HERMIONE JEAN GRANGER, the Muggle-Born daughter of dentists Mr and Mrs Granger, was perfectly content in attending the Yule Ball by herself, thank you very much. In the beginning, when the dance had first been announced, she'd been secretly wishing Ronald Weasley, her longtime best friend and somewhat crush would pluck up the courage to ask her, but as the event drew nearer, she remained painfully single. That was, of course, until Viktor Krum, the Bulgarian Quidditch Star and guest at Hogwarts cornered her in the library and asked her to be his date to the Ball. Immediately, Hermione agreed.

Now, however, as the night had begun to dwindle and many sets of students had left the Great Hall to return to their dormitories, the brown-haired girl found herself sat alone on the stone steps, beautiful gown pooling around her, and tears streaming down her caramel-colored cheeks. The night had been perfect, and Ronald had gone and ruined it for her. A part of her hated him; a larger part of her hated herself for feeling so stupid as to attending the dance with someone else in spite.

She wondered for a long while if Viktor would ever leave to find out where his date had gone, but as the night progressed, she remained morosely alone. Then, the doors opened and the sound of laughter rang in her ears as a small group of students left the Great Hall. Taking notice of who they were, the Gryffindor tried pointlessly to hide the sorrow from her face: she refused to let people like Draco Malfoy and his posse seeing her so broken.

The blond prince of Slytherin had his arm wrapped around the shoulders of Slytherin's princess, Pansy Parkinson. Their heads were leaned close together as they spoke, and Hermione felt sick to her stomach due to how perfect they were for each other: cruel, arrogant little rich kids. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle flanked either side of the 'royalty,' though Blaise Zabini appeared to be nowhere in sight. As they all drew ever-nearer to where the brown-eyed girl sat, Pansy found herself looking away from her date of the evening and in Hermione's direction. Her facial expression faltered for half a beat, she bit her lip, and then turned to Malfoy with a regretful look in her eye.

"I've left something back in the Great Hall, Malfoy," the black-haired girl announced, and the blond stopped.

"What is it? I could send Crabbe or Goyle off to go and get it for you..." he trailed, but the Slytherin princess shook her head. She unlatched her arm from his and took a step away from the group, moving as if to walk away.

"I'll go and get it. Don't worry, I'll be back in the Common Room in no time. Go on without me." She waved them off, and Malfoy shrugged his shoulders, passing Hermione on his way towards the dungeons and muttering something along the lines of 'filthy little Mudblood' before disappearing into the darkness. Hermione, already distraught, didn't have the energy to take his insult to heart.

When the footsteps of Malfoy and his crew faded out, Parkinson bit her lip again and then glanced towards Hermione, leading the Gryffindor to eye her with curiosity. A moment later, the pale-skinned girl moved to take a seat beside her. She let out a sigh, smoothed her satin dress and began to speak.

"I wouldn't typically do this, especially for a Gryffindor such like yourself, but nobody deserves to be sad on the night of a ball, or Christmas for that matter..." She began, and Hermione's eyes widened.

"You're- you're taking pity on me?" She asked in disbelief. Then, realizing this, she crossed her arms indignantly. "I'm not someone who needs pity, or your charity, or whatever else you've got to offer."

Parkinson sighed, running her slim fingers through her straight black hair. It was cut in a bob which framed her ovular face nicely. Gone were the days of her pug-like appearance; as Hermione got a better look at her, she noticed her hazel eyes covered in eyeliner and mascara, and her full lips painted a deep red, which accentuated her dress nicely. She looked like a full-grown woman.

"I'm not trying to take pity on you, Granger," she pinched the bridge of her thin nose. "I'm trying to offer you company. I noticed you storm away from Potter and Weasley earlier, but I just thought perhaps one of them had forgotten to shower. The Hall certainly had that smell to it."

Hermione sighed, bringing her knees to her chest and placing her chin on top of them in dismay. "No, they smelled fine..." and she really didn't know why she was confiding in her, Pansy Parkinson of all people. "Ronald's just... he's difficult, and so ridiculously oblivious it's almost comical."

"You like him then?" The hazel-eyed girl asked. "I always thought you'd have chosen Potter. He is famous, after all."

The bushy-haired girl glanced at the Slytherin briefly, pursing her lips in question. "And how often do you observe my friends and I, Parkinson?"

"Often enough to agree with you that Weasley's ridiculously oblivious, not often enough to see as to what's so charming about him or how he piqued your interest." She glanced at the large grandfather clock stationed in the Entrance Hall. It was nearing midnight. "Well, I'd better be off to my common room. Merlin knows what thoughts have gotten into Draco's head. Goodnight, Granger."

"Goodnight, Parkinson." The girls parted ways: Hermione ascending the steps and heading off towards Gryffindor Tower, the latter heading downwards towards the dungeons and Slytherin's common room. As she spoke the password and entered her own common room, her eyes met with the bright green shade of Harry's, and as she was still furious with Ron – and therefore Harry by association – she headed directly towards the girls' dormitories, akin to taking off her dress and exchanging it for a pair of comfortable pajamas.

She didn't speak to the girls, as Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were far too immersed in their recounts of the evening, and pulled her bed hangings closed to once again be alone. She found her mind wandering to Pansy Parkinson, the pale-skinned, black-haired girl from her house's greatest rival house, and the act of kindness she had partaken in by taking the time to sit with a saddened classmate. Perhaps the girl wasn't as entirely vicious as she'd originally thought.