FANTASY. WRITTEN BY GIRL-WHO-LOVES-THINGS-IN-GENERAL!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that appear in J.K.Rowling's Harry Potter. Thank you for your attention.
Chapter Twelve: Accepting Denial.
As Hermione left the Great Hall in her travelling cloak, all she could hear were the excited whispers of each boy or girl, waiting in the Entrance Hall for Filch to open the doors. Students had to exit through a special door, as the main doors were boarded up so that the Professors could prepare for the upcoming ball in private. They had even covered the windows of the Great Hall with grand enchanted velvet curtains, so that no student was able to see out.
Filch began to shout for everyone to get in line. Boys and girls from third-year to seventh scrambled to get as close to the door as they could. Hermione was pushed into the middle of the queue. She decided to stay there, instead of pushing her way to the front.
"Why, Hermione! I haven't spoken to you for a while."
Hermione glanced over her shoulder. Callum Flewington smirked, revealing his sparkling white teeth. His hazel eyes lit up and for some unusual reason, Hermione felt a shiver up her spine. She tried to smile. "Yes, it has been a while."
"I heard Ben's been looking for you. Says he wants to make sure that you're going to the ball together. I told him he was silly," said Callum, his eyes twinkling, "Of course you're going together! It would be strange if you didn't. Correct?"
Hermione felt rather awkward and was about to reply when she found herself getting propelled forward by the crowd. The doors were open and everyone was rushing through it at great speed. Before long, Hermione could no longer see the Slytherin boy and she found herself standing outside Hogwarts castle, on a path that led to Hogsmeade Village. There, she bumped into a dishevelled looking Ginny, who immediately grabbed her arm and pulled her along as quickly as she could. At the speed they were going, it didn't take long before they reached Hogsmeade. Hermione tripped and fell over.
"Come on, Hermione! We have to hurry before all the good dresses and dress robes are gone!" Ginny cried. She tugged at Hermione and got her to her feet before taking her hand and pulling her into the nearest shop there. Unfortunately, it was one of the most crowded. However, it didn't take long for Ginny to drag Hermione into another clothes store, as she proclaimed that the dresses were much too normal.
"Oh Ginny, can we not stop for a second? I wasn't made to do so much shopping." Hermione said breathlessly. Ginny sighed but reluctantly let Hermione stop to catch her breath. She pointed to a store down an alleyway. "Why don't we go in there? It's not crowded, like the ones we've been in already, and it looks fairly interesting."
The shop that Hermione was pointing to appeared to be old and crooked. In fact, Ginny would have thought it was nothing more than an abandoned house, had there not been a sign on the door that read 'Open'. The windows were boarded up with wooden planks and the building looked fragile and unsafe. Ginny gave a worried frown, but Hermione was already half way through the door. She gave an exasperated sigh before hurriedly following her friend inside. The site that met her eyes was extraordinary.
Spotlights lit the room, giving it an almost celebrity-like feeling. The walls were made of textured mirrors and the carpet was as red as the most beautiful ruby in the world. The ceiling was a mixture of pictures, each of a different woman modelling different types of clothing. One was wearing a pale blue dress with sandals (like you might on a sunny day); another was wearing a frightful pink suit, while another woman was wearing a rather beautiful lilac tunic. In the centre of the room was a round wooden counter and on top of that, a vase of red flowers and a bell.
The two girls looked around the room in awe. Hermione rung the bell and waited patiently for someone to arrive. They heard a tinkling and a crack, before they saw a thin witch appear in front of them. The witch wore her hair in plaits and wore blood red robes. Her hair was so red that it reminded Hermione of a strong, blazing fire.
"Welcome to Open! How may I help you?" The girl smiled happily. She was young, looking no older than nineteen. Ginny and Hermione explained their situation (that they had a ball to go to and no dress or dress robes to wear). The girl introduced herself as Chantelle and she immediately whisked Ginny away to try on some dresses, leaving Hermione with a catalogue.
Hermione flicked through the catalogue. The witches were smiling at her and twirling around in their fabulous dresses. Some were a little too revealing, some seemed a little too tight, and others just didn't seem right. She was glad that Chantelle had taken Ginny in first, for now she had a chance to think of what she could wear. However, it wasn't long before Ginny appeared before her with a sharp crack.
"Your turn now." She winked. In her hand was a plain paper bag with (what Hermione assumed to be) her dress inside. Chantelle appeared beside Ginny a few moments later. She stretched her hand out towards Hermione, who took it. Before she knew what was happening, she heard the cracking noise again and found herself in a white, spotless room with dresses (and dress robes) hanging from every wall.
"We have a lot of choice here," Chantelle smiled, "So feel free to look at whatever you want to, and try it on over there." She pointed to a changing room in the corner. It was also white. "You seemed a little unsure of what you wanted before," Chantelle continued, "Which was why I let you look at the catalogue for a while. I hope it helped!"
Hermione smiled in surprise. "How did you . . .?"
Chantelle sat down on a stool and smiled knowingly. "My mother was a seer. She taught me all she knew about seeing the future and reading the mind. It's quite useful, especially when you want to know what your customers are thinking." She winked. "But let's keep that little secret to ourselves, shall we?" Hermione smiled and put her hand over her heart, as if she didn't dare.
"A magician's secrets should never be told." She said, and Chantelle nodded in agreement. The two set off to try and find the perfect dress for Hermione. They searched every rack and every pile, until Chantelle and Hermione both held a small collection of dresses for Hermione to try. As Hermione went into the changing room and tried each one on, Chantelle waited outside and they made small talk.
