How to Love

IV. Krum

IV. Krum

 The news about the Yule Ball excited Hermione Granger. Her hair was in its worse condition and her skin was sickly pale but despite that, she was a bit thrilled. That night, she dreamed of being asked by someone. Albeit knowing that neither of her two best friends would ask her, she had the feeling that someone out there would do. As her dreams got more beautiful, it dawned at her that it would never come true. Who in their right minds would ask someone like her? She bit her tongue as she felt her frustration rise. Hermione Granger, she was known as the know-it-all ugly mudblood who clung to Harry and Ron all the time. Her thoughts became bitter as her dream Yule Ball slipped away from her mind. Darkness engulfed her as she felt her consciousness fading.

 She was miserable for a whole week. Everywhere she looked, a boy was asking some pretty girl to go to the Yule Ball with him. She clutched her school bag as she rushed towards the Great Hall, startling a group of Beauxbaton girls in the process. Hermione muttered a quiet apology and continued her not-so-merry way to the Gryffindor table. She didn’t understand herself. Being asked by someone was clearly irrelevant compared to the assignments Snape dumped to them that were due the day before the Ball.

 “Someone’s not in the mood,” Fred whistled and plopped in front of her.

 “Not now, Fred,” Hermione drawled out and brought a long parchment and a quill on the table.

 “Oh,” George grinned, “So she really isn’t in the mood.”

 Fred nudged his twin and stared at the girl in front of them, “You know, this table wasn’t made so you can do assignment on it.”

 “Hermione Granger doing her assignment in the Great Hall,” George gasped dramatically, “What happened? Harry and Ron finally convinced you that sleep is better?”

 Hermione looked up and glared at them, “No. Actually, this paper is due the day before the Yule Ball and I need to finish it so I won’t be writing and picking a dress at the same time. So if you’re here to bother me, then please go away.”

 “I think you touched a nerve, George,” Fred snickered lowly.

 The witch continued what she was doing and left the world entirely. Her hand was writing lines and lines of words that the twins didn’t understand. The creases on her forehead were getting deeper and deeper as her brows were furrowed together. Even the twins were feeling the intensity Hermione was giving to her assignment. Suddenly, the quill on her hand snapped in half and she let out a disgruntled scream.

 Fred reached out for her hand and covered it with his own.

 “Merlin’s beard,” he sighed, “You are a beautiful monster, are you?”

 Hermione flushed and grabbed her hand away from his, “Shut up.”

 George laughed as he served himself a stack of pancakes, “Hermione’s gone mental.”

 Fred rolled his eyes and snatched the parchment away from Hermione’s grasps.

 “Hey!” she protested as she glared daggers at him. As soon as her eyes hit the face of Fred Weasley, her heart did a back flip behind her rib cage. The way his lip curled as he smiled at her made her throat dry. She looked away as she felt her face heating up. Fred was always smiling, what was the difference? Why was she overreacting?

 “Give it back,” she mustered the courage to look back at him. No regrets surfaced from her consciousness.

 “Not until you eat your breakfast,” Fred chuckled as he handed her a plate of eggs and bacons.