!
