Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. The plot is from Disney's version of Beauty and the Beast and any other things specified and I'm not making any profits from this fic.
A/N: Thank you for reviewing. Ron's quote regarding Madam Pince's appearance is from The Chamber of Secrets.
A/N EDIT: 4/2/11. This chapter was originally published back in 2004... Now in 2011, seven years later, I've gone back and rewritten/edited most of my writing. When this was first produced, I was at the tender age of thirteen (fourteen?), and my writing style was much less mature than it is today. The edits may not be incredibly obvious for those who have read this before, but I'm hoping the quality has improved nonetheless. I'm hoping to go through and update each of the chapters in due time.
Thanks again for your support!. Your reviews and your expressed interest in this story is what has helped bring this story back! As always, Kite1011, you're the Monstrosity savior. :) And Irene, my old beta, if you read this—I miss you. :/
Three Years Later
Not very far from what was once the beautiful, magnificent castle of Prince Draco and his loved ones, was a village in a place called England. This provincial town was extremely small, yet filled with pleasant people and charming landscapes. It was also what one might consider common; anything exciting or out of the ordinary happened very rarely in this lifestyle of simplicity.
And as with any quaint, rural village, one's personal business was always public knowledge.
Within this collective community of helpful neighbors (there was the baker, the blacksmith, the carpenter, the bookseller, the silversmith and the like), secrecy and privacy were nonexistent. All gossip was welcome gossip.
If something happened, monumental or trivial, no one would be left in the dark...
"Good morning, Hermione."
"Good morning, Madam Pince!"
The young woman known as Hermione Granger stepped into the small book shop near the center of the market. She looked at ease in her plain blue dress, with her long, wavy brown hair plaited pragmatically as it rested against her shoulders. Meanwhile, the strict bookseller known as Madam Pince projected her persistently stern personality through a customary cold gaze and firm features stretched taut from a too-tight bun. Even as Madam Pince's eyes warmed slightly at the sight of her favorite customer, they somehow still managed to convey a chilled suspicion. Hermione remembered that her friend Ron once described Madam Pince (in a voice much too loud and too tactless to be stated in the woman's own bookshop, of all places) as "a thin, irritable woman who looked like an underfed vulture," for which Hermione promptly slugged him on the arm.
Regardless, by some means Hermione and Madam Pince had come to share a certain understanding. While Hermione would be forever grateful for Ginny, Harry and Ron, Madam Pince was the only person with whom Hermione could really discuss books, her one true home away from. Every morning Hermione would walk down from her house on the top of the hill at the farthest end of the town and across the bridge to the market. With no small amount of frugality, she would buy only what she needed for the day, and just before she began her walk back to her small house, she would stop by the bookstore.
"What do you recommend?" Hermione asked, immediately making way to a bookshelf on the left. She quickly skimmed through the large titles written on the various spines with her forefinger, pausing at the middle of the shelf to look at the bookseller.
"What do I recommend?" The bookseller raised a thin brow. "Dear, I should be asking you for recommendations... Goodness knows you've read every book I have at least twice." Madam Pince looked at Hermione, watching her smile as she traced the patterns of grain in the wooden shelf. "Which do you prefer?" Madam Pince smiled slightly, a sight many customers never got a chance to see.
Madam Pince knew her beloved books would be taken care of with Hermione. Almost since the first moment she'd met Hermione, Madam Pince had deemed her worthy of being one of the few people in England worthy of the very rare privilege of borrowing the books from her small shop, rather than purchasing her finds. And besides, Madam Pince thought. If I didn't, I wouldn't have anything left to sell! And of course, after everything Hermione had been through... Well, it was the least she could do.
"Hm," Hermione bit her bottom lip thoughtfully. "I guess it'd have to be this one." Hermione stood on her tip-toes to pluck a rather archaic book with a red cover from the highest shelf. Madam Pince rested her elbows on the counter and began carefully flipping through the pages. "This one's my favorite."
"I assumed it was." She let her glasses fall to the bridge of her nose as she tipped her head downward to look at Hermione. "Seeing as you've read it four times."
"Oh, I love it," Hermione told her. Instantly, her eyes came alight and her cheeks flushed as she began summarizing the story, elaborating further on her favorite parts. All the while Madam Pince watched her with amusement, and she smiled when Hermione re-enacted the villain being slain by the heroine. "That's the kind of story I like," she said thoughtfully. "A story with a heroine." She trailed a finger along the title, seeing something beyond the letters. "There aren't many stories like these."
"Ah," Madam Pince fixed her with a disconcerted stare. "I see. And what about a story where the heroine falls in love?"
"Especially a story like that," Hermione laughed lightly, drawn from her reverie. "Like this story. Especially this story." She gently flipped a page in the book resting on the counter, then quickly closed it, feeling as if she had suddenly revealed too much of herself in so few seconds. Madam Pince made a decision.
"Then you'll just have to let me borrow it eventually. I'd love to read it." Madam Pince said casually, gently sliding the red book towards Hermione. Hermione's brows drew together in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, seeing as there's only one copy of this book in town, and I am now giving it to you, I will need to borrow it from you in order to read it." Madam Pince said. Hermione opened her mouth, but quickly closed it.
"Surely you can't just give this book to me?" Hermione asked, disbelieving. "I have to pay for it, just like everyone else." She was already pulling her coin purse out of her satchel.
"My dear, you are one of the only few in this town with enough sense to read these books of mine." Madam Pince answered reasonably. "You love this book more than anyone."
"But your sales..." Hermione argued. "It would be money from your pocket." Hermione bit her lip again. "No, I'm sorry, but I can't accept it." She shook her head slightly.
"Hermione, you deserve this book and no one else will bother to read it. The fools..." she said the last two words with no small tinge of annoyance. Then she said in a much softer tone: "Please. Take it." Madam Pince slid the book towards her again, but Hermione was in turmoil. "Hermione, it is free of charge." Madam Pince insisted, patience dripping from her every word.
"Couldn't you at least sell it to me for half price?" Hermione fingered the title lovingly, staring at the red cover's corners where it was beginning to rip. "I'd feel so guilty if you were to give it to me for nothing." Madam Pince sighed.
"Half price if you wish, but really, there would be no problem at all if you were to just take it for free." Madam Pince waited as Hermione dug for the correct number of coins and paid her. Madam Pince hesitated when Hermione handed the money to her... who truly needed it more? "Are you positive you don't want free of charge?"
"Yes, I'm positive," she promised. She took the red book and slid it carefully into her satchel, careful not to crush the fresh loaves of bread and her small bag of sugar. The smile on her face told Madam Pince all that she needed to know. "Thank you, Madam Pince. Goodbye, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodbye, dear."
As the door closed a small, ringing bell attached to the top corner permeated the bookshop. She watched Hermione through the glass window until she was no longer in view, and then returned to the back of the shop to take inventory with a sigh.
The poor girl.
When Hermione reached her small home it was already midday. Humming to herself as she walked up the wide rock path that led to her doorway, it was only as she rounded the large birch tree that she noticed a figure sitting on her doorstep.
