A Date

{one-shot}

Hermione picked up the invitation plaguing her desk for what had to be the fifth time that evening and read over its contents again.

Miss Hermione J. Granger,

As a participant of the Second Wizarding War, we are pleased to inform you that your presence is called for at this year's Honor Ball. You must attend with an accompaniment.

The Ministry of Magic

Hermione snarled at the daunting, yet rather elegant, paper. It's presence in her possessions made her rather anxious, for there was an awful realization that not only had the war been a year ago, but she and everyone there would be reminded of it.

The gesture from the ministry was admirable, Kingsley had run the idea by Harry many a time in hopes not to slander the boy. Being the humble wizard he was, Harry insisted that there be an honor, but only once. So, Kingsley acted promptly and decided the one-year anniversary could put every last hinderance to rest.

Why on Earth they could only attend if a date was brought, Hermione had no clue however. She was outraged that such an idea was made, until Harry explained it to her.

Apparently, it had been his brilliant idea.

He managed to inform her that they wanted everyone to attend with someone so that way it was easy to handle, and everyone would know they had someone there to depend on. It was a matter of making sure the population was alright, and Hermione understood. She wasn't any less frustrated, though at having to find a wizard to take.

If she wanted to attend, and she truly did, Hermione would have to find another to attend with. All of her friends were occupied, or they'd decided to bring a family member... now it was her turn to attempt to find someone. Her options were so limited, and the one person she would love to ask in a more date-like fashion would never agree to such a proposition. As far as she knew he wasn't even planning to attend.

"Hermione?" She looked up at one of her roommates who was leaning from the doorframe.

"Yeah?"

"It's half three, don't you have that extra potions lesson with Snape?"

Hermione groaned, her roommate was right. For the whole of her repeat school year she had been taking extra potions lessons in hopes to understand the topic as he did. Learning he was the half-blood Prince that had so artfully refigured a whole textbook, Hermione wanted to adapt that frame of mind on the subject. The way he manipulated the ingredients into his favor, the way it simply worked for him.

Hermione had been successful since she met with him twice a week, but she'd also been successful in developing a dreadfully unhealthy attachment to the cold, dark wizard. Most of the time it was 'Miss Granger' this, or, 'insufferable' when she'd correctly tell him substitutes that he hadn't been expecting her to know.

Potions was an extremely different frame of mind that tended to take over any logical thinking. It was outside of the box as Hermione recalled many muggles saying. She hadn't ever been good at that kind of thought, abstract and completely obliterating to prior lessons.

The halls were all quiet as students mostly were in their rooms or common area just watching for the clock to chime Dinner. Hermione hated wasting time, but with her travels for a year most of her studies were practical and clinical. Nothing seemed to change except the gentleness that everyone took.