A Meeting of Minds?
"Hello" a male voice suddenly broke the silence. Hermione jumped, and looking warily across the room she saw a young man, sat in the window recess, as if he had been gazing at the sky outside.
"Hello" she replied, trying to appear confident. He didn't seem to be dangerous, although she knew never to take anything at face value in this wizarding world.
He was tall, with black hair cut in a traditional wizard style. His complexion was clear and pale, and his eyes a dark colour Hermione couldn't identify at this distance. Sitting as he was, legs curled up onto the sill of the window, she noticed his inate grace, and she struggled not to smile in appreciation.
He grinned as she continued to stare at him in silence, her head cocked to one side, her teeth biting her bottom lip in either indecision or nerves.
" Were you looking for someone?" he asked gently, taking in her slight form
"No, " she said rather quickly, "That is, I didn't expect anyone to be here. Sorry" she tagged on the end of the sentence, and smiled ruefully.
"I was just exploring, and was drawn into this room by the beautiful mural.."
The boy visibly relaxed, and the tension in the room subsided.
"Oh, yes, it is stunning isn't it." He said, " Although I tend to return here because of the books." His head nodded towards the wall behind her and she turned to look, expecting a huge range of bookshelves. She was mildly disappointed to find only a single shelf, with nothing sitting upon it except a flat, time-blackened section of timber. Scratched into the surface of the wood and nearly hidden in the patina were markings; words and symbols.
She turned a questioning glance at the boy, who remained seated in the window embrasure. He smiled again, faintly amused.
"Ask for a book, title, author, general subject, whatever. It will deliver it." He intoned as if to a backward child, and turned his attention back to the night sky
Indecision gripped her as she tried to decide which book she would most treasure. She knew that her choice would be telling, and she was aware of a sudden need to impress the boy, or at least not to look a complete idiot.
"Moste Potente Potions" she announced, remembering the ink spreading across it's pages and the profuse apologies from Ron as Pigwidgeon landed heavily on the table, scattering ink, parchment and quills. Neither of them could afford another copy to replace Hermione's well loved book, and it had added to the anger she had been feeling for the last few weeks, until her explosion of pique earlier that evening.
She smiled at the memory; a smile that turned to grin as the book in question appeared on the shelf. She picked it up and opening it at random she turned and moved towards the unoccupied chair, engrossed before she managed to sit.
He watched her, the emotions running across her face. She was so open, hiding nothing from him even though she was obviously trying. He smiled faintly, his mouth turning up at one corner, and found himself unable to look away. She was nothing remarkable he decided. Brown hair, pulled back into a thick plait which reached down her back to nearly her hips, not too tall, not too curvy but not too thin either. Her face was pretty, but again, nothing amazing¼so why was he so drawn to watching her?
He listened as she made her choice, starting at her eventual decision. Potions, was she drawn to them too, he wondered, his breathing becoming erratic as he noticed the way her hands caressed the front cover. She brought the book up to her face, inhaling the scent, savouring the experience of the new find. He was mesmerised, his mouth hanging open, his world condensed to a single moment, a single figure¼¼.her, the girl. He realised that he did not know her name, but then again he didn't want to. If she gave it then he would have to reveal himself, and as she obviously had no idea who he was he would prefer to keep it that way. He liked this anonymity, the mystery of meeting people, not allies, enemies or houses. There was companionship in her presence; a sweetness that filled the air as surely as her scent, which carried to his heightened senses. Although he did not believe in destiny, maybe it had found him, had shown him a path to the happiness he deserved.
Languidly uncurling himself from the window he moved across the room, sliding into the chair he had previously occupied. She looked up from her book, briefly catching his eyes, and he was lost. Her sweet smile had been his undoing, that and the total innocence reflected in the twin pools of her eyes. He forced himself to breath deeply, aware that she was becoming unnerved by the intensity of his look. He dropped his gaze, picking up his book as tried his best to remain unaffected by her. Maybe he could fool her, he thought to himself, but he knew that he was still aware of her every nuance, of every breath, of every thought. He was for the first time in his miserable life, totally engrossed in another being. He was captivated, his feelings laid bare, his emotions running without restraint. He was in love.
