Welcome readers to the sequel of Pride and Pretence, I hope that many of you are continuing on to read my new series… however to all new readers, it is up to you whether you want to read my first story, however all I ask is a nice review here and there! Thanks, now onto On the Twelfth Night…
Love is a cliché… probably the greatest one known to mankind. All that endless talk of 'star crossed lovers', 'soul mates' and … ugh… god forbid, 'AFFECTIONATE RELATIONSHIPS' was enough to make one forgo any type of chocolate covered confectionary, just in the vain hope of making a stand against Valentine's Day… or perhaps I just hated the idea that I had been won over by such a whirlwind emotion. A passion to deny all other passions… a throbbing ache in the soul, that screamed for fulfilment… yet fickle and changing… or at least, so I had been led to believe….
Sylphide swept her blonde locks over her shoulder; her books strapped carelessly by a thick belt, slapping rhythmically against her back. The wind was strong outside as she strolled across the grounds at Hogwarts; it was rather cold for summer… actually, exceedingly cold. It was a terrible way to end the school term, as it left little hope for sunny weather during the school holidays, which were due to begin the next day. All she had wanted to do was take a brisk walk before her next class, the air was invigorating around this region, more so than where she had used to live. The mountain air was one of the few reasons why she had transferred from Beauxbatons to Hogwarts; Sylphide laughed, that and the whole idea of wearing that terrible uniform…. With that thought, her black robes flapped open, sending a blast of freezing cold air straight through her body. Pulling her clothing tight around her small frame, she rapidly ran for shelter, thrusting herself into a small alcove that led past the hospital wing. She let out a small breath, watching eagerly as it formed a faint wisp of condensation. Her face was delicately flushed from windburn and decided it would be wise to wait out the tempest that was occurring outside. With a quick brush, she smoothed her hair back to a relatively normal shape, and whilst she busily flicked invisible lint from her shoulders –attempting to appear busy should anyone happen to walk past, she heard a light murmuring from the next room. It was the only room in which light could be seen, a soft glow implying the presence of candles.
Curiosity had always been her worst failing, and with a soft step born of experience, she crept over to the doorjamb to see who was making the noise. The corridor was dark in comparison and she could feel her pupils adjusting to the darkness. The instant smell of the hospital wing burned her nostrils and she gave a subtle cough, the sound bordering on a sneeze. Suddenly a fan of brown curls arrested her gaze. Lying against a mound of white pillows was the famous Hermione Granger, the girl said to be the 'brightest witch of the age', she really was a slight thing… pretty, but slight. Not to mention the giant bed she rested upon effectively seemed to swallow her whole, rendering her outwardly defenceless. Although despite her milk white complexion –which mirrored her illness- her eyes seemed to sparkle with life. They were bright as twin candles, as they locked onto a pair of stormy grey orbs that glittered with barely contained mischief. The blond hair and the grey eyes… This must be Draco Malfoy, Sylphide reflected. She had been told that he had once been the most heartbreaking boy in school; it was amusing to think that such a wild lothario had been tamed by this slip of a woman. He had such love in his visage; it was beautiful to witness…. Even to one as cynical as Sylphide.
It was almost enough to incite a small amount of jealousy… Sylphide shoved the treasonous thought from her mind.
"I know you… but you are new aren't you?" A feminine voice drifted out from the hospital wing, although Sylphide was loathe to admit it, she knew very well that the comment was directed at her. Shyly, she revealed herself from the shadowed spot behind the door. She blinked as her eyes attuned to the change in light, the glow of the candles was infinitely warmer than the glare from outside. Damn it… now they must think I am some sort of depraved loser… She noticed that Hermione was watching her almost expectantly, Sylphide felt her mind drain of all possible responses. Luckily Hermione saw fit to continue, filling the awkward silence that arose "You are Sylphide!" She exclaimed in a fit of recognition, Sylphide visibly shrank back from the high levels of exuberance that seemed to radiate from her being. How can she be so happy? Isn't she meant to be sick or something? "I have seen you around… Ravenclaw, I imagine?"