"Hello, Ginny!" Hermione called out with a smile, quickening her pace to a brisk walk as Ginny came to meet her. "What are you doing here?"
"Harry and I are going to the park in a bit." She finally reached Hermione's side. "Since your house is nearest, I thought I'd come up here for a while before I left. Unfortunately, I forgot that today is the day you walk all the way down to the bakery."
"I'm glad I did! Dobby was having a sale on my favorite kind of bread this morning and I bought one of the first batches. I can't wait to taste it." Hermione inhaled deeply, imagining the scent of the air to be the fresh smell of her dinner.
"You know you could have just asked me to pick some up on the way," Ginny said, carefully avoiding large rocks on the path. "It's not too far from my house and I could have easily picked up your food for you. Then you wouldn't have had to go anywhere today."
"Oh, I know." Hermione said as she, too, averted the large stones. "But I love the scenery. Besides, I stopped by Madam Pince's shop again to get a book."
"Of course," Ginny rolled her eyes. "You were just there yesterday, but I suppose that hardly matters. What book did you get?" She asked. Hermione carefully slipped the book out of her satchel. "Of course," Ginny sighed with a resigned shrug. "I'm surprised she hasn't just given it to you yet."
"Well, this morning she tried to... But I paid for it." Hermione said, slipping it back into her satchel.
"You mean she offered it to you for free and you still paid?" She frowned at her friend. "Why?"
"I just felt guilty taking it... it wasn't a gift for a special occasion or anything. It just felt wrong somehow. I don't know..." Hermione sighed. "I know I probably should have just taken it, considering I don't have enough money as it is, but still... well, at least we settled for half price." Hermione attempted to smile. "But why did you come here before you went to the park? I would've thought you'd want to walk with Harry." Hermione raised a brow as she reached the front step.
"Well," began the sixteen-year old redhead. "I was going to, but Ron said he was going to come visit later. I suggested that Harry keep him company until they got here. Then we'd walk the rest of the way together." Strange, but if Hermione didn't know any better, she'd swear that Ginny was fixating her gaze on nearest tree a little too intently, as if she'd never seen one before. "So, as you know, my dad's birthday is tomorrow. You're coming to his birthday dinner, aren't you?" Ginny asked, still looking anywhere but at Hermione. She raised a brow at the swift change of subject.
"Oh, right. Sure, of course." Hermione assured her. "Of course I'm coming... You live all the way on the other side of town. And usually, Ron doesn't come here unless Harry or you are with him. Why would Ron come up here alone?" Hermione asked, slipping a key on a silver chain off her neck. She unlocked the door in front of her and opened it wide. Suddenly, the brass door handle was even more interesting to Ginny than the tree. What is going on with her? Hermione thought.
"Who knows what goes through my brother's head?" Ginny grumbled, almost to herself. "I certainly don't."
"Hmm. I wonder..." Hermione walked to her small kitchen and set her satchel on the kitchen table. "Ginny?" Hermione asked in a tone that made Ginny suddenly nervous. "Is there something you want to tell me?" She sighed.
"Look, I wasn't supposed to say anything—" But Ginny was cut off by a knock on the door. Hermione looked at the door with an expression of mild annoyance.
"Go on," Hermione ushered, nervously glancing back at Ginny.
"No, really, we should get the door," Ginny suggested, extremely pleased with the timely interruption, which only exacerbated Hermione's fraying nerves. Before Hermione could stop her, or even say another word, Ginny was greeting the guests.
"Hello, Harry!" Ginny said cheerfully. "...And the creature who is unfortunately a relative of mine." Ginny said this with much less enthusiasm.
"Well, it's nice to see you, too." Ron said with just as much cheerfulness as his sister.
"Hey, Ginny," said Harry, as he shiftily glanced toward the kitchen. After saying hello to Hermione, he immediately made his move to depart: "Are you ready to go?"
Ginny looked back at Hermione, who made every grand effort to radiate her clearest Ginny Weasley, don't you dare leave whatever this is on me! warning message, but to no avail. Ginny, making the executive decision that it was best to not say another word, all but propelled Harry into the yard. She could practically hear them running from the house.
"What was that all about?" Hermione asked as she walked to the window. Pulling back the white curtain, she saw the couple walking down the road the way they had come, Harry's arm around Ginny's lower back. The two were conversing about something that obviously had them worried, and were most certainly not going in the direction of the park. Ron shrugged from behind her.
"Dunno..." he muttered quietly before nervously running his fingers through his flaming-red hair. Ironically, he wasn't trying to get his hair to stay down, but was rather trying to make it stick up for fear of it being too neat. He stopped quite abruptly when Hermione turned back around.
"I talked to Ginny." Hermione sat down on a couch next to the door.
"Oh," Ron said. "Erm... you—you did?" He shifted on his feet. "What did you talk about?" Hermione couldn't help but notice how nervous he sounded as she sat down on the couch.
"Well, about your father's birthday dinner tomorrow, firstly. Then how she and Harry were going to the park." With that, she scoffed. The little liar... "Also, about how you were coming up to visit me, only she never told me why. Not that I mind or anything, but normally you wouldn't come unless you were with Ginny or Harry." He sat down next to her on the couch, facing her.
"Yeah... oh yeah, about that..." He swallowed. "Hermione?" He looked away to watch her trace the design in the fabric with her index finger.
"Mmm-hm?"
"Have you..." he started, but he seemed to change his mind and steered the conversation in a new direction. "We're friends, right?" Hermione was taken aback by this question.
"Well, of course we are! What kind of question is that? Ron, you're being daft." Hermione smiled a little and she saw some tension leave Ron's shoulders. He even laughed a little.
"Well, yes, but... have you—" He still didn't seem to be pleased with his conversation. "Have you ever... thought about us being...?" He looked back at her eyes, holding his breath, only to find that she was looking at him with amusement. It was understandable; he wasn't making very much sense, not even to himself, let alone her. "More? More than just friends?"
Uh-oh.
Despite all persevering attempts at denial, Hermione had almost had a feeling for weeks now that something like this might happen. She had started to notice small signs in Ginny's behavior, in Ron's comments, and Harry's conversations, but she had ignored it all too willingly. Today should have been a glaring confirmation; normally, Harry would have been in no hurry to leave (he'd much rather sit around and eat her homemade food). The only problem with accepting reality was that Hermione didn't want to have a conversation like this today. So what was Hermione's only option?
Play dumb.
"Well, sure," Hermione was surprised at how fast his nervous expression dissipated, and was instantly replaced with a glowing triumph. She was unfortunately less surprised at its immediate departure after she replied, "You and Ginny and Harry are all like family to me. Since my parents—" she paused slightly. "Since my parents died, each of you have been there for me," she said in a softer and quieter tone. "I can't ever thank you enough."
