THANK YOU to my forever-beta, dreamsofdramione. YOU are the best. /gushing
Thank you also to somandalicious and inadaze22 for joining in on title brainstorming, which, let's be real, is usually harder than writing the whole story. Oh, and thanks to dreamsofdramione for the idea which... kind of exploded on me. It wasn't supposed to be this long, but, what are you gonna do, am I right?
Note: this story is completely written, and this is part 1 of 3.
This was probably the worst idea yet.
Hermione scoffed as she hurried through the Great Hall, which was filled with an abundance of red, white, pink, and purple balloons among other decorations. It had been Seamus's idea, of all people, and as soon as he'd explained it, all the girls had dissolved into fits of giggles and hysterics. He'd heard about it from his Mum.
Valentine's speed dating.
At Hogwarts.
For the Sixth, Seventh, and Eighth Year students.
What rubbish!
But as her position in the school was unofficial—there was a Head Girl from amongst the Seventh Year students—she felt she needed to attend in order to support not only her fellow students, but the teachers and staff who'd expressed a keen desire to see the different houses mixing.
Interhouse unity, my arse, she thought.
It wasn't her fault that the Slytherins were irascible and impossible to work with. It was already February, and the only Slytherins she'd managed to exchange anything approaching a civilized conversation with were Daphne Greengrass—whom Hermione thought had the potential to be something of a friend, if the other girl would ever let even a single brick in her wall fall—and Draco Malfoy—who, much to both of their displeasures, had been paired with her on three separate school projects so far. Those interactions had been strained at best, and they'd exchanged the absolute bare minimum in terms of communication. By the end of the third assignment, she and Draco had perfected the art of one or two word sentences; granted, they were laced with hand gestures and facial expressions to fully convey meaning.
They all seemed perfectly content to remain in their own bubble and leave Hogwarts without a single new friend.
The Headmistress had asked her student leadership team to come up with events for the oldest students designed to bring them closer together. So far, the Halloween Masquerade Ball and the Christmas Secret Santa exchange had failed miserably.
Why anyone thought the speed dating scheme would fare any better, she couldn't understand.
But she didn't need to understand. She'd done her part in planning and now had only to attend the bloody thing. While every other single witch in the upper years went all out for the occasion, Hermione had been content to wear her school robes. Unfortunately, Ginny had refused to let her out of her dorm dressed that way and had hounded Hermione into choosing something else. When none of Hermione's clothes sufficed, Ginny altered a dress of her own. It was red, which, on one hand, was a very flattering color on Hermione, but, on the other, was one of the principal colors of the blasted holiday.
The last thing she needed or wanted to do was to sit across from fellow classmates and see if they could form a connection in seven minutes or less as though she hadn't already been interacting with most of them anyway. What could these contrived circumstances possibly reveal that hadn't been already?
But it was required, so she plastered on a fair smile and found Dominique, the Head Girl, who was standing in the middle of the room, directing fairy lights towards the balloon-crowded ceiling.
"Oh good, Hermione, you're here!" Dominique seemed relieved. "I'm having such a time getting the boys to behave." She shot a scathing look at her counterpart, Jacob, who was across the room, showing off to some of the Prefects.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "What can I do?"
"Will you check on the charms? We can't have anything go wrong on that front, and I'd feel so much better if you looked at them."
"Of course."
"Every table has the same set: voice modulation, anonymity charms, a shimmery field down the middle of the table to block the sight..."
"Right. I'll get started." Hermione gritted her teeth; she had been at every single meeting to discuss the event and knew perfectly well which charms were involved.
Dominique sighed. "We're on track to begin in forty minutes, but I'm awfully anxious."
"Everything will be fine, don't worry." Hermione patted her twice on the shoulder, then turned away to see to her task.
When they finally opened the doors to let the rest of the Sixth through Eighth Years in, even Hermione had to admit the Great Hall was breathtaking. The teachers had lent some of their skills, and the room shone with soft white light. Someone had decided to change all the balloons to white, which was a vast improvement, and the additional fairy lights looked like stars.
Dozens of small tables were sprinkled throughout the room, each covered with a white tablecloth and an arrangement of candles and flowers. It was, to Hermione's grudging admission, lovely.
Even the Head Boy had straightened up, and Hermione suspected he wished the Head Girl would notice him. But she was all business, as she should be, and stood straight while the other students filed in. They had all dressed up, especially the girls, but for the life of her, Hermione couldn't understand why. Nobody in attendance was a stranger; these were all fellow students they saw every day, and they would be behind privacy screens. She supposed it was for the part of the evening after the speed dating.
