Romione: the love story behind the P.O.V

The Yule Ball

Where the hell was she?

Ron was looking everywhere for a sign of Hermione, but she was nowhere to be seen. He may have thought she had lied and that she wouldn't be coming down if it weren't for the fact she had gone to "prepare herself" three hours ago.

What could she need that much time for? It wasn't like dressing up a little could take so much preparation. He, for one, had taken about 10 minutes; save the time he wasted trying to shred his robes into something decent. He was feeling extremely self-conscious about it, but trying hard to conceil it. He was too busy looking out for his missing friend to care that much though, piqued immensely with intrigue about who Hermione was going to be accompanied by.

But not in his weirdest thoughts he could have foreseen who she would be entering with- or how she would be entering. When the champions and their dates entered the Great Hall, Ron took turns to assess each couple. He first winked at Harry, who looked nervous and a little irritated towards Cedric and Cho. Ron grinned to himself at this, knowing his best friend a little too much. Then Roger Davis and Fleur; the latter was staggering with her silver dress. He didn't linger on her sight though; he was afraid to catch her eye and suffer from humiliation again. He then turned to look at Krum, magnificent as ever, and flashes of his performance in the World Cup passed through his eyes. The girl he was with, though oddly familiar, Ron didn't recognize. She was pretty- really pretty. Ron had never thought of a girl like that: it was not like the weird fancying he felt for Fleur or -he hated to admit- Madam Rosmerta. This girl... he knew this sort of charm- he had noticed it on someone else, but who? He couldn't help but acknowledge once again the fact that she was genuinely pretty, in a slightly awkward but cute way. And that smile... Ron couldn't quite tell if he knew the girl or not, for she was too far away for him to see her properly.

Padma, in his side, gasped dramatically. "Is that Hermione Granger? No way! It can't be! Not with him."

Ron was shook at the mention of Hermione's name; in the midst of his asessing over the mysterious girl, he had lost sight of his real goal. He looked everywhere for Hermione, resuming his crucial quest. Unable to find her in the crowd, Ron looked at Padma, who had her jaw dropped in an unflattering way. He followed her gaze to the table where the Champions were sitting. And then, it hit him.
Hard.

Hermione had come with none other than Viktor Krum.
But it couldn't be.
It just couldn't.
Her dress, her hair, her smile- No. He couldn't have thought about Hermione that way.

Ron's hands started to sweat. He turned around, and saw everybody gaping in the direction he had been looking at. Everyone appeared to be as flabbergasted as he was. Something fire-y, something hot, burned his neck and forehead as his jaw set tightly.

Suddenly, Krum didn't seem the slightest like his Quidditch hero; but more like the worst of his foes. In that moment Ron couldn't have had distinguished the repulse he felt for Krum or for Draco Malfoy. Ron couldn't hear Padma sputtering behind him, he couldn't hear anything in fact, but Hermione's distanced high-pitched laugh and Krum's annoying and pathetic accent.

Ron returned his gaze to his plate and then to the crammed table he was sitting in. Everyone was there; Ginny, Neville, Fred, Angelina, George, Katie Bell, and some other people Ron ignored. He tried to eat something, but attempts to swallow just made him feel utterly sick.

"What's happenned, Ronnie? Not having fun?" Fred teased from his left side.

"No," he answered sharply, as he looked up at Hermione again. Why had she get all dressed up for Krum? Why had she taken all that trouble? - Again, that sickening feeling.

Viktor Krum was a loathsome idiot. Hermione was perfect with her bushy hair and naturally coloured lips. Perfect- you know- as someone- meaning natural- he meant good- like- Yeah, well. His mind wasn't working properly, so what?