"No, no," Ron said in a tone just as soft. Ron had fears too; he knew that something like this would happen. What was he thinking? He didn't want to be the one to stir up bad memories. He thought he had waited long enough after her parents' accident to finally tell her, but now it obviously seemed that he hadn't waited long enough. But he couldn't turn back now. "I mean you and I. Have you ever thought that maybe we could be..." He didn't seem to know how to finish. He didn't need to however, because Hermione was starting to pity the blatant struggle she was pushing him through and had begun to pretend to catch on. She'd stopped tracing the design with her finger. "I mean not like family—but not friends—no I mean friends—but—" As he tried to explain himself further, his ears started to turn pink. "More than that—"
Momentarily, Hermione lost herself and tried to stifle a giggle, finding his genuineness more endearing and heartwarming to her than he could ever realize. She tried covering it with her hand but it was too late; Ron noticed. She knew it would be misconstrued and she desperately didn't want to hurt his feelings. After all, Hermione knew how flustered Ron could get and laughing wouldn't do anything to help in this situation.
"What's so funny?" Ron demanded indignantly. "I'm trying to say something!" he said, obviously frustrated with himself. Hermione sobered and calmed herself, making sure that she would listen intently to whatever he said next.
"I'm sorry, Ron." she said sincerely. "Go ahead and say what you were going to say."
"You know I'm not good with words," Ron started, staring at his hands in his lap. "I always say things I don't mean and mean things that I don't say." This brought a smile to Hermione's lips and some more tension lifted off his slouched shoulders. He locked gazes with her. "So I'm just going to have to say it." Then Ron did something that shocked her greatly.
He gently slid his hands over to hers. Clasping his fingers carefully around her small, newly calloused hands, he grasped them in both of his. The next thing he said showed no sign of nervousness, whether he felt it or not, and it had such a serious tone that Hermione couldn't tear her eyes away.
"Have you ever thought that we could be together?"
"I..." Hermione was too stunned to even form a sentence. "I suppose I have..." she whispered, still excruciatingly aware of his hands holding hers.
"I know this is sudden," Ron said. "Or perhaps not-so-sudden, but either way, I've liked you for a long time, Hermione. I always have, even if I didn't always know it. Ever since you and your parents moved here when you were little. I've only just realized it recently. I realized it before the… the accident." He glanced back up at Hermione's eyes, praying that she not cry. He didn't like bringing up any subject relating to how Hermione's parents died, especially to her. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"
"No," Hermione said quietly. "It's okay... really. Go on." Then Hermione surprised him—and herself—when she slowly caressed his hands with her thumbs, encouraging him to continue. Empowered by this action, he nodded.
"I realized my feelings just before... and after it happened, I was just too afraid to say anything. I mean, I still am actually. I thought the timing may be too close to their passing. I didn't want you to feel like I was taking advantage of you... to put this on your shoulders when you had so much trouble and pressure there already with the farm and... and everything." Hermione nodded. "But it's been a while. Almost a year and... I hoped, I gathered up my courage—I—I'll understand if you don't want—I mean if you don't feel the same way—" He was getting flustered again, despite the fact that she was still massaging his hands and trying to keep him calm.
"No," Hermione whispered as she looked down at her lap where their hands rested. Ron's face instantly fell.
"Oh," He looked openly disappointed and hurt. "Well, I mean I can understand—"
"No, no!" Hermione said hastily, nervously looking up at him again quickly. "That's not what I meant... I meant—I—no, I... it's just..."
Logical Hermione, always so articulate and expressive, was suddenly having an inexplicably difficult time trying to find the right words to say. Ron's mind, meanwhile, had suddenly become the most eloquent machine in the country. A plethora of profane curses toppled over one another in his mind's eye as he waited in dread. Of course it was only the natural, sadistic course of the universe that would have his creative abilities in expression suddenly be capable the second it was not his turn to speak. This is a complete and utter disaster, he thought miserably.
"Ron, we've always been friends. And we'll always be friends... and.. We could be more than that..." She couldn't help but smile slightly as she noticed the way Ron's face started glowing again, albeit cautiously. That was the joy of being Ron's friend; one could see everything he was feeling, just written there on his face. But she needed to be clear. "It's just so... soon," Hermione concluded.
"I understand," Ron looked down and heaved a small sigh before looking back up into her brown eyes. "I promise, I really do... But... Will you think about us though?" Hermione nodded.
"Of course. I will. I promise." They both smiled bashfully at each other.
"Erm... well, I should probably be going." Ron said nervously, pulling his hands back from his hold and instantly regretting the loss of her touch. "Mum wanted me to pick up some ingredients from the market for dinner. Bill and Charlie are coming home tonight... Percy, Fred and George arrived yesterday. Dad's birthday dinner isn't until tomorrow, but you know mum; she'll use any excuse to make a large dinner... well, larger than normal anyway, considering the size of our family." Both laughed a little, despite the strain within the inherently lame joke, and were grateful to find an outlet for the awkwardness. "You're coming tomorrow, right?"
"Of course." Hermione smiled and Ron felt his stomach do a somersault. "I'll be there."
"Great then," Ron said as she opened the door and he stepped out. "I guess I'll see you there," he said going down the three steps and looking back up at her.
" I guess so." Hermione still smiled.
"Bye," he said as he waved and started to walk down the rock path.
"Bye..." Hermione whispered. She smiled at him and he smiled back, before she turned around, went inside and closed the door behind her.
Ron heard the door give a soft, indistinct thud as it closed tightly in its frame before turning to the road. Almost immediately, his smile morphed into an all too common combination of a scowl and a sulk. His shoulders gave way to defeat and he scuffed his feet along the pebbles as he walked down Hermione's driveway. As he neared the rocky bottom, he glanced back at the house, hoping to see her looking back out at him through the window. He was very much disappointed to see all of the window curtains closed and no figure peeking out through them. Ron sighed and turned back around, unfortunately also forgetting to duck under a certain obstacle that happened to stick out in the path. This resulted in him getting smacked between the eyes by the very large birch branch, adding to his already forming headache.
He stumbled backwards, rubbing his freckled forehead vigorously and releasing one of his imaginative string of curses with conviction. Still verbally attacking all tree branches, rocky driveways and Mother Nature for putting them on the planet in the first place, Ron stepped off the path and on to the main road. He made sure to kick a pebble for good measure. Ron could guarantee that Harry and Ginny would want to know what happened as soon as he returned and he was not at all looking forward to the conversation.
Ron walked along the empty road, shivering as the almost-winter breeze nipped at his face. Autumn would soon be leaving their little town of Little Whinging, and the sky was becoming whiter with the cold every day. He stopped on the deserted road and rubbed his forehead slightly once more, easing the remaining stinging pain in his skull.
Maybe, if I'm lucky, she'll come around by summer, he thought with hope.
But Ron felt in his heart that after a lifetime's worth of disappointing, almost-there experiences, he was anything but lucky.
Hermione all but collapsed against the door.
This was not what she needed right now...
It's not that she wasn't happy about Ron's sudden confession; she just had so much to do. With the bank pounding on her door every other day and her constant calculation of all the loans, with the constant sorting through of her inheritance from her parents, with tax collection just around the corner, with the farm needing tending to, with a house to clean...she barely had enough money for food, let alone taxes! Forget money to pay off loans. She had too many responsibilities now; responsibilities that Ron or Harry or Ginny wouldn't have to deal with for a while.