Dominique called everyone to attention. "The procedure for tonight is simple. We'll begin with the speed dating portion of the night. We're going to split you into four groups. Groups one and two will begin the evening sitting at tables, one person per table. Groups three and four will move from one table to the next. This isn't necessarily about finding a romantic partner, but we ask that you use it as a chance to talk to people you probably wouldn't otherwise. You'll have five minutes to interact with each other, then one minute to find your next table. If, at any time, one of you wants to continue your conversation, you can press a button on your side of the barrier. If your companion presses his or her corresponding button, then you may cease the remainder of the dates and remain together."
Dominique paused and took a short breath. "After everyone from groups three and four has sat down with everyone in groups one and two, then group one will stand up, and group three will take their places at the tables. This will be the chance for those who were sitting for the first stage to interact with each other, and those who were walking around to interact. Once everyone has had a chance to sit down with everyone they want, the game will end. Those of you who find partners you want to spend more time with, a special dinner will be served to you at your tables. Your identities will not yet be revealed."
A lot of students exchanged looks. The anonymity was likely both frightening and freeing. As much as she loathed forced social gatherings, this one was well thought-out, and Hermione had high hopes for her fellow classmates. This was a real chance for them to dive beyond first impressions and small talk and get to the heart of someone else. She had her list of probing questions ready, just in case Dominique had decided at the last minute not to provide them for everyone, as was the plan. But perhaps even more important was the chance to potentially hear from people she wouldn't otherwise speak to. Despite being a huge proponent for interhouse unity, she mainly kept to her own set of friends.
Of course, the idea that she could only have dinner with one person was disappointing, and she'd definitely want to keep track of the people she connected with.
"We'll be keeping a record of everyone you press a button for, and in the end, you'll be able to learn who interested you tonight. Again, this isn't about romantic partners, even though you'll be able to have a one-on-one dinner with someone, should you choose. But we hope you'll find lots of people interesting and want to continue growing the connections you make tonight. After dinner, we'll lower the barriers to reveal everyone's identities when dessert is served. At the end of the night, there will be dancing and general mingling. If you have any questions at any point, don't hesitate to ask either myself, Jacob, or any of the Prefects. Or Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, of course."
Hermione tried not to be annoyed that she and Neville were mere afterthoughts, but she continued with her manufactured smile.
Dominique and Jacob began dividing the groups. Hermione was put into group one, which meant she'd be starting the evening at a table. She'd brought a book along, just in case, but she was hopeful that she wouldn't feel the desire to reach for it. As people began sitting, she felt a strange excitement to begin. Who knew, she might find a new friend.
Or—dare she think it?—someone she might find interesting in a romantic way. She couldn't imagine this scenario though; after all, she already knew who all the boys were.
Hermione took her place at a table and sat waiting. The two groups who'd been sitting soon approached; they had no idea who was on the other side of the magical barriers.
Someone sat down across from her and the large hourglass suspended over the staff table flipped over.
"Hello!" Hermione called cheerfully, then started at the sound of her voice. It was similar to her own, but unrecognizable. This was truly happening.
Her companion shuffled under the table, and she peeked to see if she could get any information from doing so. The barrier extended down to the floor, but she guessed it was probably a bloke.
"Hi."
Hermione strained her mind, hoping for a sign of recognition, but none came; though, the voice modulation charm confirmed it was a young man. She sat up straight and read the first question from her list on the table.
"What is one subject you would add to the curriculum and why?"
Her companion snorted. "That's stupid. Is that really a question?"
She could see through the barrier enough that she could tell he'd picked up his list of questions and was scanning them.
"We only have a few minutes. Is there anything on there you'd rather discuss?"
He scoffed. "I've got my own question. What color are your knickers?"
Hermione's brows shot up, and she gaped slightly. The wizard chuckled, apparently quite pleased with himself. She wished there was an eject button she could press. She had no desire to sit with him for even a second longer, but since she had no choice, she wasn't going to let him go without telling him off.
"Something tells me you aren't going to end up having a nice dinner with someone."
"Ask me if I care. But I have a feeling I'll get more positive responses than you think."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I couldn't care less. I'm going to ignore you for the remainder of our time." She removed her book from her bag and proceeded to read, though she was so annoyed it was largely futile.
When the timer dinged, the wizard shot out of his seat, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.
Half an hour later, she was beginning to feel very discouraged. So much for having an interesting conversation. Her 'dates,' for lack of a better word, all seemed determined not to participate. She was on the verge of walking out as she waited for someone to sit down but didn't decide quickly enough.
"Hello there!"
This was a witch, and she seemed in pleasant spirits. Hermione felt mildly hopeful. "Hello."
The other girl picked up her paper. "These questions are alright, I suppose. But I have one to ask you that's not on the list."
"Go ahead."
"Have you been to Paraguay?"
Hermione blinked in surprise, then immediately had a guess about who this was. "I can't say that I have."
"That's a shame. It's beautiful. It's rumored that the very rare Flibbity Gribbert lives in the jungle there."