Hermione flung her bag onto her chair, and threw her entire length onto her four poster bed, sighing deeply and burying her face in her quilt. She was tired, she needed to sleep. Instead her mind drifted back to the boy in the room, as it had many times over the last two days. They had sat in silence, reading their books for at least an hour before she had decided to return to the common room and go to bed. The boy had looked at her intently and asked if she would be returning. She had hesitated, but the lure of the books had been too much, and she had agreed, as long as he was happy with her returning. He had replied that he was more than happy, and would appreciate her company, the look in his eyes warm and expectant.
As she walked through the door she had turned to find him watching her intently still, her voice had caught in her throat, and the tension had returned to the room.
"My name is Hermione" she had said, her voice barely a whisper.
After a slight pause he had replied,
"You may call me Titus"
The room looked no different from the previous time she had entered it, and so she walked towards the staircase, no longer seeing the mural, just intent upon her destination. The boy was sitting in his chair, one leg flung over it's arm, his back wedged into the corner. He looked up from his book, a triumphant expression flitting across his face before he schooled it into a smile.
"Hello there Hermione." He drawled, "I see you couldn't stay away from my sparkling personality" his grin became feral, the candlelight reflecting on his slightly pointed canine teeth.
Hermione smiled back, conscious of the way his eyes roamed down her body, taking in every curve. She had dressed with care tonight, her navy kilt rested exactly four inches above her knees, her jumper was tight and tucked into the skirt. It showed her newly emerged figure to perfection without making her look "available". Flicking her hair behind her shoulder she meet his eyes, those pools of liquid chocolate flickering in the glow of the open fire. She gasped gently, and dropping her gaze she stumbled to the chair next to him. The tension in the room was palpable, uncomfortable even, but Hermione knew that with this emotion charged reaction she had at last found someone she could relate to, someone she was attracted to.
She smiled into her book, determined to pull herself together, to show him that he didn't have the upper hand, sure of his gaze upon her face.
"So, have you decided which book to ask for next?" he inquired, a study of nonchalance.
Not fooled at all by his indifferent attitude Hermione crossed her legs, demurely making sure that her skirt hadn't ridden up too far!
"I have so many ideas I can't decide," she said, her voice calm belying the torrent of nerves currently coursing through her.
"I have a list of books that I am dying to read for personal reasons, but then I have an equally long list I would love to read for research, " she chewed her bottom lip, and placing Moste Potente Potions down by the side of the chair she rose and sauntered over to the bookshelf.
"I suppose there are a few which fall into both categories" she mused, feeling his eyes following her.
"I would like The Headology of a Country Witch, by E Weatherwax, please" she finally announced and was rewarded by a loud thud as the heavy gilt covered tome arrived on the shelf.
"Wow, look at that cover." she giggled,
"An object lesson in headology to start with, I should think" his silky voice intoned
Mustn't giggle again, mustn't giggle, Hermione repeated to herself. She didn't want to look like Lavender!
Standing on tiptoes she hoisted the book down, thoroughly aware of the rampaging hormones of the boy behind her. She couldn't help the grin that crossed her features as she turned suddenly, her skirt flaring around her slightly, to catch the boy with his mouth wide open. He closed it with a snap, and buried his head in his book, a deep flush creeping over his cheeks.
Giving up on a seductive saunter back to her chair with gratitude, that book was extremely heavy, she gracefully slid back down into the chair and opened the treasured pages. Instantly she was caught, her mind taken out of her body and off into the book and the mind of the author.
The boy watched her, aware that he had found her weakness. He had not liked her actions earlier, he felt out of control, not a feeling he liked. He let her read for an hour and then decided that he required her attention again. He yawned, stretching, making sure that she heard him.
She yawned in sympathy, raising her hands above her head, stretching her frame to relieve some of the tension and heard to her deep satisfaction the hiss of his indrawn breathe.
"Hermione" he whispered, not able to trust his voice any further,
She gazed at him, their eyes locking, their bodies moving towards each other. Before her conscious mind could intervene, his lips were on hers, kissing her deeply. Emotions flooded Hermione's body; she was shaking with the intensity, her heartbeat racing, her breathing laboured. One emotion rose to the surface and to her surprise it was definitely not lust or affection. It was triumph, pure and simple power over another being. She drew back, concern creasing her brow, to look at his face, not understanding or liking this feeling. And as she looked deep into his eyes she realised that the feelings were not hers, they were his.