The Weasleys weren't poor, but they weren't exactly wealthy (with the size of their family, who could be?). Mrs. Weasley stayed home most of the time to tend to their farm and house, cook meals, clean and the like. Meanwhile, Mr. Weasley worked as a researcher, studying more primitive cultures over in the New World. Some people of higher rank from London often looked down upon the Weasleys for Arthur Weasley's job, and she knew that his children had often received the brunt of most of the prejudice while in spending short periods of time in the city. Regardless, Mr. Weasley made enough money to get by and with an organized budget, the family managed to have amenities and luxuries that people with more "acceptable" occupations enjoyed. Hermione knew with a rising sense of bitterness that Ginny and Ron (and Harry, who was living with the Weasleys) wouldn't have to worry about finances for a long time.
She sighed and stepped away from the door, squashing her envy in an instant. She couldn't just sit around and think when there was work to be done. She went to the kitchen and took the food she bought at the market out of her satchel. She put the bread and sugar away before walking to her small bedroom, then set the satchel on the hook on the wall to the left of her bed and went to close the white curtains at her two windows. Before she pulled them shut however, she looked around outside.
It had almost been a year now... it was just last winter that her parents had died.
Hermione shook her head. She noted that the leaves had long ago changed colors and begun to fall. The bare trees signaled the oncoming winter, and it looked as if it would be an especially cold one to boot. All the more reason to get moving, she told herself. It was already far past midday and she hadn't even done her normal chores.
She stepped out of her bedroom and walked toward the back door. It was a rather small but well-kept area containing a large horse stable, a barn, a high-fenced pasture, and a chicken coop. Past that was a large open field with tall grass browned from the abusive winds. Much farther back to the left was a cliff with much shorter grass; one could see the entire town from there. It was a beautiful scene: the small village encased by valleys and hills, folded into blankets of green and gold sun rays under soft bundles of ever-changing clouds. Sometimes, when she was younger, she would sit out there alone at sunset and watch it drop over the horizon while her father bailed the hay and the scent of her mother's cooking wafted out into the clearing.
She hadn't had time to do any of that since her parents' funeral.
With a sigh, she gazed past the cliff, and stared. There, looming over her, was what her village called the Forbidden Forest.
Despite her father's assurances of their home's relative safety, she had rightfully never gone very far into the forest and had never gone in alone. It extended all the way into the next three neighboring villages, but no one knew how deep or how dense the forest had really grown. Hermione had only gone in with her father once when they were desperate for firewood in a particularly cold winter. They had only ventured in a few meters, just enough so they could still see the house through the trees, and Hermione had used every ounce of her courage to impress her father by holding in her young whimpers. It was not long until they had quickly hurried back out, and she had never gone in again. Her parents always forbade it; they told her it was dangerous, and she didn't need to be told twice.
Even the old-man-storyteller in the market had a story about this particular forest. Alastor Moody, better known as "Mad-Eye Moody" or just "Mad-Eye," wore clothes that were always dirty and a worn, leather eye patch. He had long gray hair and a big chunk missing from his nose, and Mad-Eye always sat on a silver bucket near the fountain in the town square to tell the children stories as long as they shared a small slice of bread. People in the town thought him insane, but listened to his harmless, entertaining tales anyway.
Hermione and her mother had passed by the old man one day when Hermione was around the age of seven, just after she had moved to Little -Eye said that on the other side of the forest was a beautiful kingdom with a King and Queen and even a Prince. It was a place where everybody was happy and there was no such thing as war or hunger. To logical Hermione, this place did not hold a high likelihood of existence, but she nevertheless liked a good fantasy tale. Her mother had been concerned that this story would encourage her to enter the forest at first, thinking that her daughter might frolic into forest thinking that there was a wonderful kingdom located on the other side, but was soon put at ease. She could tell by Hermione's reaction that her head was much too properly seated on her shoulders to be concerned.
Hermione remembered a boy younger than she asking Mad-Eye how he knew such things. Mad-Eye grunted and replied that he had gone through the forest, of course. The children looked highly skeptical, but continued to listen intently. Hermione pleaded for her mother to let her listen to the rest of the story, but her mother declined and told her that they didn't have enough time to stay any longer. Hermione sighed and grudgingly walked back to her home, holding onto her mother's hand. Luckily for Hermione, she hadn't missed much. As she had confirmed with one of the other children later in the week, the story hand ended quite soon after her departure because there was nothing more to tell. Mad-Eye told the story of the forest quite often, and the children quickly grew tired of hearing it, for it was the same every time. Some would listen to the story only to see if there were any additions but were quickly disappointed. When Mad-Eye realized that the children were becoming less interested, he adapted, and only shared the tale when a newcomer came. Mad-Eye told many other stories to suit his audience's needs, such as the young boy who escaped a giant dragon with a flying broomstick, or the young girl who traveled through time to save the life of a magical creature. The stories grew more bizarre and less believable with the passing years.
Hermione had passed Mad-Eye with her mother again seven years later, when Hermione was fourteen. Hermione was surprised to hear Mad-Eye telling the story of the forest yet again to a large group of children again. Only this time, it was a much different version.
"There isn't a happy castle there now, ye hear?" Mad-Eye had growled in his usual voice. "It's all dark, always gloomy. The King and Queen are gone; most of the people are too. The only thing that's left of the whole kingdom is the shadowy old fortress, deserted... The Prince, who used to be loved and adored by the kingdom, is now in hiding. No one knows why. Some people say the Prince suddenly turned so ugly that anyone who looks at him would die right there on the spot, like from a Basilisk. Other people say the Prince became an evil sorcerer and turned all of the servants and royal subjects into broomsticks and teacups!" Mad-Eye paused. "Whatever the reason, he's hiding up there in that castle of his."
Hermione doubted that anyone would ever die from seeing someone truly ugly, just as she doubted there being a sorcerer turning the people who adored him into inanimate objects, and she told this to her mother with a haughty air, convinced that as a young adult, she was too mature to be fooled by a children's story. But as usual, it was only a Mad-Eye Moody story, not something that should be taken too seriously. Although people were interested in the new version, it too quickly grew old and Mad-Eye had to revert back to more enticing tales.
Hermione hadn't heard him tell the story since.
After a few hours had passed and the kitchen was clean, Hermione grabbed a basket that was sitting to the left of the door and headed towards the chicken coop to gather eggs.
She honestly didn't know how she felt about Ron anymore. She had had a rather large crush on him when she was younger, but he never showed any signs indicating that the feeling was mutual. Hermione still remembered her very first day in the town. She was about to turn seven-years-old and was feeling very of shy that day, and had pleaded with her father to just let her hide in her room forever with her books. But then as she was emerging from the door, five-year-old Ginny walked up the driveway with Mrs. Weasley. Hermione remembered how tired and out of breath Ginny looked, but how upbeat and rosy Molly had been.
Mrs. Weasley offered them a homemade mince pie (and continued to offer them one every Christmas, which they gratefully accepted) and invited them to dinner so that they could be later introduced to all of town. It was no surprise that Hermione and Ginny had become good friends very quickly, and Hermione's mother smiled as Hermione left her books inside her new room to walk to the other side of town with the two Weasleys.