"I feel rude saying this . . ." said Chantelle, "But I can't stand a bad aura. You seem distracted, and distraction isn't going to help you pick a good dress."
Hermione stopped changing for a second. "What do you mean?" She asked. Of course, she knew what Chantelle meant and she was right. She was distracted and everytime she looked in the mirror, she wasn't thinking of whether the dress was right for her, but instead, she thought of Draco and Ben.
"Your situation is just like this one, Hermione," said Chantelle, "Have you noticed how I haven't suggested anything? That's because things are always better when you decide for yourself. It is our choices that make us who we are. But to make the right choices, we have to face the truth. We have to accept our thoughts and feelings, because denial can't last forever."
Inside the changing room, Hermione paused once again. Accepting denial. She laughed slightly. She had only met Chantelle a few minutes ago and yet she had solved her problems in a few sentences. Hermione knew that inside; she had only answered Ben in a desperate attempt to forget those (more than) friendly feelings she had for that certain blonde.
Hermione was pleasantly surprised at how, once she had realised this, it was much easier to concentrate on choosing a nice dress. It didn't take as long for her to decide which ones was a definite no, and soon, she had tried all the dresses on and chosen the perfect dress. It was the most simple out of all the dresses she had tried, but Hermione was sure that it was the best one for her. It came with a silky dress robe that made her feel warm and ridiculously safe.
After choosing her dress (and paying for it too), Hermione and Ginny thanked Chantelle greatly before leaving the store. They had not realised how much time they had spent inside, for they had only one hour to return to Hogwarts. The red-haired shopkeeper smiled as she watched them leave. She waited patiently until she was sure that they were a good distance away. Taking her travelling cloak and putting her hood up, Chantelle left her shop and used a golden key to lock the door.
"If Dumbledore wasn't my old headmaster, I wouldn't have believed him for a second when he said that two young girls would come into my store. After all, no one ever comes into my store . . ." Chantelle mumbled to herself as she began walking towards the castle of Hogwarts. "Well, I bet he'll be pleased to hear what I read on Hermione's mind . . ."
It was dinnertime the next day and Hermione prodded miserably at her food with her fork. She wasn't hungry. The ice ball was in less than an hour and already people had abandoned their dinners to prepare. Hermione didn't want to prepare. She wasn't quite sure why she didn't want to go to the ball anymore. It was exciting and she did enjoy skating and dancing too, but she didn't feel up to it. It was possibly the fact that she had to tell Ben soon – maybe even at the ball – what she truly thought of him – which wasn't very much at all.
"Erm, Miss Granger, Miss." Something squeaked. Hermione looked away from her cold dinner to a small house-elf beside her - a house-elf known as Dobby. She smiled (much to Dobby's relief).
"Dobby! What are you doing here?"
"The Professors have told Dobby, Miss, to tell Miss Granger, that Miss shall have to start the ball with a dance with the Head Boy."
Hermione's eyes widened. She had to dance her first dance of the ball with Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. His name echoed in her head, over and over again. She felt as though she was going to go insane with it all. Dobby looked up at her with his large elfish eyes. People were beginning to stare, for it wasn't everyday that a house-elf from the kitchens below Hogwarts came into the Great Hall during dinnertime.
"What is it Dobby?" Hermione asked gently, sensing that something was wrong when Dobby did not leave.
"Well, you see Miss, Professor Dumbledore, Sir, has told Dobby to inform the Head Girl and Head Boy of this, Miss, but . . ."
She realised what Dobby was trying to say. He wanted Hermione to go with him to the Slytherin table – to Draco. She thought it silly of herself to not have thought of it sooner. Of course Dobby would be scared of confronting his previous master!
"Don't worry, Dobby." She said in the nicest voice she could manage. "I'll come with you."
Dobby nodded gratefully and thanked Hermione with his heart. As they neared the Slytherin table, Hermione saw the remaining Slytherins send her glares from every direction. She paid no attention to their pettiness and continued to scan the table for the Head Boy. She eventually spotted him, sitting right at the end of the Slytherin table. He was eating extra slowly, almost like he was trying to stay for longer.
"Malfoy."
Draco turned around and frowned at the sight of Hermione. Swallowing his mouthful, he stood and towered over both the Gryffindor and the house-elf.
"Well then, Granger? What's so important that you had to disturb my dinner?" He said.
"It's not me that has something say." Hermione said coldly. "It's Dobby."
Draco laughed cruelly and looked down at the small, almost whimpering, house-elf. "What has that old house-elf got to say to me?"
"Don't be so arrogant, Malfoy. He's only here to run an errand." She spoke with fire in her voice, but was gentler once she faced Dobby. "Now, Dobby, why don't you say what we came for?"
Dobby whimpered as he held his ears in fear. "Erm, Sir - Sir - Sir has – Dobby – sent Dobby - important message - for Sir. Professor Dumbledore - says - says Sir must - must start the ball with a dance - with the - the Head Girl - Sir."
"You mean with her?"
Draco pointed at Hermione rudely. She crossed her arms and closed her eyes as if she didn't care. "I am the Head Girl, Malfoy, in case you haven't noticed that it's you and me who have been doing the night patrols every day."
The Slytherin blonde snorted and sent both Hermione and Dobby a glare, before marching out of the Great Hall. It wasn't until then that Hermione realised just how many people had remained in the Hall and were now gazing (rather quizzically) at her. As quickly as her legs would carry her, Hermione exited the Hall, fully aware that her cheeks were crimson.
Edited Version: 17th August 2005