A/N: I don't own Harry Potter
Word Count: 547
"You were brilliant," Romilda purred, walking past Cormac. He glanced at her.
"Were you talking to me?"
"Of course I was," she answered. "We're both here with people we don't care about, both being used for something. I loved your try out for the the team, shame Potter didn't give you the position. You're a much better keeper than Weasley," she stated. Cormac puffed out his chest nodding.
"I'm glad someone appreciates my talent."
"And so modest," Romilda joked, putting an arm around Cormac's waist. "Now, since neither of our dates are paying a bit of attention to us, why don't we go give them something to not see? I mean, I love this song and if you're as good on the dance floor as you are on a broom..." she let her voice trail off as Cormac got the hint and swept Romilda onto the dance floor. She could see Hermione, Cormac's date, slinking out of the room. A large smile crossed her face. It served the girl right, trying to keep Cormac from the team, she'd seen what the witch had done. It was bad enough Potter favored his friends for everything, at one point, Romilda had thought Potter was cute, that because he was an amazing athlete and famous, well, she'd mistaken that for substance. Cormac was just as good at Quidditch, he wasn't horrible looking, if one liked that type.
"So, what are you doing at this party? I mean, Hermione invited me as her plus one."
"Slughorn invited me because of some stupid connection my Great-great-grandmother had at one point in time. Apparently we're family friends with someone famous, no need to mention we haven't been in contact with that side of the family in over a decade," Romilda shrugged. Cormac laughed.
"You like the idea of being famous?" he asked.
"Doesn't everyone? I mean, if you're somebody, the whole world opens up for you. Imagine being a famous player, imagine the people flocking to you, surrounding you, wanting to be you, or wanting to be with you."
"I'm not a famous anything. I didn't even make the team."
"That was a mistake, one Potter will grow to regret I'm sure. I mean, Weasley's useless on a broom, just wait," Romilda smirked, a hint of a idea popping into her head. Maybe she should make sure Potter knew just how much of a mistake he'd made. A few well placed rumors might do the trick, not to mention, she was sure the Slytherins would help her. She'd almost been placed there anyway.
"True, so um, I'm sorry, but I don't know your name, did you give it?"
"No, must have forgot that. I'm Romilda, in your house, few years younger."
"Right, so since we're both in Gryffindor, and this party is stupid, want to me walk you to the portrait hole? We can talk about how amazing a Keeper I'd made?" Cormac suggested. Romilda smiled. She knew how to flatter an ego, and if she played her cards right, Cormac might replace Weasley and then she'd be the girlfriend of a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.
"I'd love to," she answered, taking Cormac's offered arm as they strolled out of Slughorn's party, both having found exactly what they were looking for.
