Hermione Granger Oneshots

weasley (5)

P.O.V Y/N.

"Over here! Come sit over here!" Ron hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make space -"

"What?"

"Too late," said Ron bitterly.

Victor Krum and his fellow Durmstrang students had settled themselves at the Slytherin table. I could see Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle looking very smug about this. As they watched, Malfoy bent forwards to speak to Krum.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Malfoy," said Ron scathingly.
"I bet Krum can see right through him, though... bet he gets people fawning over him all the time... where d'you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer him a space in our dormitory, Harry, Y/N... I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp-bed."

"Ronald stop talking now or you'll lose what dignity you have left." I tell him.

Hermione snorted.

"They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot," said Harry.

The Durmstrang students were pulling off their heavy furs, revealing robes of deep, blood red, and looking up at the starry black ceiling with expressions of interest; a couple of them were picking up the golden plates and goblets and examining them, apparently impressed.

When all the students had entered the Hall and settled down at their house tables, the staff entered, filing up to the top table and taking their seats. Last in line Professor Dumbledore, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime. As they sat down, Dumbledore remained standing, and silence fell over the Great Hall.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, beaming around at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope you trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

One of the Beauxbatons girls still clutching a muffler around her head gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh.

"No one's making you stay!" Hermione bristled at her, whispering.

"The Tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast," said Dumbledore. "I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!"

He sat down, and I saw Karkaroff lean forward at once and engage him in conversation.

The dishes in front of them filled with food as usual. The house-elves in the kitchen seemed to have pulled out all the stops; several of the dishes were definitely foreign.

"What's that?" said Ron, pointing at a large dish of some sort of shellfish stew that stood beside a large steak-and-kidney pudding.

"Bouillabaisse," i said.

"Bless you," said Ron.

"It's French," said Hermione. "I had it on holiday, summer before last, its very nice."

Hagrid sidled into the Hall through a door behind the staff table twenty minutes after the start of the feast. He slid into his seat and and greeted us  Hermione, Harry, Ron anda me with a very bandaged hand.

"Looks like the Skrewts have finally found food they like," said Ron. "Hagrid's fingers."

At that moment, a voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting ze bouillabaisse?"