She really wasn't that into Quiddich.
Her domain was the library. The potions classroom might have been her playroom, but the place where she could be herself and weave among the shelves and have all the information she needed and things were predictable and logical and sensible, even when she was becoming aware that Viktor Krum seemed to be spending more and more time in the library, and she thought she could see him staring at her – at least when those other silly girls weren't dropping books or bending low over shelves in front of him.
Oh, she'd watch Quiddich, and going to the World Cup was wonderful, but it's not like she'd sit for hours and discuss the Wronski Feint or the subtleties of goblin-manufactured footrests instead of custom-forged stirrups on racing brooms.
But she tended to dismiss those infatuated with the game as wasteful of their talents, even if they were rather well built, and what some would call somewhat dark and handsome, and giving time and brainpower to the intricacies of the game rather than their homework, or perhaps delving further into information that they could use in the fight against the Dark Lord.
And she was very, very aware of how other people said her name. Mispronounced it. Twisted it. Turned it into something silly or foolish. And she winced at the mess – "Her-mee-oh-nee", "Hy-mon-ee", even on one disastrous occasion, "Honey". Ick.
But someone was willing to give it a try.
Someone who had asked her to be his partner for the ball.
Someone who wanted to share with her his castle and his mountains and his lakes.
"Hermy-own" he called her.
"Her-my-oh-nee" she coached him carefully, aware that he was speaking a different language. She looked into his eyes to encourage him, and was caught by their intensity, and that he was taking this seriously and trying so hard to please her. And somehow, she forgot to breathe for a moment, an unfamiliar feeling inside her stirring, because his eyes had held and captured her very soul and it felt like he was reading all her secret desires from the back of her mind and then she gasped and knocked a knife off the table as she started from the intensity of the feeling.
And he smiled gently at her, and caught the knife and her heart in mid-air.