Disclaimer: I own nothing but my words and my thoughts
The first night of December came accompanied by torrents of snow and a lacey border that crept along the window panes of one intrinsically mysterious library. It was an immense and cavernous space, filled with the musk of thought and the age of genius. However, the musk and age did more than just ferment the books into a wine of infinite flavor, but granted the library an unexplained ability to decipher desire and restructure at whim. The magic was palpable, but unplottable. In a phrase this palace of secret and phenomenon was the lock and key to the wizarding world.
Within its depths, in a corner of tremendous secret, a young man furiously read the stained pages of an earthy tome. Opposite him, a hearth merrily cast flame mirages to dance along the silver strands of his hair and the polish of his badge. Spells and incantations mulled in his mind. The hours passed, candles burning themselves to wicks. Finally, the seventeen year old shut the volume in disappointment. With a flick of his wand, each of the books reappeared on the shelves to blend into the whir of reshuffling. The wizard on the other hand, stayed where he was and, ever so gently, massaged his neck.
The hearth flickered several times before extinguishing, telling the young man to leave the book stacks and return to his dorms. He stood and, in a flourish of black robe, strode from the chair, from the corner, from the library, and into the stone halls of Hogwarts. Shadows raced to follow the young man descending into the lair of Hogwart's most devious.
Torches licked the walls of the staircase and the sound of footsteps echoed hollowly before ceasing. Before the young man stood a stone wall, covered in several colors of ominous looking vines. The young man ate a black veined leaf and drawled "Nox noctis est nostri". The wall dematerialized into a thick mossy mist. He stepped through the mist and into the Slytherin common room.
An enormous fire place was the only source of light and it only washed the room in unnatural green, breding shadows to whisper along the walls. Except for the fire's cackle, there was no sound as the young man approached the fire. He leaned against the mantle, heating his hands above the molten licks. He skin appeared ethereally green and, without turning, he addressed a rapt audience. "Zabini, Nott, Baddock, Urquhart." He paused. "What have you accomplished?"
His skin indistinguishable from his robes, Blaise Zabini stood. "We have the order to unite the lower houses of Slytherin and Gryffindor," he paused, "We also have the locket you wanted." Blaise walked closer and extended his arm. The other young man slowly took the proffered locket. Suspended from a finger, it turned slowly, lapped in green.
"Thank you." he spoke with his steely eyes focused on the locket in hand. Thoroughly exhausted, the four other Slytherin blended back into the shadows, their footsteps retreating. Once again, the blonde was alone.
His eyes closed as he orchestrated how that rag-tag cult should find the Horcrux. 'Stupid bloody Gryffindors' he mused. At that point he walked through the common and ascended eight floors. He came upon an enormous Sphinx, nestled in Egyptian sand and basking in the starlight of its backdrop. "Unity" he whispered. The great feline lowered her head to gaze at the young man and his badge before rising to grant him access to the Head's Common.
Upon entering the common he took no pause. Instead he glided up the marble stairs that plateaued before dividing into two opposite staircases. The staircases were made of the same pale stone but to the left, a plait of silver carpet emblazoned the middle of the staircase. To the right the was carpet, not silver, but a ribbon of russet gold adorning the staircase.
At the plateau he turned left. With a tap of his wand, he slipped past the threshold of his door. He lit the candles running up the planes of his numerous and towering bookshelves. The candles graciously spilled light on the contours of the lush silks in his bed, the carefully ordered books, and snowy owl that rested in a silver cage. He began to strip, meticulously removing each article and folding them. He stepped into a pair of silk boxers before crawling under the heavy bedding.
As he slept the December wind continued to blow and the lace on the window grew more intricate along his tall panes.
The dawn broke blissfully in the dorm past the strip of gold. Hazily sun-breaths painted gold upon the myriad auburn threads and red sheets, and among the hazel curls was the romance of a caramel sun. The mane haloed the girl who lay tucked among the sheets and at her feet was a paneless window holding a frozen lake, virgin snow, and the breaking dawn.
Aside from the bed's tranquil scene, the room was in complete disarray. Her cherry-wood desk was masked by hundreds of papers, scrolls, and ink stains. The handwriting on all of the papers and scrolls was nice, if not beautiful in its alternating breadth and ornate cursive loops; however the writing was illegal but to her and its ubiquitous nature seemed to overwhelm the room. Thick, well-kept books lined the shelves of several bookcases and several lay on the floor, underlined and so filled with illegible notes they were useless to anyone but her. Among several of the shelves were jars of varying size and color and roughly bound books clearly made by the girl. Most of the walls were vast windows, but left-over wall space was cover with formulas and spells written in beautiful and illegible handwriting.
