Sixteen Candles
Chapter Four
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A sixteenth birthday is supposed to be magical. It's supposed to make everything amazing, everyone is supposed to worship you for one day and, most importantly, everyone is supposed to remember. Hermione Granger was more than a little bitter about how her special day had turned out.
The only hope for saving her birthday would be the back-to-school social, a dance of sorts which Professor Dumbledore and the rest of the staff had set up on yet another drive to promote inter-house friendships. But even with that to look forward to, Hermione was doubtful that this egregious day could be salvaged in any way.
While she pondered Dumbledore's ridiculous schemes to promote inter-house unity, she was, in fact, sitting in a hard wood chair in the man himself's office, with Dean Thomas, of all people, waiting for the Professor to come in and share with them his "surprise", as he had phrased it in the note they had received.
"What do you think he has for us?" Dean muttered to the brunette beside him. "Hope it's something exciting. Maybe he'll have me learn how to fight Death Eaters for the protection of the castle…"
She shrugged with nonchalance and chose to ignore his silly comment; the war hadn't even been declared yet, let alone the training of fifteen and sixteen year olds to save the school.
"It's probably just a job that he needs done around Hogwarts - a ball to organise, or a change to the patrol schedules."
Slumping down in his chair, Dean scowled, thoroughly dejected by Hermione's kill-joy tendencies.
"Mr. Thomas, Miss Granger, how lovely of you to drop in at such short notice," Albus Dumbledore smiled brightly. He had entered the room with a teenage boy at his side. Hermione didn't recognize him. "Lemon drop?"
Hermione shook her head in response, and couldn't help but study the boy whom, she assumed, she was going to be introduced to them soon enough. He had strawberry-blonde coloured hair, too shaggy to be considered cute - in her opinion, in good need of a cut. He wore muggle clothes, not unlike the ones that the male Hogwarts students would wear on an outing to Hogsmeade, and had no robes with him. He grinned at them, revealing endearing dimples.
"Children, this is Jeremy Warner. He's come to visit us from America." The seasoned professor started, "And I would like you to be his guides."
Smiling her sweetest smile, the brunette oozed kindness. "I would be honored."
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Hermione Granger was appalled.
"Hey bro- whuddup homie?" Jeremy (or Jem, as he said his nickname back home was) said to his newest fan, Ron, and threw himself onto the Gryffindors' precious crimson couch.
Of course the boys were quickly attracted to this foreigner; his swearing rate was high and Jem had an uncanny ability to make rude remarks towards the women in the room.
As they, Hermione, Jem, and Dean, walked back to the common, Hermione had tried to start a friendly conversation, such as how his trip was going, what he liked the best about Hogwarts so far, and what school was like in America. He had responded with quite peculiar and grammatically incorrect answers like, "It ain't so hot, dawg" or "Yeah, it's cool, ya dig?".
This crazy American was scaring her, and she had also noticed that he was terribly sexist. Every pretty girl over the age of fifteen had received some cat call, grotesque gesture or lewd comment that made Hermione wonder who had taught him such awful manners and why he didn't have a permanent slap-mark across his cocky little face.
Regardless, all the boys, especially Harry and Ron, to her dismay, had become fast friends with Jem. The welcomed him with open arms, eager as little children on Christmas morning to hear about what life was like in America.
Hermione decided that she would put as much distance between Jem and herself as she could.
Instead of hanging on his every word, she, with all of the other girls in the common room, went back to their dormitory to don their dancing attire. Cute skirts and colourful blouses were tossed into the middle of the room, for all the girls to choose their weapons of choice from. They were all determined to get their own special boy's attention, and tonight was the perfect opportunity.
This brunette wasn't an exception. She picked up every different article of clothing as if it was the most delicate thing in this world. In reality, however, it was Ginevra who picked out the sundress in multiple shades of blue and yellow.
As she finally exited the crowded room, taking to walking down the stairs very slowly, Hermione cringed at the sight of Jem and Dean, who were waiting on the couch for her.
With the hopes of being able to lose them quickly once they got to the dance, she put on her biggest, most patronizing smile, "Well, let's go."
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Author's Note.
Why was this so hard to write?! I'm sorry this took so long. Writing an actual story is a lot harder than I thought it would be. All your support means the world to me guys:[
I hope I shouldn't have to say this, but just in case, I'm not trying to make fun of Americans. I am American. It's just how we are sometimes. If you've seen the movie, you'd understand why I exaggerated Jem's character so much.
Lots of love for my beta, fallingstar93!
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