Operation: Potential Breakup

Abigail Crenshaw could hear the voices beyond the door before she turned the knob slightly. She pushed the door open and saw Hermione Granger and Caitlyn Moore, Harry Potter’s girlfriend. The two of them looked like they had just finished laughing as Abigail made her way across the girls’ dormitory. She hopped onto her bed and tried her best to ignore the other two girls.

“He asked me in the most adorable way ever!” squealed one of the girls.

Abigail didn’t care to figure out which one of them it was as she pulled the covers over her head. Although the sun was still out, she figured she could use the rest, especially since she had picked one of the worst times to enter her own dorm. She groaned to herself at the idea of the upcoming ball; did they not just have the Yule Ball during her fourth year? What was the point of having another one two years after?

“That’s wonderful, Caitlyn,” Hermione replied. “Do you know what you’ll be wearing yet?”

Rolling her eyes, Abigail shot up from beneath her sheets. It would be nearly impossible for her to get peace with the demon spawn of the underworld in the room gushing over the marvelous details of said spawn’s super expensive dress. She crawled out of her bed and hurriedly made her way back out of the girls’ dorm.

“Leaving so soon?” Caitlyn wondered. “But you just got here, Abby?”

Abigail turned around to face the two brunettes, but not before putting on a fake smile. “I figured I would go take a nap in the common room,” she explained, gritting her teeth. “Wouldn’t want to intrude on your conversation and all…”

She noticed that Hermione’s eyes never left hers. Abigail stared back at her best friend in confusion. Hermione really couldn’t expect her to stay in the dormitory, Abigail thought to herself. After all, Hermione knew exactly how Abigail felt about Caitlyn; it would be wrong to ask her to stay if she couldn’t even be civil around the girl.

“You wouldn’t be intruding at all!” Hermione added at once before shooting Abigail an apologetic look. “Who are you going to the ball with, Abs?”

Abigail shot a glare at her friend before walking back to her bed. She sat down at the edge of it and shrugged. “I haven’t been asked yet,” replied the blonde, scratching the back of her neck. “I don’t mind or anything; I think these type of things are stupid.”

“She’s… joking, right?” Caitlyn asked Hermione, who shook her head. “How can you hate balls? Is it because you never have anyone to go with?”

What Potter saw in her Abigail would never know.

“No…” she drawled. “I just hate having to put too much effort in how I look.”

“You don’t have to!” Hermione said with a smile.

Caitlyn gasped. “Hermione, she can’t just show up looking like crap!”

Abigail balled her hands into fists as Hermione explained her statement. She didn’t understand why Hermione was actually trying to keep the conversation between the three of them going. Shooting another confused look at Hermione, Abigail scanned the room, hoping to find a distraction.

“I wasn’t suggesting that she show up looking terrible,” remarked Hermione. “I was just saying that she doesn’t have to try hard to look good…”

“Oh… well, then,” Caitlyn forced a laugh. “I’ll be in the common room, waiting for Harry to come back from Quidditch practice! Toodle-oo!”

As soon as Caitlyn walked out the door, Abigail threw her pillow at Hermione with a fierce growl, followed by a death glare.

“You know I bloody hate her!” Abigail hissed. “Why the hell would you make me sit here in a room with her? And of all the conversations I could have had with her, you make me talk to her about a stupid dance!”

“Well, her company isn’t exactly the best,” Hermione sighed, tossing the pillow behind her. “I just didn’t want to face her alone. Sorry for dragging you into it…”

“Just don’t ever do it again, Granger…”

Hermione nodded nervously. “So…” she went on. “Who are you really going to the ball with?”

“I’m not going with anyone,” Abigail barked as she pulled her hair into a high ponytail. “I already told you that.”

“You touch the back of your neck when you lie,” the smart witch retorted curtly. “You’re going with someone. Now tell me who asked you!”

Abigail buried her face within her hands. She shook her head violently, grumbling to herself in frustration. It would be easier to just lie to her best friend than it would be to tell her the whole truth; however, she didn’t exactly have to tell her everything, right?

“Whoooooo?” Hermione begged. “You nearly rejected every boy that asked you to the Yule Ball. You’ve declined every Hogsmeade date since we were in our third year! You’ve-“

“I get it, Hermione,” Abigail said flatly. “Boys just aren’t my forte.”

Hermione scoffed as she began to pace the room. “So I assume that Harry Potter isn’t just a boy to you…”

“Shut it, Granger,” Abigail threatened. “He’s just a friend!”

“You don’t want it to be that way,” commented Hermione smugly. “That’s why you hate Caitlyn so much-!”

“Backtrack for a sec, girl,” the blonde cut off her friend. “You think that is the reason why I hate the all-mighty Caitlyn Moore? Ha!”

“Well… it’s a contributing factor.”

Abigail rolled her eyes once more as she flopped onto her stomach. “Whatever…”

“Who asked you to the ball?” Hermione pestered eagerly. “Please just tell me that and I’ll leave you alone!”

“I asked him.”

Hermione stared at Abigail wide-eyed. “You did what now?” she stammered. “Because the last time I checked, you were secretly fawning over Harry Potter!”

“Why don’t you speak up, Hermione?” Abigail rolled over to look up at the fabric above her head. “I don’t think the Slytherins in the Dungeon heard you in their common room.”

“If you would just tell me who you asked,” Hermione pleased, “I swear I’ll back off. Please just tell me. I need to know!”

“Malfoy.”