70. Pegasus – Pegasus was a winged horse. Pegasus spent his days carrying lightning bolts for Zeus. Write about Helga Hufflepuff. Alt; write about a helping hand
There was a legend about the well in the garden, hidden far behind the castle's immense rose bushes and towering oak trees. There was nothing magnificent about it's appearance, it was dried up and the weeds growing around and through the cracked stone hadn't been pulled in what looked like decades. One side of the frayed rope had snapped, so the small bucket once used to scoop out water was left dangling.
Though it seemed as if it was just an an old eyesore, Hermione Granger had been told stories about the well.
It was said to have been built around the time the Hogwarts Founders were still young, ages ago. It was said to have powers of sorts, the ability to bring soul-mates together. It was said that in order for it to work, the one yearning to meet their life mate must visit it on a blue moon.
Many things had been said over the years, especially by the female population of Hogwarts. Tales of blossoming romances between complete strangers or the best of friends that had met up one fateful evening in the clearing where the well sat. Legend said that it wasn't just as simple as finding your soul-mate the very first night after the attempted feat. If you didn't feel a connection, indescribable as some of the girl's in her year had recounted, then it wasn't meant to be. You were to part ways and come back the next blue moon, hoping to find your other half.
Even from the tender age of eleven, Hermione never believed in such rubbish. No bloody well could bring you your soul-mate, it was the most ridiculous and illogical thing Hermione had heard in all of her years at Hogwarts! So while a large majority of the school went on to waste their time wishing on an old, dingy piece of history, Hermione spent her time studying. She'd never went looking for it nor did she ever plan to.
It was on a frigid December evening, her 6th year of attending the school, that she found herself trudging through the snow on the castle grounds. The tears had long since ceased falling, though the cold air stung her cheeks from the wet trail they left down her face. She was bundled up in a wool jumper and thick mittens, her bushy hair falling freely around her shoulders beneath her knit hat. She was shivering, but the cold helped keep her mind off what she'd just witnessed.
She forced back the sudden onslaught of tears, trying to blink away the image of Ron and Lavender snogging in the Gryffindor common room for all to see. If Hermione would have known that would be the scene that greeted her after a long day of classes, she would have just done her homework in the library instead.
She took a deep, shaky breath and began following a set of footprints she'd just come across in the snow. The sun had set long ago and it was difficult to see through the heavy flakes, but she didn't really care where she was headed. They were leading away from the castle and that was all that mattered. The small, silly task distracted her slightly and for that she was grateful. She didn't want to think about how much it hurt to see the young man she'd liked for years kissing another woman. She didn't want to think about how foolish she'd been, waiting around like some lovesick puppy for him to finally notice her in a way other than one of his best mates.
She didn't want to think at all, so she focused on the footprints. They were larger than hers, which was helpful as she could step in them and not worry about sinking. She was so intent on this that she didn't even bother to consider where this trail would lead, or to whom for that matter.
Her head snapped up when she heard a rustle and she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of Draco Malfoy, covered in snow and leaning against a stone foundation of sorts. A well, perhaps?
Her train of thought ceased abruptly and she found herself staring back at him, wide-eyed and at a loss for words. He wasn't snarling or scowling at her, something she'd become quite accustomed to over the years. His gray eyes weren't hard, but rather thoughtful, and his expression pensive.
She would have taken an angry, glowering Malfoy over this quiet one any day.
He broke the awkward silence, but not with an insult like she was expecting. "What brings you around this neck of the woods, Granger?"
She could only blinked in confusion and wonder what the bloody hell had gotten into the Slytherin. Was he really being civil, now of all times?
"Did that mangy furball of yours get your tongue or something?"
Ahh, now they were venturing into familiar territory.
"No." She glared at him, more than a little rattled when he merely shrugged and ran a pale hand through his blonde hair, which she'd noticed had grown out a little. It reached the collar of his robes and curled slightly around his ear, giving his face a softer look.
