Chapter One- Girl Talk
It was suffocating in the Great Hall that night. That is the first thing that I recall about the fateful night of the April Sorcery Social dance. Also, the fact that Harry and Ron kept making fun of the dance's name. I swear, sometimes those two can be so obnoxious! I cannot believe that we're all sixteen, mostly because of the way that those two act.
The day of the dance began, just as every other day has for the past six years. I was up early, doing research in the library, doing everything in my power to stay away from Pavarti and Lavender, who kept on blathering on about BOYSBOYSBOYS. They could not believe that I had accepted Neville Longbottom's request to take me to the dance. Apparently, he isn't their idea of a "hottie". True, I'm not interested in him as a boyfriend, but he is the only male who noted my existence, so I went!
I told him I wanted to go as friends, and he agreed. I think he might like me, on account of the fact he's the only person who takes my advice seriously, but I think he understands my wishes. Who knows what can happen in relationships anyhow? Anything can happen. That's what I realized after that night...
Anyhow, back to the story. Ron was angrier than usual. He still hadn't asked me out, to my complete dismay, but for some reason, I hadn't asked him either. I sometimes wonder if he even likes me. He's hard to read, and he hurts me, because he acts as thought I'm invisible when it comes to dates and stuff like that, yet he completely turns into a dunderhead with Fleur What's-her-name... Oh dear. I'm ranting. Well, my point is, Ron is still the same sad boy.
Though his spirits have improved since the fall of Voldemort last year, Harry has still been his dreamy self. I sometimes wonder what he's thinking. Despite his love for Cho Chang (or infatuation, rather), Harry was going to the dance with a nice Ravenclaw girl named Charlotte Peters.
Ron was going solo, and looking quite red in the face, he said he's dance with girls who were "unfortunate" like him. Kind of pathetic, but all in all quite comical.
The day of the dance was a Saturday, so there were no classes, and basically nothing to do, besides finish up a report and relax my hair. Did you think I'd say "relax?" No way! I also four good novels going, and was content to forget about the dance until six o'clock, thirty minutes before it began.
It was not a formal, (thank goodness) and I was just going in jeans and a blue sweater. I put them on at the designated time, and scowled at my appearance. Though it was boring, I hate wearing girly clothes, despite the fact that Harry says that I look "nice" in them, especially "now", what ever that means. I sighed, and applied some brown mascara.
The door flew open, as Pavarti and Lavender practically tumbled in.
"Oooooh..? You look... nice?" Pavarti offered unconvincingly.
"A bit bland, though," Lavender added.
"She's going with Neville," Pavarit declared.
"He's not bland-looking," Lavender argued.
"Not particularly good- looking either," Pavarti giggled.
I turned away from the mirror. "Shush it, you two. I think that Neville is very cute, and his new style is.. exotic."
Exotic? More like strange. All of a sudden, Neville had been plagued by Gothic Fever. Now, he outlines his ocean- coloured eyes in black liner, he wears spiked collars, and he listens to very odd types of music.
"He used to be such a nerd," commented Lavender. "Now he's just sort of freaky," she finished in complete distaste.
Pavarti sighed. "But Dean is sooo gorgeous."
"Seamus is better!" snapped Lavender indignantly.
Obviously, those were their dates. I tuned them out as they continued to chatter along.
"Oh, Hermione, hon, you mustn't wear that!" Pavarti squealed all of a sudden, making me jump. "Think of all the hotties that will be at the dance! Ron is ever so fun. You should dance with him! And Harry.." She sighed desperately.
Lavender grinned. "Harry is soo breathtaking. I am absolutely IN LOVE with his glasses!" "Too bad Draco Malfoy isn't in Gryffindor," Pavarti commented.
That grabbed me attention. "WHAT? WHY?"
Pavarti went red. "Well, he is beautiful."
"He looks exactly like his lunatic dad!" I declared.
Pavarti blushed again, but said nothing. I had a terrible feeling about that, but chose to ignore her.
"Oh, come now. He's exquisite," Lavender nodded. "The perfectly shaped face, the platinum hair, the enormous you-know-what..." She and Pavarti burst into giggles.
I made a face. "Who's looking?"
"Wow, he's hot in Quidditch," Lavender put in, trying to calm herself, and wiping tears from her eyes.
"On his broom-" Pavarti managed to shriek with a gasp of air.
"Dear GOD!" I shouted, attempting to be heard. "Who cares about his looks when he's such a jerk? He's incredibly rude, and-"
"You're right? OKAY? Just quit the lecture, please," Lavender stated, grabbing my hair and playing with it.
"We'll make you up," Pavarti chimed. "Then, you'll look great."
Despite my protests, they forced make-up upon me, and forced me into one of Pavarti's small, preppy tops.
"This is awfully tight," I told her as I tried it on.
"That's the point now, isn't it?" she demanded.
"It's not really my style," I declared. It was coloured baby blue, and across the chest it read 'ABERCROMBIE AND WITCH'.
"You look adorable," Lavender cooed.
"That's what I meant," I said. I was ignored.
