A/N: Here's a little drabble-y ficlet. I would say more but then I don't want to give away anything (not that there is much to give away). This would be set in 7th year. And I actually liked how this drabble turned out. Enjoy! R&R! Thanks! –Mac
Disclaimer:
I
don't own HP.
She's So Composed, They'll Never Know
Hermione Granger steps out of the empty classroom and into the deserted corridor. She dusts invisible dust off her skirt, and straightens her tie. She smoothes her shirt and pulls her cloak around her tightly. Then she is gone, off toward Gryffindor Tower.
She's so composed, they'll never know.
She doesn't show it on her face. A blush doesn't rise in her cheeks, the color like flames on her skin. Her lips don't hold a secret smile. Her expression remains empty and unreadable.
She's so composed, they'll never know.
She doesn't let it show in her eyes. Where her friends could once read her like a book, her eyes now hold her secrets concealed. No emotion seeps in, unwanted, to betray her. The windows to her soul have closed in one manner and draw no attention.
She's so composed, they'll never know.
She doesn't move or speak or act differently. She's her normal self—no one can see a difference, nor are they looking for one. She's not a clumsy fool. She doesn't let it slip or do anything to give herself away. Her secret is perfectly locked away.
She's so composed, they'll never know she's sleeping with Draco Malfoy.