Wow, the response to last chapter was crazy! I posted it, and then went to bed. I wake up the next afternoon, check my e-mails while eating my fruit salad, and there are all these review, story and favourite story alerts! You guys' support astounds me. Thanks so much.
On a completely random note: listen to Santogold. She released an album this year, and by God, it's flipping awesome! I love it to death. I'm seeing her at the Sydney Festival Night for free. It's so totally bitchin'. Yay!
CHAPTER FOUR – Dates
It was the last day of term, and Hermione was yet again avoiding everyone. Talk of the Yule Ball was grating on her nerves. Giggling girls everywhere, and grunting hormonal boys too. She knew she'd never get asked by anyone, but that didn't stop her secretly hoping to be. Hermione would probably accept anyone at this rate. It had been just over a week since the ball had been announced, and Hermione hadn't been approached once. There wasn't something wrong with her, was there? No. She just suspected that people didn't like her outspoken attitude… or the fact she actually had brains to go along with her mediocre looks. She didn't think she was that pretty. Rather plain - with an average complexion. Her face was scattered in a slight sprinkle of freckles, and her hair lay limp, but still impossibly wild, down to her shoulders. Hermione had a small, straight nose and boring muddy brown eyes. There was nothing wrong with her, she concluded. She was too good for any of the immature boys in her year, anyway. But some of the older boys…
She shouldn't get her hopes up.
To put it short, Hermione was miserable about the drama that was the Yule Ball. Not to mention she had three subjects she had been very tempted to skip today; History of Magic, Charms and Potions… with the Slytherins. What had she done to deserve this? Hermione had never really liked History of Magic very much, but thought it crucial to understanding the world she missed out on growing up in. Charms was alright, but all they did the whole lesson was play games. Because she was avoiding Harry and Ron, and therefore not sitting next to them, Hermione resigned herself to sitting by herself at the back, reading over Stop Nightmares Where They Start by Santi White – clearly a muggleborn by the obvious muggle name.
Then there was Potions. Hermione abhorred the subject like no other. She was sure she would enjoy it if Professor Snape didn't hate on her so. Making poison antidotes, and being tested on it for that matter, meant that Hermione's patience was hanging by a thread. Malfoy's snide comments weren't helping at all.
"Is there an antidote to mudblood filth?" he had said when she had walked past with some of her ingredients. She had snarled at him, particularly irritable. Of course, he had to be incredibly annoying all class.
So when Hermione arrived in the Great Hall for dinner, she was eternally grateful for the abundant feast placed before her. Grabbing all she could, which included roast chicken, salad, potatoes, pumpkin, and a nice large serving of apple sauce (something she had to have on everything), Hermione sat in silence, golfing down her meal with a renewed enthusiasm. She was there early so as to avoid the general population of Hogwarts, and had left by the time she saw Harry and Ron disappearing into the huge hall behind a throng of hungry students.
Walking through the Entrance Hall to one of the staircases that would lead her to Gryffindor tower, Hermione could not help but notice the extravagant decorations that had been put up this year. She supposed it was Hogwarts' way of impressing their visitors as she saw large icicles hanging from the staircase banisters. Upon placing her hand on the railing, she realised they were charmed so they would not be cold to touch. Hermione smiled at the obvious thoughtfulness. She hated the cold.
She even noticed that the suits of armour were all bewitched to sing Christmas carols when someone passed them. Hermione had strode past one and it had burst into 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas'. It had nearly toppled her over in her surprise, before she chuckled slightly to herself and moved on before it could start to serenade her completely.
Reaching the Fat Lady, she smiled at the friendly portrait and said the password, "Fairy lights." The heavy portrait swung open with a faint creak. Climbing through, Hermione was met with a warm, but very empty common room. She went up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, and settled herself onto her bed, flinging her outer robe onto her bed. Crouching down and ducking her head under her bed, she pulled out all the books on her dream research, intent on delving more deeply into it. It was currently going nowhere, and Hermione was getting frustrated. Why was she even having these dreams? It didn't make sense at all. She had never met Cedric until the Quidditch World Cup, and her dreams had started as soon as she'd gone back to school. She needed to know the connection between the when and the where, as well as the how; if it was at all possible these dreams were prophetic. Divination was a silly subject, though. It always had been.
