Lightheaded
She didn’t speak to Malfoy after that—why would she? They had no reason to interact; their lives didn’t overlap apart from the occasional shared class.
The most she saw of him was during mealtimes, when he swaggered into the grandiose Godric’s Hollow Grammar dining hall and sat at his usual table, right in the middle of the room – the centre of the school’s universe. Surrounded by other members of the lacrosse team and everyone who was anyone, he looked completely at ease in the midst of England’s young elite.
She observed the way he effortlessly navigated conversations and cracked jokes with his friends and accepted the flutter of eyelashes and puppy dog eyes thrown his way by girls who ignored her in class. She watched the way he seemed to know exactly what to say, and when to say it; the way he never seemed to falter.
It was unsettling to watch someone be so composed.
Malfoy sat sprawled in his chair with his arms crossed, an arrogant smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. His icy grey eyes scanned the dining hall, giving it a cool once-over – a king watching over his subjects from his dais.
Suddenly, his grey eyes landed on her. A bolt of lightning struck her body, jolting electricity from her head to her toes. Malfoy’s gaze hardened as he glared at her from across the room, his eyes as cold and hard as flint.
She quickly looked down at her lunch tray, her heart racing.
“Are you okay?” Ginny asked. The redhead was sitting next to her, picking at some beef stew.
“I’m fine,” Hermione smiled reassuringly. “Just got lightheaded all of a sudden. My iron must be low.”
Ginny Weasley was the best—and only—friend that Hermione had at Godric’s Hollow Grammar. Wicked-smart and witty, with a family name that could be traced all the way back to the 1800s, Ginny could have sat in the very centre of the dining hall, with Malfoy and the rest of the royal court. However, having a famous name wasn’t enough at GHG, and the Weasleys had long ago lost their family fortune. So Ginny, alongside Hermione and a handful of other students, attended the school on a scholarship and sat on the outskirts of the dining hall. And like Hermione she also felt a fierce and burning need to graduate and make a name for herself, and escape and the shadow of her 6 older brothers.
Hermione hoped they both got into Oxford next year.
“You need to eat more red meat, I’m telling you,” Ginny said insistently, waving her fork at Hermione. Hermione snorted.
“Thanks Gin, I’ll keep that in mind” she said, picking up her tray. “I’ll be in the library for a bit before Latin, if you want to join me when you’ve finished.” She hadn’t even finished her own meal, but she couldn’t stand to be in the hall for a second longer. She didn’t know whether Malfoy was still glaring at her, and she unfortunately did not have the guts to check.
Keeping her eyes carefully trained on the stone floor, she hastily made her way out of the dining hall. However, she couldn't help glancing back at the centre table before pushing open the hall's heavy oak door.
Malfoy had gone back to talking to his friends, his deameanor much the same as before. His eyes, however, retained that hard, cold glint.
She shivered.
Hermione let the door close loudly and resolutely behind her, hoping that some quality time in the library would push all thoughts of the blonde boy out of her mind.
~
“Do you have any plans on the 15th of June?”
She whipped her head to her right and looked at the boy sitting next to her. Theodore Nott’s amiable face stared back, smiling. As if it was normal for them to speak. As if they were friends.
“Uh, no.” She cleared her throat, trying to sound casual. “I don’t have any plans.”
“Well, that’s great because that’s the night of the Soiree, and I’m in need of a date.”
She looked back at her Latin textbook and feigned ignorance. “I think the Greengrass sisters are still looking for a date, too. Maybe you can go with one of them?”
“You’re funny, Granger. I’m asking you, though.”
She shut her book. “Are you serious?”
“Very.”
Hermione shook her head. “We’re not even friends, Nott. Why are you asking me?”
“Because I think you’re cute and smart and an ace at Latin and I’ve been working up the courage to ask you all term.”
She held his earnest gaze for a second before a blush creeped into her cheeks and she was forced to look away.
“Okay.” She wasn’t entirely sure that it wasn’t a practical joke, but there was no way that she could ask whether he was taking the piss without sounding like an absolute hag.
The son of an ex-Prime Minister, Nott was polite and courteous, and was one of the few at Godric’s Hollow Grammar who actually acknowledged her presence. The few times they’d been assigned on a group project together he’d been a diligent and studious worker, always taking the task seriously. Hermione liked him.
She just wasn’t sure why he would ask her to the Soiree.
“Brilliant! Maybe we can iron out some details soon, then? How about this afternoon, after practice? Also, my tie is blue, if you’d like to get a dress that matches.” He gave her a cheeky grin then packed his bag up in anticipation of the bell. “I’ll see you around, Hermione.” He gave her one last smile and left as soon as the bell rang, without waiting for a response.
What the...
Hermione shook her head and tried to clear her expression, but she couldn’t help the tiny smile that creeped through her mask.
She had a date to the ball. And he thought she was pretty. And smart. And an ace at Latin.
She was so lost in her thoughts that it took her a while to register the face staring at her from across the room. No, not staring—glaring.
For the second time that day, Hermione Granger locked eyes with Draco Malfoy.
It only then occurred to her who exactly Theo Nott was.