Three Weeks Later
Hermione let her gaze fall on the landscape speeding by the compartment window. The Hogwart's Express rumbled along through the mountains, Ron's voice vaguely trickled in her ear, and a sense of familiarity settled over her like a cocoon of safety.
Hermione's concentration was a rare thing these days, but luckily she knew that with Ron, a few well timed nods was all the participation he needed to keep the conversation flowing. With Harry there putting in his own share, it took even less than that. It wasn't that Ron was selfish or didn't pay attention to Hermione or anything of the like- he just was never good with emotions or deciphering Hermione's actions so he'd long ago given up trying. He took whatever he saw or whatever she told him to be true, which was what Hermione wanted.
She had to be more careful with Harry. He was another topic altogether. Unlike Ron, he was the ultimate mastermind at shielding others from his emotions, of building walls around himself. He knew when someone had something gnawing at them. But Hermione had become an amazing actor over the years. With a little determination, he too would have no idea there was even a problem.
When of course there was a problem. She had nightmares like time work each night. Her stomach still held a wound that had not yet healed, a name engraved by knife in her skin. She knew well that 'Viktor Krum' scar would never fade altogether. She had trouble trusting anyone, let alone the whole student body. She wondered who she would tell if she ever decided to. Harry would want her to go to the authorities while Ron would want to kill Viktor with bare hands. Neither of them knew she had a secret on the line as well, not just her dignity. No, she would never tell.
"Hermione? You with us?"
"Nope, she's lost it Harry. Happens to the best, I'm afraid."
Hermione turned to them and saw them both staring at her, Ron with laughter on his face at his own jibe, Harry with concern etched in his eyes.
"Oh…I'm sorry, what?"
Harry sighed, well learned that she wasn't about to divulge what distracted her. "We asked you—"
"About four times—"
"—if you'd heard about Carmen Riviera."
"Heard about her as in heard of her? Oh, yes. I have," Hermione smiled faintly, but it was unnoticed by Harry and Ron.
Carmen Riviera was, in a nut shell, an idol to females and a goddess to males. There was one word to describe people like Carmen Riviera, and that's gorgeous. She was of Spanish ethnicity, though she moved to England at the age of 8 to pursue a career. Occupationally, she sang mostly music that appealed to teenagers, miraculously without being trashy. She also performed on Broadway and in operas. She'd starred in a handful of award winning films with leading actors, though she was probably on top. She was admired and even loved by her fans. And all by the age of 17.
"No, 'course you heard of her, who hasn't? No, but did you hear that she'll be singing at Hogwarts?" Harry said enthusiastically.
"In December, too! That's only four months away," Ron added.
"Really? Wow, I think I had heard that somewhere. That'll be fun," Hermione muttered half-heartedly, her faint smile still firmly in place as though reminiscing on an old joke.
"Fun? That's an understatement if I ever heard one! Her songs are so…are so…" With that, Ron burst into a butchered performance of one of Carmen Riviera's most popular songs. Both Harry and Hermione clutched their ears and really tried as hard as they could to keep from laughing. Much easier said than done.
"Just a few words before we divulge in our delectable feast," Dumbledore said softly. The room fell silent instantly. "Now, as many of you have, I'm sure, heard, we will be graced by a most famous singing sensation come December. Now, it will be Miss Carmen Riviera's first ever concert here at Hogwarts and I want each and every one of you to behave. She is also of the magical essence to magic, in moderation, may be performed but any foolish pranksters will serve detention our caretaker, Mr. Filch," Dumbledore said sternly. He got a few nods in response but mostly blank stares. Never try to lecture hungry children. "I see we are all tired and famished so let me excuse myself. Let the feast begin." He clapped his hands together and every imaginable delicacy appeared before them on golden platters.
A murmur of excitement swept through the house tables but Snape's glare was enough to keep it at bay and away from the head table. Forced between Flitwick and that great oaf Hagrid, what was there to be excited about? And now, having that pop star perform at the school...
No, he corrected himself. It wasn't the pop star herself. He'd actually rather enjoyed the movies she'd stared in and the opera's she'd performed—her singing was exquisite. And, being human, he couldn't deny the fact that the girl herself was beautiful; exotic and mysterious, she captured interest. No, it was more the fact that they were having a concert at all that caused the grimace painted on his face.