The Night is Young | Hermione Granger

5. The Pureblood Face

I wake up in the morning to find Daphne surveying herself in the mirror. It looks like she was in the process of getting dressed, but failed to put on her shirt because she's standing in her skirt and bra, staring worriedly at her reflection. I move my curtains back further, only to notice our other roommates aren't in, and I go back to my friend.

She's pinching at her hips with a frown, and I don't think she knows that I'm awake.

And I don't appreciate the way she's looking at herself, so I walk up to her, making my presence known. Daphne's eyes catch mine in the mirror.

"I think I'm getting love handles." She says.

"If you pinch any more, you'll break through your skin." I reprimand, taking her hand away from her hip, where she's left red marks on it.

"I can't see my ribs anymore."

"Are you a skeleton." I cross my arms.

She bites her lip slightly, still staring at herself and I move to stand beside her. Lifting my shirt up, I fold it to cover my breasts, and gesture to my exposed skin.

"Do you see ribs." I comment and Daphne shakes her head. "Do you see a flat stomach."

She looks at my body in the mirror before hesitantly shaking her head, as if the truth will upset me. I nod my head and look at my own pouch, there's nothing wrong with not having a flat stomach.

Then, I bring my shirt down and go to my trunk to grab my uniform for the day. My eyes go back to Daphne, who's still staring at her stomach, this time sideways, and I see her body tense as she sucks in forcefully.

"If you eat three full meals, I'll go for a run with you after dinner." I compromise and watch as my friend breaks her concentration from her body to me. She smiles slightly and nods, taking one last glance at herself before putting on her shirt and walking into the bathroom.

When she closes the door, I take her place, lifting up my shirt once again to study my own body. It's not perfect, but if I strive for perfect, I'd never be satisfied. Still, it wouldn't hurt to exercise a bit. I wonder what Granger's body looks like. She's usually wearing her robes, which cover her pretty well, but anyone with eyes can see she has gorgeous legs.

~*~

"I'm going to Hufflepuff's Quidditch tryouts." I tell Isola in the corridor. "I'll be there for dinner."

She looks at something behind me, a little confused, but doesn't say anything. Then she glances at me and nods, taking out her notebook to jot something down. I watch, a bit put off, and try to look over to see what she's writing, but she snaps the book closed.

"I'll tell the others." She says and places it in her bag, walking off.

I head to the pitch, where a few people are sitting on the bleachers, and a group of people with broomsticks huddle in the middle of the field. I take a seat in the closest row so I can rest my paper on the beam to take notes, and no one seems to wonder why I'm at tryouts.

As the competition ensues, I realize my parchment is a bit useless, as I won't know who's on the team till after tryouts. So jotting down anything won't make sense, and I find myself making random swirls with my quill.

I draw a couple stars, a pathetic snake (that I cross out because it's an abomination), the keeper's hoops, but mostly lines. The ink being dragged turns into letters, words, and soon I'm doodling little H.G. + C.R.M's everywhere and wondering what Granger's middle name is, to make it even, when I snap out of my daze. My eyes widen, my parchment, now filled with her initials, gets ripped from the beam by my own hands, crumpled, and stuffed into my bag feverishly, without remorse.