The Masked Yule Ball
Chapter Two – The Meeting
Deciding they weren't going to come to her there, she got up and headed over to the drinks table. At least she wouldn't look sad or lonely there like sitting at a large table by herself. Not only were there drinks, there were also snacks and nibbles along the table. Holding a glass full of some pink liquid that was clearly designed for someone with a sweet tooth (which she had, despite her parents being dentists), she walked along the table and spied a chocolate fountain with a plate for the little cocktail sticks you used to dip into the chocolate: they were laden with marshmallows, fudge and strawberries. However, there was only one cocktail stick left.
Just as she reached out for it, another hand beat her to it and brushed against hers. She looked up and met the grey eyes of a handsome stranger. Well, she assumed he was handsome – the top half of his face was hidden by the grey mask he wore – but he had good bone structure and was tall as well as muscular. His dark hair was well combed and his black suit looked brand new. But although she didn't recognise him, she was sure those eyes were familiar…
"I'm sorry. Would you like this?" he asked, holding up the cocktail stick. His voice was familiar, too…
"Em…thank you," she replied, taking the stick and continued to stare, trying to place him. He raised one eyebrow. "What?" he asked. "Oh, I'm sorry!" she gushed, "but…I'm sure I recognise you from somewhere. I just can't place you…"
She thought she saw a flicker of worry in his eyes but it passed – so quickly she wasn't sure if it was real. "It doesn't matter," she said, looking away, knowing she was making him uncomfortable. She snapped the cocktail stick in half and handed one piece to the stranger. "Since there's only one left, we'll just have to share."
"You can have it all, you know," said the stranger, politely. "No – I don't want it all. I just wanted a taste. I'd rather if we shared it," persuaded Hermione. He hesitated before taking it. "Well, alright. If you'd prefer."
The chocolate was – to put it quite simply – heavenly. It had a sweet, creamy, melt-in-the-mouth feature that drowned your taste-buds in pleasure. Add the sweetness of the other accessories and it was incredible – she thought of how she felt on her birthday or when she got good marks on her homework. Was this a special kind of magic chocolate that brought happy feelings? she wondered. Her mouth was totally covered in chocolate and so was the stranger's – laughing, they grabbed napkins and began scrubbing their faces clean.
She turned back to the boy and asked, "Enjoy?" Giving her a smile which showed perfect teeth (with no chocolate stains), he said, "Oh, yes. This is the best chocolate I've ever had – and that's saying something, considering…" He suddenly stopped as if he'd said too much. To change the subject, he said, "You've got chocolate on your nose."
Hermione felt her nose and found he was right. How did she miss that? She quickly wiped it off and asked, "What's your name?" Again, he hesitated. Hermione wondered what was wrong. Had he something to hide? Maybe he was afraid she wouldn't like him. Was he a Slytherin? Since the war, most Slytherins had been trying to act nicely towards others – which was difficult as they'd been brought up to do the opposite. Draco Malfoy was a perfect example of that. His father had pretty much brainwashed him into believing that 'pure-bloods' were supreme and anything or anyone who didn't fit into that category or didn't agree was wrong – they shouldn't exist. Yes, Malfoy was horrible but that's how he'd been brought up and if he hadn't been horrible, his father probably would have killed him…or Voldemort. Hermione had tried to be more forgiving towards everyone lately as life was too precious to waste on stupid grudges. Except for maybe Ron…and Lavender.
"I said, do you want to dance?" A voice pulled her back to her senses. She'd zoned out whilst thinking and had completely ignored him. He was staring at her, head tilted and one eyebrow raised, obviously wondering if she was okay. She smiled. "Sorry. I was just thinking of something else. And yes – I'd love to dance."
He took her hand and let her onto the floor. It was slow music playing and as there was a large crowd, they could only move in a small circle, swaying to the music. "You still haven't answered my question."
"Hhmm?" He looked down. "What's that?"
"What's your name?" He paused for a moment, thinking, before saying, "I thought the point of this ball was that you didn't find out who you're with until the end."
"Yes, but I'd still like to call you something. I can't go around calling you 'thingy' all night." He laughed when she said 'thingy' and smiled down at her. "Fair point. But, uh…my name isn't very common, like Harry or John. It's quite recognisable."
"Hhmm…mine, too" said Hermione, trying to think of people she knew who shared her name. She didn't get anything. "Well, what about a nickname? You can call me Mina – it's kinda like mine." Well, it was kind of: Hermione → 'Mione → Mina.
"Okay, 'Mina'. You can call me…Darrell. It begins with a D – like my name!"
"Well, 'Darrell'…how has your evening been so far?"
"…It's got better since I arrived at the buffet table and spotted the chocolate fountain." Hermione smiled. She felt the same way. He continued, "But the main reason I went to the buffet table was to get away from my friends. They kept asking me to go with them to talk to girls and dance with them. They keep saying I need to 'get out more' and meet more people."
Hermione tried not to laugh – the guy was being serious – but a small giggle managed to escape her lips. "What?" he asked. "Nothing. It's just that…I'm in the exact same position. I recently stopped dating someone and my friends keep saying I only ever seem to be in either classes or the library – and that I only go to our tower to sleep in my dormitory. I'm only here tonight because my friend, Ginny, pretty much dragged me here – she said it'd help me meet new people. I'm sure if I hadn't agreed to come voluntarily, she'd have dressed me, tied me up and carried me here."
Darrell chuckled. "I'd like to see that!" There was a moment's silence before Darrell asked, "Ginny? The only Ginny I know is Ginny Weasley…Is it that Ginny?" "Yes." Darrell nodded. "So you know the Weasleys?" Hermione nodded. "Then that must mean you know Harry Potter?"
Hermione froze. "…Yes? What about him?"
"Oh, nothing. I just wondered…trying to figure out who you are, that's all. And I know we're not to find out who we're with till midnight but we can ask questions and guess – and then find out later if we're right."
Hermione relaxed and smiled again. "Fair point. So, now you know who my friends are, can I ask who yours are?"
"Well," began Darrell. "I only really have one main friend – he's with me in the Quidditch team."
"Oh, you're a Quidditch player? How long have you been playing?"
"Pretty much all my life."
"Oh – so you're from a wizarding family?"
"Yeah, I am. I've known I was a wizard for years – unlike muggle-borns or possibly half-bloods…Not that there's anything wrong with them! No, that's all over now. Blood purity and all that – it's finished!"
Hermione smiled. "Good, cause I am one – a muggle-born, that is. And I don't see how that makes me any different from anyone else. I'm probably one of the best witches in my year! I know that's not very modest but…I'm just as good a witch – and possibly better – than anyone I know."
"Well, like I said, the whole blood purity thing is gone. We're all the same." He looked up as he spoke and stopped. They'd been turning in a circle the whole time they'd been talking but now Darrell had stopped moving altogether, staring in one direction.. "What is it?" asked Hermione. She looked round but all she could see was the people dancing around her – she didn't have Darrell's height so couldn't see what he was staring at over everyone's shoulders.
Then she knew. She heard – she saw – but she couldn't speak. What was he doing? she wondered, staring, as the wave of red hair forced its way through the crowd towards her: shoving past everyone, ignoring the annoyed glares and pained gasps as someone felt an elbow or foot. Ronald Weasley. He was charging towards them like an angry bull – with the poor surrounding dancers acting as the china shop. When he finally reached them, he took one quick look at Hermione before glaring at Darrell. What was his problem?
