A Serpent's Breath
Hermione cursed herself under her breath, while scraping chestnut curls out of her face, and back into her messy bun. The bitter winds bit and scratched at her skin, driving cold into the bones of any who dared to brave the winter afternoon. Huddling deeper into her jacket, Hermione glanced through the frosted window of 'Quality Quidditch Supplies: Hogsmeade', ignoring the temptation to join the students, already packed inside the shop. The look of smugness the would become permanently plastered across Ron's face once she stepped inside, before her dragged her off to see every damned broom, ball and set of robes in the shop was more than enough to keep her outside.
If you're ever too cold to stand still, walk. Her father's words floated into Hermione's mind, tinged with happy, sunshine filled memories of camping with her parents. Hermione hesitated for a moment – what if the boys panicked when they couldn't find her? Rebellion flashed into her mind. Why should she wait for the two boys outside in a snowstorm? What was she, their lost puppy? If they were that worried, they would be taking so long and letting her freeze to death out here!
Without another thought, Hermione turned, fisted more curls back into place and marched off into the nearby woods.
The further Hermione got from Hogsmeade, the more at peace she found herself. Each emerald pine needle had a silver frosting, making the entire forest shine. Despite the bitter cold, under the cover of the tree the snow fall slowed, making it a gentle caress on Hermione's reddened cheeks above her scarf. Beneath her feet, untouched snow crunched, the only sound in the silent forest. The whole world was silent – frozen under a coat of shining silver.
Gradually the rest of the world slipped away. Why would she need all that clutter when she could be here, peaceful and quite? Time became meaningless. One hour or two, what did it matter? All that mattered was this beauty. This was perfection incarnate. There was no hatred here. No humiliation. No suffering. It simply was. And would always be.
But while her mind was content, her body, having wandered for hours was not. So when Hermione became aware of the throbbing in her feet, and the ache of her calves, it seemed the most natural thing in the world to sink down into the soft snow at the base of a huge pine tree and just rest. Her eyes drifted closed, as the forest began to darken for the night. Visible through the trees, uncorrupted by light pollution was a blaze of stars. The celestial heavens looked down on the girl, with her chocolate hair, and milky skin, curled up against a tree and it smiled.
Nine and a half miles away, all was not well at Hogwarts. When Hermione Granger was not with Harry and Ron for lunch, people just assumed she was in the library. When she was not there for dinner, people started to worry. When there was no sign of the Gryffindor in the common room, dorm room or the library, there was panic. The Hogwarts Head girl was not someone to be missing without a good reason. The no-one had seen here since the Hogsmeade trip, and Filch reported that she had never returned with the other students.
Then one very unusual source stepped forward.
The Head Boy
Draco Malfoy was not the person he had been before the war. He had tracked the Golden Trio to Shell cottage, where he offered his services to the Light. After that day, the name Malfoy, at least in relation to the youngest member, lost its status as synonymous with Death Eater.
But even the Light cannot erase what was there to begin with. While no longer a blood purist, or a general git, Draco was still sarcastic, cunning, somewhat caustic and very slippery. Ron hated him. Harry had a tentative friendship with the Slytherin but it was Hermione that seemed the most compatible with the former Death Eater.
He still sneered. He still made superior, drawling comments. He was still the epitome of arrogant aristocrat. But Draco and Hermione could sit for hours, locked in intellectual battle.
He could follow her mind, and the complex pattern of her thoughts. She could quote ancient texts from heart, and follow the most advanced magical theories. He could find flaws in any argument, and could lead her in circles for the answer for any question. She could formulate ideas that were generations ahead of others, and disregarded magical rules that had been set by wizards' millennia ago.
On one point the Order agreed. At least these two didn't try to include them. Following these conversations gave fully grown wizards a headache.
What no-one knew about Draco Malfoy was that sometime over that summer, the summer of frustration, fear and battles was that he fell in love.
Sometime between the lines of academic embattlement, Draco conceded the one point that he had always held close. His heart. The busy haired, buck toothed know-it-all of their early years had transformed into a beautiful, confident, fiercely intelligent woman, whom he was finding it increasingly difficult to walk away from.
So when he heard that she had gone missing, a hard, aching knot of worry appeared under his breastbone, in the hollow left by Hermione Granger's conquest.
Setting out from the Slytherin common room, he made his way up to the headmistresses office, barely aware of where his feet carried him.
"Athena"
The stone gargoyle sprung away, and soon Draco stood at the doors of the headmistress's office.
"Malfoy, what can I do for you?"
The stony faced woman had aged ten years in the last few hours, with the disappearance of her favourite student wearing on the older woman.
"I think I may know where Herm-Granger is."
A sudden flash of hope crossed her face, as McGonagall rose half way out of her chair.
"Mr Malfoy, if you have any knowledge of Miss Granger's current whereabouts, I ask that you give it to me immediately."
Draco strode across the room, his heart clenching at the thought of her, out there, cold and alone. For the window, he could see the snowy forest, with the black branches stuck through the coating of snow like dying finger, stretching for warmth. Outside, the snow still fell, blanketing the grounds ever more thoroughly in winters icy grip.
"I saw her walking into the forest at around 11 o'clock yesterday. Permission to go down to Hogsmeade with a group of students and investigate?"
The headmistress only deliberated for a moment, before nodding stiffly. Her eyes
"Quickly Mr Malfoy. If you are correct, Miss Granger may be in more serious trouble then we imagined."
Six students, bundled up and with powerful heating charms, slogged through the snow, on the road down to Hogsmeade. Draco Malfoy lead the group of 7th years, his ice-blond hair matching the snow around them. He was directly followed by Blaise Zabini – his chocolate skin looking even darker compared to the icy whiteness, and Theodore Nott, who carried a slim volume, heavily charmed against damage in this weather.
Directly behind Theo, taking full advantage of his bulk was Ginny Weasley, who's hair, blowing in the wind, blazed in the whiteness. Jonathan Fearson, a 7th year Ravenclaw accompanied her and Luna Lovegood drifted up the back, serenely smiling out at the snow.
"She went in behind Quality Quidditch" Draco called back, over the wind. "We'll spread out and search for there"
Too tired to answer, the other's simply nodded.
This was going to be a long day
