Disclaimer: This story was written using characters and situations created by the Goddess J.K. Rowling. I own nothing. Anyone who says or thinks otherwise is smoking some really strange crack. . . .
A/N: Um yeah, I'm not really sure where I'm going with this story as of yet. This is my first fanfic so please bear with me. I'm open to any ideas and criticism, as long as I can use them. I might change the title as I go and I'll be constantly checking for my own mistakes, so don't be surprised if things get changed around.
*This story takes place during Harry's fifth year (as if the OotP never happened, kinda like an alternate Potter universe.)
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Winter's Fire
Prologue: The Wrong Thing to Say
The Gryffindor common room
The first snow of the season is always a beautiful one at Hogwarts. The ancient castle stands gray and alone in a sea of white. The trees of the Forbidden Forest are frosted over. The lake is covered in ice. Hagrid's hut looks like a frosted gingerbread house with smoke slowly rising from the chimney. The entire scene looks likes Heaven in the winter.
Harry Potter always enjoyed when the snow came. For him, the snow meant not only a beautiful and somewhat romantic environment, but also the coming of great times. With snow and winter weather came snowball fights, sledding, wonderful feasts inside the Great Hall and cheerful times in the cozy Gryffindor common room. But most of all, with winter came the end to classes and more free time to spend with his best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.
It was the evening of the last day of the term. With the danger of You-Know-You lurking in the shadows, many of the students of Hogwarts had elected to remain over for the holidays. Right now, in the late hours of the evening a light wind blew across the windows of the crowded Gryffindor common room. Nearly everyone was busy enjoying their time together as a House. A hundred conversations were set against the background of the merrily crackling of the fire and the soft whoosh of the wind. The smell of butterbeer lingered in the air with that of holly decorations and burning cider from the fireplace. Couples snuggled together near the fire's warmth. Several students were laughing heartily over butterbeers while being entertained by the Weasley twins – Fred and George.
Off to one side of the fireplace, snuggled away from everyone else, Harry Potter and his friends were engaged in quiet conversation, occasionally interrupted by periodical sips from their butterbeers, which were courtesy of the Weasley twins.
Ron bent down to read to cover of the massive book Hermione was reading.
"War and Peace? Honestly. We really need to get Hermione a boyfriend," Ron chortled.
Hermione spoke, not bothering taking her eyes off the page "Give it a rest Ron. I don't need a boyfriend."
"He's right you know. You'll just be stuck with us for the rest of her life," said Harry seriously.
Ron sniggered rather loudly.
Harry sipped from his bottle and pointed at Hermione with it still in his right hand. "You're missing out on a lot Hermione. You're forgetting to be a teenager."
Hermione looked up; her eyes were shining from tears to come. "You know," she sniffled, "it's not like I haven't tried."
She slammed the book shut, stood up and walked briskly up the staircase to the girls' dormitories, her face buried in her hands. Ron and Harry were both too stunned to follow; each exchanged looks that meant something like what did we do this time? But both of them knew exactly what they had done. They had struck a nerve with Hermione. She was always very sensitive when it came to the subject of her ahem private life, or the lack thereof. Harry and Ron knew that when Hermione got into a mood such as that which she was in right now, it was best to leave her alone.
Hermione slipped gracefully into the empty girls' dormitory and sat cross-legged on her bed. She stayed silent for a moment or two, tears streaking down her porcelain face. Soon, the implications of what Harry had said hit her full force. Maybe I'll never be loved she thought. Hermione burst into hysterical tears. She cried and cried. Soon, her face and the front of her sweater were soaked in tears. Hermione grabbed a pillow and squeezed hard. As she sat on her bed and cried her eyes out. She wished, in vein she knew, that Harry and Ron would come in and comfort her. That's what she needed right now. But her only comfort this time would be the gentle whoosh of the wind, her own rhythmic breathing and the sound of her tears. Within fifteen minutes, she had cried herself to sleep. This wasn't the first time either.
Back in the common room, Harry and Ron just looked at each other for a moment or two before continuing their conversation. They talked well into the night. Hermione's overturned butterbeer and thick novel lay forgotten. Little by little, the common room began to empty as students went to bed. The fire died down to a few pathetic embers and the wind now blew even louder and harder. As Harry talked with Ron, his mind continually wandered to the warmth found within the covers of his four-poster bed. He checked his watch. It was now well past midnight.
He yawned more dramatically then he had meant. "Well Ron, I think it's about time we turned in."
Ron smiled. "God, I was beginning to think you'd never -" his last words were stifled by a massive yawn. Without another word, he stood and walked to the staircase, clapping Harry on the shoulder as he went. Harry quickly followed suit. The climb up the stairs seemed to take ages. Finally, Harry and Ron reached their dormitory and stumbled inside. Silently, they pulled off their robes and slipped into their pajamas. Harry climbed gratefully between the warm sheets of his crimson four-poster bed. He didn't think about Hermione or anything else for that matter as he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Hermione awoke in the middle of night to find she was still fully-clothed, curled up into a small ball and sucking on her thumb. It was freezing cold in her room. She pulled off her clothes and piled them next to her bed. Hermione crawled under the warm covers and was soon asleep, unconsciously raising her hand to her face and sticking her thumb in her mouth. The rest of the night passed without incident. Hermione slept fitfully for the first time in months, even if she had cried herself unconscious.
Harry stirred in his bed early the next morning. The bed was so comfortable and warm. Harry didn't want to get out, be he knew he must. Slowly and carefully, he swung himself into a sitting position. When his feet make contact with the cold hardwood floor, he shivered. He scratched his hair and looked around the room. Everyone was still sound asleep. With a quick glance at his watch, he stood up and splashed his face with cold water. Once he was half-awake, he grabbed a towel and shuffled to the shower.
Meanwhile, Hermione lay in her bed with her eyes open for a long time. She was thinking. She was thinking about last night and whether or not she should be mad at Harry and Ron. After careful consideration, she decided it wouldn't be prudent to continue being angry with them. After all, they were only looking out for their friend's social welfare. It's not like they were making fun of her or anything. She smiled to herself and swung out of bed. She wrapped herself in a robe and walked with purpose toward the shower stalls at the far side of the dorms.
Harry dried himself off and dressed quickly. Slowly, the dorms were beginning to come alive. Neville and Dean were already gone, perhaps to the common room. Ron was just getting up. Without a word to Ron, Harry vanished from the dormitories and stormed down the staircase, anxious to find Hermione.
He found her standing next to the fire with her arms crossed, staring into its flames. Harry walked up next to her and put a hand on her shoulder. To his surprise, she smiled at him. Jumping at his fortune, he spoke.
"Look Hermione, er – I'm really sorry about last night. It was the wrong thing to say," he looked at her with pleading eyes.
Hermione looked away toward the fire. "I know," she whispered. "Just promise me you'll never do that again."
"I promise, Hermione," Harry croaked.
She smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. After a moment of just standing there, Hermione straightened up and spoke.
"C'mon Harry, let's get some breakfast," she said. For some strange reason, she didn't feel like waiting for Ron.
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A/N: Okay people, please review and let me know what you think. This is just a prologue; I'll try to have the next chapter up as soon as I can.
