As far as she was concerned, there was nothing special about Cassidy Winters. She's simply a girl who drinks far too much coffee than she would like to admit and reads books to escape her life as an unwanted orphan. Then, when she appears in a world...
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Cassidy's POV:
We returned to the common room half an hour later, smiling stupidly, to find Hermione and Ron in their seats by the fire.
Nearly everybody else had gone to bed. Hermione was writing a very long letter (she had already filled half a roll of parchment) which was dangling from the edge of the table. Ron was lying on the hearthrug, trying to finish his Transfiguration homework.
"What kept you two?" he asked us, as we sank into the couch.
Harry didn't answer. I looked at him and he was just grinning silly.
"He's being weird...don't mind him," I answered. "We just visited the kitchens"
"Are you all right, Harry? Did you eat something odd?" Hermione asked, peering at him over the tip of her quill.
"Oh, I'm fine," Harry muttered in reply.
"What's up? Did they give you gigglewater or something?" said Ron, hoisting himself up on his elbow to get a clearer view of Harry. "What's happened?"
"Isn't gigglewater an American wizarding drink?" I asked.
"You thought that coffee was only a muggle thing," Ron sighed. "You clearly don't know your drinks all that well"
"Oh, and you do?" I asked playfully.
"Both of you, shut it," Hermione said. "Harry, are you sure you're all right?"
"I'm fine, Mione," Harry assured. "Just a bit elated is all"
Hermione glanced at me and I sunk into my chair. She made an 'oh' face as if realizing something between us happened and smiled before turning back to her paper.
Ron continued to look at Harry questionably before turning to Hermione.
"Who're you writing the novel to, anyway?" he asked, trying to read the bit of parchment now trailing on the floor. Hermione hitched it up out of sight.
"Viktor."
"Krum?" Ron asked incredulously. I looked over to Harry who rolled his eyes at his best friend.
"How many other Viktors do we know?"
Ron said nothing but looked disgruntled.
We sat in silence for another twenty minutes, Ron finishing his Transfiguration essay with many snorts of impatience and crossings-out, Hermione writing steadily to the very end of the parchment, rolling it up carefully and sealing it, and Harry with his head on my lap while he stared into the fire.
"Well, night," said Hermione, yawning widely as she set off up the girls' staircase.
"What does she see in Krum?" Ron demanded as soon as she left.
