Feallan Steorra
Chapter 6: All Night Company
Author's jibberish: Nuthin new really… Also, someone asked what the title means. "Feallan" and "Steorra" are the Old English terms for "Fallen Star." You'll get why it's called that later.
Harry had been spending a whole ½ hour in the kitchen ("Dobby so happy to see Harry Potter!"). He came back to the Gryffindor common room with two mugs of cocoa. "Hermione, I got--." His lips clamped shut once he saw her. She was lying on the couch, facing the roaring fire. The book Hogwarts, A History was open on her lap. Her breathing was even, her chest rising and falling.
He placed the mugs down on the coffee table and sat beside them, directly facing Hermione. Harry took the book and placed it on a nearby chair, making sure it stayed open to the page it was at. A few tendrils of hair found its way across her face as she turned to her side. Harry pulled them away. He didn't even notice he was staring, watching the firelight dance across her skin.
Hermione's eyes slowly fluttered open. Her vision was in a daze. She saw a figure sitting in front of her, fire outlining his body, his green eyes upon her. She sat up with a start.
"Sorry, did I scare you?" Harry asked.
She shook her head, rubbing her eyes to clear them. "No…well, just a little."
"Here," he handed one of the mugs to her. "I thought you might lie some."
She took it; the mug was filled with hot chocolate and a dozen little marshmallows floating on the top. "Thank you." She took a sip, and the warm cocoa heated her neck and chest. She smiled. "I like this. It's just like home."
"It is?"
She nodded. "My parents and I would drink warm cocoa in front of the fireplace and look through photo albums. I…sort of miss it."
Then Harry put his mug down and headed upstairs. He came back down with a leather bound book. "I bring this with me all the time."
"An album?"
"Yes. I fill it with some pictures every year." He opened it to the first page. It was a man, with round glasses, and a woman, with green eyes, holding a baby between them.
"Wait," Hermione said, "That's you…and your parents?" He nodded. "You look like your father…and you have your mother's eyes. She's beautiful."
He smiled in response. They flipped through more of the album. There were pictures of them in their second year, third and fourth.
"Oh look, this is at the Yule Ball last year," Hermione looked at the picture. It was Harry, Parvati, Ron and Padma in the Great Hall. "Is that me back there?" she asked. "Why is Ron giving me such an angry look?"
Harry just shrugged. He could guess why Ron was having such a rotten time then. He took a drink of his chocolate.
"Thank you Harry."
He looked at her. "For what?"
"For everything. I don't really have any friends back home…not true friends," she explained. "You and Ron…I'm happy to have friends like you."
"And I'm glad I have a friend like you as well."
She turned to the album, hiding the tears in her eyes. They took another drink from their mugs and continued to talk through out the whole night.
"I've always loved studying but there were these mean little girls that made fun of me. I was so angry with them; I wanted something terrible to happen. The next thing I know, their markers blew up, splattering ink all over their face.
Harry laughed. "You did that?"
"Not by choice! I was 10; I didn't know I caused it. Other things happened, like summoning things from another room, making objects float…" Hermione explained, "but when I received the letter from Hogwarts, it all made sense."
"Your parents didn't panic?"
"At first, they were in denial. But in the letter were instructions to Diagon Alley. We went there and after seeing it, how could we not believe?" she smiled. "While my parents talked with Professor McGonagall about their schooling system, I spent that whole summer reading on Hogwarts and everything I could get my hands on. I even bought my textbooks early so I could understand this world."
"And you still study during the summer. Don't you ever take a break?" he asked.
"No way! I learn something new everyday in the magic world," she explained. "It's fascinating. But…there is one thing I learned that I'm not good at."
"Is that possible?" Harry gently teased.
"If I tell you, will you laugh?"
"No."
It took a few seconds before the word came out of her mouth. "Flying."
"Flying?" he repeated.
"I can read all the tips and instructions on how to do it but it's totally different from reading a book to sitting on a broom."
"You flew fine in Madam Hooch's class."
Hermione nodded. "I can fly in mediocre fashion…you know, just to get by. But flying at 100 miles an hour, racing through the sky: that I cannot do." She sighed. "I wish I could."
The portrait door flew open and Ron and Ginny appeared, along with George and Fred.
Hermione looked up. "Welcome back," she greeted.
Harry turned around. "How was Romania?"
"It was beautiful!" Ginny exclaimed. "It was actually snowing like this!"
"Percy was being a pain," Ron huffed. "Kept talking about work."
"So we were thinking of locking him in one of the dragon's cavern," George said.
"But it didn't work," Fred sighed, disappointed.
"Mum caught on so we had our wands taken away," George finished.
"A typical Weasley Christmas," Ginny smiled, satisfied. She, along with Fred and George, headed upstairs to the dormitories.
"Did you two just wake up?" Ron asked his friends as he approached them. "At this hour?"
"Why?" Harry asked. "What's wrong?"
"It's 6:30 in the morning; I thought you two would be asleep."
Harry turned to Hermione. "Did we stay up after this whole time?"
Hermione laughed. "I didn't even notice until now." She stood and stretched. "I'm going upstairs and change." She headed upstairs.
"You two stayed up the whole night talking?" Ron asked in disbelief.
"I suppose so," responded Harry.
"I came back early because I thought you'd be bored out of your wits," Ron said. "I thought you'd be made to study but it looks like I was worrying for nothing."
Harry stood, straightening his sweater. "What's a matter?"
"Nothing," Ron raised an eyebrow. "It's just weird. You don't talk to just any girl all night, Harry."
"You're right, she's not any girl; she's one of my best friends. We just…lost track of time."
Ron shrugged. "Well, I'm going to go upstairs; gotta unpack. You coming?"
"Sure," Harry followed him up the stairs.