Flicking through The Dark Arts And Divination: A Deadly Mixture, Hermione found something relevant at last. She sat upright in interest, moving the book closer to her and reading reverently.
It is a rare gift to predict the future. It is also rather selective. Depending on the ability, some see life, some see death, and some see random events that may bare no meaning or connection to the Seer.
However, there are those who are given these abilities by chance. They are not always present. With coming and going visions, it is hard to determine whether these people are actually Seers. There is much controversy amongst those who delve into the subject.
"If someone does not possess the Seer ability for their whole life, they are not a Seer." says Professor Woodleturn of Durmstrang (b. 1943 – d. 1984), "Anyone who believes themselves to have the ability to see into the unknown future, but can only prove this at unpredictable points in time, is merely a fraud."
Hermione scoffed at Woodleturn's words. Was she a fraud, huh? She didn't ask to have this "gift" thrust upon her. She continued to read the passage.
Perhaps the most questionable Seer ability is that of a Death Seer. A witch or wizard who Sees people die. These visions can come in a variety of ways: prophecies, dreams, and even mysterious objects that suddenly appear (although this is the least common). Undisputedly, Death Seers are often referred to as the Grim in human form. To be able to know when someone will die is an ominous gift, one that can not be taken lightly. It is highly advisable to avoid interference, and let the future happen as it should. There have been dire consequences to those that have not heeded this advice.
An example of this is Frederick Benthour, who chose to…
Hermione stopped reading after that. So she was a Death Seer… but her ability was completely random and it would be best if she were not to interfere.
How can I do that? Hermione thought. I can't just let Cedric die.
And she couldn't. Malicious was one thing Hermione was not, and letting Cedric die was a prime example of that. It would be evil. It would be unfair. Thinking of his family, Hermione knew she could not do that to the father that was so proud of his son, and the mother she knew loved him dearly. Hell, she couldn't do it to Cedric. A boy- no, man- with such a promising future, deserved to fulfil it. Standing by and watching him die would torture her. She would fix this. Hermione could make everything better, everything normal.
Once again, Hermione was faced with an almost impossible task. But she was Hermione Granger – she always succeeded.
Nodding to herself in agreement, and confident of her abilities to prevent the incoming death of Cedric Diggory, Hermione continued to read through the, roughly, seven or eight books she had hidden underneath her bed, taking notes where necessary. It was not until an hour or so later that Hermione felt her lids droop and her hand ache. Without packing away her research, Hermione lay back, head landing on her pillow.
"I'll just rest for a few minutes..." she murmured.
Her forehead burned painfully. She felt like screaming in agony, and moved her mud-flecked hands, slapping her forehead in hopes of relieving the immense pain. It did nothing.
"What's wrong?" she heard a voice – Cedric - ask. Her eyes were scrunched, and she felt them sink back into her skull slightly as she placed her hands over them. Opening her eyes, she couldn't focus on anything. Her vision incredibly blurry, she felt a sudden surge of anger at this body. She couldn't see anything. Reaching around blindly, she found the thin wire she needed and placed it on her face. Suddenly, everything became clearer and she saw Cedric's handsome face loom closer to her.
"Scar." she croaked, her voice undeniably male. She felt like flames had flickered up her throat, singeing the sensitive skin raw. It caused for a burning feeling when she spoke. Hermione didn't know how she could go on like this. A multitude of pains were coming from all over her body, and Hermione was so overwhelmed, that she could not differentiate between them anymore.
She groaned pitifully, clenching her fists. It seemed her ears were the only things on alert as she heard the rustle of leaves about fifteen feet in front of her. She looked up quickly, almost snapping her head back in her haste. Her black hair stuck to her forehead, making her feel very uncomfortable. She looked over at Cedric and saw him frown at the moving figure, holding up his wand protectively. He glanced at her quickly before resuming his gaze at the intruder.
"Who are you?" he ordered, rather than asked. His voice did not waver.