Perhaps you are bright and have deduced that she is brilliant, for the posted theorems and beautifully illegible handwriting are the tell-tales of genius. However, you couldn't possibly have known what every student in Hogwarts seems to know, she is the most brilliant witch of her age.
As the sun made its brilliant ascent, a scruffy looking cat jumped onto the bed. Slowly, every so slowly it inched toward the girl. When it reached her, paw after careful paw, it climbed atop her chest and began to vibrate, almost violently, with purrs.
"Too early, Crookshanks! Go away," her attempts to make the cat leave were halfhearted and neither did the cat move nor stop purring. Hermione shifted on her side and cuddled the cat against the rise and fall of her chest. So among her pillows and sheets, Hermione spent the early morning hours.
"Mornin', Mione" drawled a ginger-headed boy. Although he really had only recently noticed her, she had actually been sitting beside him for thirty minutes, conversing with Harry. Ron would have noticed sooner had not a peculiar type of food appeared before him that morning. It was pancake shaped, a mottled purple, and had not tasted dissimilar to oatmeal. He was intrigued and already had eaten five.
Thousands of carriers flew into the Hall with parcels, papers, and snowy crown. "Harry… Harry!" Ginny tugged at his sleeve. He turned from Hermione and kissed Ginny's nose. She rolled her eyes and they smiled. "Have you bought your dress robes? Or should I buy them for us?"
Hermione didn't mind the interruption for she watched a lithe and silvery owl descend before her. It offer her a rolled parchment tied with a crimson ribbon. She hesitantly took the letter, and noted that strangely no one at her table noticed the owl perched so elegantly before her. She tore it open and read:
H. Granger
Come to the library. Bring no one. 10 tonight.
D. Malfoy
The owl in front of her ruffled its feathers. Respond. She looked sharp as though the words had been spoken to her. Three tables down and directly opposite her were two grey eyes boring intensely into her own. They indicated to the owl. Hermione stared fiercely into the grey before looking to the paper.
D. Malfoy
No.
H. Granger
She retied the paper and handed it to the owl. As it flew she knew there would be a response, a short quip about 'just do it' or something similar. So she watched the exchange between Malfoy and the bird. He absently stroked him as he read her response. A small furrow appeared between blonde brows, but otherwise he seemed assured and unperturbed. He looked up, and smirked at her.
I will be there and so will you. Hermione's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Malfoy only smirked before leaving the Slytherin table and smoothly exiting the Great Hall. Hermione watched him leave.
"Hermione… Hermione!" Ginny Weasely waved dramatically in front of her face, infuriated by Hermione's distraction. Hermione turned slowly, reluctant to take her eyes off of Malfoy, but completely, and joined the conversation.
"I was just saying that we need to go to Hogsmeade today," Ginny looked at Hermione, "I haven't bought gifts for anyone and Christmas is just weeks away. Christmas and the Winter Formal," she sighed exasperatedly.
Hermione tossed her hair and grinned, "The best of times; the worst of times. So much to do and so much to be done." She pushed away her plate and swung her legs over the bench. "I got to run, Gin, but meet you for Lunch at Broomsticks?" Her eyebrows were raised in question.
Ginny, still wanting to talk, grumpily conceded, "Be here on time for once, Hermione. I don't have all December to do this stuff." She stopped, and before she could get another word out, Hermione was halfway out of the Hall.
Hermione retied her hair. Curls still threatened to fall out, but at this point Hermione didn't care. Wheezing and bent over in exhaustion, she leaned an arm against the wall.
"Not good enough. You have to try again, enunciating, feeling the transformation in your mind," Professor Snape stood behind her. "Again," he snapped, "or you'll die before graduation." "And stop bending over, I don't want to hear your pathetic pants."
The walls of Snape's dungeon sang with the magic. Repeatedly she chanted ancient incantations, her energy sapped but her mind unwilling to bend. She radiated the softest golden energy, and it hummed around her as her mind set to the task of perfecting her wand-less magic. Her damp curls lengthened with the weight of her sweat, her clothes were damp and the energy she emitted slowly burned the fibers. Finally, after much laborious concentration, the hideous desk she had been focusing on burst into flame and ash. Satisfied she smiled.
Snape, however, frowned deeper. "Miss Granger, I strongly suggest practice. It has taken you three hours to burn a desk when it should have taken moments." With a quick thought, the ashes swept away and into the waste bin. He turned away and picked an electric blue potion from a shelf. He poured about a teaspoon into the lid and handed it to Hermione.
