A big thanks to Oldoverholt, my beta reader.
BLACK HEARTS
Chapter one
A Clichéd Start Towards An Unexpected…
"O-o-o-o-oh Hermio-o-o-o-o-one-e-e-e-e-e-e-e," Ron's loud voice was carried by the wind and was almost, at once, lost in the roar of thunder that rumbled in the murky sky.
"Would you quit it, Ron? We are supposed to be patrolling the grounds to find death eaters, not scare them away with your rendition of a werewolf," said Hermione, trying hard not to smile as Ron let out an awful howl to exaggerate her comment, which would have put any rock musician to shame.
There was laughter from behind as her comment, accompanied by Ron's howl, was heard by Seamus, Dean, and Ginny, who were trudging along behind them, their boots noisily splashing through the puddles of rainwater that were beginning to form.
"Dea-a-a-a-a-r, pre-e-e-e-e-e-e-ty Hermio-o-o-o-o-one-e-e-e-e-e-e-e, the-e-e angr-r-r-r-y hero-o-o-ine," Ron's voice rose up again, and in the wand light, Hermione saw how he put on an effected look and was staring up at the heavens trying to imitate an opera singer, all the while, blinking as the light drizzle fell on his face.
Hermione burst out laughing; she couldn't help it. If the Daily Prophet could see them now, the wizard community would have a heart attack next morning. Thousands of galleons had been spent in training them, the next generation of Aurors and here they were, on patrol duty around Hogwarts' grounds (on the list of most likely places to be attacked), listening to the artless crooning of an obnoxious redhead.
Not that it really mattered, just then. The dark side had suffered too many casualties in the last battle to make an attack, at once.
Hermione's heart sank, just a little, at the thought, even though she tried to reason that they were in the right.
The last battle had been a decisive one, in which the light had been almost as ruthless as the dark. 'Take no prisoners' seemed to have become the slogan of the Aurors, the memory of the Azkaban break out too fresh in their minds.
Hermione had been secretly thankful that she had not had to fight in last battle, because they had still been in the Auror training camps. Even though her Auror training decreed that the means applied need not be bothered about, as long as the end results were right, Hermione Granger could not, had not developed the mindset, yet, to curse a person, except in defense.
"Hermione?" the pleading voice of Ron brought her out of her reverie. Lost in her thoughts, she had walked on and she could dimly make out the other three who seemed to have stopped far away, from what she could see by the light of her and Ron's wands combined.
"Hermione, it's pouring," continued Ron, in a whining tone. "Not even the death eaters are nuts enough to risk an attack in this weather. Call off the patrol duty, Hermione, so we can go inside and kick start the surprise p… pancakes that Harry is getting the house elves to make." Wretchedness was etched on Ron's face, as he realized that he had not only made a slip but also had tried to cover up with the lamest comment he possibly could have made.
"Really, Ron, you thought that I didn't know. Honestly, all those hushed whispers, all those sudden silences the moment I walked into the room, and to top it all, Dobby coming to me, asking me what cake I would prefer on Christmas morning, which is three months away. I know there is a surprise birthday party for me today," Hermione said in amusement, and the scowl deepened on Ron's face as he thought of how the others were going to kill him for giving away the surprise.
"But your birthday was last week," wailed Ron.
"All the more reason why you would surprise me a week later," Hermione replied, sagely.
"Party pooper," sulked Ron, appearing half of his eighteen years.
"Blabber mouth"
"Miss know-it-all"
"Mister say-it-all!" ended Hermione, knowing she had won this round.
"Very funny," said Ron in huffed up pride and stalked off before her, looking every bit a disgruntled hero.
"Ron," she called after him, rolling her eyes at his childishness.
She sent out the three blue sparks, which signaled to the others that the patrol was over, as she had to admit that there was no way there would be an attack in the approaching storm.
She then walked slowly after Ron, who had disappeared around the bend of the forest. She shivered slightly by the combined effect of the rain and the memory of their experiences in the forest. She thought for the hundredth time why Ron had to be such an arse and why Christopher Rankin, the inventor of the rain repellent spell, could not have corrected the problem of poor vision that came as a side effect of casting the spell.