"Luna?" Hermione shook her head. "We aren't supposed to say anything that might give us away!"
"But I'm not interested in Hogwarts curriculum or Quidditch or this other rubbish. I want to find someone who might want to go on an expedition with me someday. Why waste time with these absurd questions?"
"I sympathize with you." She had a fair point, and this was perhaps Luna's best opportunity to find someone who might share her passions. Of all the people in the room, Luna was probably dismissed more than any of them, and Hermione knew she really was a fabulous person, despite her oddities. She deserved to be taken seriously by someone. "May I suggest you find a way to get your answers without being so obvious about it?"
"Hm, I see what you mean. Thanks, Hermione."
She gasped. "What—how did you know it was me?"
"There's something in the way you speak that gives you away. Don't worry, I doubt most people would know."
Hermione felt a bit relieved; Luna was one of the most perceptive people she knew, and she trusted her. "Thank you. Though, you're probably not the only person to suspect me. I've told more than one randy bloke off for inappropriate questions."
"That's not at all surprising. We're all going through changes in our minds and bodies, and males are notorious for their preoccupation with sex."
"Yes, well, that doesn't mean they should broadcast every single thought. I, for one, have no interest in hearing it."
The chime went off, and Luna stood. "Good luck tonight."
"You too."
ooo
When she'd been through about two-thirds of the milling crowd, Hermione was ready to scream. She was using her minute of freedom to internally rage at this horrid idea. So much for hoping for a genuinely enjoyable conversation. Though, she had shared some nice things with a few of the other girls. And she'd known Neville and a few of the other boys despite the efforts at anonymity. It wasn't surprising since they'd been going to school together for years by now.
At the end of the minute, a young man sat down heavily, as though anxious to be rid of the burden of standing. She could relate.
"This whole thing is stupid, and I don't want to participate." She could see the outline of his form as he folded his arms across his chest.
"I wholeheartedly agree."
He snorted. "Do you? You're the first bird I've spoken to who's felt that way. Or admitted it, at least."
"I'd had hopes for the first half hour, but by this point, I've endured no fewer than seven questions about the color of my knickers." She scowled at the barrier, almost daring him to reply. Maybe a good row with someone would make her feel better.
"It's all they think about, you know."
"They?" She narrowed her eyes thoughtfully. "Do you not include yourself in that generalization?"
He shrugged. "I'm not stupid enough to admit it. Those blokes just want to get laid."
"And you don't?" Her voice dripped with skepticism.
"I'm not having this conversation with you."
"Honestly, I'm ready for this to be done." Hermione let out a sigh. This really was the worst way to spend the evening, and it was nowhere near over. "I even brought a book. I've used it a few times."
Something in the air between them changed, though she didn't know what it was. She simply felt it happen. He didn't speak for at least a full minute.
"You've used it?" When he spoke, she didn't feel the shift in his voice.
In fact, she wondered if she'd imagined it. "Yes. Rather than speak to those sods who thought it amusing to inquire about my underwear."
He let out a low chuckle. "I'm sure you showed them."
"So, what have you been doing, then?" She didn't know why she was engaging with him when she'd been at a very tense part of her book.
"Discussing these questions. Though most of my... dates, for lack of a better word, seemed disinterested."
"Fine. Let's discuss—"
"What subject would you like to see added to Hogwarts and why?"
"I wish there was more emphasis on magical art and music. Oh, and history of interesting things, not only goblin wars and endless lists of dates. I think the world is beautiful in all its forms, and I'd like to learn about them from the magical perspective." She immediately blushed. "Sorry, I've been waiting to answer that all night."
"Don't apologize. My answer is literature. Both magical and Muggle. I think there's more to education than book learning."
Hermione gaped at the blurry outline of the wizard. Before she could talk herself out of it, she hit the button. A wave of panic swept over her. But then she relaxed, quickly telling herself that he would never—
A soft pink light came on above them, startling her. She glanced around the room to see if any other table had experienced a similar phenomenon. There was one across the hall, and the two occupants seemed deep in conversation. When she squinted to try and see who was in her group, she recognized Harry. He'd probably found Ginny. Only... No, the girl didn't have red hair.
Interesting.
The chime sounded, but the pair didn't move, likely didn't even notice what was going on.
Her companion didn't move either.
"Did you hit your buzzer?" He sounded truly astonished.
"Yes. Did you?"
"Obviously." There was something about the pull of the syllables that tapped at her memory, but she didn't want to try and figure out who he was. All she knew was that it had been the most pleasant five minutes of the night, and she dreaded having to sit through even one more meaningless interaction. Even if all they did was sit in silence, she'd be happy.
"I don't think I could stand another 'date' tonight." She had an idea and started rummaging through her bag. "I may have another book, if you'd be interested."
"Don't bother." She saw him crane his head, searching the Great Hall. He was probably looking for the Head Girl or Boy, neither of whom were participating, so that they'd be available to help.
