"You know, he's not going to marry you," a haughty voice intoned.
Hermione, who had stopped in the bathroom between classes, did not immediately turn and acknowledge the speaker. This wasn't because she was trying to stay calm under confrontation – it was actually because she had no idea that she was the one being spoken to.
Behind her own reflection, Hermione caught sight of a snobby Slytherin girl staring at her.
Surprised, she wondered, "Are you talking to me?"
The girl huffed and tilted her dainty nose up to clarify, "Riddle won't marry you. He won't settle for someone like you."
Hermione was by no means afraid to stick up for herself, especially to a petite bully she didn't even know, but she wasn't sure how to respond. She didn't want to marry Tom Riddle. She wasn't even dating Tom Riddle. In fact, the idea of marrying the Dark Lord was such a strange concept that she wanted to laugh.
Turning to face the stranger, wand out, she declared, "I don't want to marry him."
The girls cheeks colored pink. "You don't want to? You're the one who's a... a mudblood."
With the practice of someone who had hexed others before, Hermione sent a curse that vanished the previously blonde haired girls pretty curls. It was bad luck that the girl was rather striking as a bald girl with a fair face, of course, but at least it was harsh to a vain girl without being violent.
The blonde girl – whom caught sight of herself in the mirror – touched her head in shock, let loose a horrific scream, and ran.
Hermione turned back to the mirror and frowned. Marry Tom Riddle?
She imagined him in a black tuxedo, so handsome it was nearly frightening, and suddenly was overtaken by giggles. Hermione Granger marry the Dark Lord? Would Harry be the best man? Would Ron sit in the first pew? Nothing had ever been so amusing in her life.