The Night is Young | Hermione Granger

17. There's Nothing Wrong with Slytherins

Gryffindor beat Ravenclaw, even with Potter out, Ginny Weasley proved to be a much better Quidditch player than anyone. Potter might have been a better seeker, but she could play Chaser and Seeker, and win them the House Cup. Which is what happened.

So, of course, I'm happy, because that means our project was a success, and all the long hours of documenting, copying, and analyzing proved worth it.

And now I could celebrate with Hermione. With our final presentation ready to go, it's just that before the whole project is finished. So she asked to meet me at the Astronomy tower again, for a celebratory date where we can watch the sunset (that's the exact word she used, 'date'), and I have the two way mirrors in my bag, ready to give to her.

But on my way, I find her chatting with Weasley and Potter, and decide that it's easier to walk to the tower together, so I go over.

"Hello." I smile, grabbing Hermione's hand under my robe as I stand beside her. She stiffens.

Potter and Weasley eye me with confusion and suspicion.

"Who's this?" Potter asks.

"Oh - er - My Arithmancy partner." Hermione answers, discreetly removing my hold on her and stepping back.

I look at her, wondering offhandedly how many school partners she's made out with and asked on dates if that's what she classifies us as. We're much more than that, and tonight, I'm finally prepared to ask her to be my girlfriend.

"You got paired with a Slytherin?" One of the boys asks, but I don't care to discern which one as my eyes are still on her.

Hermione shrugs.

"She practically begged the professor." She responds as if I'm not even here, and I'm taken back, any trace of happiness leaving instantly.

Weasley snorts, which breaks my attention from the girl, though her words are still swirling in my mind.

"Moreau? Begging?" He laughs, and I see Hermione with the same bashful look I remember months ago when I figured out her crush on Weasley. My hold tightens on my book bag. "And to work with a Muggleborn, too? I don't believe it."

"Yea, she just follows me around now." Hermione refuses to meet my eyes, which by now are holding a slight glare. "That's why you've seen us together so much, she won't leave me alone. It's kind of pathetic."

Pathetic?

"Well, why are you here, Moreau?" Potter asks.

I unclench my jaw, now that I'm finally being addressed. How dare Hermione say that.

"I just came to tell Granger that I found an inconsistency in our project." I see her flinch in the corner of my eyes. "But no matter, it's nothing that important."

My eyes look at hers momentarily, and a sick feeling of accomplishment fills me seeing the panic on her face. She should know by now not to cross me. I don't play nice when people devalue me.

Then I smile politely at the boys, ignore the girl completely, and turn to walk away. After only a couple steps, I hear her tell them,

"Don't mind her, she's just a Slytherin."

So I pick up my pace in anger to get away. How could she say that? How could she just reduce me to the puppet of an evil house in front of her friends like that?

In order to stop the hurt I feel from seeping into my face, I dig my nails into my palms, trying to focus on that until I reach my house.

Slytherin. Slytherin. Slytherin.

How could she do that?

After all I've showed and done for her, how could she do that?

My nails are still dug in my flesh when I climb the stairs to my dorm.

There's nothing wrong with Slytherin. There's nothing wrong with me, how could she lie like that? I am not pathetic. I. do. not. beg.

Daphne's gone. Her bed is made, but she's not here. When I look at her open trunk, I see the swim suits littered around it - tonight is her date with Max.

I do not follow Hermione around. She likes me - she likes me. She's said it. She's admitted it.

I throw my bag onto my bed, the mirrors tumbling out. When my eyes catch sight of them, I want to snap them in half. I want to shatter them into tiny shards. Shatter any thought I had about giving one to Hermione. But Max got them for me, Max has nothing to do with her.

Merlin, how dare she lie about me to her friends like that? How dare she make me out like a pathetic stalker when I've done so much for her! I fixed our project from her stupid weather idea, I acted as a confidant to her when she fancied the redhead, I kept her company at Hogsmeade, and she enjoyed my company.

Daphne's out, Max is out, but Isola's here. Somewhere. Reading? It's almost curfew, so not the library. Her dorm?

I've kissed her! I've told her my feelings for her! We confided in each other and now she treats me like I'm nothing! Scum under her shoe!

My stuff is left without a second thought, my palms  are stinging slightly, and I refuse to dig my nails back in, so I feel my lip quivering as I climb again. She has to be in her dorm.

She was the first girl I ever truly loved, and she liked me back. And she should still like me back, if her feelings are real, she couldn't have just said all those things so easily. I fell in love with her ruthlessness, but I never did anything to deserve it.

I throw open the door to her room. In the corner, on her bed, her hair up, Isola lifts her eyes from her book to meet me. She smiles as a welcome, completely oblivious to what's happened.

There's nothing wrong with Slytherins.

She notices something off about me, and the smile fades.

"What's wrong?" She sits up, and I go over to her, not knowing what to say.

Hermione is a bitch? She's heartless and doesn't care about the feelings of the girl she's fooling around with? Merlin, fooling around, I should have known. We were never dating, she probably planned it, and I fell for it! I told her I have feelings for her!

"I had a bad day." I say, and Isola knows that's a lie.

I had a great day, all my friends saw, I just had a bad - awful, terrible, horrible - last 15 minutes. But I guess Isola understands that I don't want to talk, I can't even bring myself to look at her for Salazar's sake.

"Would you like to read with me?" Isola asks, and I shake my head.

My mind won't be able to focus on the words, it would just drift to Hermione.

"Would you like me to read to you?" Is her next proposal.

And, I don't know, there's just something so juvenile in her offer: to be read to. I scoff out a small laugh, yet turn to her and nod. I don't think I've ever been read to, but there's something so hypnotizing about Isola's monotone voice describing scenery that makes me happy I came to her in my time of distress.

And sitting next to her, staring at nothing, and just letting her words shift through me puts a small, calmed smile on my face.

There's nothing wrong with Slytherins.