Disclaimer: The wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to none other than
the talented J. K. Rowling. If you didn't know that already, then slap
yourself. Hard. No infringement was ever meant by the creation of this, or
any of my other stories. I assure you that they were all written out of
love for the art of writing and I am making no money out of them.
Please review.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
You have come here
in pursuit of
your deepest urge,
in pursuit of
that wish,
which till now
has been silent.
I have brought you,
that our passions
may fuse and merge -
in your mind
you've already
succumbed to me
dropped all defenses
completely succumbed to me -
now you are here with me:
no second thoughts,
you've decided.
Past the point
of no return -
no backward glances:
the games we've played
till now are at
an end . . .
- The Point of No Return, The Phantom of the Opera
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
The stinging, cold wind caressed his hard features, ruffling his blond hair. The bright, white snow that covered everything around him, made his eyes water and he dug deeper into the warm pockets of his thick, expensive cloak.
Under no circumstances would a normal person stand outside, this early, on a cold, winter's morning such as this. Especially while it was snowing. But then again, no one could ever call him normal!
His cold, grey eyes glittered appreciatively as he surveyed the frozen landscape around him. How he loved the winter!
No mild-tempered spring could ever compare to the majestic fury of a storm. And the scorching, summer sun lacked the purity and innocence of snow. The world was at its finest under the harsh light of a grey sky, when the stubborn trees stood their ground - stark and bare though they were - against the howling wind.
He stretched out his hand, palm turned upwards, allowing the snowflakes to fall gently onto his black, leather glove. This was a world made up of shades of grey, of shadows. His kind of world. He knew he did not belong in the colour filled world he saw in the eyes of the other people around him. He never had. He never would. . .
A throaty peal of laughter accompanied by a sudden burst of music startled him out of his musings. He stood still at first, frowning. The music was haunting, intense. It fitted the mood of the world around it. The laughter rang again and, instinctively, he followed it.
It never occurred to him to wonder from whom that sound had come. It never occurred to him, as he scrambled over a small mountain of snow, to ask who, besides himself, would defy the elements of nature on a morning such as this, and why.
Nothing in his entire life had ever prepared him for what he was about to face.
The scene before him, took his breath away. On the frozen lake stood the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Abandoning all thought and reason he hid, so as not to interrupt what he had unwittingly walked in on.
Her cinnamon curls were thrown behind her as she gracefully skated on the ice covered lake; one leg raised high, her arms outstretched. Her eyes twinkled with delight and her cheeks had taken on a rosy colour from her obvious exertion.
Draco Malfoy, son - and sole heir - of one of the richest and most powerful pure-blooded, wizarding families in the world, found himself crouching in the snow, strangely awed and humbled by the sight that unravelled before his very eyes.
Who was she? Was she real or an illusion sent to taunt him? If so, she was a strange and beautiful illusion indeed. . . Her lightness and grace on the ice were not of this world. What magical creature was this that seemed to revel in the cold, as he had, mere moments ago? To Draco, she reminded him of the tale of the Snow Queen that a governess had told him long ago. Was this the cruel queen that had, unblinkingly, lead mortals to their deaths, enticing them with her frigid beauty?
But as Draco watched the beautiful, young woman perform a set of complicated and elegant turns and twists, he found his mind clearing of all coherent thoughts.
Her laughter rang again. She seemed genuinely thrilled at her own antics on the ice. Draco felt his heart beating to the rhythm of the music. As her laughter echoed in the vastness of the landscape that surrounded them, he felt warmth rush through him and he knew that she was no Snow Queen.
Something inside him told him to leave. He should not be there watching this creature in what obviously was a private moment. He willed himself to go, but his feet seemed bizarrely planted on the ground he stood. They stubbornly refused to obey his mind's commands. His eyes were firmly transfixed on the lone figure dancing on the ice.
Whatever spell this creature had placed on him, was powerful, he decided. Strangely enough, he didn't seem to care. He could stay there, crouching out of sight, watching her, forever.
His wish was not granted however and the song soon came to an end.
Draco found himself holding his breath as the girl came to an elegant stop, a mere two metres away from him. He ignored the thundering thumping of his heart and bravely looked upwards.
Two large, bright, liquid brown eyes, a straight nose and full red lips slightly parted for being out of breath, were framed by a wild mane of curls. Draco's eyes widened in recognition.
Before him stood Hermione Granger, but it was a Hermione Granger he had never seen before. Her ivory skin was positively glowing with, what he could only call, an inner light. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from her dance as her eyes stared dreamily in the distance, and snowflakes hang on her hair. She was without a doubt the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
Between the insults, the fights, and the curses in the past seven years he had overlooked her transformation to a young woman of not only great wit, but of bewitching beauty.
It was at that very moment that Draco Malfoy felt himself falling in love with Hermione Granger. His one time enemy.
He silently watched her lovingly take off her ice skates and waited for her to leave the lake, heading for the huge castle that was Hogwarts.
Draco finally stood up to his full height. He allowed his eyes to sweep over the frozen scene before him. He had never loved the winter more. It was the winter in all its glory that had shown him Hermione the way she truly was, and for that he could only be grateful.