Hermione played with Ginny all day. In her old town, she had mostly kept to herself and did nothing but read. Hermione had never gone to school in either town as her father home-schooled her, so it had been a very nice change to have a friend like Ginny. Ginny taught her how to play hide and seek, which would quickly become Hermione's favorite game. Her parents came over for dinner that night with a large loaf of bread for the Weasleys, at which point Hermione met both Ron and his best friend Harry. Harry's parents had died from a mysterious disease when he was very young, for which he had some indescribable genetic immunity that confounded doctors everywhere. Since he had no living family (except for his godfather, but rumor had it that he was insane and not capable of being a guardian for Harry), the Weasleys took him in. Despite the overwhelming amount of food that was consistently served at the Weasleys, Harry was very thin for his age. He wore spectacles and had messy hair, part of which covered an odd-shaped scar on his forehead he received when he was only a baby in some carriage accident, not long after the death of his parents, in fact.
At first, Ron and Harry didn't pay much attention to Hermione. At first presumed to be just another tag-along like Ginny, Hermione thoroughly shocked them once they had seen how fast she could run while playing tag and they discovered how clever her hiding spots were. It didn't take long before deemed her a worthy ally, and Ginny was admitted into the team as well. Their friendships had only strengthened since; Ginny had remained her best friend, and Hermione Ginny's. Hermione couldn't run nearly as fast anymore, but then again, she had no time for tag. Neither did they.
Despite their close connection, Ginny and Hermione began to grow in distinctly separate directions over the years. Despite the fact that Ginny was a year younger than Hermione, she consistently had many more "relationships" and kept her conversations with Hermione regularly occupied with advice and proverbial "boy trouble." At first, Hermione had worried that perhaps there was something developmentally wrong with her, but eventually she realized that she just hadn't been as interested in boys as Ginny had been. True, she had crushes, like with Ron, for example, or when the rather well known cricket player Viktor Krum had visited town, but that's all they ever were. Hermione had wild brown hair that she "too often" forced into braid as her sole battle strategy, and when she was younger, she had grown increasingly self-conscious of her large front teeth. She was grateful when they finally fell out and new ones grew in.
Hermione thought that she was pretty in her own way. Ginny was more outgoing and didn't always have her nose in a book, like everyone said Hermione did, so Hermione understood why men weren't as drawn to her as her friend. Hermione was fine with that. She had decided that when she found love, she would want it to last. She wanted more than a simple crush—she wanted a passion, a supportive connection… a challenge.
Ron was probably the closest one to do any of that, she admitted, walking out of the chicken coop with a basket full of large white eggs. But not quite... Maybe time would change that though? It'd probably be better for me. He would take care of me and protect me. He wouldn't let anything hurt me. He'd love me... She set the basket on the kitchen table to go outside and do her other chores. But could I ever return the feelings? I don't know...
So Ron wanted to court her? Ron, who had always accused her of being boring, who had only realized that she was more than bookworm tomboy just three years earlier?
Hermione thought on this until the sun began to set and the sky began to turn different shades of purples, oranges and reds. She finished her other chores before walking to the horse stable, which was occupied by her two most prized possessions. The first one, old Ronan, was especially helpful in plowing but the other, Auror, was her unabashed favorite. He had a beautiful brown coat with a white diamond marking between his eyes and a dark mane and tail. On the other hand, Ronan, his elder, had no markings, but was especially strong and fast. Auror was sometimes even entered into competitions, in which he usually won Hermione gracious amounts of prize money. But what made him even more special was that Auror had been given to her as a special gift from her parents two years after she came to the small town of Little Whinging. A horse that could grow up with her, that could teach her responsibility. Hermione had never felt so proud.
"Auror," she whispered with a smile. "The perfect name from my favorite children's book." She stepped inside the stable and smirked at her two most precious companions. "I bet you still don't know anything about a boy wizard story, but you like your name all the same, don't you?" She refilled their oat buckets and prepared the horses to be taken outside for a while before they went back in for the night. Ronan and Auror both responded to Hermione's belated actions with annoyance in their own horse manner, neighing at her when she took them out of their stalls.
"Sorry," Hermione said. "I couldn't get you out any earlier." She patted Ronan on the neck in an apologetic sort of way, before going to Auror to do the same thing. "Was a little distracted, you know."
They happily nipped at the carrots she fed them and she took them outside the stable. She led them over to the pasture and shut the wooden gate behind them, choosing to watch them for a bit. When she turned around, she saw the tall-grassy area and behind that, the cliff from where she had viewed the sunset so many times before. Hermione sighed.
I'll just sit for awhile, Hermione thought. Her chores were done and she was exhausted. With everything that had happened that day, she had good reason to be.
She walked to the cliff, reveling tall pieces of grass that brushed against her increasingly dirty dress. She avoided the edge and plopped herself on the much shorter grass with a sigh. Leaning back with her hands behind her and her legs extended in front of her, Hermione lazily watched the sun continue its descent over the horizon.
Hermione didn't know for how long she sat there, but when she finally stood and brushed the dirt off herself, the sun was well out of view, and the full moon was already visible. After she stood up, she spotted the first few stars to shine that night. Hermione suddenly remembered the nursery rhyme she learned as a child about wishing on stars. Hermione smiled a little. Could she wish for Ron and her to be together? For their happiness? Was it what she wanted? She was staring at the dazzling star above her, when Ronan made a soft noise and nudged his mouth up against a piece of wood in the gate. The wishing star was forgotten as Hermione made her way back through the tall grass and a cool breeze rustled Hermione's hair. She gave a small shudder.
"I'll be right back," Hermione told the two horses as Ronan continued to nudge the gate. Auror had now joined Ronan at the fence and was staring at her. "I'm just going to get my cloak!" Hermione walked in through the back door, stepping inside and moving toward three hooks nailed into the wall. With dismay, Hermione remembered why only one hook was occupied. She slipped the black cotton cloak from the wall and put it on as she returned outside to the fence.
"There you go," Hermione whispered soothingly to the two horses as she opened the gate and stepped inside the fence. "Come on now." Hermione took the reins around Ronan's neck with one hand and gently pulled him outside the fence. She closed the gate and locked it again. "I'll be right back, Auror, don't you worry."
She walked Ronan back to the stable and secured him in his stall. When she was sure that he was locked in, she headed back to the fenced area. Auror was waiting patiently for her when she returned. He was staring at her intently, his two big, glassy black eyes focused on her.
"Good boy, Auror." Hermione whispered as she opened the gate. "That's a good boy, come here." Hermione stepped inside and grabbed the reins around his brown neck and gently pulled him toward the gate. "Come on," she whispered as she walked back through the gate. "Now just a second," she told him as she went to lock the gate again. "Good boy." Hermione praised him, rubbing his neck lovingly. "Okay, time to go back to the stable. Come on." Auror followed Hermione as she started to tug on his reins again.
Hermione headed to the barn with Auror, patting his neck and whispering something occasionally. Half way to the barn, Auror stopped. Hermione tugged gently at his reins.
"Come on, Auror." she whispered. She tugged at his reins more forcefully. "Auror," she said. "move."