"Kill the spare." rasped a cold voice, chilling Hermione to the bone as she felt goosebumps form all over her skin. She saw the quick movement of a wand coming into the hands of the short, stumpy, cloaked man striding closer. On instinct, she pushed herself off the ground, the muscles in her legs twinging, and stood, staring straight at the imposter. The wand pointed at Cedric, Hermione was ready to pounce, hand gripped firmly on her- Harry's wand. It was not until she saw the unfamiliar but lethal words forming on the man's tongue that she realised she was mistaken in her interpretation of the man's intentions. Her eyes widened.
She screamed, sitting straight up in bed, gasping for hair. Her thick hair was plastered to her forehead, sweat coating her skin. She stayed that way for a moment, trying to regain her breath and calm her pounding heart. Her covers were very wrinkled, and she saw her papers thrown all over her dormitory floor, the book she had been reading upturned beside her bed. She sighed, used to this happening, and packed away her belongings.
Another one, she thought. I just hope I can get to him in time.
Far from refreshed, Hermione glanced at her alarm clock and knew that her peace and quiet was over; everyone would be back in the common room at eight thirty. Grumbling tiredly, she ran her hands through her hair, huffing in frustration. She felt like she'd never figure this out. She didn't have that much time. The second task was fast approaching, and who knew whether that could be his demise? Hermione shuddered. She couldn't think like that. She had plenty of time. She'd save Cedric, and she'd no longer have these dreams. Everything would be fine. Pushing herself off of her bed, Hermione shuffled over to the door, not bothering to straighten her uniform. Shirt untucked, skirt longer on one side, and tie loosened, almost to the point where it would fall off, Hermione walked down the stairs to the common room.
"Hermione!" she heard Ginny exclaim. Hermione moved her head slowly to gaze at Ginny, eyes still half-lidded. Moving closer to Ginny, she realised she was sitting with Harry and Ron, who looked to be talking. Ron looked an odd green colour.
"Wow. You look exhausted." Ginny said, taken back. It was unusual for Hermione to look so down-trodden.
"Thanks, Gin." Hermione replied sarcastically. She wished people would give her a break about her appearance. Yes, she knew she looked like a unkempt hippogriff – no one needed to tell her.
Her eyes roved over to the two boys behind Ginny. "What happened?" she inquired, rubbing at her eyes to get rid of the images of her dream. Often they wouldn't leave her alone until a few hours after.
"Harry and Ron just got turned down by girls they asked to the ball." Ginny said, looking behind her at the two embarrassed teenagers.
"Thanks a bunch, Ginny." Ron said. Harry just rolled his eyes.
"I bet Eloise Midgen is looking a right treat now, Ron, huh?" Hermione said dryly, plopping herself onto the couch opposite them as Ginny sat on the hand rest.
"Hermione, you're a girl-" Ron started.
"Oh, well spotted, Weasley." Hermione replied acidly. Honestly, these boys would be the death of her. Tired and aggravated, she tried to listen to Ron's horribly insensitive words.
"-you can go with one of us, then!" he finished. Hermione frowned at him, having only just tuned in. His presumptions made her incredibly annoyed.
"I'm sorry, Ronald, but I've already been asked." She actually hadn't, but she definitely didn't want to go the Yule Ball with Ron. In fact, she couldn't think of anything worse. Dressed in most likely dreadful dress robes, she could imagine his clumsy dancing and complete inconsiderate attitude toward her and her wants or needs. No, she concluded, I am absolutely sure I don't want to go with Ronald.
"Oh come on! We need partners. We're going to look really stupid if everyone else has a partner and we don't." Ron said impatiently.
"I can't go with you, Ron, because I've already been asked!" Hermione blushed faintly, but in frustration and not embarrassment. The lies spewing forth from her mouth were making her upset; it was like rubbing salt into the wound.
"Oh, that's bull!" Ron exclaimed, laughing. She glared at him resolutely, her anger rising. Take deep breaths, a voice whispered inside her head as she sucked in a breath. It's Ron, you have to be patient. He doesn't think about anybody else, remember?
Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but Harry beat her there first. "Is it Diggory?" he asked, spitting out the name. Hermione stared at him, open-mouthed. Why had he said his name with such disgust? And why did he even presume she would be going with him?
"Because I can tell you now, he asked Cho as well." Harry said, casting his eyes down. Ahh, Cho. There was the reason for everything. "And she said yes."
