Author: Ellipses
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: H/Hr
Disclaimer: You know the drill...none of the characters belong to me. They belong to J.K. Rowling, the publishers (Bloomsbury and Scholastic) and various other constituents.
Summary: Shock, horrors. Hermione's on detention and her teacher has just ducked inside to escape the biting cold. Who will rescue her from the snowstorm? Harry, of course.
Dedication: God bless all Canadians. I love the snow now... Don't ask. And also, I dedicate this to every person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting because of fandoms through the years, especially Andra, Mexx, Apolla (who used to be Apollonia and is not to be confused with any other Apollas), Jenilee, Michelle, Mariah, Emily B, Britanyca, Kelly Rowe, Adia and of course, Phil S (whom I'm still waiting for instalments to various series from). Sorry about the rambling...
AN: I'm fumbling blindly. There's one line I've written which I wasn't sure about because I've very stupidly leant my copy of PS/SS to a friend. Oh yeah, it's set in sixth-year and CONTAINS BOOK FIVE SPOILERS. It's an idea I intend to complete this time and it will be multi-chaptered. Oh, and if you don't fancy the idea of Harry being Hermione's knight in shining armour...then...what's wrong with you?? Ooh, and I warn you, I don't like Ron much and any character I don't like slips my mind even if they're important so I don't write them in as much as I should. So don't ask where Ron is, cos I don't like him *and* his ways. Please REVIEW!!!
AN2: I am my own beta. And also, I base some of it on what happened in the films. I know them better than the books. I'm in the midst of re-reading. I've just started GoF again and to make it more than just a book, I'm reading every single word aloud. Wish my throat luck...
Chapter One
"But Professor, I would swear in front of the Ministry that I didn't throw that Dungbomb. It was Dean Thomas, Professor," Hermione pleaded through chattering teeth. It was the middle of winter and Hermione Granger found herself stuck outside serving detention by clearing the school's driveway of snow. The Muggle way, of course, seeing as it would be much too easy for her to cast a simple heating spell to melt away the snow and ice that had accumulated.
"I'm sorry Miss Granger, but there is no way you could prove that the wrapper in your bag was placed there by someone else. The driveway needs cleaning in preparation for the arrival of the Ministry officials in attendance at this year's Yule Ball," the professor said, giving her wand a flick so that several different-sized shovels appeared in front of them along with a large wooden bucket. "I'm sorry, but as much as I'd like to do this the easy way...detention is not about being slack. Now move along dear, while I duck inside for a hot chocolate."
Hermione sighed as she watched her teacher hurry back into the castle. It seemed as if the driveway stretched further the longer she looked at it. The mention of hot chocolate made her want to just run back inside and curl in a comfortable armchair in front of the common room fireplace with her friends. However, they, too, were outside freezing their noses until they turned pink. It was Quidditch practice tonight and their next opponents were to be Ravenclaw, who had just acquired new brooms for their Seeker, Cho Chang; Keeper and both Beaters.
Gryffindor's team was improving, with Ginny replacing Angelina Johnson as the third Chaser. Ron had spent as much of his summer as he could practicing against his brothers and Ginny, who all gladly volunteered to pelt him with balls of all sorts—Quaffles, soccer balls, footballs, deflated basketballs and balls of tied up socks (courtesy of Fred and George).
Hermione paused during her shovelling to wonder how the Gryffindor Quidditch team would fair this year now that Harry was captain and now that they had a decent team put together. Although Gryffindor sorely missed the Weasley twins' antics, it was time to move on and find some young blood. Preferably twins again—it was effective for confusing of the opposing team.
She stabbed the shovel into the hard earth on the side of the drive and took in the sight of falling snow. Even though it was ruining all her hard work, it didn't make it any less beautiful to watch...and to feel. She had snowflakes in her eyelashes for a moment; it made her feel like she had died and gone to heaven. Warmth stirred in her stomach even though her skin felt frozen and chapped.
She turned her gaze back down at the snow-covered ground and wondered whether hanging from the dungeon by her thumbs would be safer than staying out in the freezing cold whilst doing hard labour. Her mother had always warned her that sweating when the weather's cold could cause the chills. Hermione had always taken it upon her to listen to her mother—about cleaning her teeth at least twice a day with toothpaste, floss and mouthwash, especially—but this time, the falling snow seemed to beckon to her as if trying to lure her away from going back inside where she would most certainly be forced to admit that she had failed to complete her detention and would simply get another one to further mar her record.
And it was utter bliss.
As a child, she'd never had much experience with snow as it never snowed where she lived. Thankfully, she wasn't the only one who'd never been skiing in Switzerland or whatever the rest of her year who were in Gryffindor claimed to have done. Harry, humble as ever, had been right beside her at the window that morning during their first year when they had seen real snow for the first time in their lives. Together, they watched it falling with both arms out the window hoping to catch a few flakes in their hands. If she didn't know better, she'd think that snow was magic.
Hermione breathed in the chilly winter air and stopped in her thoughts to continue the arduous task of clearing the snow from gate to doorstep. She was just lucky that the driveway was quite narrow, or else she'd be there until Christmas. She hummed to herself while she worked and rested every few shovelfuls. Every time the bucket was filled, she was to toss the contents around some bushes and then repeat the process. It felt like the longest hours she'd ever had...well, after the repeated 3 hours in third-year during Sirius Black's escape on Buckbeak, of course.
But thoughts of Harry's godfather always turned sour when her mind wandered...back to the happenings of the end of fifth year. Even though she was proud of the DA's efforts against a group of fully-grown Dark wizards, sadness always came to her when she thought too long about it. She could see how it had affected Harry and how it continued to do so because of the death of one of the best people she'd ever had the pleasure of meeting and accusing of murder. They had been grand times while they lasted and the feelings which resulted from the trio's many ordeals came and went.
But there were feelings within Hermione which never seemed to pass. Feelings for Harry beyond friendship.
But Hermione would never expect the Boy-Who-Lived to pick her instead of the likes of Cho Chang and Fleur Delacour. She doubted he would ever see her in the same way that she saw him. Ever since first year, when she saw (from behind one of the castle's many columns) Harry defending her against Ron after that Charms lesson in which they'd learnt the Wingardium Leviosa floating charm, she had been secretly harbouring a crush for this boy who never seemed to be able to keep his glasses intact for the whole of the summer break. He was the reason she was still here today...albeit, shovelling snow into a bucket for hours on end.
He was also the one who didn't laugh when she turned into a likeness of Millicent Bulstrode's cat, who hadn't made quick assumptions about Crookshanks' involvement with the disappearance of Scabbers, who truly appreciated her homework help, who was always a gentleman and hardly ever got into a disagreement with her. In many ways, she admired him more for his humbleness than for his heroic traits. He was the one who always stayed by his friends' bedsides when they were injured/unconscious/petrified/etc. and the one who lay there patiently when he was injured/unconscious/petrified/etc. listening to his friends' constant bickering.
Hermione collapsed onto the snow after several hours, each bush in sight with a small hedge of snow around its base composed of the snow which used to rest in a thick layer over Hogwarts' driveway. And all this for the disappointingly-thick Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and his cronies. It seemed almost ironic. She cast her eyes up to the cloud-filled sky and kept them open even though a few flakes of snow had made their way onto her eyeballs.
Moments later, she blacked out.