A.N. Hey everyone! Ella here. I'm so excited to be back with my original love, fanfiction! It's been an eternity since I've written one. I hope that this is acceptable! =]
Mandatory Disclaimer: As one might assume, my name is not Jo Rowling, and I did not get the opportunity to write an amazing story like Harry Potter. If you recognize anything, it's not mine. xD
Chapter 1
The dress lay on her bed, as it had for the past seven hours or so. It seemed so innocent, nearly blending into the pale cream-and-white comforter that had been chosen by some school official or another. With it's simple, square neck, a waistline that had been tailored to perfection, the incredible, subtle, hand-stiched embroidery, and the gently flaring skirt, the dress was a stunning piece of craftsmanship. It was truly beautiful, if you happened to glance it from across the room, not knowing it's history. It had that treasured, but rare, quality of something that made any wearer undeniably gorgeous. It was something special, there was no doubt about that. But there was one particular witch who did not find this dress nearly enchanting as all the rest.
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It had all started out as a beautiful spring Friday, the kind that makes students focus even less on their studies than they already had before. However, as was noticed and unappreciated by the professors, something held their students' collective attention even more-so than great weather tended to. That something was Gryffindor House's annual Friday Formal. One could call it a school tradition, but it was not the type of school tradition that sat well with the faculty. The Friday Formal was, presumably, on a Friday, and it was always held in the Spring. It was planned by the Prefects of Gryffindor House. The other houses had tried to replicate this special party, but none had ever made it past the two-year mark. The dormitories were magically sealed off, so everyone in attendance had to stay in the common room, which was always lavishly decorated to fit some theme decided on by the Prefects. Among other requirements for the party, one unofficial one was most always the highlight of the evening: alcohol. Somehow, a few of the Slytherins always managed to procure some alcohol, and for that very reason, no one below fifth year was permitted to attend.Â
While the House rivalries were still present, the Friday Formal was one of those rare times where they seemed to fade slightly into the background. While there were still most of the expected spats between the particularly feisty Gryffindors and Slytherins, most hatred was stowed aside for another day. Of course, once the alcohol got in to everyone's systems, things got a little out of hand. And it was nearly impossible to avoid the plague of booze. Let's just say that if you wanted to stay sober, you only had five minutes from the start of the party until you had to start drinking your own drink.
This year, the Seventh Years had gotten together prior to the Prefect's meeting and decided that they wanted to go all out on this one, seeing as it was their final year. The theme they decided on was Victorian. The general decor of the room already lent itself to that theme without much hexing, and of course most of the furniture would be removed anyway. They chose that particular theme because it was classy, not one of those disgustingly Muggle themes such as Night-Under-The-Sea, or some such crap.
Hermione Granger, the top witch in their year, had been the one to put forth this idea. She had always harbored a secret fascination with the Victorian era. It was so romantic that she couldn't help but be intrigued. She just couldn't let anyone else see that romantic side of her, as it would completely blow her bookworm reputation. Everyone had always assumed that Hermione was the type of girl to not be kissed until she was out of school and not marry because of work. Frankly, this offended her. And while there was certainly some things that had gone on between the seventeen year old Quidditch star, Viktor Krum, during her Fourth Year that others did not need to and did not seem to know about, he was the only one that she had ever had romantic ties to. If she was to be perfectly honest with herself, that bothered her. A lot. A lot more than anyone else in the school would have guessed, anyway.
So Hermione chose this theme, hoping that maybe some of the romance of the evening would soak into her life. The booze wouldn't hurt, either.
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Hermione walked across the grounds on the very same beautiful Friday. She smiled idly to herself, humming a soft tune. She was on her way to her NEWT level Herbology class, which she had persuaded Harry and Ron to take with her at the beginning of 6th year. If anyone had asked her what she was smiling, she would have told them that she had just checked a new book out of the library. The truth was that she was thinking about her dress for the evening. It was truly a magical dress. It was white satin with beautiful, subtle cream embroidery all over the rich fabric. It had tank top straps and a square neck. It made everyone, even Hermione look radiant. And it was all hers. She had happened upon it in a Wizarding thrift store that had just recently opened up in Hogsmede. She still had a hard time believing that the dress was real, it seemed too good to be true.Â
She hadn't quite decided how to fix her hair yet. She already knew that she was going to go the natural-looking route with her makeup, with some foundation, nude lip gloss, minimal silver eyeshadow, and a touch of dark grey eyeliner. She was trying to decide between two hairstyles: a bun, like the one she had sported at the Yule Ball three years prior; or, she could hex her hair to make it shiny and curl softly below her shoulders. She figured she should ask Ginny for her opinion. Ginny was definitely more fashion-concious than Hermione, and she was always pleased when Hermione asked her for beauty counseling.Â
Still caught up in her fantasizing about that night, Hermione was startled when she arrived at the Greenhouses. Shaking her head a bit in a weak attempt to clear it, she glanced down at her watch. She had less than a minute to spare. Sighing, she reached for the door handle and wrenched the heavy glass door open. She took her usual seat in between Harry and Ron, and smiled at each of them. Ron quickly averted his eyes from hers, catching Hermione slightly off guard. She blinked a few times and her brow furrowed as slowly sank into her seat. As soon as her butt hit the hard wood, Professor Sprout started her lecture, as if that had been some sort of secret signal.
Hermione struggled to keep her focus. She knew it was practically pointless, and she was without a doubt the only person in her classroom who was even making an effort to pay attention, but the "Hermione" side of her couldn't bear to let a class go by without her paying attention. While her quill flew over the paper, she cast a sidelong glance at Ron. He had turned his head so that there was no chance of catching her eye. This puzzled the brightest witch in the school.
Why on earth would Ron be mad at her? Had she said anything to offend him? Certainly not. In fact, they'd recently only talked in the meetings for the Friday Formal, as far as she could remember. He had almost seemed like he was avoiding her. Still thinking this over, she snuck a glance at Harry, who was sitting on her right. His chin was resting in his hand and he had a dreamy look on his face. He wasn't even bothering to take notes. Hermione nudged his arm out from his chin. He started, and gave Hermione a dirty look. She just smiled innocently and gave him a little sarcastic wave. He rolled his eyes, but chuckled to himself as he went back to his former position, taking care to use his right arm this time, so there was no chance of Hermione interrupting his daydream again.Â
Hermione exhaled sharply through her nose. She turned to face Professor Sprout, who was still powering through her demonstration but had a small frown etched on her face. She had noticed that no one was paying attention, but had decided to let them be. You only get to be young once, she thought wryly to herself, and gave a dry internal chuckle. Meanwhile, Hermione's thoughts had returned to her wonderful dress.