She glanced around too and spotted Dominique walking slowly amongst the tables, doing her best to avoid being noticed. Hermione was glad she'd picked a table in the corner, in case they decided they wanted to read instead of interact. The quiet would probably do her good.
The rest of the hall had found new seats, quiet returned, and her partner had returned to facing forward. "Are you sure you don't want a book?"
"I'm pretty sure reading all night isn't allowed. Why don't we look at these questions some more?" He picked up the sheet again. "There were a few I found thought-provoking. And I have a feeling that whoever made these would hate the idea that nobody bothered to even read them."
She smiled, a rush of gratitude welling in her. Whoever he was, he was kind and thoughtful, not to mention he liked to read—and he was open to Muggle literature! If she wasn't careful, she might find herself in danger of developing a slight fancy for him. That was not her plan for the evening, and she'd abandoned even the tiny flicker of hope she'd harbored that it could happen very early in the evening.
"What are two of your strengths? What are two of your weaknesses?"
He chuckled, and she could see him drag a hand through his hair. "Strengths. Let's see. I am stubborn and a bit impulsive."
She let out a barking laugh. "You call those strengths? Most people would see them as the opposite."
"My stubbornness has served me well more often than not. I've applied it in problem-solving to good effect. And I like to think I'm a bit impulsive because I trust myself." He chuckled. "It's not something I've always been, I admit. Your turn now."
"I think two of my strengths are loyalty and focus. As for weaknesses, well, the focus can hurt me if I'm not careful. I tend to get hyper-focused on things, to the point that I sometimes ignore things around me. Including my own needs. And I'm terrified of failure. It can be crippling. It essentially drives me to be the way I am. And it can be exhausting."
"So what you're saying is, your strengths can also be your weaknesses if you're not careful?"
She bit back a small gasp. "I really like that observation. Stubbornness and impulsiveness could easily go either way."
"As can loyalty," he said darkly. "We saw plenty of evidence of that in the war."
"Yes, you're absolutely right. Blind loyalty is extremely dangerous." Her mind naturally went to the Death Eaters and the way they followed Voldemort despite the way he treated most of them, joining him in wanting to rid the world of non-pure-bloods—and probably Muggles, if he'd been able to—despite his own impure blood status.
He didn't say anything, and she wondered what he was thinking. His insight so far was fascinating, and she had a feeling his thoughts, the ones he kept inside, were even more so. She had to bite her lip to keep from prodding on that point.
There was one thing she could ask, however. "You still need to tell me your weaknesses."
He chuckled. "Right. Yes. Those are abundant, I'm afraid. I'd have to say pride is a big one. I also tend to be unbending once I've got an idea or an opinion about something. I will say, though, that I'm actively trying to improve in both. I… was raised in such a way that pride comes too easily. And I've noticed it has permeated a lot of areas of my life, too, making it really hard to fight it."
"It's incredible that you even recognize it and want to fight it."
She saw him shrug, then shift in his chair as though uncomfortable. She imagined he was; the things he was admitting were hard, and he knew that, at some point, they'd learn each other's identities. And he would have to face her knowing what he'd told her.
"Do you think we've finished that one?" He picked up the sheet after a slight lull and began to read the third question without waiting for an answer. "What's your favorite place you've ever been? What is somewhere you'd like to visit?" He sighed again. "I've not been to too many places, but there's this city in France that I love, though I can't really pinpoint exactly why."
Hermione leaned forward on the table, eyes bright. "In France? Which city is it?"
"Lyon. My family went there for holiday one summer. I think that, more than anything, accounts for my fondness for it. After that summer, things got... difficult. It was one of my last really good memories." He didn't elaborate
She wanted to ask more questions, but his tone left no room for further inquiry. The subject was closed. Naturally, she wondered if it had anything to do with the war, since that was the end of so many people's good memories. "I've been there. Lyon. With my parents."
And just like that, her throat felt right, and she didn't want to say anything more either.
After a moment, he broke the silence. "It sounds as though we have something in common."
"Of course we do." Swiping at her eyes, she responded more snappishly then she'd intended. "I think we probably have a lot in common."
"Do you?"
"Yes! People are far more alike than they are different. But we tend to focus on the differences because that's what sets us apart and gives us a well-rounded community. It can turn into a dangerous situation, though, when someone wants to silence or eliminate those they have deemed different."
"I know." His response was so quiet she almost didn't hear it. "This was shown to me in dozens of ways last year, but... For reasons I can't fathom, I was spared having to learn that lesson in a horrible, irrevocable way."
He was definitely talking about the war now.
"Let's do this. I'm going to ask you some questions. Not the ones from the list, simple ones. You just answer yes or no, and then I'll give you my answers, too."
"Alright." He clapped his hands on the table in front of him.