Not that it really mattered, She thought, as the rain now came down in buckets. Death eaters could tap-dance before me right now, and I would still not be able to spot them.
The problem of Ron being an arse was an old one. He had been born one and she knew that he would most likely remain one. Yet, it was something that made up Ronald Weasley and she would not have it any other way.
Her cheeks, which had been pale from the rain, flushed as she remembered the graduation party of their Auror camp, Ron had got drunk and had declared to her that he liked her, before he promptly passed out. That had been two weeks ago, and though Ron had dutifully avoided her for over a week, he was now being himself again. With the exception that she, now and then, caught him looking at her with a wistful look in his eyes, which she had admitted to herself the previous night, that she quite liked.
She finally saw Ron, who was trying to take shelter underneath one of the large trees that stood at the edge of the forest.
"Where the others?" asked Ron, trying hard not to notice her pink hued cheeks and her utterly wet state, which only added to her appeal.
"I called the patrol off," Hermione replied.
"Is this the part where I tell you I told you so?"
"Oh shut up Ron, we had to make sure."
"I can't believe you. You knew there would be a party and you still want to be late."
"Isn't that the idea? That I should go in last so that it's a real surprise."
"I still wish you hadn't known," he said sullenly
"Ron, stop being such a prat. Let's go in, I am freezing."
Ron rolled his eyes at her and muttered, 'Incito.' Almost instantly, Hermione felt the warmth of the heating spell taking effect.
Ron looked pleased with himself and then he softly said something of very long ago,
"Have you gone mad? Are you a witch or not?"
She smiled, looked up at him, and, for the first time, realized how alone they were, and it was raining, and this was the perfect time for snogging according to muggle and wizard romantics, alike.
He seemed to have the same idea and as he moved closer towards her, her heart, beat itself into a violent fury in anticipation of her first real kiss.
Almost without warning there was a tremendous crack of lightning and the sound of thunder that followed, completely obliterated the sound of the pelting rain.
Unlike muggle romance novels where the heroine would have jumped right into the outstretched arms of the hero, Hermione, startled, moved away from him.
The mood was broken and Ron cursed Zeus for interrupting. Still, it made one thing clear, she liked him.
"O-o-oh, Hermione is scared. Hermione is scared," teased Ron in a singsong voice.
"Am not"
"Are too"
"Oh…" started Hermione, getting angry…
"Shut up, Ron," finished Ron, imitating Hermione.
They had but taken a few steps towards the direction of the castle, when Ron said this and Hermione, rolling her eyes good-naturedly, gave him a small push. Normally, her little shove would not have done much damage to Ron, but today, owing to the slippery ground, Ron found himself flat on his butt, in the squelching mud.
It was human nature that made Hermione laugh at Ron's less than graceful fall, and it was human nature, again, that Ron wanted to get even with her.
The rain and the light-headedness of almost being kissed combined to make Hermione lose her usual demeanour, and with a squeal of fake fright she took off in the direction they had come from, away from Ron. Ron, covered in mud, ran after her in mock outrage, then stopped in his tracks and started laughing as the object of his fantasy slipped, and with an undignified yelp of surprise, fell face forward on to the trunk of a tree.
Except that it wasn't on a tree trunk, that Hermione had fallen on to. It was a wet, warm body, slouched up against the tree, whose callused hands involuntarily caught her.
For a second, Hermione just lay there, panting for breath, not fully realizing that the pounding below her hands was that of a heart of another human being. But, soon, her Auror instinct kick started, and she began assessing her situation.
Unless someone from the castle had a weird fetish of sitting against trees, in the middle of the night, under pouring rain, this was she judged, an enemy.
Her wand had fallen on the ground, near them, and was rolling back and forth. The Lumous spell was still working and light and shadow were alternately flickering on them. In this eerie light, she looked up from his chest, where she had landed, to the stranger's face, and then into his stormy grey eyes.
The trademark smirk was missing, yet, she knew him instantly. He was, after all, the poster boy of the most wanted list, and here he was, just under her.
"Nice of you to drop in, Granger," Draco Malfoy said lightly.