It was their anniversary, she thought with a giggle. One whole month of late night sneaking out had not gone unnoticed by her friends but she had worried herself with the ease of the lie which had put their minds at rest. It had not stopped her rushing down the corridor, smoothing her hair as she ran.
She pushed the ancient wooden door, hoping, no needing to see him again, but it didn't move. Hermione took out her wand and pointing it at the lock she spelled it to open. Alohamora did not seem to have the desired effect though, and the door remained stubbornly closed. Hermione tried again, becoming worried and more than a little desperate.
"Open damn you" she hissed as she took hold of the handle and jerked it up and down, "Open!"
"Ah, my dear Miss Granger, are you sure you wish to go through that door." she heard the saddened voice of her headmaster behind her.
Spinning round, her hands still behind her on the handle she nervously licked her lips.
" Professor Dumbledore, Sir, I was exploring and, uhm, sort of .."
"Lost track of the time" he finished, smiling gently at her lack of excuse.
"You should not be out after curfew you know, even the head girl has rules Miss Granger" he said, his harder tone belied by the constant twinkling in his eyes.
Hermione smiled ruefully, "I'm sorry headmaster. I just needed to be here. I need to¼" her voice trailed off, not wanting to believe she was telling the headmaster that she was infatuated by a boy she barely knew.
"I don't think that door will open again Hermione my dear." he stated gently" It really is not a good place to go. I should have it sealed up, but I don't like to push fate any harder than I have too"
Hermione swallowed the sob which rose to her throat, " But I won't see him!" she blurted out " I mean, there is someone I meet here." she said, trying to replace the panic in her voice with calm.
"Oh, I think you will, Miss Granger. I think that it is inevitable" his heavy sigh echoed down the corridor as he walked her back to her dormitory, away from the temptation.
Grief stricken, Hermione suddenly broke free and darted down the corridor, a sob escaping her throat as she ran blindly. Not caring where she went, the effort of running was dulling the pain.
"Hello" a male voice suddenly broke the silence. Hermione jumped, and looking warily across the room she saw a young man, sat in the window recess, as if he had been gazing at the sky outside.
"Hello" she replied, trying to appear confident. He didn't seem to be dangerous, although she knew never to take anything at face value in this wizarding world.
He was tall, with black hair cut in a traditional wizard style. His complexion was clear and pale, and his eyes a dark colour Hermione couldn't identify at this distance. Sitting as he was, legs curled up onto the sill of the window, she noticed his inate grace, and she struggled not to smile in appreciation.
He grinned as she continued to stare at him in silence, her head cocked to one side, her teeth biting her bottom lip in either indecision or nerves.
" Were you looking for someone?" he asked gently, taking in her slight form
"No, " she said rather quickly, "That is, I didn't expect anyone to be here. Sorry" she tagged on the end of the sentence, and smiled ruefully.
"I was just exploring, and was drawn into this room by the beautiful mural.."
The boy visibly relaxed, and the tension in the room subsided.
"Oh, yes, it is stunning isn't it." He said, " Although I tend to return here because of the books." His head nodded towards the wall behind her and she turned to look, expecting a huge range of bookshelves. She was mildly disappointed to find only a single shelf, with nothing sitting upon it except a flat, time-blackened section of timber. Scratched into the surface of the wood and nearly hidden in the patina were markings; words and symbols.
She turned a questioning glance at the boy, who remained seated in the window embrasure. He smiled again, faintly amused.
"Ask for a book, title, author, general subject, whatever. It will deliver it." He intoned as if to a backward child, and turned his attention back to the night sky
Indecision gripped her as she tried to decide which book she would most treasure. She knew that her choice would be telling, and she was aware of a sudden need to impress the boy, or at least not to look a complete idiot.
"Moste Potente Potions" she announced, remembering the ink spreading across it's pages and the profuse apologies from Ron as Pigwidgeon landed heavily on the table, scattering ink, parchment and quills. Neither of them could afford another copy to replace Hermione's well loved book, and it had added to the anger she had been feeling for the last few weeks, until her explosion of pique earlier that evening.