"Do you love your family?"
"Yes."
"As do I. Would you do anything for them?"
"Of course."
"As would I. What if that meant doing something that wasn't exactly right? Would you still do it?" Modifying her parents' memories had been a rash and very ill-advised method of securing their safety, not to mention she'd been underage at the time.
"What are you playing at?" His tone was hard as steel.
"I'm demonstrating our sameness. I'll answer first, if that helps. I absolutely would, under the right conditions." She motioned for him to speak, forgetting for a moment that he couldn't see her.
"I see. Well, then... Yes. I would do almost anything. Or, attempt it, at least."
Hermione was reminded of Draco Malfoy, whose trial she had attended. Hearing him recount the worst days of his life had moved her to tears, and Harry had intervened to ensure Malfoy wasn't punished—at all. Hence why he was back in school. Though, that was part of his sentence, too.
"Do you enjoy food?"
He snorted. "Usually."
"As do I. Dessert?"
"My favorite course." There was a bit of a swagger in this response that made her lip curl in a small smile.
"I like it just fine. We didn't have a lot of sweets growing up, so I can take them or leave them most days."
"Really? What's your favorite, then?"
"Ice cream. Strawberry." Her smile widened. "I had it my first time in Diagon Alley." She groaned instantly, realizing she'd let slip a small clue about herself. Children in magical families likely went to the wizarding part of London from their infancy. She wasn't the only Muggle-born witch at Hogwarts, but there weren't many.
If he noticed her slip, he didn't let on. "Mine is chocolate cake. A good cake, mind you. Not too dry. With chocolate icing on top."
"What kind of cake doesn't have icing?"
"If only all our problems could be solved by discussing our favorite sweets."
He meant it kindly, she could hear the smile on his words, but it was a sad reminder of just how far apart people could be.
She cleared her throat. "It's a fair bet to guess that you enjoy Quidditch."
He scoffed. "Naturally."
"Now see, I enjoy watching it, but I'm not interested in dissecting every move after."
"Let me guess. You would rather dissect your last exam instead."
She opened her mouth to speak, a reply ready on her tongue before his words had even sunk in. Then she laughed. "Oh, brilliant! Yes! Exactly! Maybe we don't enjoy the minute details of the same things, but we both enjoy the process of revisiting things we like."
"So you're admitting to liking exams?"
She sat up and squared her shoulders a little defensively. "I enjoy the process of working hard for something and then seeing the results of my efforts rewarded. Exams happen to do that."
"In big, shiny letters on top, too."
"Precisely."
He chuckled, then they were quiet. "Continue, please. I believe you've gone through six questions so far."
"Do you want you and your loved ones to be treated well? Kindly? Fairly?"
"Is that one or three questions?"
"One."
He heaved a sigh. "Yes, of course."
"Naturally, so do I. Do you sometimes feel that they aren't?"
She saw him ball his hands into fists and wondered what she'd said to upset him so. When he answered, however, his voice was just as steady as before. "Yes."
"Me too." She thought of Snape's treatment of Harry, of Dolores Umbridge, of Sirius. Her own mistreatment since arriving in the wizarding world had been bad at times, as well. There were so many examples it was impossible to list them all. "The problem is—"
"I know already. We see these things differently. My definition of fair might not be the same as yours."
"But we can agree on some major things. Like murder is wrong."
He didn't miss a beat. "Even if it's coerced?"
With a sharp pang, she wondered if she was talking to Malfoy. "Then it's not really murder, is it?"
"I... I suppose not."
"I don't know how we went from this simple Valentine's day interhouse unity exercise to discussing murder and death."
He chuckled, pushing back his chair. "I'm going to stand and stretch for a minute." She noted how tall he stood. This piece of data would help narrow the field of possibilities, but she stopped that line of thinking before she let it loose. She didn't want to know yet. She was enjoying this conversation more than almost any she'd had all year, her mind and heart thrilling with every exchange. Her companion was sharp, witty, thoughtful, and, Merlin help her, she wanted to continue talking to him for as long as possible. The anonymous nature of it was both positive—they could truly interact beyond the superficial—and negative—the longer it lasted, the more she wanted to know who he was.
Her biggest question was: could she develop feelings for him without knowing who he was?
The second question followed naturally: would anything change when she learned his identity?
After stretching his arms and moving around a bit, he sat down. "I believe you've got two more questions in your proof of how we're more similar than we are different."
"All right." Hermione smiled. "Let's see, what's your favorite season?"
"That's... different. But why not? I've always liked summer a lot because my birthday is in June, but the last summer was..."
"Awful." She grimaced. Everything after the war was terrible. Then she realized he'd mentioned his birth month, but she didn't think it would help much, as she didn't know most of the birthdays of the Eighth Years, much less the lower years.
