Signals Crossed at Slughorn’s Party
December arrived in a flurry of snow and excitement, bringing with it Professor Slughorn’s much-anticipated Christmas party. The Great Hall sparkled with fairy lights, enchanted snowflakes drifted lazily from the ceiling, and the tables were laden with festive treats. Hermione arrived wearing elegant dark blue dress robes, her hair swept into a loose bun. She looked beautiful, though she felt anything but confident.
Her choice of date for the evening had been... strategic. Cormac McLaggen had been pestering her to attend with him for weeks, and she’d finally given in, reasoning that he would at least keep other unwanted advances at bay.
Harry arrived shortly after, dressed in simple yet smart black robes. His eyes immediately sought out Hermione, and when he found her, his breath caught. She looked stunning, and for a moment, he forgot why he had come. But his admiration quickly turned to irritation when he noticed McLaggen standing far too close to her, leaning in as he spoke.
“Someone’s in a mood,” Ginny said, handing him a butterbeer.
“I’m not in a mood,” Harry grumbled, though his eyes remained fixed on Hermione.
Ginny followed his gaze and smirked. “Right. You’re just glaring at McLaggen because...?”
“No reason,” Harry muttered, taking a sip of his drink.
Across the room, Hermione was doing her best to avoid McLaggen’s attempts at flirtation. He had been insufferably smug all evening, and she regretted her decision to bring him. Her eyes wandered to Harry, who was standing with Ginny near the drinks table. Ginny said something that made him laugh, and Hermione felt a pang of jealousy.
“Everything all right?” McLaggen asked, stepping closer.
“Fine,” Hermione replied, stepping back and glancing at Harry again. He was looking at her now, his expression unreadable.
Near the end of the party, Harry finally managed to extricate himself from Ginny’s company and sought out Hermione. He found her sitting alone on a cushioned bench near the edge of the room, her shoulders slumped.
“Hey,” he said, sitting down beside her. “You okay?”
Hermione nodded, though her expression didn’t quite match her response. “I’m fine. Just tired.”
Harry frowned. “You don’t look fine. Did McLaggen say something to you?”
“No, it’s not him,” Hermione said quickly. She hesitated, then added, “It’s nothing. Really.”
Harry wasn’t convinced, but before he could press her further, Slughorn’s voice boomed from across the room, announcing the arrival of dessert.
The crowd shifted, and Harry noticed Ginny again, chatting animatedly with a group of older students. She caught his eye and waved, her smile bright.
“You should go,” Hermione said, her voice quiet.
Harry turned back to her, confused. “Go where?”
“To Ginny,” Hermione said, forcing a smile. “She’s waiting for you.”
Harry stared at her, his brow furrowing. “Hermione, what are you talking about?”
But Hermione shook her head, standing up quickly. “I’ll see you back in the common room.”
Before he could stop her, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving Harry feeling more unsettled than ever.
Hermione spent the rest of the night berating herself. Why had she let her feelings for Harry get the better of her? And why did it bother her so much to see him with Ginny? She told herself she was being silly, that Harry deserved to be happy, even if it wasn’t with her. But the ache in her chest didn’t go away.
For Harry, the evening ended on a similarly confusing note. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between him and Hermione, but he didn’t know what—or why. As he lay in bed that night, staring at the canopy above him, he couldn’t help but replay their interactions in his mind.
It wasn’t just Hermione’s sudden departure that bothered him. It was the way she’d looked at him earlier, like she was holding back something important. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that he didn’t want her to hold back.