I can dive straight into the teeth of the wind,
But your gaze tears my heart to shreds.
Don't you know what you do to me?
You leap through the hearth and bon,
Your eyes as bright as the flames you tread.
My fearful heart leaps into my throat.
Yet you, the bright salamander,
sit curled inside the fire.
Don't you know that mere mortals like me
burn?
I shudder to think what I'd feel if I touched you,
tasted that fire flickering over my callused hands.
You lurk like a wolf at the edge of the firelight,
like a dream at the edge of waking.
Don't vanish on me, I couldn't bear it.
"Hermione! What are you reading!" Ron morfled, his mouth still stuffed with food.
"Yeah, getting a lot of letters lately, Mione." Harry said with a smile.
"Who's the lucky boy?" Gin said, and Hermione wanted to kill her - before reminding herself, sharply, that she hadn't told Gin because it would get back to the boys.
Who always loved a mystery, and would never, ever let one go.
Slamming the letter into a book, Hermione stood and said, "I forgot my book for Charms! See you at class!"
Neville gave a slow grin, and turned to Gin, asking "How long until she remembers Charms comes before lunch, not after?"
[a/n: arrgh! poetry so hard! Particularly poetry I'm trying to force. Am lucky Draco is bad at the poetry - means I don't need to try so hard.
Read, review? I'll write more, soon!]