"I'm greatly enjoying the winter. There's been something so refreshing about the pristine quiet of the snow-covered grounds."
She closed her eyes, letting the poetry of his words wash over her. Yes, she could absolutely develop something for him without seeing him first. In fact, if she wasn't careful, it wouldn't take much.
"It makes me feel like... anything is possible. Even something I'd previously thought impossible." He shifted in his chair. "And I really need to be able to believe that such a thing could happen."
"Is this something specific? Or are you speaking in generalities?"
He shrugged. "A little of both, I suppose."
"Well, my favorite season is autumn. It reminds me of new beginnings because that's when we go to school. I think about starting fresh, even if it's just a new school year. But it's all the new books, the new lessons, new responsibilities or privileges. Everything starts over."
"A fresh start." He let out his breath in a long, steady stream. "That's so similar to what I feel about winter."
She smiled to herself. "It's lovely that winter brings it to mind for you, and autumn for me. I can see spring doing something similar, since there's all the new growth, new life happening everywhere. In summer, at least for those of us in school, it's a break. You can put all the mess from the year before behind you, and settle into something completely new. Summers are all about new routines, doing things just for yourself that you couldn't do when you were in school."
He was quiet for a moment, his foot tapping rhythmically. Then he leaned forward. "Let me ask the last question, if I may."
"Go ahead."
"Do you know what makes you happy?"
She sucked in a breath. "That's... wow. Not quite the type of questions I was asking, but it's a great one anyway. Um… I don't know, honestly. I'm only nineteen, and I don't even know what I want to do after Hogwarts. How can I possibly know what makes me happy?"
"But I mean, do you think it would be work? A person? A certain situation?"
"Hm. I think there's a difference between being happy and being content. I think I'd be content in a life that was fulfilling. People can bring happiness, but that's not a guarantee, nor is it a job. I'd hope to be both happy with my relationships and content in my situation." She chuckled a little. "I hope that's not super confusing."
"Not at all. For my answer, it would be finding something to do with my life that honors what I'm good at, what I enjoy doing, but also lets me give back to the wizarding community." He held up a hand and shook his head. "Before you even ask, I'm not saying all of this because I want to impress you or earn points or anything like that. I genuinely mean it. You can believe me or not, it doesn't matter to me. When you find out who I am... if you don't already know... then... Well, I'm not sure it'll make much difference, really. But that's my answer."
"You can't see me, but I'm smiling. I think your goal is amazing, and I can easily identify with it. It's an honorable goal. I wish you the best in your endeavors."
He snorted. "Very formal, don't you think? I mean, we're friends, aren't we?"
A shiver ran through her. "Friends? I don't... I barely know you."
"Maybe. Maybe not. But I'd like to think of you as someone I could be friends with."
"Me too."
But could she? Without seeing him? What if he was someone she didn't like? Well, but wasn't that the point of tonight? To meet people and interact with someone she wouldn't normally spend time with? Would that translate into new relationships? What about all the other people around her? After the disasters at Halloween and Christmas, would this event spark real change?
She could only hope.
"I think we're on question two still." He picked up the list of questions. "Where would you like to visit?"
"Oh, that's a great one. Um, I'd love to visit Venice. I know it's a little... unoriginal, but I've always been fascinated with the canals and the gondolas and the fact that the entire city was built on water. I want to see it. I want to feed the pigeons."
"The what?"
His tone made her laugh. It was full of disgust. "The pigeons. I've only heard about it, but apparently, you can buy food for pigeons and stand in a certain place, St. Mark's Square, and they will land on you and eat out of your hand."
"You do realize pigeons are little more than rats with wings?"
She laughed again, harder this time. "I don't care. It's an experience, and I can wash my clothes afterwards. How about you? You told me your favorite place but where in the entire world do you want to visit?"
"Somewhere high on a mountain. Where I could see nothing but mountain peaks around me. I'd be surrounded by—"
"Snow." She smiled.
"And a pure, timeless view. Mountains don't change. You know?"
"I think I do. It sounds lovely. I've been to the mountains in France, but it was always skiing with my parents. So it was always crowded, and I never really enjoyed it. We'd stay in these big, expensive ski resorts with no personality and lots of amenities. I don't recommend it."
"Skiing? What's that?"
She groaned. Yet another slip, and he definitely caught this one. "Oh. Well, my parents are Muggles. I'm Muggle-born." As had become her habit, she waited for a heartbeat to gauge his reaction; however, without being able to see him, she couldn't get a proper read on it. "Skiing is a Muggle sport. People stand on two long, narrow slats and slide down mountains covered with snow."
"Huh. Without magic? How do they stop?"
"There are ways. It's a skill, like learning to fly a broom. But I'm not particularly good at it or very interested in it" She wanted to see if he would say anything about her revelation. When he didn't, she broached the subject. "I want to ask you something. Will you be honest with me?"
