The Night is Young | Hermione Granger

1. Chantal-Rosalie Moreau

Immortal Aphrodite, on your intricately brocaded throne,

child of Zeus, weaver of wiles, this I pray:

Dear Lady, don't crush my heart

with pains and sorrows...

The one trait they don't advertise for Slytherin is the tendency we have for unrequited love. Just ask our ghost, who killed not only himself, but the woman he loved because she didn't feel the same.

I had my first crush at the age of five. Always perfectly poised, any trace of baby hairs smothered into intricately gelled waves and curls along the hairline, and clothes wrinkle free as our parents greeted each other. When my mother told us to run off and play, there was no emotion breaking through the facade of a stone cold pureblood, until we left the room, and I was blessed with a grin.

She told us we'd play house, and appointed me her 'husband'. This was the one and only time I let her boss me around, because I enjoyed the thought of us being married. I'd come home from 'work' to a freshly made dinner, consisting of things we found littered around the house that were most certainly not edible, comment on how good it looked, and sit down.

But when I kissed her on the cheek - like how my own parents do - she told me we don't do that. Kissing was reserved for the people we love, she scolded me, and was not meant for two girls. I couldn't wrap my head around it, because I thought I loved her, but clearly she didn't love me. I was embarrassed, but I wouldn't let her know that. I told her that it was plain to see that I just cared about the game more than her, I was acting as a husband does to his wife, but she never showed me affection like a wife was supposed to.

And then she told my parents.

The faces they made at my adoring display towards her are forever burned in my mind. The disgust and contempt they held told me right then, and there, that they would never accept me.

For good measure, I got my first dose of pureblood punishment that night.

We didn't play house after that.

And it was then that I realized I needed to preserve myself.

From then on, it was easy to just pretend I was too good for boys. When I went to Hogwarts, the girls would be whispering about his eyes, and did you see him, oh, he's looking over, Chantal, I bet he's gonna ask you out, Chantal. So I made a passing comment on another boy walking by, and they would nod, immediately redirecting their attention to the new prey.

I had no problem there, Slytherin status with a couple great friends (although my roommates could have been a bit better), and school was easy.

At home, however, my parents were very specific about me getting married to a pureblood. I think their underlying fear that I gave them by never showing interest in people drove them to slight paranoia. I'm the only daughter, also the only child, so my parents' tick at any little thing I could possibly do wrong had me know - from a very early age - they would not hesitate to do anything if it meant keeping their status.

And it's only so long before my claim to focus on school runs out, and I have to think of another reason I'm not dating.

I'll have to come up with a reason that isn't Hermione Granger.

When I first heard of her, she was friends with the Harry Potter, and one of the Weasleys, and that's all I thought of it.

First year, she was in a different house, she was a know-it-all, and I didn't think much of her. I saw her when I was around Draco, who developed a quick dislike to Potter, but after so much pointless animosity between them (and my own for Draco's little gang), I just left it at that.

Second year is the year I met Maxim and Isola, and my views started to change to adapt to theirs. I heard Granger was one of the kids who had been petrified by whoever - or whatever - had been in the castle. And that, along with the toleration I learned from my new friends, I very quickly shed what little blood purity values I held, because looking at kids almost die, it changes you.

Finally, in third year, I sat behind the bushy haired girl in potions, so my notes were always unfinished because I couldn't see the board. But her hair was so pretty, I started to notice that there was always one perfect curl, and it was never in the same place, and the way her hand shot up and her wonderfully articulated voice knew the answer to everything, I couldn't help but stare in awe. And eventually I just started daydreaming. I must have not bothered answering one day, because Snape interrupted, saying,

"Miss Moreau, is there something in Miss Granger's hair that you keep staring at?"

I snapped out of my trance, looking up at the head of my house.

"No, Sir, it's just in my way is all."

And he made a snide comment about the Gryffindor, which caused a round of snickers to erupt from my house. But when she turned around and glared at me dead in the eyes, I think I fell in love.

It wasn't the same love that I felt for the girl when I was five, no, I knew I wanted her. And (fearfully so) I knew I would do anything it took if I could just have her for myself.

In Care of Magical Creatures, one of the textbooks went rogue (I think it was meant to be a prank that went wrong) and headed straight for Granger. She screamed, along with the girls and boys that were clumped together around her, and from that noise alone I acted.

I wasn't going to just throw myself in there like some reckless Gryffindor, no, I undid my tie and drove my knee down onto the killer book right before it could get to her. My hands strung my green and silver accessory around it to shut its mouth because the buckle proved useless, and I stroked the spine to soothe it, knowing it was too dangerous to just let be.

The groundskeeper - who started teaching the class that year - praised me for my smart thinking and resourcefulness, and gave my house extra points. The Slytherins cheered, but I didn't care, I got no thank you from Granger. She didn't even look at me.

In fourth year, I wanted to ask her to the Yule Ball, but for obvious reasons, I didn't. I think I'd be more ridiculed for fancying a muggle born than the fact that I'm a lesbian. My dorm mates still don't know, and I plan on keeping it that way, unless I want Pansy, Tracey, and Millicent to deal with. Daphne, well, I actually don't know, but I wasn't willing to take a chance. Still not. Not with anyone.

The closest I got was accepting one of those S.P.E.W badges she had and signing a petition. I don't think she remembers, but I still have the badge at the bottom of my trunk.

And anyways, her friend, Weasley, asked her to the ball, but only after Krum did, and when she was tied at the bottom of the lake because she was his most important person, I knew I had to have her.

If Draco could obsess over Potter, I could have my own Gryffindor.

Fifth year...

Well, I don't like to talk about it.

But one thing that for sure solidified my feelings for her, was when their little club was discovered, and a Ravenclaw girl in the year above us had the word 'sneak' blotted across her face in painful, ugly spots. When I found out it was Granger who did it, I was completely impressed with her ruthlessness.

I was going to have Hermione Granger.

A/N

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