A/N: Most of this first part was written when I was ill so if it comes out as delirium and does not make sense, please let me know.
Disclaimer: If you think that I'm J.K.Rowling, you have been seriously misled. No, I do not own any characters, etc. in this fic.
Granger and Potter - yes, the famous Harry Potter - had been going out for a little over a year. It was disgusting, really, the way they always fawned over each other. The perfect little couple, the celebrity and the mudblood. Their ambiance of being the quaint, humble lovebirds was quite annoying, especially because I saw them in half of my classes, not to mention meals and out on the grounds. It made me wonder how that Weasley could stand to be around them. But then, he is a Weasley-more of a sycophantic hanger-on than a wizard of any merit.
Then the Yule ball came and of course this gave them an extra chance to be especially trying. Always floating - yes floating, not just walking - around and glowing like small children on Christmas morning. Ick.
Sitting in herbology class with those three about two weeks before ball, the day that Crabbe and Goyle were in the infirmary for eating one of the Weasley twin's childish creations, we were repotting some foul plant or other, likely to be harmful in some way, for Professor Sprout. I swear that witch creates these "projects" so she can use us to do her extra work.
Utterly dull.
In the midst of all the excitement I looked across the room to see Granger gushing on and on in a most ridiculous manner to Parvati Patil, another of those goody-goody Griffindors, about the Yule ball. (Someone bring me a bucket, please, I'm going to be sick.) Just on her other side, however, sat Potter, looking quite uncomfortable with the entire situation. Enjoying this small ounce of discomfort, I watched his face grow darker and darker as each moment passed. Wondering to myself what could have caused this delightful storm cloud over Potter, I continued to watch as he hunched over and slid his chair as far away from Granger as possible. Finally something of interest! But then Professor Sprout (called) that it was time to clean up, and I realized that I hadn't finished for the day. Just one more way Potter and his little friends ruin things for me. Distractions. Thoroughly frustrated, I stuffed my tools and gloves into my bag and promptly forgot about the whole episode I had witnessed. That is, until later that night.
The common room was stuffy and I was entirely over homework that night. Thinking to get some fresh, cold air to revive me, and also to avoid hearing any more of Crabbe and Goyle's muffled groans over their current state of being, I went out on the grounds. The snow crunched softly under my boots and it felt genuinely nice to be out. I breathed deeply, feeling the cold air stung my lungs. It felt so clean. Wandering aimlessly, I turned a corner and found Potter and Weasley. But not Ronald Weasley. The younger one, the girl. The Weaslette. They hadn't noticed me yet and I really had no intention of being interrupted and cross-examined by them, exposing myself to whole new levels of their yet uncharted ignorance and stupidity, so I stepped behind a rather large row of bushy shrubs. I stood there for a good five minutes waiting for them to leave (and five minutes is a lot when one is standing silently in the snow in a not-so-very-warm overcoat). They just kept standing there and talking. Impatient as I was, I was about to just come out, walk past them, and hope for the best. But when I stuck my head out from behind the shrubs in one last futile hope that maybe they had just left, he stooped down and kissed her. As if on queue, Granger stepped out from a side door, froze, then burst into tears and ran crying back inside.
Priceless. This was absolutely priceless.
Expecting some sort of reaction from the two still standing there, I was surprised to see that of the two, only the Weaslette seemed at all disturbed by what had happened. But Potter just took her arm and they walked off around the opposite corner of the building. Interesting, to say the least.
There had to be something that could be done with this information. Presumably no one yet knew about it excepting myself and those concerned. Everyone would know by tomorrow I reasoned with myself. That's the way it is with him. Everyone notices every little new thing in his life.
Deciding that I had better get back to work after all, I returned to the common room. But after another valiant attempt at the work piled before me, I surrendered and went to bed, though not before Pansy Parkinson gave me oh-so-subtle hints about the Yule ball and the fact that no one had asked her yet. Gee, what a shocker.
Nothing against her looks, I suppose, though truth be told she is definitely not the archetype of attractive human females. It is just that one would suppose that Slytherins have a sort of grace or refinement. Dignity. Something. Anything. But not her. Au contraire. She is almost as repulsive as Granger in this respect, always gossiping and gushing. Makes herself seem quite the prat. For some inexplicable reason, she has gotten the idea into her head that I enjoy listening to her stories. Constantly talking. Every day. Every meal. On and on, endless, pointless, and inane. Some days it makes me want to scream and holler and throw things, but I refrain. After all, she might be useful for something later. She does follow any instructions I give her. Errands and the like.
A/N: This originally went on, but it was entirely too long and had stuff that wasn't supposed to be up yet. Sorry!