But he did not. He had planted his hooves firmly into the dry soil and was not moving in the slightest. Hermione pulled at his reins but still Auror made so sign of wanting to go anywhere. She turned toward him, about to snap something at him and once again try pitifully to move him when she noticed that his gaze was transfixed. Hermione turned in the direction where Auror was staring.
The forest.
Her brows knitted in confusion. She turned back to Auror, who was still staring into the woods, then back to the trees. She held her breath and listened intently to her surroundings. There were no crickets, no birds, and no distant, indistinct far off sounds coming from down the road and in the town. A slight breeze rustled her hair and yet, there were no sounds of leaves rustling. She gave a sharp intake of breath as the cold wind nipped at her face and she wrapped her cloak tighter around herself.
Winter's almost here, she thought. It'll probably snow soon.
Hermione shook her head; suddenly she could hear crickets in the field and owls hooting from the distant trees. Strange. It must have been just the wind, she reasoned. It had grown very dark while she was putting the horses away and now the blackness had almost fully taken over. The tree branches blew in the wind and Hermione could once again hear the leaves whispering over the whistle of the breeze. Hermione looked around.
"Come on, Auror." Hermione said. "Let's get you in the stable then we both can get some sleep, okay?" Hermione said, patting his head. Auror continued to stare at the forest and stay put.
"Auror, I'm serious. This is not cute." Not only was Hermione getting increasingly annoyed at his behavior, but she was really starting to worry. She swore that not even thirty seconds before, she couldn't hear anything. It had been eerily silent and she was sure that it wasn't because she had gone temporarily deaf.
Something was wrong.
Which was all the more reason for Auror to get his big brown tail into the stable and for her to go inside lock all doors and windows and try to get some sleep. But Auror wasn't cooperating.
"Auror," she pleaded. "Come on... please. What's wrong with you?" Hermione stood in front of him and pulled at his reins with all her might. He just stared.
"Ugh!" Hermione groaned and held her hands up in frustration, dropping the reins. Hermione put her hands on her forehead than ran them through her untidy hair, which had long ago fallen loose of its braid. The wind was still blowing gently, picking up every once in awhile to send a shiver down her spine.
"This is just great—"
But Auror had already taken off toward the forest.
"Auror?" Hermione quickly let her hands fall to her sides and with a look of horror she watched her horse run away. "Auror!" Hermione cried and started run after him.
But Auror was galloping at his fullest speed, and disappeared into the forest before she could even make it half way. Panting and gasping for breath, Hermione skidded to a halt in the tall grassy field.
"Auror!" Her shout tore out with unadulterated despair and confusion.
She stood there in the middle of the field, staring into the quiet forest with the moon shining down on her and the wind rustling her cloak and hair.
What do I do? she thought. Should I go get help? But what if something happens to him before someone can get up here? The memory of her parents warning her about the wild animals in the forest came to mind and a knot began twisting in her stomach. What if something hurts him? He's my best horse. Not only do I need him for the contests, but... Mom... Dad. Hermione sighed. I can't just let him go in there and not even try to get him back.
Hermione stepped closer to the forest. She continued walking until she reached the end of the field but then stopped again.
But what if something happens to me? She thought, the knot twisting more violently. The memory of her parents' warning resurfaced. I don't have any protection, no guns... She instantly regretted not getting a gun earlier. Her father only had one when he was alive, but that was long gone. And when Hermione had thought about getting a new one, she figured that she wouldn't need one. Logical Hermione, of course, had chosen not to after taking the nonexistent local crime rate into consideration as well as the fact that she was not a hunter, but what good did those excuses do her now? Her parents had told her the forest was dangerous. She believed them now more than ever. And in all honesty, she knew the real reason for not wanting one. Not after what happened.
The wind blew, rustling her hair and her cloak again. She heard owls hooting off in the distance. Why am I just standing here? It must have been a few minutes already. Auror can't have gone too far and if I were to go and get help they might as well just say it's hopeless before they even get up here. I can't just leave him alone in the woods. My sense of direction isn't too shabby, and I went camping a couple of times before. If I need to I can always use some of Dad's old 'survival tips' on how to get home. She told herself this, though she desperately wished it wouldn't come to that. Right, I can't just let him stay in there alone and not even try to help.
With that in mind, Hermione ran out of the field and towards the forest, hesitating slightly as she reached the entrance. With a quick shake of her head and her mind set on finding Auror, she quickly ran through the forest, taking the path that she took with her father to get firewood. She reached the spot where they had gathered the wood in no time at all and only grew more anxious as she pressed on.
She continued to run down the path (That's odd—a path in this forest?), and started calling out Auror's name for some time before she finally ran out of air and had to slow down to a brisk walk. She kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting Auror to be there or... something else. Her shouts became whispers.
Eventually, Hermione had gotten so deep into the forest that she could barely make out the moon through the thick tree branches. From what she could see, the giant pine trees were bunched up together so densely that it seemed unnatural, and the branches were thick with needles. Occasionally, she'd bump into a particularly large branch that happened to grow out into the way of the path and was showered with dry pine needles. The only things she could hear were her steady footsteps against the dirt, the occasional whisper from the wind blowing the leaves, and her heart beating loudly in her ears.
She had been walking for quite some time when she gave up on calling for Auror. It seemed that the deeper she went into forest, the quieter it grew, and the more breaking the silence grew more daunting. Hermione had thought about turning back quite a few times on her way, but now the thought seemed more tempting than ever. The forest had gone so quiet that Hermione was afraid to breathe too loudly. She began to wonder why she even bothered to come in. How had she expected to find Auror anyway? He could be anywhere; he might not have even taken the path... he could have wandered off into the trees. He could even be dead...
No, She thought. Please don't let him be dead. She walked along the path, her heart thumping loudly in her ears; everything else was inaudible. I'm so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I'm supposed to be logical Hermione. I should just go home... Yet she continued walking. Her mind was thinking about going home and yet her feet were continuing to go forward. I can't stand the thought of leaving Auror, but what else am I going to do? Walk around the dangerous forest until I starve to death? Or get eaten by some animal? She stopped. This is hopeless...
Hermione sighed and was about to turn around when something caught her eye. Up ahead there was a rustling noise and the sound of hooves trotting towards her. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the moonlight reflect off a piece of metal in mid-air, just around the height of her eyes.
"Auror?" Hermione whispered fearfully, praying with all her might that it was. She didn't know what she'd do if it wasn't… she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to do anything.
Indeed, it was Auror, and he soon came into full view, his brown coat and mane a glossy black in the darkness and his white marking a dark gray. He neighed happily at the sight of her and stared at her intently. He didn't seem to be hurt and his reins were still around his neck.
"Auror!" she cried quietly, reaching out to pat his neck as he slowly walked toward her. "You scared me half to death! What were you thinking?" Hermione snapped at him but her giant smile did not leave her face. "I don't know why you did what you did, but..." she sighed. "Let's... just go home." Now that she had found Auror, she didn't want to stay in the forest any longer. She stopped petting him and reached for his reins. "Okay, let's go." Hermione said as she started to walk down the path in the direction of her home. But Auror wouldn't move.
