Monday, December 13, 1944
7:45 P.M.
"So... The way I see it, if we moved the start of the Soiree back to seven o'clock, there should be enough time for the moonlight magnolias that everyone's so intent on having as decorations to fully open..."
"Seven o'clock?" Phyllis Hardiman mused to Hermione's left. The seventh-year Gryffindor prefect was sprawled out on her stomach next to Hermione on the floor of the Head Common Room.
The common room itself was in such an extreme state of disarray, Tom Riddle would have permanently exiled Hermione to the Ravenclaw dorms had he seen it. Pages of note-scribbled parchment littered the ground along with volumes of decoration charm instruction manuals.
"That means... to keep the five-hour length plan, the Soiree would end at...." Phyllis worked out the math in her head and then cocked her head over toward Hermione, "Midnight? Do you think people will be willing to stay up that late?"
Hermione couldn't hold back a grin at the more conservative teenager.
"Phyll," the Head Girl began, "this is not only going to be the biggest formal social activity of the year, it's going to be the only formal social activity of the year. Somehow, I think they'll be able to handle the late hours."
Hermione tilted her curly head toward the floor and rapidly began to flip though her stack of notes, the smile fading from her face and speedily replaced with an agitated frown. "I thought... I left it... right... here..."
Promptly dropping the three-inch pile of notes back on the carpet, Hermione glanced desperately at Phyllis. "Have you seen the Student Decoration Enchantment Contract? It's not here, so it must be in with your stuff somewhere."
"Sure, somewhere." Grimacing, the Gryffindor grimly surveyed the messy clutter of papers in front of them. It closely resembled a tornado disaster area. "Little bugger just keeps slipping off."
Hermione looked down at her Soiree planning schedule that she had meticulously filled out two weeks prior. With a sigh she realized that the words "Contract Due" were turning bright red.
Exasperated, Phyllis threw her hands in the air. She reached down and snatched up one of numerous slips of thin parchment. They had come up with the marvelous idea to have a request box for things to have at the party. Name and year were not required. Squinting at the writing then smirking, she announced, "It seems we have an anonymous request—several, in fact—for floating mistletoe."
Hermione laughed and decided to place the Contract search on hold with the juvenile hope that it would somehow just pop up. She took her quill from behind her ear, and scribbled down a few additional notes, muttering, "With the luck I'm having, one of those mistletoe's will follow me around until it catches me the only moment I happen to be alone with Draco..."
"Hermione!" A strangled sound passed Phyllis' lips. A quick glance told Hermione that Phyllis had unnecessarily gasped somewhat dramatically. "Draco du Lac, Celene's gorgeous boyfriend? Most girls would die to kiss him!"
"That'd be rather idiotic of them, then," Hermione threw out absently, still writing. "I mean, I've known him for a while, and I can't comprehend how some girls idolize him."
"Any boy who dates Celene must be really handsome. Her last boyfriend was Samuel Angle. He moved away to France. He was practically begging her to come with him, but she refused. Good for her...we need people like her at Hogwarts."
Hermione thought back to the girls who would watch Draco as he studied in the library. What in the world went threw their minds? Hermione was snaped back to reality by Phyllis handing her a book: How To Charm Music Out Of Almost Anything.
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