She smiled at the memory; a smile that turned to grin as the book in question appeared on the shelf. She picked it up and opening it at random she turned and moved towards the unoccupied chair, engrossed before she managed to sit.
He watched her, the emotions running across her face. She was so open, hiding nothing from him even though she was obviously trying. He smiled faintly, his mouth turning up at one corner, and found himself unable to look away. She was nothing remarkable he decided. Brown hair, pulled back into a thick plait which reached down her back to nearly her hips, not too tall, not too curvy but not too thin either. Her face was pretty, but again, nothing amazing¼so why was he so drawn to watching her?
He listened as she made her choice, starting at her eventual decision. Potions, was she drawn to them too, he wondered, his breathing becoming erratic as he noticed the way her hands caressed the front cover. She brought the book up to her face, inhaling the scent, savouring the experience of the new find. He was mesmerised, his mouth hanging open, his world condensed to a single moment, a single figure¼¼.her, the girl. He realised that he did not know her name, but then again he didn't want to. If she gave it then he would have to reveal himself, and as she obviously had no idea who he was he would prefer to keep it that way. He liked this anonymity, the mystery of meeting people, not allies, enemies or houses. There was companionship in her presence; a sweetness that filled the air as surely as her scent, which carried to his heightened senses. Although he did not believe in destiny, maybe it had found him, had shown him a path to the happiness he deserved.
Languidly uncurling himself from the window he moved across the room, sliding into the chair he had previously occupied. She looked up from her book, briefly catching his eyes, and he was lost. Her sweet smile had been his undoing, that and the total innocence reflected in the twin pools of her eyes. He forced himself to breath deeply, aware that she was becoming unnerved by the intensity of his look. He dropped his gaze, picking up his book as tried his best to remain unaffected by her. Maybe he could fool her, he thought to himself, but he knew that he was still aware of her every nuance, of every breath, of every thought. He was for the first time in his miserable life, totally engrossed in another being. He was captivated, his feelings laid bare, his emotions running without restraint. He was in love.
Hermione flung her bag onto her chair, and threw her entire length onto her four poster bed, sighing deeply and burying her face in her quilt. She was tired, she needed to sleep. Instead her mind drifted back to the boy in the room, as it had many times over the last two days. They had sat in silence, reading their books for at least an hour before she had decided to return to the common room and go to bed. The boy had looked at her intently and asked if she would be returning. She had hesitated, but the lure of the books had been too much, and she had agreed, as long as he was happy with her returning. He had replied that he was more than happy, and would appreciate her company, the look in his eyes warm and expectant.
As she walked through the door she had turned to find him watching her intently still, her voice had caught in her throat, and the tension had returned to the room.
"My name is Hermione" she had said, her voice barely a whisper.
After a slight pause he had replied,
"You may call me Titus"
The room looked no different from the previous time she had entered it, and so she walked towards the staircase, no longer seeing the mural, just intent upon her destination. The boy was sitting in his chair, one leg flung over it's arm, his back wedged into the corner. He looked up from his book, a triumphant expression flitting across his face before he schooled it into a smile.
"Hello there Hermione." He drawled, "I see you couldn't stay away from my sparkling personality" his grin became feral, the candlelight reflecting on his slightly pointed canine teeth.
Hermione smiled back, conscious of the way his eyes roamed down her body, taking in every curve. She had dressed with care tonight, her navy kilt rested exactly four inches above her knees, her jumper was tight and tucked into the skirt. It showed her newly emerged figure to perfection without making her look "available". Flicking her hair behind her shoulder she meet his eyes, those pools of liquid chocolate flickering in the glow of the open fire. She gasped gently, and dropping her gaze she stumbled to the chair next to him. The tension in the room was palpable, uncomfortable even, but Hermione knew that with this emotion charged reaction she had at last found someone she could relate to, someone she was attracted to.
She smiled into her book, determined to pull herself together, to show him that he didn't have the upper hand, sure of his gaze upon her face.
"So, have you decided which book to ask for next?" he inquired, a study of nonchalance.
Not fooled at all by his indifferent attitude Hermione crossed her legs, demurely making sure that her skirt hadn't ridden up too far!