"Suit yourself. I was attempting to be a gentleman and divert from that fact that you look like shite after a good cry." Though his words were rude, there was no real bite to them.
"Shut up, ferret." Hermione grumbled, redirecting her gaze to the well behind him. "What are you doing here, of all places?"
He shrugged again, his relaxed posture hinting that he was more at ease with the situation than she was. "I needed to get out of the castle and this is where I wound up."
A simple enough of an explanation, Hermione could only hope that he hadn't heard about the legend. Not that she believed there was truth to it, but she reckoned this was awkward enough.
The brunette sighed sadly, the tension leaving her body and causing her shoulders to sag. "Me too," she admitted with a small smile. "I was beginning to feel a little suffocated."
He nodded then, as if he understood, though Hermione couldn't quite see how.
The wind howled and she pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, cursing herself for coming out so far in the cold and eager to depart from the accursed well and the Malfoy heir. She was just about to take her leave when she noticed Malfoy's hands, devoid of any protection against the bitter weather.
"Are you barmy?!" she scolded, storming forward and motioning to his nearly blue fingers. "Where are your mitts, it's freezing!"
He scowled then, shoving his hands in his pockets. His features were lit up by the moon's light, and she was glad to see he didn't look angry. Just irritated. "Mind your own business, Granger."
She sighed, shaking her head in frustration and peeling off her own mittens.
"What the bloody hell are…" Draco was interrupted by Hermione shoving her gloves into his chest, the shocked look on his face undoubtedly satisfying.
"Take them," she stated firmly. She turned to leave before he could throw them back in her face when he called out to her.
"What about you?" His voice was soft and inquiring, as if he was actually concerned. A warm, unfamiliar feeling blossomed in her chest, spreading throughout her body and causing her to smile, genuinely smile, for the first time that day.
She glanced over her shoulder, the kind smile shining across her flushed face. "I'm heading back, so I'll be fine for a few minutes. You've been out here for Merlin knows how long and I won't be an accomplice to you not being able to use your wand after you've gotten frostbitten."
She began following her tracks back towards the castle, and just as she was nearly out of the clearing she heard his voice once more, making her turn to face him. Though it was muffled by the wind, she heard each word clearly.
"Weasley's an arse, you know!" Draco shouted, still clutching her mitts to his chest and gazing at her intently. "A complete and utter ponce!"
That warm feeling intensified tenfold and she felt herself blush, thankful that her cheeks were already red from the cold. A loud, hearty laugh burst out of her throat and her smile grew even wider. She only shook her head at him before taking her leave for real this time, but Hermione was sure her eyes conveyed the gratitude she felt for his words.
As she made her way back towards the castle, she realized how much lighter she felt. She couldn't quite describe everything she was feeling, but it felt like she could breathe easier and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much and she didn't quite know what to do with herself. How could such a short, pointless conversation with her enemy of six years leave her feeling almost...giddy.
All thoughts of Ron and Lavender flew from her mind and she went about her night sitting by the fire with a good book, Crookshanks curled up by her feet comfortably.
Occasionally her thoughts would drift to a certain blonde haired Slytherin who was the last person she would have expected to have made her feel better.
She finally decided to retire for the night, marking her place in her book and stretching as she stood from the armchair when a third year zoomed by, bundled up the way she herself had been earlier that day.
"Oi!" Hermione called out sternly, startling the young witch enough to pause by the portrait. "Where do you think you're going this late?"
The other girl smiled widely, gesturing to the window by the staircase. "Didn't you know, it's been a blue moon for hours!" the girl stressed, inching closer towards the exit. "Loads of people have already been to the well tonight, I don't want to miss it!"
She took off, but Hermione couldn't find the sense to stop her. She was too busy peering at the bright full moon visible between the gap of the curtains, her thoughts in overdrive as the blue hue shined dimly in the common room.
It wasn't possible, it was just a fairy tale of sorts.
Right?