Drink Tea and Eat Cake

Marked

Written for the "30 Drabbles in 30 Days" challenge by Mystii at the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum.


I was groggy when I woke up, a bit confused because I couldn't see the window when I looked up. Then I remembered that I was in Parvati's bed. And then I remembered that I'd told her everything and that we'd fought.

I looked over at Hermione's bed. She wasn't there. Shit.

I knew this would happen. I should never have told Parvati. She has all of these stupid pureblood prejudices. Urgh.

I slid from her bed went straight to the bathroom to get ready. It was only six o'clock, but I knew I wouldn't get any more sleep. When I was dressed I went down to the Great Hall. Parvati was still in bed and there was no sign of Hermione. As I poured myself some tea I started to worry. Did she hear what I confessed last night? She must have left at some point, the bookworm doesn't get up until half seven 'cause she usually spends most of the night reading. It's endearing though. I'd love to curl up next to her, my head on her shoulder, and read along with her. Because I don't only read magazines you know. I like romance novels. And so does Hermione, even if she tries to hide that she's reading Catherine Cookson or Emma Blair.

I remember that it was because of her that I started reading those historical romance novels. If I'm honest, I would have probably read them anyway. My mum reads them all through the summer as she tops up her tan in the garden or huddles by the fire because the week of summer sun has departed for another year. Britain, eh? Always crap weather.

"Hermione?" I was nervous about asking her. I mean, it's me. She thinks all I do is read magazines and girly teenage novels about fashion and boys.

"Hmm?" I love it when she makes that noise, when she's only half listening because she wants to finish the paragraph. So I let her finish, waiting until she marked her page and looked up.

"Can I borrow something to read?" Her face was a picture of surprise. I almost felt offended at her shock. "You see, I know you read a lot of fiction, and I've seen your Bonita Brown stash under your bed. I once read one of her books, only it was my mums and she won't send it."

Hermione laughed that oh-so-sweet laugh of hers. I sigh at the memory. "Of course!" She jumped off of the bed and crawled halfway under the bed. "Here, have you read this one?"

"No."

"Well, it's a good one. Full of the typical turn-of-the-century cliché's like child stealing and forbidden love. One of my favourites." She handed the book over.

I think I've still got that book, and she hasn't asked for it back. It feels good to have a little bit of Hermione Granger for my own. I smile into my tea and my day brightens up. It's amazing what a memory can do to you.


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