Hermione's eyes softened, and she tried to convey her sympathy to Harry, but he kept his eyes down. "No, it wasn't Cedric." she replied quietly. So Cedric had asked Cho to the Yule Ball. She couldn't say she was surprised, but it still stung a little.
Ginny looked on in confusion, while Ron was grumbling about Cedric's womanizing ways under his breath.
"Look- it just… it doesn't matter, alright? I can't go with either of you, and that's final." Hermione gave them one last fleeting look and stood up, running a hand through her tangled hair and walking to the portrait hole.
"Where are you going?" Ron shouted out to her. She looked over at the group as she climbed through the portrait hole.
"Away from everyone!" she called back over her shoulder, and the portrait swung shut, obscuring her from view.
It was the nineteenth of December, the first day of the holidays. Hermione woke to the glaring sun, which had finally found the strength to show through the dark ominous clouds. It was nearly midday, and Hermione decided that she would sleep in this late the rest of the holidays.
Sleep is good, she mused to herself, throwing her covers off herself and shivering slightly in the crisp air. She pulled on a mid-thigh-length cardigan, tying it around her waist over her tracksuit pants and long-sleeved, warm top she had worn to sleep. Pulling her slippers on her feet, she trudged down the stairs to the common room, noticing absentmindedly that all her roommates beds were empty, a few unmade like hers. Despite what people thought, Hermione was a fairly messy person, especially as of late. Her desk was always cluttered, papers strewn everywhere. She often left her bed unmade, and clothes often hung crinkled on her bed posts. She'd given up caring about her section of the dorms lately; why bother being clean when no one else but her and her roommates would be seeing it? There was no point, in Hermione's opinion, and it saved her time in the morning, anyway.
She saw the fireplace alight and glowing on the other side of the room and walked over to it, her feet heavy. She slumped into the most comfortable armchair, right next to the fire, and closed her eyes contentedly. Even though she'd just woken up, Hermione did not like to rush the morning ritual. Drowsiness was part of this ritual.
"Hello." a small voice said from above her. Hermione jumped quite considerably, looking up. She saw a tall, lanky boy standing above her - Neville. She smiled in relief. He's grown, Hermione noted, staring up at him.
"Hey Neville. You very nearly scared me to death, you know." Hermione said, sitting up as Neville sat across from her. He smiled tentatively at her, and Hermione wondered what in the world he could be nervous about. She and Neville had always been friendly, and he'd even taken to talking to her in the common room for hours on end. Neville loved to learn, like her. He just wasn't very good at it, he had said.
He stayed silent, and Hermione thought he looked like he was trying to say something. She smiled at him, amused.
"Just spit it out, Neville." she encouraged. He smiled at her in thanks.
"I was just wondering… whether you would like to go to the ball with me." Neville said nervously. "Just as friends, I mean." he clarified. Hermione stared at him in shock. Neville? Neville had just asked her to the ball? Well, that was unexpected.
Neville started to dread the answer as silence followed his request.
"Hermione?" he asked timidly. That snapped her out of her train of thought. She looked at him for a moment before smiling.
"I would love to go with you, Neville." she answered, and was happy with her decision when she saw the cutest grin break out on Neville's face. She grinned back.
"Thanks Hermione." he said gratefully.
"No problem, Neville." she replied, standing up to just below his height. "I've got to go, but I'll see you around, alright?" Hermione said. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek, then proceeded to race up the stairs. Neville stared, stunned, as she left.
When she reached her dorm, Hermione closed the door with a thud, leaning against it and smiling. Neville asking her to the ball was an unpredictable move, but she was happy. She finally had an excuse not to go with Ron, and Neville was a nice guy. He was a great friend. She smirked to herself when she thought of another boy.
Cedric wouldn't know what hit him.
The next week passed slowly. Hermione spent her time searching ways in which she could tame her hair, as well as visiting Hogsmeade frequently to find dress robes and to complete her Christmas shopping. She decided she would buy something for Cedric. It was a bit problematic though, as she had no idea what to get him. She knew he liked Quidditch, but that was about it. So when she was walking through Quality Quidditch Supplies three days before the ball and not knowing what half of the items in there were for, she realised she didn't really know Cedric all that well.