Grateful, she swallowed the revitalizing potion and sprinted from the dungeon. 'Twelve forty-five, Ginny will kill me in twenty-six minutes' she thought. She came to the Stair Well and looked up. The glass dome allowed an unobstructed view of blue and the staircases swiveling just so through the air. With a huff she jogged up the first flights and then with the last of her energy sprinted up the remaining staircases to the portrait of the Giant Sphinx. She smiled, "Unity". The Sphinx moved the side and Hermione walked through.
She headed straight through the common room, taking no notice of the blond gentleman seated on the green sofa by the fire until his deep aristocratic voice stopped her, "Granger, its ten sharp. I do not abide by tardiness."
She turned quickly and glared at him, "Shove off."
Before she could turn again, the book he was reading was snapped shut, and he was in front of her. His hands reached out and grasped her arms, rendering them numb and pained. She cried out a little bit and steel eyes met chocolate. She glared and clamped her jaw in pain, and though he smirked his eyes were demanding and icy. "You will meet me in the Library, or not live to regret it."
Shouldering free of his grip, Hermione snarled, "Get out of my way". And she tried to push past him, but the years had been good to Draco and his body was tall and built. She would have sooner pushed past a brick wall. He smirked again.
"Just be there, Hermione." He turned and went back to his plush sofa. Hermione raced upstairs and Malfoy could faintly hear the rush of a showerhead.
Half an hour later, Hermione managed a weak smile in hopes of appeasing an angry Ginny. The other girl glared for a moment before picking up that morning's conversation where it had left off: The Winter Formal. "Hermione, as Head Girl, you positively have to attend." With that the girls began their walk to Hogsmeade.
Hands passed each other on the face of Hermione's watch, money passed hands for merchandise, but the topic stayed resolutely on the Formal.
"Hermione, you must have a date for the dance," Ginny decided. "How about Seamus, I hear he's still available."
"Oh honestly, what's the point, Gin? I don't even want to go to the dance. I can't dance!"
"Hermione, don't be ridiculous. Of course you can dance, everyone can dance."
"No, Gin, you don't understand. I can't. I get nervous, and uncoordinated,"
"More than normal?" Ginny interrupted, sincerely concerned.
"You have no idea," she responded.
"Can't be possible, I mean, Hermione Granger… you're… Hermione Granger. Perfect witch and you can't dance. Oh this is delightful," Ginny chortled in amusement at Hermione's chagrined expression. "You're going to this dance, stag or otherwise, I don't care. So I suggest you find a date."
Hermione thought of Malfoy, of tonight, and wondering if he were a good dancer. "Hey, Gin," she asked dazedly.
"Hmm?" replied Ginny, concentrating on spotting a dress shop.
"You think Draco is a good dancer?" she looked to Ginny, ready to be berated all to hell for asking after him. But Ginny didn't look upset in fact, she smiled a little and off to the side.
"I think, 'Mione, that he is probably one hell of a dancer. Probably better than any other guy in this school," she paused thoughtfully, but just as soon as she had tilted her head, she exclaimed, "Ah Ha! I found it."
Excitement rang loudly in the green-eyed witch as she looked back to her friend. Recognition dawned in the girl that her friend was beautiful, laughter in every line of her face, rosy cheeks, unruly but beautiful curls that caught every light with vigor, and all in all her appearance was like dawn, rose-fingered and curious. Ginny stopped for a moment, and just appreciated the beautiful friend before her.
"Gin, what is it?" Hermione wondered aloud.
"Hmm? Oh, nothing, come on. You'll go to this dance and this is where we'll find our dresses trust me! Mum knew the maker from back when she went to Hogwarts, fabulous lady. I've met her couple of times, even went to her house. Must admit lots of cats, tons of cats even, but truly a lovely woman. I have two of her dresses, gave them to me for my last birthday, fit like a charm! Oh, you'll love her. She's like you, you know, just brilliant, but with clothes. She'll make you a dream dress, I can tell. Lots of rose and gold! It'll be lovely."
Ginny chattered relentlessly as they checked out the dresses on the shelf. Ginny pulled out several without looking and then left Hermione, alone, in the middle of a vastly over crowded dress shop. Knowing nothing about dresses she ran her fingers over the fabrics, watching as all the innumerable dresses began to shape and shift colors. Reds, Golds, Greens, Blues, Silvers, they faded in and out of every color and shape. It was fascinating.
Hermione smiled despite herself, when a touch on her shoulder startled her from her reverie. "Dear, let me make you my muse for the rest of the day. I promise you won't regret it." Hermione looked into the wickedly fashionable women's eyes, they swirled in and out of violet. She grinned at the young woman, and Hermione smiled back.
"But of course, you must be the woman Gin was talking about! I'm sorry, how terribly rude of me, I'm Pier."