Author: Lucinda
Rated t for teen – similar to the books, makes use of cliché'd ideas.
Set during book 4, approaching the Yule Ball – a blend of a few rather over-used ideas that won't get out of the way and let me work on my other projects.
…
The approaching Yule Ball had been the cause of much commotion and all sorts of emotions over the last few weeks. Some were excited over the chance to dress up and show off for a special someone or just to show off in general. There were many who felt mixtures of fear, nervousness and dread about finding a date, either that the one they wanted wouldn't ask, would already have a date, or that nobody would ask at all. Many third years were out of sorts that they wouldn't be permitted to attend at all unless an older student asked them as their date.
Unexpectedly, Hermione Granger had been asked to the Ball by several of her fellow Gryffindors, as well as Ravenclaw Terry Boot and an ambitious third year Slytherin named Julian Tirabetti. She had given all of them the same answer – "I am flattered that you asked, but I already have a date to the Yule Ball, so I must refuse your offer."
Ron Weasley had asked twice, with nowhere near the politeness or interest that the others had used. More frustratingly, he hadn't believed her when she'd claimed to already have a date. His exact annoyed words, were "Who else'd ask Hermione to the Ball?"
Harry Potter had only shrugged and commented, "I guess she turned down Terry Boot, you know, the Ravenclaw in our year? The one who supports Puddlemere?"
"Puddlemere? Why would she want to go out with someone who supports them?" Ron had scoffed.
Harry had just sighed, unwilling to argue that Hermione, of all people, wouldn't be rejecting a possible date or boyfriend because of their favorite Quidditch team.
More than a few of the fourth years were in the Common Room when people returned from an Arithmancy study session. Hermione, of course, had gone to the study group, murmuring about proofs and theorums that had gone completely over the heads of those not taking the class. On her return from the study group, she looked a bit rumpled, with her hair having fallen out of the loose braid into wild tendrils. Her pages of notes were sticking out of the Arithmancy book in a way that suggested something had completely disrupted the study session, or perhaps her notes had spilled on the way back to the Common Room. Hermione herself was muttering about idiot boys chasing French Veela and obsessed fangirls stalking visiting Bulgarians.
Her irritation was as obvious as the wild mane of bushy hair that wreathed her head. Pausing at one of the little tables, Hermione started to shuffle the books and papers in her satchel, neatening them up to something closer to her preferred obsessive level of order. Most Gryffindors were content to let her fuss with her papers while avoiding any sort of eye contact that might cause her to blather at them about revision schedules and assignment dates.
Unfortunately, not only did Ron Weasley have the tact and subtlety of a troll, he was a slow learner. As Hermione fussed with her papers and books, he made his way over to her. Ron's entire appearance, from his rumpled clothing to his hair looking almost as wild as Harry's, suggested that he'd been enjoying a carefree afternoon. Things got worse when he opened his mouth, "Hey Hermione, you're a girl, right?"
Several students shuffled further away, turning their attention to the conversation that was certain to end badly.
Hermione looked up from her papers and books, ink splotching over her fingertips and a few drops on the back of her left hand. Her eyes narrowed and she slowly spoke, "As a matter of fact, I am a girl. I have been for my whole life. Have you only now noticed that?"
Ron continued on, either ignoring or completely missing the warning signs. "Since no one else will take you to the Ball, I thought I could let you go with me. What do you say?"
Gryffindors were treated to the sight of Hermione Granger stunned speechless, her jaw dropping open in shock at the sheer brazen rudeness of Ron's words. Her face paled, and after a few tense heartbeats, the pallor changed to an angry flush, the vein at her temple throbbing as her jaw snapped shut with a click.
Hermione's fingers twitched a few moments, looking rather claw-like before they closed around her Arithmancy text. Seemingly without conscious thought, her arms lifted the Arithmancy text, and she glared at the boy in front of her.
"Come on, it isn't like you've got that many options," Ron prattled.
The two inch thick Arithmancy text connected to Ron Weasley's cheek with a loud 'Whuuuump!' before anyone save Harry with his Quidditch reflexes had even realized that Hermione had moved. Ron Weasley spun in a half circle and dropped to the floor in a gangly heap.
Hermione grabbed the rest of her papers and shoved them into her bag, a twitching series of movements that wasn't quite stalking taking her to the base of the stairs to the Girls' Dormitories before she paused. The words were sharply measured, "When he regains what passes for sense, tell him that means no."
Nobody moved to stop her from leaving the Common Room.
A few moments later, a door slammed closed upstairs.
"She's got quite a temper, hasn't she?" One of the Weasley twins commented, staring at the stairs where Hermione had stood.
The other twin was looking at the unmoving form of their younger brother. "Too right."
End Pottery Shard: Date for the Ball.