A bit disheartened, she decided to try her luck at Madam Malkin's for some dress robes. Opening the glass door, she let herself in as the bell above the door jingled merrily. As far as she could see, the shop was empty, which made Hermione feel slightly better. She much preferred shopping along. Carrying around her bags filled with extra ink and quills, a Quidditch book and some pretty foul products from Zonko's she knew Ron would love, Hermione scoured through the many dresses on the racks. Moving over to the stand that was her price range, Hermione passed a disgusting brown lacy dress, and a rather vibrant red one, which was much too stand-out for her liking. Simple, but elegant was what she was going for.
"Can I help you, dear?" Hermione turned around to see a woman with greying hair, gazing at her politely. She smiled.
"Actually yes. I need a dress for the Yule Ball, but I'm afraid I don't have… much." She finished lamely, blushing. Madam Malkin, she presumed, nodded in understanding. "I want something simple, but elegant. It'd be nice to look different, but not to stand out too much." Hermione looked at a rather sickly yellow dress in disapproval. "I still want to look like me."
"Oh, I know just the thing for you, miss." she said excitedly, looking Hermione up and down. Hermione squirmed under her stare. "Follow me, this way." Madam Malkin ordered, bustling around the stand Hermione was previously looking at. Hermione followed her to the stand adjacent.
"These are much more your style, dear." she said, pulling out dresses and shoving them against Hermione to see how she looked. She pushed a rather nice emerald green dress back onto the stand, instead pulling out a brilliant periwinkle blue one.
"How are you with blue?" the shopkeeper said, eyeing Hermione.
"I like i-"
"Perfect!" she shoved the dress in Hermione face, and she had to shoot back to avoid being hit in the head. "Try this on."
Hermione took the garment reluctantly, moving over to the dressing room, dropping her coat and bags outside.
She came out a few minutes later, unsure.
"You look beautiful, dear." Madam Malkin said, grinning as soon as Hermione stepped out from behind the curtain. "Blue is definitely your colour." she said, moving over to fix the straps and tighten the fabric in places Hermione thought did not need tightening.
I'm not that small, am I? she thought, twisting her face in confusion.
"I have to pin it to fit you more snugly. But no doubt your date will be drooling by the end of the night." Hermione looked down at herself, running her hands over the smooth silk and looking at the delicate bow just below her breast line. She saw the material flare out slightly at the bottom. The dress flowed beautifully, and Hermione relished in the way it felt against her legs. Looking down at her feet, just peeking out from the material, Hermione knew she would need Madam Malkin's advice for shoes.
"I'll take it." Hermione beamed. She went back into the dressing room after Madam Malkin had pinned the dress perfectly, supposedly enhancing the 'assets that need to be shown off'.
Changed, Hermione came out and collected her things, paying the smirking witch and thanking her profusely, agreeing to pick it up on the day before Christmas. She paused before walking toward the door.
"Umm… I was wondering whether… would you help me find some suitable shoes?" Hermione asked quietly, blushing at her ignorance. Madam Malkin smiled brightly.
"My pleasure, dear." she answered. "You look to be the same size as myself. You can borrow a pair of my shoes. They go perfectly."
She disappeared from behind the counter in a storeroom behind, coming back with a pair of small high heels, beaded and silver. Hermione stared at them in amazement. Madam Malkin held them out and Hermione grabbed them greedily.
She looked up at the shopkeeper. "These are magnificent!" she exclaimed, hugging them to her chest.
The woman behind the counter chuckled and smiled. "They're yours, dear."
Hermione looked at her. "No!" she said in disbelief.
"Yes." Madam Malkin said simply.
Hermione squealed for what was probably the first time in her life, thanking the shopkeeper over and over for her generosity.
She left the store feeling sufficiently giddy. Hermione couldn't wait to show everybody who she could be, and what she had the potential to look like. Giggling to herself, she set a steady pace back to the castle.
I hope this wasn't too boring. It's Cedricless, and I know it's not that terribly interesting, but I don't want to speed up their relationship.
Did you like the insight into Hermione's dreams? What do you think about it all?
About Neville: what were your opinions on him actually taking Hermione to the ball? Krum annoys me, and he's really creepy, so I decided not to let him take Hermione. Plus, Neville is so cute! Haha.
Thanks so much for the reviews last chapter, and I really hope you give me the same courtesy this time!
PheeCullen