"So, how's your social dancing practice going? You do realize that tomorrow... tomorrow night we're going to be in front of a lot of people... I do not want a repeat of last time where you stepped on my foot and then face-planted. It'd be mortifying. The ghost professors would be talking about it for years."
Do ghost professors really have that much free time?
Tom pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Miss Granger, I don't know if you remember this, but there was once a certain someone who fought tooth and nail against attending this ball. At the time, she looked like she wanted to murder me."
Recalling Hermione's absolute refusal back then, Tom couldn't help but find the situation amusing.
His teasing gaze made Hermione incredibly uncomfortable. Her cheeks flushed a sudden, brilliant red, and even the tips of her ears looked like they were steaming.
"I... I just want to do everything right!
"Everything in this world deserves to be taken seriously. Once you decide to do something, you have to be the absolute best at it!"
Either don't do it at all, or fight for first place!
The childish little Hermione pumped her fist in the air, puffing out her chest. "I hate quitting halfway, and I refuse to be called a half-wit. I'm Muggle-born. I can't compare to those who have had magical education since birth, and I can't compete with the upperclassmen, but I only have one goal—to be the best!"
A bit modest there, Hermione, Tom grumbled internally while taking another bite of his Fish Mint pasty.
Do you seriously think those pure-blood wizards and upperclassmen can compete with you?
You're a first-year genius. Compared to everyone else—even Harry Potter—they are nothing but fireflies next to the sun.
It's just that the standard you're measuring yourself against is... me.
Tom suddenly put on a serious face. "Don't fall too hard, kid."
"? What nonsense are you talking about now?"
Tom was famous for spouting nonsense—at least, Hermione thought he was.
Everything that came out of his mouth seemed engineered for only two purposes: showing off, or pissing her off.
It seemed like the angrier she got, the happier Tom was.
"So, you really haven't practiced at all?"
"No, I practiced a little." Tom held up his thumb and index finger, pinching them close together to show a tiny gap. "Just a tiny bit. Not much, but it should be enough. I've been really busy these past few days. I'm still waiting for an owl today."
"An owl?" Hermione asked, confused. "Did you write to Senior Cho again?"
"No, it's just a Christmas present." Tom stared off into the distance. "Christmas is almost here. I hope everyone who loves me receives a gift from me. It'll make them very happy..."
Suddenly, Tom whipped his head back to look at her. "You didn't... forget to get me a Christmas present, did you? Miss Granger, I'm genuinely hurt! For your gift, I had to venture deep into a dragon's lair and steal it right out from under the nose of a terrifying magical beast.
"Hmm... and along the way, I encountered some truly horrifying things. I even bled for it."
Tom's story was half-true.
He had encountered something horrifying.
There were mosquitoes in the Momo Mountains!
It was snowing, and yet there were mosquitoes! It was terrifying!
As for the blood... well, Tom and Cho had just gotten lucky and happened to see a curly goat giving birth. Of course there was blood.
But Hermione bought it hook, line, and sinker. She immediately panicked. "W-were you hurt? Actually, I don't need such an expensive gift. Just a little something, even something you just picked up randomly, would have been fine."
Tom sighed heavily. "I just wanted to give you the best. But yes, I did get hurt."
"Where?!"
Hermione grabbed Tom's hand, rolling up his sleeves to inspect him inch by inch. But she found no wounds—only a single mosquito bite.
"Here." Tom pointed to his chest. "I labored for three days. Three whole days! And finding out that you didn't prepare a Christmas gift for me... right here, it hurts."
Tom watched Hermione with amusement, noticing her cheeks had completely turned scarlet.
"I did prepare something! I did!" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and gave a cold huff. "And don't ever make a joke like that again! I thought you were actually hurt. If you pull a stunt like this again, I... I'll punch you."
"So, what did you get me?" Tom decided to change the subject.
"If I told you now, it wouldn't be a surprise!"
—That was a lie.
Hermione hurried away, entirely forgetting her original mission.
She always got sidetracked by Tom.
Or rather, Tom possessed a strange sort of magic. Whenever he wanted to change the subject, no matter who he was talking to, they would involuntarily follow his lead.
Just like Hermione right now. She had completely forgotten about the banquet, the dancing, all of it.
She had only one thought screaming in her head.
What do I do?!
She had genuinely forgotten!
You were supposed to give presents to your friends for Christmas. But she had never had friends. For the past eleven Christmases, Hermione was used to receiving carefully chosen gifts from her mother. But proactively giving a gift to someone else... not once. Not even once!
What should I get Tom?
Maybe I should give him some books?
Dammit, what book hasn't Tom already read? He only seems to like magical books, but finding a magical book he hasn't read... is harder than reaching the sky.
Okay, what else... A new outfit? Maybe he needs a suit.
But Tom has probably already prepared a suit for the ball. He doesn't lack those kinds of things.
For the first time in her life, Hermione was experiencing what it was like to have a friend.
First, there was joy—because Hermione knew she was going to receive a Christmas gift, and from Tom, no less.
But... but...
There was also agony.
How do I choose a gift?!
She couldn't exactly grab Tom by the shoulders and say, "Hey kid, I'm Santa Claus possessing Hermione's body. Tell me what you want for Christmas."
Absolutely not!
What do boys even like?
Hermione sat on a bench, her brow furrowed into a tight knot.
Just then, the remaining members of the Hermione Appreciation Club appeared.
With Sue Li having quit, there were only two left.
Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.
Both of them looked equally miserable.
"Malfoy. Harry."
Malfoy disliked "Tom Riddle," and upon seeing that face, he immediately turned his head away.
"Hey, I need a favor from you guys." Tom stepped forward, blocking their path.
"Hmph." Malfoy's nose was practically pointing at the ceiling. He looked incredibly smug, practically glowing with superiority. "Since you asked so nicely, I suppose I can listen to what problem you need help with from a pure-blood wizard."
"Question: What kind of Christmas present should I get for a friend?" Hermione kept her voice low, looking a bit embarrassed. "I have a friend, and, um... Christmas is coming up. I need your help. What should I give them?"
Harry and Malfoy looked at each other.
What kind of Christmas present to get for a friend?
You're asking us?