The Moment I Knew

Chapter One

NOTE: I know in the actual Harry Potter-verse that Hermione's birthday is early September, for the sake of this fic please imagine her birthday is actually just before Halloween. Also this is set post order of the phoenix (sixth year) and so she'll have turned 16 which is legal in the UK so this is NOT an underage  fic.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

And it was like slow motion
Standing there in my party dress
In red lipstick
With no one to impress
And they're all laughing
As I'm looking around the room
But there was one thing missing
And that was the moment I knew

-----Taylor Swift- The Moment I Knew-----

If you asked Hermione Granger to describe herself you would be presented with a long list of adjectives, even if you were only after one. She considered too many words the perfect description of her character and had no shame admitting this. She was smart, loyal, brave, strong, devoted, kind, dedicated, focused, resilient etc. There was no way she would reduce herself just to appease someone else, no matter how mundane the reason for demanding her self-analysis. However, despite how long the list of words may have been there was a few things that she definitely would never call herself. A fool was one. Hermione Granger was nobodies fool, she was too strong and smart and brave to fall victim to the jests of another.

Or at least, that's what she had thought.

Now, sitting on the cold stone floor outside of the Room of Requirement, dressed in a gown that had cost a good chunk of her birthday money with her makeup done and her hair tamed she would definitely describe herself as a fool. She was a fool for hoping Ron would ever put her before Quidditch practice when his heart quite clearly belonged to his broomstick. She sighed heavily, arms wrapped tightly around her waist in an effort to keep warm. She was far too stubborn to return to the common room, to admit defeat and let him see her like this but too upset to go into the warmth of the room that would undoubtedly shift to try and console her. She didn't feel like forgetting her anger and sadness just yet. She'd imagined this to be the perfect night, she would dazzle him in her expensive gown, with her red-lipstick smile and her hair that had taken an hour to smooth, they would dance around a room suited to both of their desires, they would have finally gone to bed together with giddy smiles and racing hearts. Anything would have made her so happy, all he'd had to do was show up, to be there on time and yet still here she was. It felt as though even the portraits were laughing at her.

"Happy fucking birthday Hermione." She muttered, hands balling up the skirt of her dress. It was hard to care about the expensive fabric when she no longer had anyone to impress. A little chuckle left her lips as she rubbed her eyes, fingers coming back black from the mascara smeared down her cheeks. How pathetic was she in such a state over a boy? A stupid boy. Her mother would definitely not approve.

"You know, when people start talking to themselves they generally end up in St Mungo's." A voice penetrated the silence around her, causing her to jump up. A small part of her hoped to see Ron, standing there in the dress shirt she'd told him to wear. She turned away from the wall, looking in the direction of the voice and that hoping part crumbled once more.

"Malfoy." Of course, it had to be Malfoy. She couldn't manage a sneer, not with tears falling from her eyes so thickly and her heart in pieces as her last hopes disappeared. Self consciously she smoothed out her dress, biting her lip when she saw how crumpled the satin actually was. Hopefully, there would be a spell to fix it.

"Finally come to terms with your blood status?" He quipped, his joy at catching her like this was practically dripping from his voice. Part of her wanted to stand up, to take her anger at Ron out on him but the other part was too tired, too cold and too humiliated to even try. She stayed silent, ignoring the sound of his shoes on the stone that suggested he was walking closer. "It's decidedly less fun when you don't respond you know?" He sneered once more, stepping ever closer. "Let me guess did the Weasel stand you up? Were you going to further befoul his family name by getting knocked up with his half-blood child?" Rhetorical questions intended to rile her up fired out of his mouth and, as much as she tried to tell herself to hold it in, to not show any response to his jibes, she couldn't hold back a loud sob at the mention of Ron's name.