Sylphide stupidly looked down at her own robes to affirm this statement. Realising her mistake micro-seconds after she made it, only served to intensify her embarrassment. "Y-yes…" Her eyes darted swiftly to Draco who lay protectively beside Hermione, but she made sure not to make any deliberately obvious eye contact, because although she was not going to admit, she found his very attendance overwhelming. "You are friends with H-…Ha-… Har-…" Sylphide felt all her words jumble up in her mouth and almost cried when she felt the flames that licked at her cheeks. Oh my god… why did I even mention him? Now I look even more mentally unstable! There is no way that she couldn't know now… Biting her lip, she gently turned away casting her eyes to the stones that lined the floor.
She refused to look at Hermione, but was glad when she replied stating "Harry Potter? Yes, we are friends… Oh, I assume you know my boyfriend, Draco?"
Sylphide was then forced to look up, and was surprised to find Draco sporting a friendly smile on his face, from what her fellow Ravenclaws had revealed, she had imagined him to be cold and cruel. Perhaps Hermione had influenced him? Well she couldn't bring herself to assume, as she knew very little about the pair already. Sylphide smiled back, "Why of course…"
Draco nodded, and Sylphide was assured of his kindness. After a space of a few minutes, nothing was said. And Hermione had a strangely calculating look on her face. With a game smile, Sylphide said "It has been great meeting you… some other time ok?" And quick as a flash, she was once more outside the hospital wing.
Clapping her hands to her burning cheeks, she moaned in mortification. She greatly feared that she had inadvertently made a complete fool of herself. Composing her features, she reminded her own lungs to take in air. One breath in, one breath out that is what staying alive is all about! Her mind quipped to itself. Oh my god I am so weird…
With a quick glance, she looked back outside to see if the gale had dissipated. To her happiness, it seemed to have calmed somewhat, and she moved to exit via the way she came. Unfortunately, all it took were four steps before she was way laid by a bunch of giggling Gryffindors. Sylphide could not help but stop in her tracks when she overheard the direction of their conversation.
"So where is he?" One of them tittered.
"I heard he was around here somewhere…" Another whimpered, her eyes flicking desperately around the alcove, resting for a scant instant on Sylphide before moving on. "He is so wonderful…"
"Do you think Harry will mind signing my shirt?"
Sylphide gave an internal laugh; thinking that perhaps she should feel sorry for the poor boy… a hoard of crazy fan girls dogging his every footstep. Her mind rebelled, Well am I any better? Sylphide silenced her inner voice with a mentally induced hush.
"Forget the shirt! I want him to sign my chest!"
This statement caused a wave of laughter to crash over the whole group. How old are these kids? Thirteen? When did being thirteen make you sexually mature? Sylphide willed her feet to keep walking, but instead, her contrary brain decided to fiddle with her books to have a reason to remain in the alcove. They were strapped tightly with an old leather belt, one of the few objects she had grabbed before departing her old home at Beauxbaton Academy. Pulling the weathered belt left and right, she gently tugged at it to appear busy. Therefore, it was terribly unfortunate that at this instant, the belt's notch ripped and all her loose papers went flying. On the gentle breeze they soared high into the air… and out of the alcove.
With a scream of frustration, Sylphide rushed out grabbing wildly at the papers that now lay scattered across the pristine lawn, completely aware that a whole bunch of girls were presently cacking themselves at her predicament. "Damn it… My Dark Arts papers!" Sylphide knew well that she had to pass Defence against the Dark Arts this year, otherwise there would be hell to pay… she had barely even passed the midterm paper…
It was an arduous task retrieving all her documents, and she was almost in tears by the time she had collected the last one. Breathing a sigh of relief, she leafed through her sheets to check they were all present. She was glad to note that not a single one had disappeared. Therefore it was an awful feeling when she finally looked up to realise that she was utterly lost. She turned around and around, but to no avail, she recognised nothing of the area. The length of green seemed to span to the horizon, with absolutely no ending. She reflected that she must have walked over a hill, thus blocking her view of the castle.
Life was just going swell for Sylphide… great, great, fan- freaking- tastic!
Sylphide was so close to just sitting down in the middle of the wide paddock, when a golden winged orb flew straight at her face. With a shriek Sylphide flung all her papers up once again in surprise. "WHAT THE HELL?" After receiving the shock of her life, Sylphide could do little but fall backward, landing unceremoniously on her posterior. Her Dark Arts Essay falling comically from the air to land strewn about her shocked form. Her mouth was hanging open, midway between surprise and terror, when the worst thing imaginable occurred.
"Are you okay?"