Slowly he followed her back to the castle.
Please review.
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
You have come here
in pursuit of
your deepest urge,
in pursuit of
that wish,
which till now
has been silent.
I have brought you,
that our passions
may fuse and merge -
in your mind
you've already
succumbed to me
dropped all defenses
completely succumbed to me -
now you are here with me:
no second thoughts,
you've decided.
Past the point
of no return -
no backward glances:
the games we've played
till now are at
an end . . .
- The Point of No Return, The Phantom of the Opera
=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=
The stinging, cold wind caressed his hard features, ruffling his blond hair. The bright, white snow that covered everything around him, made his eyes water and he dug deeper into the warm pockets of his thick, expensive cloak.
Under no circumstances would a normal person stand outside, this early, on a cold, winter's morning such as this. Especially while it was snowing. But then again, no one could ever call him normal!
His cold, grey eyes glittered appreciatively as he surveyed the frozen landscape around him. How he loved the winter!
No mild-tempered spring could ever compare to the majestic fury of a storm. And the scorching, summer sun lacked the purity and innocence of snow. The world was at its finest under the harsh light of a grey sky, when the stubborn trees stood their ground - stark and bare though they were - against the howling wind.
He stretched out his hand, palm turned upwards, allowing the snowflakes to fall gently onto his black, leather glove. This was a world made up of shades of grey, of shadows. His kind of world. He knew he did not belong in the colour filled world he saw in the eyes of the other people around him. He never had. He never would. . .
A throaty peal of laughter accompanied by a sudden burst of music startled him out of his musings. He stood still at first, frowning. The music was haunting, intense. It fitted the mood of the world around it. The laughter rang again and, instinctively, he followed it.
It never occurred to him to wonder from whom that sound had come. It never occurred to him, as he scrambled over a small mountain of snow, to ask who, besides himself, would defy the elements of nature on a morning such as this, and why.
Nothing in his entire life had ever prepared him for what he was about to face.
The scene before him, took his breath away. On the frozen lake stood the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Abandoning all thought and reason he hid, so as not to interrupt what he had unwittingly walked in on.
Her cinnamon curls were thrown behind her as she gracefully skated on the ice covered lake; one leg raised high, her arms outstretched. Her eyes twinkled with delight and her cheeks had taken on a rosy colour from her obvious exertion.
Draco Malfoy, son - and sole heir - of one of the richest and most powerful pure-blooded, wizarding families in the world, found himself crouching in the snow, strangely awed and humbled by the sight that unravelled before his very eyes.
Who was she? Was she real or an illusion sent to taunt him? If so, she was a strange and beautiful illusion indeed. . . Her lightness and grace on the ice were not of this world. What magical creature was this that seemed to revel in the cold, as he had, mere moments ago? To Draco, she reminded him of the tale of the Snow Queen that a governess had told him long ago. Was this the cruel queen that had, unblinkingly, lead mortals to their deaths, enticing them with her frigid beauty?
But as Draco watched the beautiful, young woman perform a set of complicated and elegant turns and twists, he found his mind clearing of all coherent thoughts.
Her laughter rang again. She seemed genuinely thrilled at her own antics on the ice. Draco felt his heart beating to the rhythm of the music. As her laughter echoed in the vastness of the landscape that surrounded them, he felt warmth rush through him and he knew that she was no Snow Queen.
Something inside him told him to leave. He should not be there watching this creature in what obviously was a private moment. He willed himself to go, but his feet seemed bizarrely planted on the ground he stood. They stubbornly refused to obey his mind's commands. His eyes were firmly transfixed on the lone figure dancing on the ice.
Whatever spell this creature had placed on him, was powerful, he decided. Strangely enough, he didn't seem to care. He could stay there, crouching out of sight, watching her, forever.
His wish was not granted however and the song soon came to an end.
Draco found himself holding his breath as the girl came to an elegant stop, a mere two metres away from him. He ignored the thundering thumping of his heart and bravely looked upwards.
Two large, bright, liquid brown eyes, a straight nose and full red lips slightly parted for being out of breath, were framed by a wild mane of curls. Draco's eyes widened in recognition.
Before him stood Hermione Granger, but it was a Hermione Granger he had never seen before. Her ivory skin was positively glowing with, what he could only call, an inner light. Her cheeks were slightly flushed from her dance as her eyes stared dreamily in the distance, and snowflakes hang on her hair. She was without a doubt the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
Between the insults, the fights, and the curses in the past seven years he had overlooked her transformation to a young woman of not only great wit, but of bewitching beauty.
It was at that very moment that Draco Malfoy felt himself falling in love with Hermione Granger. His one time enemy.
He silently watched her lovingly take off her ice skates and waited for her to leave the lake, heading for the huge castle that was Hogwarts.
Draco finally stood up to his full height. He allowed his eyes to sweep over the frozen scene before him. He had never loved the winter more. It was the winter in all its glory that had shown him Hermione the way she truly was, and for that he could only be grateful.
Slowly he followed her back to the castle.