"Ugh!" Hermione groaned, careful not to let the reins slip out of her hand. "Not this again!" She looked him in the eyes. "What is wrong with you?" She stared at him angrily before softening a bit. "Please, Auror..." she whispered. "Let's. Go. Home."
But Auror only stared at her. Then, with Hermione still holding onto the reins, Auror turned around and faced the dark deserted path in front of them. Hermione stared at the back of his head in confusion and total astonishment before Auror started walking down the path, his hooves giving soft 'thuds' as he walked on the dry soil.
"Auror?" she asked and began tugging at his reins again. He kept walking. "Auror?" she asked a little louder, no longer caring about the forest's sacred silence. Hermione dug her heels into the ground but she still slid forward with his movements. Rather than be dragged to wherever Auror was going, she started walking along side him, occasionally pulling on his reins and trying to stop him again. Each time however, was unsuccessful. Hermione's apprehension about the forest had not decreased in the slightest and walking further into the forest did not please her at all, especially since she had Auror again.
Hermione wrapped the cloak around her more tightly and lifted the hood up over her head. She was shivering from the dank, cold air and desperately wished she were at home in her nice warm bed. She walked closer to Auror and tried to absorb some of his body heat. Every now and then, Hermione would glance to each side of her, listening intently for anything that might be lurking in the darkness. She didn't hear anything and didn't see anything, but that didn't calm the horrible sensation she felt when she walked unarmed through the blackness. Just because she didn't see anything didn't mean nothing was there. She could almost sense something else far off in the trees…
As Hermione was trying to halt her horse for the umpteenth time, she spotted a rather small, dark creature flying towards her. Hermione's eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly. Was some dangerous animal finally coming to attack? But it's a bird… well, it can still peck my eyes out, Hermione thought with a shudder and once again pulled the cloak tight around her. She gasped quietly and stopped pulling on the reins as she watched the bird-like figure swoop down and land on a high tree branch to her left. Two yellow eyes stared down at her.
"An…owl?" Hermione whispered. She couldn't see properly in the dark but she was sure it was an owl. An eagle owl most likely, if her memory served her correctly, but she'd have to see it in the light to know exactly. It watched their movements intently. Hermione stared into the golden orbs while Auror continued to walk down the path, unfazed.
Hermione finally tore her eyes away from the animal's gaze. The animal flew over their heads, circling them twice before soaring with unbelievable speed straight ahead down the path. Hermione stared in front of her and for the first time realized that up ahead it was noticeably lighter. For how long now had the density of the trees been thinning? It almost looked as if there were an exit... Hermione raised a sable brow. It appeared to be a clearing of some sort… Despite the distance away from the supposed clearing, Hermione could see rays of moonlight shining down on the ground. And there was something falling to the ground. Was that… snow? Is this why the path is here? Hermione thought. To get to this clearing?
"What on Earth..." Hermione inquired silently to no one in particular. As Auror and Hermione got closer, Hermione began to think that what they were walking towards was actually the end of the forest. Hermione wondered just how far she had wandered in.
She had to be in at least a few good miles; she had been walking for hours and her legs had grown tired. Her muscles were sore and she was drowsy from the lack of sleep. Her head was aching and her eyelids were stubbornly heavy. When she had run into the forest she hadn't expected to have gone in this far. But she hadn't expected Auror not to come home willingly either…
As she remembered this, Hermione made a move as if she was going to start pulling on Auror's reins again, but she realized that she was only twenty feet away from the edge, and to try to turn back now was pointless. So Hermione, defeated and unsatisfied, let Auror continue walking her towards the clearing without any tension in his reigns. The eagle owl was sitting up on a branch at eye-level to her right, in one of the last trees before the open space.
Hermione could clearly see the moonlight shining down on the open soil now. She could see that the ground had a thin layer of white snow, which an ambivalently welcome contrast to the hours of near complete darkness. As Hermione and Auror stepped out of the trees, she shielded her eyes and looked away to the ground at Auror's feet. When she removed her hand from her face and looked up at the rows of trees, her eyes adjusted to the unfamiliar light. Hermione patted Auror on the neck a little before turning towards the middle of the clearing. Only…
This was no clearing.
She gasped loudly as her eyes traveled along the impossible height of a giant, ominous castle in the middle of the trees. Tall, domineering pines and an overbearing mountain surrounded the large castle and the full moon hung over the area like a condemning eye from the heavens. All the world seemed to have gained a bluish tint, and it looked to logical Hermione as though it had been plucked straight from a fairy tale.
A terribly-written fairy tale, she decided.
"Goodness," Hermione whispered. "Mad-Eye was right about the castle..." Hermione's brows drew together in concentration. She'd always thought that he made them up either for the children's entertainment or for his own sake and lack of sanity. She had never actually considered that the tale might be true. Hermione shook her head. No. This was a dream. It had to be.
But her leg hurt very badly when she reached down to give it a good pinch. Wincing at her own strength, Hermione investigated further. Hermione was astounded at the sheer size of the pine trees. The ones that were on the side of the forest where Hermione lived were very tall, but were nothing compared to the ones surrounding this castle. Hermione wasn't surprised at how difficult it might be to see in the forest now that she saw just how tall the trees loomed. From the way it appeared, as she had walked through the forest, the trees might actually have been growing in size. Hermione wondered just how she had never managed to see the castle before, from back on her side of the forest. The castle was so big... but these trees... was this natural?
Hermione continued to marvel at the scene when a noise broke her from her reverie. Hermione snapped her head in the direction of the path only to see that Auror was galloping away back down the path. She looked down at her hand to see that she had yet again dropped the reins.
"Auror!" Hermione cried, but he soon faded out of view into the darkness. Mentally cursing herself for yet another extreme display of carelessness that day, Hermione slapped her head in aggravation. It all seemed like some wild goose chase and some stupid joke, only no one was laughing. Hermione really did not want to run back and forth through a dangerous forest during the night chasing after an ungrateful horse. Hermione swore that if Auror went back in the forest again once they got home, no matter how much she loved him, he would be left to his own sources.
Hermione took a step toward the forest but was startled when the eagle owl, which had been watching the pair from the tree branch the entire time, swooped down in front of her, hooted loudly and planted itself firmly in the center of the entrance to the path, facing her. Hermione's eyebrows shot into her hairline, and she stepped to the left to walk around the owl. Unfortunately, the owl only mirrored her actions by stepping to its right, and subsequently blocked her from the path. Hermione scoffed and took two steps to her right. The owl once again imitated her and cut her off again.
"Well," Hermione whispered. "I thought I couldn't get any crazier tonight, but it seems I'm mistaken." She jumped backwards, the owl hopped forwards. Hermione went to the left; the owl went to its right. Suddenly Hermione jumped to the right twice, then to the left, forward then backward three paces, her arms flailing about madly. When she stopped, she stared at the owl, waiting for its reaction.
The owl merely cocked its head to the side interestedly and gave an amused hoot. Hermione groaned in frustration and brought her hands up to her eyes. She peered through her fingers at the eagle owl. Ever so carefully, Hermione slid her right foot to the right, the owl imitating her. Suddenly, Hermione jerked her hands away from her face, feinting to the left, and started sprinting forward into the forest. She only made it a few steps before the owl had once again planted itself firmly on the dirt in front of her, gave a stubborn hoot, and stared.