"I've been completely honest the entire evening. I've no intention of changing that now."
Hermione bit her lip, wondering how best to phrase her question. "Alright then. When I told you my parents were Muggles, what was your reaction?"
He didn't respond right away. "I merely accepted the information. It's of no consequence to me what your parentage is."
She let out a sharp breath. "Are you Muggle-born as well?"
"No. Since I'm sure you're curious, I come from a pureblood family. But blood status... it doesn't matter to me. I'll admit that it did, once, but not anymore." There was conviction in his tone, which was curious, but she had to fight the urge to try and actively discover his identity. It wasn't time for that—yet.
Shaking her head to try and physically force the impulse away, she glanced at the list of questions. "We're on the third, I believe. If you became an Animagus, what animal form would you choose and why?"
"These questions are fascinating." She could hear him grinning. "Who do you reckon wrote them?"
"I wonder if we'll ever find out."
"Let's see. An Animagus. That's easy. I'd be an eagle. Or a hawk. Something that can fly fast and high."
"You said earlier you enjoy watching Quidditch. Do you happen to also play?"
"What? Why would you ask that?"
"Because you clearly enjoy flying! It only makes sense. What position do you prefer? Or is that getting too personal?"
He chuckled. "It depends on if you want to know. It wouldn't bother me."
Her eyes went wide. Of course she wanted to know, but it wasn't time yet. She wasn't quite ready to lose the wonderful sense of freedom that came with speaking her soul to someone who was, for all intents and purposes, a stranger. He could be Harry, for all she knew—well, except he was at another table. Hermione glanced toward her friend to find him still in conversation with the girl who wasn't Ginny. She couldn't wait to find out who he'd connected with so strongly.
"Let's see. I think I'd choose to be a horse. No, wait. A cat. Or maybe a beaver. Then I could swim or walk around on land." She squinted thoughtfully. "Or maybe a lion. No, a tiger. Although, those would be awfully strange in England."
Movement on his side caught her eye, and she realized his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. "You weren't prepared for that question, were you?"
She blushed and tried to hide it before realizing he couldn't see. "Not really, no. It's just such an interesting question. How could you choose only one animal out of the thousands on the planet? Each one has something that makes it unique. And I don't—" She stopped, realizing he was laughing harder now. "Alright, fine. Laugh. Go ahead. I'll wait." She crossed her arms.
"No, no." He waved at her through his mirth. "I'm sorry. Do you want to keep going?"
A laugh escaped her lips without her permission. "No. Please, no. I'll... try to think of a good answer and tell you some other time."
"I can't believe we're only on question four." He picked up the sheet and was about to speak when the final chime for the evening sounded.
She'd been so absorbed in conversation with her stranger that the time had slipped away. "I can't believe it's over!"
His responding chuckle was low, gravely, and it rolled pleasantly over her like a wave. She imagined them sitting side by side instead of across a table, studying or doing homework together. He'd lean in and speak so only she could hear, his breath tickling her neck. Without thinking, she tucked a few curls behind her ear.
"I believe we're supposed to be fed now. It's about time, really. Answering all of these questions has woken my appetite. We can finish the last one while we eat." Hermione took a moment to glance around the room.
She was mildly surprised to find that most tables displayed the pale pink light above them. For the rest of the students, she knew that the empty tables would be replaced with larger ones to accommodate more people, and they could choose to sit wherever they wanted. A moment of doubt crept in, and she wondered if now, after spending well over an hour with her, her date would rather be with his friends. She had a suspicion that he was a Ravenclaw, but she hoped not. She'd never found any of her peers in Ravenclaw attractive, and while what mattered most was a person's character, she wondered how she would feel to find herself not attracted—or worse, possibly repulsed—by the young man sitting opposite her.
But she pushed the thought aside. She'd worry about that when she needed to, and there was no promise or guarantee of anything romantic, anyway. This might be the start of a lovely friendship, nothing more.
"If I may have your attention please!" Dominique called over the din. "Plates will be appearing on your tables very soon, so please clear them of anything that might be there. Those of you at the larger, communal tables, your food will be delivered in serving dishes in the center. Those of you eating at the smaller tables, your food will appear directly on your plates."
They cleared away the sheets with questions on them, and waited until their food arrived. It looked and smelled delicious. Hermione wondered what the rules were now that the main portion of the evening was finished. They were supposed to remain anonymous, but maybe it would be okay to try and figure out who he was. If he wasn't someone she found attractive, she could begin to prepare herself for that reality and decide how to move forward.
"Ready?" She tapped the paper she'd put back on the table beside her plate.
"Quite. Go on."
She cleared her throat. "What is your favorite hobby? How often do you get to do it?" Immediately, Hermione felt like it was a bad question. At least for the two of them, who seemed to carry their own weight from the war. "I like knitting. I'm terrible at it, but I did it a lot during fifth year."