It was suffocating in the Great Hall that night. That is the first thing that I recall about the fateful night of the April Sorcery Social dance. Also, the fact that Harry and Ron kept making fun of the dance's name. I swear, sometimes those two can be so obnoxious! I cannot believe that we're all sixteen, mostly because of the way that those two act.
The day of the dance began, just as every other day has for the past six years. I was up early, doing research in the library, doing everything in my power to stay away from Pavarti and Lavender, who kept on blathering on about BOYSBOYSBOYS. They could not believe that I had accepted Neville Longbottom's request to take me to the dance. Apparently, he isn't their idea of a "hottie". True, I'm not interested in him as a boyfriend, but he is the only male who noted my existence, so I went!
I told him I wanted to go as friends, and he agreed. I think he might like me, on account of the fact he's the only person who takes my advice seriously, but I think he understands my wishes. Who knows what can happen in relationships anyhow? Anything can happen. That's what I realized after that night...
Anyhow, back to the story. Ron was angrier than usual. He still hadn't asked me out, to my complete dismay, but for some reason, I hadn't asked him either. I sometimes wonder if he even likes me. He's hard to read, and he hurts me, because he acts as thought I'm invisible when it comes to dates and stuff like that, yet he completely turns into a dunderhead with Fleur What's-her-name... Oh dear. I'm ranting. Well, my point is, Ron is still the same sad boy.
Though his spirits have improved since the fall of Voldemort last year, Harry has still been his dreamy self. I sometimes wonder what he's thinking. Despite his love for Cho Chang (or infatuation, rather), Harry was going to the dance with a nice Ravenclaw girl named Charlotte Peters.
Ron was going solo, and looking quite red in the face, he said he's dance with girls who were "unfortunate" like him. Kind of pathetic, but all in all quite comical.
The day of the dance was a Saturday, so there were no classes, and basically nothing to do, besides finish up a report and relax my hair. Did you think I'd say "relax?" No way! I also four good novels going, and was content to forget about the dance until six o'clock, thirty minutes before it began.
It was not a formal, (thank goodness) and I was just going in jeans and a blue sweater. I put them on at the designated time, and scowled at my appearance. Though it was boring, I hate wearing girly clothes, despite the fact that Harry says that I look "nice" in them, especially "now", what ever that means. I sighed, and applied some brown mascara.
The door flew open, as Pavarti and Lavender practically tumbled in.
"Oooooh..? You look... nice?" Pavarti offered unconvincingly.
"A bit bland, though," Lavender added.
"She's going with Neville," Pavarit declared.
"He's not bland-looking," Lavender argued.
"Not particularly good- looking either," Pavarti giggled.
I turned away from the mirror. "Shush it, you two. I think that Neville is very cute, and his new style is.. exotic."
Exotic? More like strange. All of a sudden, Neville had been plagued by Gothic Fever. Now, he outlines his ocean- coloured eyes in black liner, he wears spiked collars, and he listens to very odd types of music.
"He used to be such a nerd," commented Lavender. "Now he's just sort of freaky," she finished in complete distaste.
Pavarti sighed. "But Dean is sooo gorgeous."
"Seamus is better!" snapped Lavender indignantly.
Obviously, those were their dates. I tuned them out as they continued to chatter along.
"Oh, Hermione, hon, you mustn't wear that!" Pavarti squealed all of a sudden, making me jump. "Think of all the hotties that will be at the dance! Ron is ever so fun. You should dance with him! And Harry.." She sighed desperately.
Lavender grinned. "Harry is soo breathtaking. I am absolutely IN LOVE with his glasses!" "Too bad Draco Malfoy isn't in Gryffindor," Pavarti commented.
That grabbed me attention. "WHAT? WHY?"
Pavarti went red. "Well, he is beautiful."
"He looks exactly like his lunatic dad!" I declared.
Pavarti blushed again, but said nothing. I had a terrible feeling about that, but chose to ignore her.
"Oh, come now. He's exquisite," Lavender nodded. "The perfectly shaped face, the platinum hair, the enormous you-know-what..." She and Pavarti burst into giggles.
I made a face. "Who's looking?"
"Wow, he's hot in Quidditch," Lavender put in, trying to calm herself, and wiping tears from her eyes.
"On his broom-" Pavarti managed to shriek with a gasp of air.
"Dear GOD!" I shouted, attempting to be heard. "Who cares about his looks when he's such a jerk? He's incredibly rude, and-"
"You're right? OKAY? Just quit the lecture, please," Lavender stated, grabbing my hair and playing with it.
"We'll make you up," Pavarti chimed. "Then, you'll look great."
Despite my protests, they forced make-up upon me, and forced me into one of Pavarti's small, preppy tops.
"This is awfully tight," I told her as I tried it on.
"That's the point now, isn't it?" she demanded.
"It's not really my style," I declared. It was coloured baby blue, and across the chest it read 'ABERCROMBIE AND WITCH'.
"You look adorable," Lavender cooed.
"That's what I meant," I said. I was ignored.