"Agh!" Hermione groaned, gripping her untidy hair in her hands. "What do you want?" she spat angrily at the owl. "What?"
The owl gave a hearty hoot and cocked its head to the side once more, staring at her bemusedly. This was not helpful.
"What?" Hermione repeated. "What do you want from me?" she asked again. "You want me to stay out here all night? Stay out in the middle of nowhere, miles away from home while my stupid horse has already scared the life out of me?" she asked the owl, stooping low so she could stare at it at its eye-level. "Or what?" Hermione laughed, without any actual mirth in her tone. "You want me to stay up in that castle?" She pointed behind her. "Go up and knock on those big doors and ask some empty suit of rusty armor for a cup of tea? Go in and find the place littered with broomsticks and teacups, like good ol' Mad-Eye suggested? Is that it? The castle?" Hermione asked sarcastically.
Then she smiled a very sad smile. She was sitting there, talking to an owl in the middle of the night, beyond a dangerous forest, asking the owl if it wanted her to go spend the night up in the not-so-imaginary castle with only magical teacups and broomsticks for company… If only the village could see me now, she thought.
The owl hooted happily and bobbed up and down with joy. Hermione leaned back and looked the owl with total astonishment.
"You're kidding," she said, incredulously. The owl flapped its wings fervently. "You're not…" Hermione said slowly. "You're not."
Hermione gave a large, exasperated sigh before letting her head fall down to her chest. Still kneeling on the snow-covered ground, not caring if her dress was getting even dirtier or if her face and hair was spotted with grime and mud, Hermione looked back at the eagle owl.
"Fine." Hermione said. "Fine." she repeated. "You win."
She stood up slowly and the owl continued to bounce with delight. Then after one last final hearty hoot, the owl took off and fled towards an open window in a tall tower. Hermione watched it soar up to one of the highest towers and perched itself on open stone window. Hermione raised her eyebrows once again at the owl's peculiar antics before turning towards the castle doors.
Was she really going to try and enter?
Hermione shivered and pulled her cloak tighter around her. She realized that her hood had fallen down (she assumed it was during her pathetic little dance to confuse the owl) and that her messy hair was now sprinkled with ice crystals. She brushed them off quickly, shivering as some melted and slid down her back, then pulled her hood back up over her head.
Hermione continued to stare at the castle. She bit her bottom lip, considering her options. On the one hand, she could turn back and go through the forest again, but she already hated this option. She did not like the idea of going back in there in the middle of the night, still unarmed, exhausted and ready to drop to the ground at any given moment. What if something finally did decide to attack her? She'd be worse than when she started earlier that evening, and she wasn't that great to begin with.
On the other hand, she could at least try to go in the castle. It seemed absolutely pointless; spending the night up in a deserted, empty castle all alone. Then a new horrible thought entered Hermione's mind, What if criminals were using the castle to hide out? No, she thought. That's ludicrous.
The snow continued to fall as she contemplated her options. She was growing colder by the minute. If she didn't make up her mind soon, she'd freeze to death. Forget wild animals; hypothermia or pneumonia was more of a threat at the moment.
Finally, Hermione, covered in snow, freezing to the bone and tired beyond belief, decided to spend the night in the castle. As soon as the sun rose, she'd quickly make her way back through the forest and when she got home and see if Auror was there. If he was… well, she'd be angry. She knew that much. Then she could go back to her life and look back on this one day and laugh. But somehow she didn't think that this was or would ever be a laughing matter.
If Auror weren't home… she didn't want to think about the possibility. If he weren't home then she would have to buy a new horse. But she'd need money, which was something she didn't have and she didn't have time to scrounge around for any. She already owed enough to the town for the past year alone, and couldn't borrow anymore. She'd have to count on old Ronan, and pray that he was still competent in his old age. If Ronan were to die from the increased workload, she didn't know what she'd do. The hole in which she was trapped seemed to be getting deeper and deeper, but she couldn't worry about all this now, not when snow was starting to pile on her eyelashes.
Hermione shook her head and brushed the snow off again. Giving an exhausted sigh she stepped in the direction of the castle doors. They seemed taller and more ominous looking then ever. She stared at them as she walked and swallowed hard when she reached the giant silver door handles. There was one handle on each door, large and blue in the snow's reflection of the moonlight. Both handles were roughly half Hermione's size.
On the left, the handle was in the shape of the torso of a badger's body and a large raven's head. The raven's head, complete with very detailed silver engravings of the feathers, was peering over the badger, whose body was likewise exquisite in detail. The most disturbing were the eyes. They were nothing more than smooth silver mounds between what were supposed to be the silver folds of skin. Both mouths were open wide and on each face was an expression that looked to Hermione as if they had been captured between a ferocious snarl and a horrifyingly painful cry. Hermione swallowed again at the sight of their faces. The badger's left paw was curved upward and touched its left shoulder, creating what Hermione assumed was the actual handle.
On the right was a similar handle, only instead of the badger and raven, there was a lion and a serpent, both with their mouths raging open. The lion took the place of the badger, also only half of its body visible. The lion had a large silvery mane and two blank mounds for eyes. Hermione nervously looked at the amount of sharp, gleaming teeth sticking out from the lion's mouth before mentally slapping herself.
Did she really think the silvery lion was going to come to life and attack her? Still, she'd rather not think of anything even remotely frightening until she was in better circumstances and broad daylight. The lion's mane took up most of the handle and covered a quarter of the body visible. Then, circling the stomach of the lion was the serpent. The silver, scaly reptile's tail started at the front of the lion's body and bent upwards and hid itself behind the lion, creating a large handle like the badger's paw. The other end of the tail twisted itself fully around the mammal's midsection, then cut behind the lion's head and peered out to the left. The snake's head was to the lion's right and rested its open jaw, which was complete with two very sharp, venomous looking teeth and snake-like tongue, on the lion's furry shoulder. Rather than looking hurt or angry like the badger and raven, these two new animals looked hungry for blood and ready to kill. Hermione stared into the eyes of the snake and lion for a moment or two, taking in the extreme detail of each before slowly reaching for the snake's tail.
Whoever used to live in this castle, Hermione thought. Obviously didn't like visitors…
She watched her hand move towards the handle then, feeling her hand clasp the icy metal, her eyes quickly jumped back up to the eyes of each animal. Looking back at her hand, she slowly pulled, not sure just how heavy the large door would be.
It didn't require much effort to open enough to get in, but she merely opened it wide enough to allow herself some room, then let go of the handle and started to walk inside, giving the handles one last glance before walking in all the way. They had to have been very old, and couldn't have been used in many years. They had looked almost polished to Hermione outside, but it could have just been the moonlight. Hermione shrugged and squinted in the blackness.
Inside was dark and her eyes had to adjust to the new light again. She pushed the door closed gently then turned back around. Pulling down her hood slowly, still letting her eyes adjust to the light, Hermione gently called out into the darkness.
"Hello?"
Thanks for reviewing! I appreciate it very much! It helps me a lot and actually pushes me to write!