"Bombarda!" Nothing.
"Confringo!"
Her lungs were on fire; it was hard to breathe. She was sweating profusely despite the cold.
"Reducto!"
How long had she been at this? The moon was prominent in the winter sky, bathing her in its eerie glow.
"Damn it!"
Angry tears clouded her eyes. Nothing was working. She sent a blast of white-hot fire at the object and held it there for thirty seconds but once it died down, the ring was still there, gleaming at her smugly.
Frustrated beyond belief, she threw her wand to the ground. Her hands found their way into her hair and she gripped her head, crying.
The damned ring winked up at her from the ground. The snow it had been resting on had melted away earlier on in her experimenting to destroy it, leaving a wide circle of scorched earth around it.
She'd been up for hours; having first made sure everyone else was asleep and then sneaking out. She had cast a Silencio on the area around herself so they would not hear her outside.
She should have felt tired but felt anxious and wired instead, intent to destroy the ring. She had tried every spell she knew, but nothing worked. Not a single imperfection had appeared on it despite her efforts.
The ground was icy cold and hard on her knees but she knelt down anyway and looked at the ring.
Several days ago, Harry had found the ring and asked her about it.
"Hermione? Is this yours?" He had asked. The blood had drained from her face when she saw he was looking at the engraving on the inside. 'Property of DM.'
He looked slightly shocked and curious, staring intently at the green stone. Fear overtook her and she panicked, thinking he would immediately know everything she had withheld from him, that he would think she had wanted it because the ring was in her possession.
And she had to stop it.
Swallowing to get past the cotton in her throat, she'd hastened to reply, conjuring a lie as quickly as she could.
"I-It's my great grandmothers'." She blurted, forcing her face into a calm mask.
Merlin knew she was a horrid liar, but for once, she prayed, let me get away with this one.
"Her husband gave it to her before he died, and she passed it on to my mother before she died, who sent it to me as a Christmas present."
He was still staring at the engraving, and she felt bile rise in her throat. She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the ring.
"Her name was Dorothy Maud, Harry," she finished.
The suspicion and confusion left his eyes, and he looked up at her solemnly.
"Then why don't you wear it?" he asked. He made to put the ring on her finger but she jerked back, eyes wide.
"N-No!" the concerned look in his eyes intensified. Harry paused, looking alarmed. Mentally, she reprimanded herself.
Straightening her composure, she'd laughed lightly and said, "Really, Harry. You know I'm not one to wear something as ostentatious as that. My mum sent it to me by owl a week ago, but I don't quite know what to do with it." Shrugging, and thankful for the lie that had sprung up from nowhere, she'd taken the ring from him and slipped it back into her pocket.
He stood there for a while, looking at her. She knew he knew that she wasn't telling him the truth, but her fear made her keep her face calm and controlled. After a few seconds, he nodded.
"I'm sorry about your grandmother," he said solemnly. Hermione felt horrid about his sympathy for her non-existent relation, but found herself continuing the lie.
"It's okay," she said. "She died a few years ago." She took his hand, tried to muster a convincing smile. "Let's go back inside; I can see Mrs. Weasely in the kitchen. We should help."
Things hadn't been exactly the same after that. Harry knew she was hiding something, but for the love of Merlin, she couldn't bring herself to tell him, and he couldn't bring himself to pressure her to tell him, thinking she needed space and time to process what had happened with McLaggen. Christmas had passed and today was New Year's Eve. Christmas with the Weasleys had been a jolly event. The twins had hidden Mrs. Weasley's old radio in a successful attempt to prevent the annual torture of having to listen to Celestina Warbeck, and everyone had spent the day fooling around, playing with their presents from Fred and George, and breaking out into spectacularly, hilariously bad renditions of the Muggle Christmas songs Harry and Hermione taught them.
Though she was surrounded by people who loved her and whom she loved in return, Hermione grew more anxious with every day that led them closer to their return to Hogwarts. The ring was supposed to be destroyed and useless now but it was intact and malevolent as ever. What would she do when she got back to Hogwarts? Continue to hide it in a perpetual game of keep-away with Malfoy?
