Title: Hermione's Yule Ball
Rating: K+
Chapter #: 1
Ship/s: Ron x Hermione
Era/s: Hogwarts
Genre/s: Romance, General
NOTE: I recommend you read this in 3/4 width and with the font size 2 steps bigger than the preset. It looks a lot nicer and much easier to read, I think:)
Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I'd be rewriting the epilogue right now.
There were thirty-six cracks along her dormitory ceiling, and one dirty-grey scorch mark. Hermione knew this because she had been staring up at it for so long. Occasionally, during the approximate four hours that she had been lying moodily atop her duvet, Hermione had heard the soft click of the door to the room being opened and spotted Parvati or Lavender's figure moving to fetch something from their bedside cabinet through the translucent curtain fabric of her four-poster; neither girl had attempted to coax her downstairs to the common room or popped her head through the peach-coloured netting between them, though. Hermione was unsure of how she felt about this – on the one hand, she found the other girls in her house still rather grating at the best of times, yet there was definitely a part of her that yearned for someone to weep to. That part of her was the same that craved the asking of a particularly wonderful, magnificent question.
To the other Gryffindors, Hermione was the brainy bookworm who hated breaking rules and missing deadlines. Constantly enveloped in hefty volumes with worn spines, she was never seen with any girls in her year and nobody had ever heard her titter or squeal. She was Harry Potter and Ron Weasley's close friend. She was one of the boys.
But occasionally she hated it. Sometimes, Hermione found herself actually envying the girlish Lavender and Parvati, secretly wishing that the Gryffindor boys would see her as feminine, wink at her like they winked at them. Of course, immediately after thinking this the dominant part of her mind would scold itself for being so ridiculous, locking the thoughts away with the rest of her forbidden feelings in the figurative trunk in the deepest corner of her brain. They wouldn't vanish entirely, however, and sooner or later Hermione would find the locked box rattling again, begging to be opened until it forced itself to burst and the confessions plagued her mind once more.
After three full years of experiencing them, Hermione's mood swings weren't unusual to Ron and Harry, though they had occurred frequently enough for the boys to have established a stay-safe routine with which to defend themselves during one of their friend's volcanic eruptions. All books or other heavy items that had the potential to leave a bruise were kept at bay from her whilst the huff was in motion, and the pair would sit opposite her in lessons and at mealtimes, rather than settle next to her and risk being stabbed with a quill-nib or fork.
They were probably seated together now, Hermione mused. Presumably muttering about how irritating her current behaviour was, or praising the Beauxbatons' backsides. Indeed, the cordial reception of the foreign girls had not gone unnoticed by Hermione. She had seen the way he'd looked at them. Sharing a sideways glance with the other guys, he'd dropped his jaw just like most other males in the Great Hall had done when the girls entered. With most of them being part-Veela, and French - not to mention their airy ballet piece as they fluttered into the centre of the Hall - they were irresistible to men, even to one in particular, to —
Her thoughts were cut short as the dormitory door was slammed shut, accompanied with the trademark squeals of her roommates. Next thing Hermione knew, the curtains to her four-poster were being thrust aside and a practically bouncing Lavender thrust herself atop the sheets, followed shortly by Parvati. Both girls' hands were flailing in the air, huge grins plastered on their pretty faces.
"Good afternoon to you too," Hermione said curtly, wriggling to sit upright at the top of the bed. Despite her derisive tone, she had to admit that she was curious as to what news had made the girls so ecstatic. The shrieking continued for a while longer, however, regardless of her expectant expression, and it wasn't until Hermione loudly cleared her throat that it ceased.
"You'll never guess what," Parvati began, her eyes shining. Lavender's face, meanwhile, was scrunched up tightly as she rocked back and forth, as if the temptation to finish off her best friend's sentence was killing her.
"SEAMUS FINNIGAN ASKED ME TO THE YULE BALL!"
Lavender's exclamation set the squealing off again, but Hermione could barely crack a fake smile at the news. It was not that she had feelings for Seamus – he was fairly good-looking and all, but she didn't like him as much more than a friend – but the matter of yet another girl finding a date before her made her heart twinge a little. For one thing, at least, she was thankful; Lavender hadn't obliterated her chance at getting the boy she desired.
Ron Weasley was still available.