Red wine. Funny how my parents decided that for today they would have red wine with their dinner. They always leaned towards champagne. Red, red wine. It's not that I detest it, in fact, after taking a few cautious sips, I actually quite like the taste of it. Then again, I might have already been partial to its colour. I hear my mother call my name, I look up, pretending that I was merely examining a very interesting stain on my glass, mentally chiding myself for letting my mind wander again. She gave me an understanding smile and launched right back into conversation with the rest of the dinner guests. I sigh quietly, having dinner in this fancy schmancy restaurant was not originally part of my well thought out plan for today. What would he say if he saw me here? Somehow, I had a feeling it would go along the lines of, "Oh, I would never be able to afford dinner in a place like this." I hate how he would keep putting himself down, no matter how subtly he does it.

Absentmindedly, I took the stalk of rose from the vase in front of me and started pulling on the petals, a tad bit viciously. Why did everything have to be so red?

Oof. Someone had bumped into my chair. I hear a hurried apology as I turn around. A blonde lady had walked into it and immediately, the smile on my face was wiped off. Not because she was blonde, I have nothing against them, really. But she happened to be linking arms with a red headed gentleman. She apologised again and walked off, pulling the gentleman along with her. I didn't notice, but the rose in my hand was suddenly being crushed very brutally, scattering the petals all over my dress. I hear a disapproving cough and realised it was my mother again. I desperately try to cover up by casually sweeping the petals under my napkin and onto the floor. I smile a little forcefully and clear my throat, announcing my excuse to go to the washroom.

As I leave the table, I breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, some reprieve from the evening. I hated it when my parents organised dinner parties like these, especially when they failed to mention my need to be around. It gets on my nerves even more when I have already made plans with other people, well, pointedly, another person. But playing the part of the filial and considerate daughter, I did not complain and obligingly came along. After all, they hadn't seen me since I left for school this year, and it was only right I spent time with them in the holidays. I carefully picked my way across the crowded room, steering clear of the table where the blonde and red headed gentleman were seated and made my way to the ladies. I groaned as I opened the door, the walls were painted red. Just my luck really. Looking at myself in the mirror, I thought about how silly I was. Fancy even being first in my year when I allow such a stupid thing get to me like that.

A woman emerged from the cubicle behind me, so I quickly take out my compact to touch up. Just as I was satisfied and about to leave, she took out her lipstick, in candy apple red. I stare at it for a while, I couldn't seem to take my eyes of it. She seems to notice and looks at me through the mirror, eyebrows raised in question. Throwing all good manners and laws of hygiene out of the window, I asked, to borrow her lipstick. Though obviously surprised at first, she breaks into a smile and offers the lipstick in her outstretched hand. She mentions that she likes how I can appreciate her favourite shade. Not many do apparently, I couldn't fathom why. I see nothing to hate about the colour.

Stepping out the washroom, a little more colour on my lips, I decide against returning back to the table and instead double out through the back door, adrenaline pumping slightly thinking about the naughty things that I've been doing that night. Breathing in deeply, I slowly start the walk home after I asked a passing waiter to help pass a message to my parents. Hopefully, they would believe the story of me feeling 'under the weather'. It was a moonless night but the street lamps shined brightly as I watched myself cast shadows on the pavement, the buildings and on the lonely roads. I silently counted the number of red cars I passed, realising I did that unconsciously. I probably was going crazy. I chuckle to myself, oh boy, wouldn't my friends be surprised to hear what's going on in my head.

Finally, I reached my house and found Crookshanks on the front step. Picking him up, I noticed a red piece of paper stuffed behind his collar. I frowned, how odd. I took it out and Crookshanks stretched, as if happy to be finally free from it, and ran off into the house. I realise there was something written on the back of the red flyer. Unfolding it, I smiled. I would recognise that handwriting anywhere, especially after the amount of time I spend trying to replicate it on someone's homework.

Dear 'Mione,

I was looking forward to today's date so I was kinda put out when you owled to cancel it. I mean, don't get me wrong, you should be going out with your parents, especially since you haven't been hanging out with them in awhile. We see each other like, all the time. I happened to be in the neighbourhood so I decided to drop by but nobody was home, guess you guys left earlier than I expected. So yea, just wanted to let you know I was here. Crookshanks didn't seem so happy to see me though, and I think he's going to put up quite a struggle when I attempt to stuff this behind his collar. I know you love that cat 'Mione, but really, you got to teach it some manners. See you again soon!

Love, Ron.

I couldn't stop smiling. I half wonder if they have a name for this sickness I have. I trace the words with my fingers, knowing how just a few hours ago, he was holding this same paper in his hand. My fingers hover around the word 'date', and I laugh. I love how he used the word date, when it obviously wasn't one. I hardly considered a trip to Diagon Alley to buy school supplies a date. Did he? I shook my head, smiling a bit ruefully. Oh well, I guess I would never find out. Patting Crookshanks as I closed the front door, I scolded him quietly for giving my visitor a hard time. Perhaps I'll teach him some manners tomorrow.


I thought it would be cool to write something like that. I like how Hermione's all obsessed. Although a tad out of character, that really is how I would imagine her private thoughts to be. Filled with Ron. Isn't that how we all like it? Drop me a review and let me know!