Disclaimer: No copyright infringement is intended. Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, no profit it being made off of her works through this story.

Playing Pretend

The moon sat dully in the sky, not casting enough light to hide the million stars. It looked like a perfect circle at first glance, but a slice of it was missing. Hermione studied its craters with feigned interest.

In the grass, crickets were making their sounds. They weren't producing songs, and they weren't having conversations. They were alerting the world to their presence. It only took a moment to notice they were there; to hear them call. After a moment, one could stop listening. Hermione listened to them then, carefully trying to distinguish their sound from the other noises of the night.

eoOoe

Hermione sighed, turning another page in her book. Her eyes ran across the paper, but she no longer saw the lettering. She could hear the letters, the words, the paragraphs in her head, being read to her in a voice much like her own. She shifted in her seat, forgetting her surroundings, thinking only of the book.

A sudden smash pulled her from her thoughts. She rose to better see what had caused the sound. On the floor lay many jagged pieces of white porcelain. The surface was familiar, and Hermione was instantly reminded of the ancient white vase that sat on the edge of her aunt's desk. Her breath caught low in her throat, and she looked sharply over at the desk to find that the vase was no longer there.

"Hermione, are you alright? I thought I heard a crash," someone called from the doorway.

"I'm fine," she answered dully.

"Oh—heavens! Is that Margaret's vase?" The same someone rushed forward and bent in front of her, muttering, "Out of the way dear, the pieces are sharp."

Hermione watched silently as the little pieces of white were brushed in a bag and thrown in the trash. She had thought herself forgotten, but found that she wasn't as the same someone approached her again.

"Hermione Jean Granger, did you break that vase?"

"No."

eoOoe

She didn't want to look into his eyes, more flawless, brilliant, silver than the moon. She didn't want to listen to the sound of his whispers, softer, gentler, more musical than the whispers of crickets. She didn't want to tell him the truth.

eoOoe

Hermione watched the girl in front of her try the spell again. Usually she preferred to be Ron's partner for meetings, but Luna had asked.

"They're real, you know."

Hermione had to suppress a sigh. "Luna, if you can't see them, can't smell them, can't hear them, can't track them, can't prove them somehow, then they probably don't exist."

Luna smiled vaguely. "That's not entirely true."

"Isn't it?" Hermione snapped, unable to keep herself from doing so.

"Well, thestrals exist."

"And?"

"Well, you can't see thestrals, can you?"

"No."

eoOoe

She tried to keep her eyes on the moon. She tried to keep her mind on the crickets. But he slipped her hand into his, and he spoke with a blunt sort of sweetness that was so peculiar it was difficult to ignore.

"I love you," she heard him tell her.

And then there was the silence. The quiet. The crickets betrayed her, lessening the quiet but somehow making it more obvious at the same time. She wanted to lie. She tried to tell him no. Instead, she replied, "I love you, too, Malfoy."

vxXxv

Author's Note: I got the idea for this story after watching an episode of LOST called The Glass Ballerina, and I decided to give it a go. Thank you so much for taking the time to read it. I hope you liked it, but if you didn't, I'd be thrilled if you took the time to tell me why-any reviews are appreciated more than you could ever know. Anyway, thank you again for reading, I hope you have a lovely day :)