Wiping her frustrated tears, she straightened up and shoved the stupid thing back into her pocket.
Draco looked out on the school grounds from his window, his pale eyes sweeping over the barren scenery. He could see smoke coming from the half-giant Hagrid's chimney way down below. The dismal winter landscape failed to catch his attention; there was nothing to see anyway. He let out a bored sigh. He strode out of his room and into the Common Room area, taking one sweeping look at the empty room.
The place was lifeless without her. Her scarf and some of her sweaters still hung on the coat rack, beckoning him closer, an invitation to catch a whiff of her scent. He ignored their call and walked into her room instead, where her scent still lingered faintly.
The last time he had been here, he had slept with her in her bed. He smirked at the memory and looked through the things she had on her dresser. Several magical photographs caught his attention.
Each one had her with Potter and Weasley bearing wide, silly grins. They stood crowded together, with their arms slung over each other's shoulders. One had been taken on the Hogwarts grounds; the school itself was in the background. The others were from a variety of different locations he didn't know about, but he could tell one had been taken at Weasley's house by the cluttered mess in the background. He snorted and set them back down.
He ran his fingers over some dried sprigs of lavender that lay over a large stack of books and caught sight of her pink hair ribbon which he slipped into his pocket. Taking his time, he walked over to her bed and sat down on it, noticing a decorated basket that lay beside it. Lips twitching with amusement, he opened it and raised his brow when he saw the neat stack of knitting supplies and books.
Of course, she would knit before going to sleep. He rolled his eyes, but his interest had been piqued. Draco eyed the books and plucked one out at random, flipping to the title page.
"Pride and Prejudice," he read aloud, flipping through its pages, and then moving on to the rest of the books. Some of them were so worn from frequent readings they were at risk of falling apart completely. Draco had an itching to mend them but refrained from doing so, as she would notice immediately. He fell asleep on her bed, using her pillow, wishing she was there.
Harry watched Hermione out of the corner of his eye as she spoke with Ron and George, smiling as they teased her about a Quidditch team name she had just mispronounced. Hermione flushed and responded to their ribbing by making a rude gesture with her hand, which made them explode into delighted laughter. She turned and caught Harry watching, smiled guiltily.
It was nearing midnight; they only had one minute until it was the New Year. The rest of the family was preparing for the countdown. Mrs. Weasley had rushed into the kitchen to gather some drinks. Harry tapped on her shoulder lightly, and said, "Will you go outside with me for a bit?"
Hermione faltered in her speech, and looked at him, confused for a second or two. George and Ron hurriedly began talking about another topic.
"But what about everyone else?" she asked, unaware of the knowing smile Molly was giving her.
"Don't worry, dear, we're not going anywhere," she said kindly, winking at Harry, who blushed. "Go take a walk about the garden, but mind the wards!" she added seriously.
Hermione relented and got up, shrugging on her coat and hat. Harry followed suit, and they stepped into the still, frigid night air.
The stars shone beautifully up above them despite the frigid chill. Icicles hung glistening and sharp from the roof. Harry could feel his feet turning numb inside his boots. He glanced at his watch—he had seconds left.
"Hermione," he began, and she turned to look at him.
"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asked, holding her hands gently.
Hermione stared wide-eyed at him, her mind having frozen. A slow grin worked itself onto her face, and all her worries flew out of her mind for that instant.
"Yes," she answered shyly. "I think I will."
Harry grinned at her, and brought his hand to her chin, drawing her closer. Hermione's breath hitched, and she watched, half afraid, half ecstatic as his face hovered closer, waiting to see if she was comfortable. Suddenly impatient, she closed the gap between their lips just as the occupants inside the house cheered, quickly calling out 'Happy New Year's to hide the fact they had been watching from the kitchen windows. Hermione felt as though she were walking on a cloud, feeling his warm, soft lips pressed onto her own.
This is what a kiss should be like, she decided as he cupped the back of her head with his other hand, deepening their kiss. Not like those horrible ones he forced on me.
She was so elated; she didn't feel the ring grow hotter in her pocket.
And back at Hogwarts, a boy with shockingly blond hair awoke with a start, knowing what had just happened.