"The Reunion" by Quidditch, Anyone?
A Charming Entrance
The ground solidified below my feet. A wobbled a bit in my new heels, but I managed to keep upright. Can't say so much for Lavender, who jerked forward with an almighty 'whoopf!' and landed on her oversized behind.
"Just a but excited," she giggled as I made a fruitless attempt to pull her back up.
"That's all right. Don't think anyone say you," I told her while trying to brush a bit of dirt off her back. Note to self: do not let Lavender's drink count exceed three. The only thing worse than an energetic fat friend at a reunion is an energetic fat friend at a reunion who's drunk and singing "Yesterday".
A toothy smile awaits us at the gate where the old-school stagecoaches were parked. The school must have updated their transportation system, because you could tell the horses were old and not exactly up to a journey- even though they were invisible.
After the few minutes it took Lavender to get into the compartment, and the bumpy right straight to the castle, and setting foot once again on the grounds we knew so well, it all came swimming back. The sight of the castle, the happy chatter of people inside, the slivers of sunlight just over the mountaintops. It felt more like home than my craptacular apartment on the grey streets of London ever could. All warm and familiar, like a security blanket. You know, maybe this wasn't going to be so-
"Oy! Bucky brain! Remember me?"
Or maybe I just spoke too soon.
Right on cue, the famous Mr. glossy blond hair and invariable smirk met my eyes at the top of the stairs. Still cunning, still horrid, still a pain in the ass.
"Malfoy!" Lavender squealed as her pudgy legs hurled her up the stairs. Malfoy froze at the sight of her. Better still, her practically broke out in hives when she hugged him. Ergh.
I laughed to myself at his reaction to SuperFiredUpLavender as I walked inside. Before I could make my way in, Malfoy held my arm back and snarled, "You think that's funny do you? Well, how about this?"
His wand hit my new diamond necklace. Instantly the shining gems turned into real ice and started melting away super-fast, leaving me with only a thin silver chain.
"YOU!" I hadn't even done anything wrong. I reasoned that he did that because he was so stunned that he just hexed the closest thing to him. Rather, the closest thing that wasn't smothering him with the smell of wife-made sugar cookies and a hint of rum. But that's okay; I got even by kicking him in his very own gems.
Well, now that I've made sure Malfoy is off my back (and probably down lying on his), I can assure that I make my perfect entrance into-
Uh-oh. My triumphant face dissolves as I turn around and find that the doors are open. No, scratch that; the doors are open and every face inside is gawking like they've never seen anything like me. I blush. Someone inside yells, "You go girl!" and everyone laughs. I blush even more.
Good job, Hermione. You haven't even entered the castle and you've already given everyone the wrong impression of you. From here, just walk inside... nice and cool... right, smile, nod, small steps... where's the nearest beverage stand? God knows I could use a... ah, champagne. Perfect.
"Hermione? Hermione Granger?" questions a male voice. I spin gracefully and see Harry, the one person I actually don't dread seeing right now.
"Oh, Jesus, Harry!" I drop my cool-as-a-cookie-and-twice-as-sweet manner. I come closer and we kiss on the cheek.
"Didn't think you'd even show up! I haven't heard from you forever," he smiles.
"I'm so sorry, Harry. I just though with your career and everything you wouldn't want your old school friend always calling you," I tell him. He just laughs at me.
"You just get here?" He examines the table for a cracker or mini-hotdog he can snack on while I'm watching the social scene unravel.
"Yup. How 'bout you?"
His mouth is full of some sort of dainty party-sandwich. "Just a while ago. Been waiting forever for you or Ron to show up."
He gets crumbs in my already messed hair. "Really, Harry! If you remembered one thing from school, it should be how to not talk with your mouth full!" I know I should just lighten up, but for some reason I don't feel like commenting on what he just said.
He swallows and smiles. A bit of food is still on his cheek. "Come on, come join the rest of us," he pulls me away. Apparently he doesn't entirely share my philosophy of "this sucks".
We meet up with Dean Thomas, Neville, Ernie Macmillan, and a few other men I can't exactly recognize.
"I can't believe it! You look wonderful!" Dean offers as he takes my hand to kiss it politely.
"Thanks, thank you, Dean. You look great yourself," I smile kindly.
"Always on top. Smartest girl in the school," he reconciled. I laugh lightly.
"I can't even imagine what you're doing now!" Dean continues to exclaim.
Oh crap.
"Yes, tell us, Hermione; what are you doing now?" Neville grins.
I look from one eager face to another. "Erm..." They expect me to say something like I charmed the common cold, or found a way to make self-simmering cauldrons. "I-" I, I... oh, I'd just better tell the truth. My face turns gloomy and I admit, "I work at a fashion agency. I... I design clothes."
Their faces are still stuck in 'smile' mode. "You mean... you mean you own a fashion agency?" Neville tries to clarify.
A take a breath. "No, no I just work there. Just design them."
Half a dozen faces have that same expression they had years ago when a Professor would ask them what a whoopdanger root was used for. The look awkwardly for words. "Oh," Dean manages. Slowly they drop their gaze and return to their own conversations. Even Harry looks embarrassed for me, but he gives me a weak smile.
Ugh. I am such a loser. Just walk away... at least I know things can't get any worse.
Wrong again. The crowd parts, the lights dim, all breathing stops... well, not really, but my heart practically does.
Ron comes in.
With a girl.
An ugly girl, at that.
Probably a ho. All skinny and stringy-haired, laughing with a mouth full of perfectly straight teeth. Now that I have come clean that I design clothes, I can assure every person here that hers are last-season trash that are a disgrace to models everywhere. She should be ashamed to be in public like that. Really, no taste at all.
Ron comes closer with the girl. I bend lower to hide behind the massive statue of Millicent Bulstrode. Last thing I need if for him to see me at the moment.
He's looking over the heads of people, trying to spot someone. He's so sure of something. His little girlfriend pulls at his arm. Oh, poor her... Ron's attention wasn't directly focused on her for three seconds. She whispers something in his ear and he gives a short laugh, but after she looked away, his attention was back on that thing he couldn't see.
Yesterday, I found out something. I have huge front teeth. You know what that means? Well, I'll tell you. It means I'm a top-of-the-class nerd with frizzy hair and bucked teeth. Hmmm... remind you of someone? Good news is that I'll get the 'Ron'... whoever that may be.