mágoa ( ✓ )

chapter five

DAPHNE GREENGRASS eyed the Gryffindor table with absolute disgust. "Who does that bitch think she is?" She snapped incredulously, crossing her arms over her chest – which Pansy had watched the blonde stuff her bra with tissue paper earlier in the morning.

"Who?" The black-haired girl asked, even though she knew exactly of the person Daphne was referring to. Hermione Granger was all the girl could talk about for weeks now, and while Pansy would've gladly talked about Gryffindor's lioness in any other context, she'd grown tired of the constant negativity. Her dark eyes glanced towards the table adorned in scarlet and gold, her gaze locked fully on the dark-skinned girl dressed in a honey-yellow sweater and black skirt: she'd noticed the girl had taken to wearing more feminine clothing even on days that there were no classes. And what was it about dark-skinned girls looking so much better in lighter clothes than everybody else?

She watched as Hermione ran a hand through her curly brown hair, because somehow she'd managed to tame it and it now resided in curls rather than being bushy and impossible. If Pansy had thought the girl was beautiful before, she considered her ethereal now: a goddess.

"Hermione Granger, obviously. Who else have I ever despised as much as her?" The blonde Slytherin beside her snarled bitterly, and Pansy really wished she'd sat with the boys for lunch today. She'd been foolish in thinking her dorm mate would talk about anything besides Hermione.

"Cho Chang, I think. When Diggory asked her to the Ball rather than yourself," Millie butted into the conversation, stuffing her mouth full of a sandwich. "You were convinced it was only natural that the school's prettiest girl should attend the Yule Ball with the school's handsomest boy, and became vexed with her once he chose her."

"I guess you're right," Daphne pouted, pulling a small mirror from her pocket and checking her lipstick. To Pansy, the girl looked as though she'd overdone it with makeup and looked like a porcelain doll. "I am the prettiest girl in school. Nevermind Hermione Granger's sudden need to prove she's actually female. The poor Mudblood probably grew tired of hearing people call her 'sir' rather than 'ma'am'."

Pansy blew a breath, willing herself to stay calm. Granger was naturally beautiful, whereas Daphne was a carbon copy of a copy. The girl was about as original as the plot of the creepy fan-made story section in the back pages of Witch Weekly – the ones where desperate witches wrote themselves into a fantasy relationship with their celebrity crush and fished over 'love at first sight' and 'perfect skin' and being 'beautiful though she'll never believe it.' Yeah, Pansy really hated those stories.

"How did you do on your Charms essay?" She asked suddenly, deciding once again to sway the conversation away from the Gryffindor table.

"Flitwick knows nothing about Charms, I swear. He gave me the lowest score possible! Like, he's obviously never been to the islands of Bombarda. It's a beautiful place."

"Um, I think that's called Barbados, Daphne. 'Bombarda' causes small explosions." Millicent eyed her friend with disbelief. Sure, Millie may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but compared to Daphne...

"You're wrong!" The blue-eyed girl frowned at the both of them. "I know what I'm talking about." She stood up and walked off indignantly, making sure to go the long way around the Great Hall so as to walk passed the Gryffindor table. As she passed Hermione, the girls could hear her say "and your sweater is tacky!" before slamming the doors closed. The girls continued to eye each other in amazement.

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Exams would be approaching before long, and Hermione Granger wanted to be sure that she filled her brain to its carrying capacity with knowledge. She sat down in the library at a table near the windows, and thumped her pile of books down in front of her, emitting a thud! and then a shh! from Madam Pince. She glanced toward the librarian apologetically and then sat down behind her pile.