Prompt: Write about 15 minutes in the downfall of love.
Hermione Granger is a girl. It's a little known fact; her best kept secret, in fact. She's a lot of things to a lot of people: a teacher's pet, a best friend, a confidante, that bushy haired girl whose face is always between the covers of a book. But when she's alone, Hermione likes to pretend that she's a girl – like Lavender or Parvati or any of the others in her dormitory whom she regards with a mixture of envy and disdain. She abhors their silliness, their flights of fancy, their endless giggling over 20 Second Colour Changing Nail Polish. But at the same time she wishes she could share their optimism about Prince Charming being right around the corner, put off her homework till the last minute and not care, spend a day doing something like putting on makeup for no better reason than trying it out.
So when she turns up for the Yule Ball looking like a girl and feeling like a girl in front of everyone no one guesses at the effort it took her to get there or the comments that prompted her transformation. They think that maybe she just got fed up of being the wallflower or maybe she was just that flattered that Victor Krum asked her or maybe something clicked somewhere deep in the recesses of her big brain. Some were jealous, some were happy, most were indifferent and the vast majority didn't really care.
No one noticed the way Draco Malfoy's eyes widened slightly when he looked at the periwinkle blue gown. No one noticed the momentary flash in his eyes as he caught its significance. No one noticed the way Hermione's chin jutted out slightly and her eyes grew harder as the party from Dumstrang walked past the Slytherins. No one knew of the incident that prompted this unnoticed exchange.
On a clear November morning, the library smelt wonderful. Hermione pulled open a dusty old tome and sniffed the old leather and parchment appreciatively. Smiling slightly to herself, she took out a blank piece of parchment and her quill and wrote: 'The Properties of Germaniums and Their Uses in Potion Making'.
Before long she was thoroughly absorbed in her work, scribbling away furiously. A loud thunk behind her made her jump. Startled, she turned around, one hand draped over her chair. Seeing a familiar blonde head behind her, she turned back to her work with a snort. To her surprise, he joined her soon after. She couldn't stop herself from peeking at the cover of his book.
"Hippogriffs? You're reading about Hippogriffs? Isn't it a little late for that?"
Draco looked up at her and too late she regretted her slip. It wasn't worth it to taunt Draco Malfoy. He could be far more hurtful with one word than she could be with a dozen and it just wasn't a fair exchange.
She was shocked when he actually replied, with an upward quirk of his lips. "I thought you of all people would know better than to judge a book by it's cover, Granger."
She wondered briefly when his voice had broken and why she hadn't noticed. When did it get so deep and rough and tingle-inducing? Probably during the summer, when it wasn't hurling insults at her, she reminded herself tartly.
So she rewarded him with a frosty, "Pardon?"
"Rating one is a lot easier once you've seen what's between their covers, isn't it?"
His grin was positively wicked and she tugged at her suddenly tight collar uncomfortably. Books, we're talking about books here. The covers of a book. Not a bed.
"Yes. Of course." No need to show him how flustered she was. Or how confused by the continued civility of their conversation.
"So what's between yours?"
She choked, "What?"
"The covers of your book." Just how could someone look so innocent and so suggestive at the same time? Maybe this was all just in her head.
"It's a Potions essay I'm working on."
"About what?" He sounded genuinely interested and she remembered that Potions was his favourite class after DADA.
"Germaniums."
"There's a patch of them on my estate. The peacocks love them."
And that put her in her place, didn't it? His estate. His big, fancy house with its manicured lawns and Merlin knew what else.
But she made an effort to continue the conversation anyway because she may not have been bought up rich but she was not dragged up ill mannered either.
"I've been looking up the major potions they make. There was one on the list I couldn't find any information about though."
"Which one?"
"Amortentia. Judging by the name I'd say its some variety of love potion but – "
He shook his head. "It's not a love potion so much as an obsession or passion potion. You can't manufacture emotion."
She started to scribble away those scanty details on a spare bit of parchment. "Anything else you can tell me about it?"
"Well, it looks different to different people."
"Such as?"
"For example, if you're the kind of person who values truth above everything else it will appear as a clear liquid to you. If it's money you're after, it may appear golden. If you aren't too sure of what you want it may turn gray-ish."
"What colour is it for you?"
It wasn't until she asked the question that she realised how utterly inappropriate it was and blushed. "You don't have to answer tha – "
"Periwinkle blue."
She eyed him curiously, silently demanding an explanation.
Goyle lumbered into the library at that moment and marched straight up to Malfoy. He looked at Hermione with mild disgust and said, "Draco? What're you doing?"
It was like a shutter had fallen over Malfoy's eyes. Even before he opened his mouth, her heart sank.
"Observing our favourite specimen of Mudblood at work, of course. Come, Goyle. We have better entertainment waiting for us in the common room."