Chapter The Second: Twitchy Little Ferret
"I'm terribly sorry, Viktor," Hermione attested. "We just - we just…don't have that much in common, and-"
"I get it," Viktor consented. "I vill see you around, vill I not?"
"Yes, yes, of course you will," Hermione said, smiling. She gave him a grateful hug, and he walked away silently. She chuckled to herself then headed back to the Great Hall, pleased to be able to study without being watched - by Viktor, that is. [Ron had been on her back constantly, trying to figure out with whom she was going to the Yule Ball.
"Hermione - who are you going to the ball with?" said Ron. He kept springing this question on her, hoping to startle her into a response when she least expected it. However, Hermione merely frowned and said, "I'm not telling you, you'll just make fun of me."
"You're joking, Weasley," said Malfoy, behind them. "You're telling me someone's asked that to the ball? Not the long-molared Mudblood?"
Harry and Ron both whipped around, but Hermione said loudly, waving to somebody over Malfoy's shoulders, "Hello, Professor Moody!" Malfoy went pale and jumped backwards, looking wildly around for Moody, but he was still up at the staff table, finishing his stew.
"Twitchy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?" said Hermione scathingly, and she, Harry, and Ron went up the marble staircase, laughing heartily.] Their laughter was interrupted by Malfoy bellowing after them.
"Well, Granger, we all know how much you like rodents," he retorted. Neither of the boys heard exactly what he said and knew only that he had yelled, but all of the trio turned on their heels to face him again. Harry, who was farthest up the steps and trying not to get pulled into another argument, stood nervously watching; Ron sent Malfoy an icy glare. Hermione, however, swiftly retraced her steps until she was standing a couple meters from Malfoy.
"What's that supposed to mean!" she barked. Malfoy smirked, pretending to be surprised.
"Granger! Tsk-tsk! Do you mean to say you actually don't know something?" he chided teasingly. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest, scoffing.
"Congratulations. Weaselby might actually be worthy of someone so astute," he playfully admonished.
"Oh, because you're so much better, isn't that right?" she sneered.
Malfoy smiled coyly.
"And I take that back. You might actually be half as smart as you like to think you are."
Hermione's mouth fell open.
"You are such an arse, Malfoy!"
"Language, Granger! Wouldn't want to be gettin' in any trouble now, do you? Or maybe you've secretly got a penchant for it? Certainly would explain why you're still talking to me," Draco continued, stepping closer to Hermione so they were standing rather closely to one another.
"In case you haven't noticed, you've been doing most of the talking, Malfoy," she recounted, desperately searching for words, pleading with herself to stay as calm as possible. "Maybe you've got a penchant for more than one kind of trouble."
She couldn't determine whether she was intensely angry or infatuated. She always prayed it was the former, but she'd noticed the latter kept creeping up on her, especially at the worst times.
They're all the worst times, she reprimanded herself.
"Why'd ya have to ruin my fun?" he said teasingly, though his face fell.
"It's my job, Malfoy. I'd think you'd have noticed by now!" she taunted him back.
"That makes it so much better," he replied sarcastically, chuckling.
"Maybe you'll get me back someday. If you ever find something you're better at, that is," she added.
"Well, I've got an idea," he suggested after a brief moment, his voice suddenly a bit softer.
"Which is?"
"Go to the ball with me."
"Come again?" she stammered, shocked.
"You aren't deaf too, are you, Granger?"
"Sod off, Malfoy," she said threateningly, then turned her back to him, taking care to avoid meeting Ron's and Harry's confused eyes as she raced up the stairs.
Note: The text within the brackets is an excerpt from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire (US Edition) and was written by J.K. Rowling, not by me.