Sylphide's mouth opened and closed slowly, her heart was beating so fast that it almost erupted from her chest. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers and her hands clutched almost protectively to the green grass that felt wet beneath her fingers. She could feel her face heating up until it could be safely likened to a beetroot.
Dammmmmnnnnnnn….
"Hey, you must be new… I haven't seen you around…" His smile seemed to radiate through her entire being, "Well, I at least know that we haven't met… uh…god… this is stupid, sorry… let me start again." He gave a deliberate cough, and uncomfortably ran his fingers through his already tousled hair. "Hi, my name is Harry."
He looked flushed, but not from the cold… no just the contrary, he was glowing from heat... perhaps exercise? I wish I was that hot… Sylphide scoffed at her own stupidity. His clothes were artfully rumpled, and clung greedily to his lean frame. His shirt was open at the collar to entrap the graceful curve of his collar bone. His delicate wire rimmed glasses did nothing to diminish the sensual forest green of his eyes… however it was what lay upon his forehead that held her interest, a jagged scar that slashed his flesh open into a puckered wound. Many, upon first sight, might find it repulsive, but to Sylphide, she felt that it reflected a strength of will that she suspected dwelled beneath his youthful exterior.
Sylphide awkwardly pushed herself up off the ground, refusing his hand in the process. She gave a gentle smile, hardly trusting herself to speak, she murmured "Hi, Harry…" and without losing eye contact until the very last second, she bent to pick up the first of her dropped papers.
If Sylphide had looked up, she might have noticed Harry's dazed expression. He had never seen such beautiful eyes in his life before… They almost made him forget his own name… He started "I'm so sorry, I was just getting in some quick quidditch practice before the holidays and the snitch just got away from me…" Realising her plight, he followed her lead and kneeled to begin collecting the papers. "I hope I can be forgiven…?"
Sylphide turned to look him straight in the face, barely inches away. She did not register the stunned look on his face when she murmured "O-of course…" She quickly turned away, shielding her face from his view. Oh my god, my feelings are so plain on my face… it is embarrassing… Harry looked quizzically at her back, wondering why she would not confront him.
However Harry would have been surprised if he'd known that Sylphide's mind was busily engaged appreciating what he was wearing. She gulped as she remembered how… good… his quidditch uniform looked on him… she thought that he must surely put all the other players to shame…
She feared turning to face Harry again, lest her admiration show on her features. Glancing swiftly back at him, she gently thanked him for his help in regaining her possessions.
Harry cocked his head "Anytime…" His voice seemed to dwindle as his eyes scanned her face. Her blonde hair appeared to form a halo behind her head, and even to Harry's tired eyes –from that morning's quidditch practice- she seemed to appear an angel.
Albeit, a lost and frustrated angel, but one all the same.
Biting her lip, she seemed to mentally withdraw, Harry wanted to hit himself, she was probably so used to green boys staring at her all the time that she found it creepy.
Sylphide pulled her eyes away from his face to look further down, upon spying his broom, which seemed to rest comfortably in his palm, she smiled "Oh, so I see the legends are true…"
Harry gulped, his angel had just spoken, and all he could do was gape. "W-wha-? What legends?"
"That the great Harry Potter flies… spectacularly, if the rumours are correct… I recall being told that you … performed… at the Triwizards Cup."
"I competed, if that is what you mean…"
"Yes," Sylphide laughed, "That is what I meant, sorry, I am not a great flier… In fact, I fell off my broom first time round, almost broke my arm… but I am just clumsy."
Harry desperately tried to conceal his emotions. "You? Clumsy?"
"Well, I was on my backside just a second ago, you know." Sylphide rubbed her robes down as if in good measure.
Harry could not contain the mirth that sprung from his chest, "Yes, that is something I can not refute!"
Sylphide smiled, her heart perched perilously in her gaze. Harry could not help staring back, as her eyes seemed to be bottomless pools of violet, deep as the ocean, rippling with emotion.
It was disturbing that one thought kept echoing through his mind…
my own beautiful fallen angel…
Harry checked himself No, she is not my beautiful anything… unfortunately… least of all my angel…
After an awkward silence, Sylphide said farewell, and (pretending that she knew where she was going) headed back in the general direction of Hogwarts Castle.
Harry watched her retreating form, a dreamy look clouding his vision. It wasn't until she had disappeared from his line of view that Harry remembered something drastic.
"Oh my god," He rasped "I don't even know her name!"
