Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter


Hermione Granger- magical genius, Hogwarts student and known consort of the famous Harry Potter- is a great believer in the power of logic. She is defiantly non-superstitious in a world of wizardry, ghosts and strange goings on. She is a crusader for the equal rights of the oppressed masses, whether they want social reform or not. A heroine in her own right, she has more than once risked dangerous beasts, magical threats and possible expulsion from school in order to help a friend. Rational, knowledgeable and methodical to the point of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, it cannot be disputed that in the strange undulating maze-like world of wizard society, Hermione's belief in logic makes her something of a rarity.

Therefore, as she sits in her over-stuffed armchair in the Gryffindor common room, a book held open before her, we would naturally assume that she is simply content in burying herself in the safe haven that an insightful, factual book offers intellectuals. Alas, one should never assume anything with any witch or wizard. Hermione Granger is in fact considering a seemingly insoluble problem, and she looks to use logic to assist her in making her choice. However, this problem is not a brainteaser in the typical sense of the word- the sixteen-year-old is facing a dilemma that affects all people in a school like Hogwarts. Who should she go with to the upcoming students' ball? (Arranged at the spur of the moment by Dumbledore in honour of Fawkes' birthday)

Here she has erred, and those experienced in matters of romance will know why- one simply cannot apply logic when it comes to the heart.


Hermione sighed, her thoughts drifting far away from the book in her lap. Here she was, smart, sophisticated, respected by her peers- and struggling with her love life like a simpering, empty-headed bimbo. Being considered a snob and a geek by the school community in general and not the most attractive thing on two legs by a long shot, she knew her chances for an enjoyable night were not good. She had resigned herself to the fact that she would probably spend the whole evening at the ball sitting and watching all of the other students having fun forming new romances and making new 'acquaintances'. She had not been happy with this fate- who would be?- but she had been accepting of her position in the school and the price she had to pay for her admittedly swotty behaviour.

That was when her entire perspective of this position had been thrown off-kilter by the seemingly casual but sincere invite offered to her by Duncan Catherwood.

Duncan Catherwood was perfect in almost way. A tall, lean Ravenclaw in the sixth-year, he was unconventionally handsome. His fine wavy brown hair was long and delightfully scruffy. Shoulder-length, it framed mysterious grey eyes that smiled ambiguously at the world from behind stylish rimless glasses. His smile was light and easy and it was unusual for him to have a conversation with a person without breaking into a deep rich chuckle so infectious that both would be helpless with laughter with absolutely no idea why. His voice was soft with a gentle Scottish lilt, but when he spoke he could captivate an entire room. He projected a genial air of confidently intelligent benevolence.

And Duncan was intelligent. Quick thinking, clever and possessor of a potentially biting sarcastic wit, if he wasn't amusing he was educating. He could astound with brilliant discussions of magical theory, then have an audience in peals of laughter. He was respected and trusted enough in the school community to be offered the role of prefect and cool enough not to accept.

One of his favourite haunts was the school library where, oblivious to whatever group of people was stalking him at any given moment, he would bury himself in dusty tomes for hours on end in order to find the most trivial piece of information. Indeed, this was how he and Hermione had met- their somewhat heated debate on Obscure Reptile Displacement Theory had caused Madam Pince to chuck them out for causing such a disturbance.

Rather than become rivals, the two had come to be, if not friends, slightly more than casual acquaintances, meeting up occasionally to wax lyrical on magical theory or simply enjoy a few simple logic games. His earnest question ("Would you consider coming with me, Hermione?") had caused the girl to become more than a little unpopular with Duncan's unofficial collection of stalkers, would-be partners and willing harem candidates.

He was the logical choice- smart, witty and charming, not to mention unassumingly attractive. He was also of like mind on many issues and they had a lot in common. Everything inside Hermione that was rational and logical screamed at her to accept him- she certainly wouldn't find such a good character match with those looks ever again. Nevertheless, there was a complication- a tiny little detail that was causing her no end of trouble. It was this irritating problem that she was considering from behind her book, her brow furrowing as she concentrated.

Love, she decided, didn't believe in logic. No, Love had obviously heard of logic and dismissed it instantly as a new-fangled fad that would never catch on. Love was a pain in the rear.

Duncan Catherwood was perfect. But she couldn't go to the ball with him. She was in love. What's more, she was in love with the most unlikely, aggravating, paranoid, idiotic, adorable person imaginable. She had fallen for someone so totally opposite to her in every way that it was barely conceivable they could talk to each other without arguing. She despaired of ever getting on with him. But she was in love with him and this had led to what was turning out to be the most difficult problem she had ever encountered.

She gradually became aware of a presence beside her. Looking up, she saw it was the very person who was the basis for all of her inner turmoil. He looked more than a little confused.

"Er…Hermione," he said, sounding bemused. "Why is your book upside down?"

She gaped at him for a few seconds then glanced to the book. A moment's study proved that yes, she was indeed looking at it the wrong way up. She turned back to the object of her affections and paused for a moment, thinking hard. "Learning to read backwards?" she eventually suggested, mentally kicking herself at the stupidity of the idea.

He looked askance at her then nodded slowly and turned to go, shaking his head in disbelief. Her book forgotten, she watched him, inwardly debating with herself.

Love didn't believe in logic. But maybe, just maybe, logic couldn't solve every problem. Hermione stood and made a split-second decision; she knew who she would go to the ball with. She reached out to tap the boy on the shoulder, saying, "Ron? Can I ask you something?"

Hermione Granger is a great believer in the power of logic. Love disregards it. And as far as Ronald Weasley is concerned, it can get stuffed.