"I have so many ideas I can't decide," she said, her voice calm belying the torrent of nerves currently coursing through her.
"I have a list of books that I am dying to read for personal reasons, but then I have an equally long list I would love to read for research, " she chewed her bottom lip, and placing Moste Potente Potions down by the side of the chair she rose and sauntered over to the bookshelf.
"I suppose there are a few which fall into both categories" she mused, feeling his eyes following her.
"I would like The Headology of a Country Witch, by E Weatherwax, please" she finally announced and was rewarded by a loud thud as the heavy gilt covered tome arrived on the shelf.
"Wow, look at that cover." she giggled,
"An object lesson in headology to start with, I should think" his silky voice intoned
Mustn't giggle again, mustn't giggle, Hermione repeated to herself. She didn't want to look like Lavender!
Standing on tiptoes she hoisted the book down, thoroughly aware of the rampaging hormones of the boy behind her. She couldn't help the grin that crossed her features as she turned suddenly, her skirt flaring around her slightly, to catch the boy with his mouth wide open. He closed it with a snap, and buried his head in his book, a deep flush creeping over his cheeks.
Giving up on a seductive saunter back to her chair with gratitude, that book was extremely heavy, she gracefully slid back down into the chair and opened the treasured pages. Instantly she was caught, her mind taken out of her body and off into the book and the mind of the author.
The boy watched her, aware that he had found her weakness. He had not liked her actions earlier, he felt out of control, not a feeling he liked. He let her read for an hour and then decided that he required her attention again. He yawned, stretching, making sure that she heard him.
She yawned in sympathy, raising her hands above her head, stretching her frame to relieve some of the tension and heard to her deep satisfaction the hiss of his indrawn breathe.
"Hermione" he whispered, not able to trust his voice any further,
She gazed at him, their eyes locking, their bodies moving towards each other. Before her conscious mind could intervene, his lips were on hers, kissing her deeply. Emotions flooded Hermione's body; she was shaking with the intensity, her heartbeat racing, her breathing laboured. One emotion rose to the surface and to her surprise it was definitely not lust or affection. It was triumph, pure and simple power over another being. She drew back, concern creasing her brow, to look at his face, not understanding or liking this feeling. And as she looked deep into his eyes she realised that the feelings were not hers, they were his.
It was their anniversary, she thought with a giggle. One whole month of late night sneaking out had not gone unnoticed by her friends but she had worried herself with the ease of the lie which had put their minds at rest. It had not stopped her rushing down the corridor, smoothing her hair as she ran.
She pushed the ancient wooden door, hoping, no needing to see him again, but it didn't move. Hermione took out her wand and pointing it at the lock she spelled it to open. Alohamora did not seem to have the desired effect though, and the door remained stubbornly closed. Hermione tried again, becoming worried and more than a little desperate.
"Open damn you" she hissed as she took hold of the handle and jerked it up and down, "Open!"
"Ah, my dear Miss Granger, are you sure you wish to go through that door." she heard the saddened voice of her headmaster behind her.
Spinning round, her hands still behind her on the handle she nervously licked her lips.
" Professor Dumbledore, Sir, I was exploring and, uhm, sort of .."
"Lost track of the time" he finished, smiling gently at her lack of excuse.
"You should not be out after curfew you know, even the head girl has rules Miss Granger" he said, his harder tone belied by the constant twinkling in his eyes.
Hermione smiled ruefully, "I'm sorry headmaster. I just needed to be here. I need to¼" her voice trailed off, not wanting to believe she was telling the headmaster that she was infatuated by a boy she barely knew.
"I don't think that door will open again Hermione my dear." he stated gently" It really is not a good place to go. I should have it sealed up, but I don't like to push fate any harder than I have too"
Hermione swallowed the sob which rose to her throat, " But I won't see him!" she blurted out " I mean, there is someone I meet here." she said, trying to replace the panic in her voice with calm.
"Oh, I think you will, Miss Granger. I think that it is inevitable" his heavy sigh echoed down the corridor as he walked her back to her dormitory, away from the temptation.
Grief stricken, Hermione suddenly broke free and darted down the corridor, a sob escaping her throat as she ran blindly. Not caring where she went, the effort of running was dulling the pain.