"Why then? Have you done it much since?"
She shrugged, unable to fully answer his question lest she give herself away. "I had... reasons. And I realized those reasons weren't really doing what I thought they were. Oh, I know that's so vague, but it's the best I can do right now."
"It's alright. You can say as much or as little as you want." His voice was so soothing.
"I haven't done it since then, really. I should. It's soothing." She chewed thoughtfully, wondering if she would ever pick up a pair of knitting needles again. They made her think too much of Dobby, which brought to mind how much she had believed in helping house-elves, how much she still hoped to do in her life.
He cleared his throat. "Well, my favorite hobby is photography. Though I've only just started. I've found that it's an outlet for processing some of the things I went through in the war, some of the things I witnessed. I'm also not very good at it. But my mother bought me a camera, and I enjoy brewing the potion that brings the photos to life."
She nodded, noting that he enjoyed brewing potions—at least, that particular potion. But it was an advanced Seventh Year potion, one that was rarely covered because of its complexity, so she knew he must be somewhat skilled.
"So, um, what's your favorite subject?" Little questions like this, tossed in as they ate, should help her narrow down the options.
"Why?" His tone was heavy with suspicion.
"I'm only curious. We've gone through all the other questions, but we're supposed to eat dinner together. Unless you'd rather eat in silence." She had a feeling he wouldn't, based on their interactions so far.
But he was silent for a long while before finally answering quietly. "Arithmancy. Potions is a close second, though."
Her brain immediately jumped to try and recall all the boys in her Arithmancy class. Of course, he could be a Sixth Year, and she didn't know who from that year took the class. Still, in the combined Seventh and Eighth Years class, there were only fifteen students total, and eight of them were girls. That left only seven boys, and she started ticking them off in her mind: Ernie MacMillan, Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, plus a Ravenclaw Seventh Year, a Gryffindor Seventh Year, a Slytherin Seventh Year, and Draco Malfoy. But she felt that she could probably eliminate the last name, based on what she'd learned of her partner.
In a way, it was too bad—she definitely found him attractive.
She also found Terry, Anthony, and the Seventh Year Gryffindor attractive, with the Seventh Year Slytherin close to being so. Learning so many wonderful things about any one of them could help tip her over on that front.
"Do you want to know who I am?" His question surprised her, even though it was exactly what she wanted.
"Um, to be honest? Yes. But I don't need to know, not right now. It can wait." She swallowed hard. "After dinner, I believe they drop the barriers."
"Then we eat dessert together. Assuming you don't walk away." There was something hard in his voice, resigned.
"Why would you think I'd walk away?"
"Isn't that why you want to know who I am? So you can decide what you're going to do before the reveal?" He made a tutting sound. "There's no need, though. I can tell you what's going to happen."
"Oh? Can you?" She was eager to prove him wrong, no matter what he said.
"Yes. You'll be shocked, you'll stutter out some apology or excuse, and then you'll run as fast as you can for the exit." Even though he sounded very smug about thinking he knew how she'd react, he also seemed sad.
Of the boys in her Arithmancy class, there was only one who could elicit such a reaction from her. Her cheeks flushed as she processed what he'd just said.
Malfoy.
She was almost certain she was sitting across the table from Draco Malfoy, and he was convinced that she would walk away as soon as possible. Something stubborn inside of her made her want to stay, if for no other reason than to surprise him.
She wanted to see the look on his face when he found out who she was.
But then... it was Malfoy, and she was supposed to despise him.
He'd barely said four words to her all year outside of classes until now, and she really couldn't help noticing that she'd had a truly wonderful time talking with him for the majority of the evening. She wished she'd had longer to talk. She wished they could continue to talk. The only question was, really, did she want to continue whatever they'd started beyond this night? Did she see a future where they could interact?
She'd already acknowledged that she found him attractive. She knew he was smart because even though he barely spoke, when he did, she always found herself listening. Gone was the arrogant prat she'd grown up with, and in his place was a young man who'd gone through hell and come out a very different sort of person. Naturally, though, he wasn't privy to her thoughts and had no idea that her opinion of him had slowly evolved over the course of the year. She'd had more fun with him tonight than she could remember having with another person, and if there was even the slightest chance he'd want to see about being friends with her, then... she ought to take it.
Harry and Ron were wonderful, but they weren't the kind of friends she felt she could really talk to. Ron was too dismissive of her opinions, and Harry didn't like any kind of confrontation, even heated discussions about goings on in the magical world.
But Malfoy…
He was someone who thought deeply. And when she started to reflect on everything he'd said, he'd gone through an astonishing transformation. She'd laughed at his jokes, enjoyed his wit, marveled at his insight, and fully enjoyed his company.
"Sorted it, then?" His tone was wary, cautious.
"I think so. But—"
"Well done, Granger."