2

“Why the heck do you scream like this?” Hermione had not meant to let it sound like that. She had intended to make it a nice but firm question, but what had come out of her mouth seemed to be more of an irritated shout. Now, everyone was looking at her. She tried to calm down a bit and continued in her usual teacher-like voice.

Hermione sat in her room, a box on her knees. It contained photos, a Bulgarian scarf, and other unpleasant memories that came with the end of a relationship. She stared at it and still couldn’t believe what had happened. Beneath her, on the bed, lay the letter she had received that very morning. She took it and began to read it for what must have been the millionth time.

Dear Hermione,

I’m sorry I didn’t write to you this last month, but I’ve needed a little time for myself to sort out my thoughts and feelings, and I have to tell you something. I think we should stop seeing each other, as you call it in England. It is not that my feelings for you have changed, but I received a letter from one of your friends, which said quite clearly, even if not directly, that he has more than friendly thoughts for you. As I know that you never could return my feelings, I think we can end it at this point, so nobody will be hurt, and you can be happy with him. I also think that it would be best if we didn’t write each other for some time. Goodbye, Hermione, and please don’t be angry with me.

Love, Viktor

Hermione folded the letter and put it in the box, silent tears trickled down her cheeks while she wondered who had sent that blasted letter to Viktor. No, she wasn’t sad, furious would describe her state much better. She closed the box and put it under her bed so she wouldn’t have to see it for a long time. Her little romance with Viktor had lasted a bit more than half a year, and the only thing she regretted was the fact that she had really started to fall in love with him. With a last sigh, Hermione grabbed her cloak and left for a new school year in the magical world.

***---***

“That was my first relationship, with one of the best Quidditch players this world has ever seen. So, what do you think? In my opinion, it’s a nice plot for a soap opera,” Hermione said, looking across from her, directly into the blue eyes of George Weasley.

“What’s a soap opera? No, don’t explain it; I can imagine it is something that involves dramatic stories, crying and other unfortunate events you women seem to enjoy,” he replied with a slight smile on his lips.

“Well, if your story is more interesting, then please, go ahead.”

“Of course, it is far more interesting than yours! Just let me see… my first real relationship was with…” George rubbed his chin while pretending to think.

“Oh, come on. There can’t have been that much!”

“There weren’t. My first relationship was with Angelina.”

“GEORGE WEASLEY. She was your brother’s girl, ever since I’ve known her. How could you steal her from him?” Hermione wasn’t smiling anymore; a look of sheer disbelief was on her face. That didn’t apply to George, who was quite oblivious to her reaction.

“I didn’t steal anything, she seduced me. We were quite drunk when all that happened. Anyway, it didn’t last long, just a few hours or so, as someone told Fred and I had to give her up. You want to hear it or not?”

“Sure, go ahead…” she said, and helping herself to more tea, she listened to George Weasley as he began to reveal the story of his first love...