“I’m asking Theodore Nott to the Ball,” said Hermione, dumping her books on the desk. Ginny raised a brow.
“Do you even know who that is?”
“Oh, shush." Hermione took out an emerald green cover from the pile. “I found his sketchbook. The one that's always on his desk."
“Must be some wicked sketches if they've breached your Quidditch-player fever.” Ginny snatched it.
“I suffer from no such ailment,” she scoffed, but her smile gave her away. More seriously, she said, “I’m lonely, Gin.”
All jokes aside, Ginny felt it, too. “But what's so special about Theo Nott?” She didn’t get it. Hermione could have literally anybody.
“Look at the drawings.” Hermione grinned.
“You snooped?” Ginny tutted. “Naughty, Ms Granger.”
She flipped the cover, licking her tongue to turn the thick pages with an exaggerated flair. “Shut up,” she cried a few pages in. “Shut up!”
“I know,” said Hermione. “There’s maybe a dozen of them in there.”
“And this doesn’t seem creepy to you?”
Hermione shrugged. “They’re harmless. Look, they’re all from a distance. See that one in the classroom? I think it’s from Transfiguration. My hair was braided like that one morning. They’re rather beautiful.”
Ginny sang out, “He liiikes you.”
She handed the sketchbook back, and Hermione began casting spells over it.
“Not only did you snoop, but you also broke his privacy charms?” Ginny’s grin widened.
"I'm Head Girl," she reasoned. "Simply monitoring."
Ginny kicked Hermione under the table, giving her the hurry-up-and-get-on-with-it eyes. Theo Nott had just entered the library with Malfoy, who seemed to have come from Quidditch practice.
Hermione finished casting her spells, then tousled her hair, pretending to study.
As the Slytherins passed by their table, Hermione called out innocently, “Theodore?”
Theo turned at the sound of his name, appearing confused, or maybe distrustful, when he realised it was Hermione. Odd for a bloke supposedly obsessed with her.
“I found your sketchbook,” she said, holding it up.
Malfoy stepped forward, hand outstretched. “That’s mine, actually.”
(340 words, prompt: that's mine actually, cross-posted from twitter)
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