x
x
x
there is quiet at hogwarts now. there is quiet in potions, there is quiet in the usually loud great hall, there is quiet on the astronomy tower and in myrtle's lavatory.
but you never would've thought that there would be quiet in their hearts.
she stares at him with her coffee coloured eyes and he stares back, not to her, but to the fiery hearth. she props up a book and reads quietly under her breath.
hogwarts a history has soon become hogwarts the present.
the war has begun, the killing has been done, the deeds have been brushed away. they are not the same children with stars in their eyes.
'hermione?'
whispering.
'yes?'
empty.
'you okay?'
dry.
'when have i not been?'
solid.
'that's not a good answer.'
annoyed.
'i'm sorry.'
faked.
'it's fine.'
faked.
'no it's not.'
quiet.
and it's not. they go on with the day to day and she eats her fried oatmeal and he spreads far too much jelly on his toast, and sometimes he forgets and spreads it on his burnt scone.
they talk little or none, not in the corridors, not in the lavatories, not in the common room, they just don't talk.
on a cold winter's eve, he kisses her. it's her first kiss, and she'll never admit it. they're out on the grounds and the snow falls all around them like a tent. keeping them inside. keeping them warm. keeping them safe. her light pink lips are chapped and cracked. her hair falls in her eyes.
'how's krum?'
with hesitation.
'i told you i'm not conversing with him.'
with a condescending although removed tone.
'tell me again.'
forcefully.
'no.'
never.
so he angrilly walks away and she kicks snow into his eyes. he rubs his stinging eyes, annoyed and kicks snow back into her eyes. not so playfully.
they're being children.
she laughs a hollow little laugh and he laughs dryly. when they are both covered in snow they walk back to hogwarts, their hands locked.
'hermione?'
always.
'yes?'
forever.
'i'm scared.'
truthfully.
'me too.'
childishly.
the snow melts under their warm feet.
x
x
x
x
x
there is quiet at hogwarts now. there is quiet in potions, there is quiet in the usually loud great hall, there is quiet on the astronomy tower and in myrtle's lavatory.
but you never would've thought that there would be quiet in their hearts.
she stares at him with her coffee coloured eyes and he stares back, not to her, but to the fiery hearth. she props up a book and reads quietly under her breath.
hogwarts a history has soon become hogwarts the present.
the war has begun, the killing has been done, the deeds have been brushed away. they are not the same children with stars in their eyes.
'hermione?'
whispering.
'yes?'
empty.
'you okay?'
dry.
'when have i not been?'
solid.
'that's not a good answer.'
annoyed.
'i'm sorry.'
faked.
'it's fine.'
faked.
'no it's not.'
quiet.
and it's not. they go on with the day to day and she eats her fried oatmeal and he spreads far too much jelly on his toast, and sometimes he forgets and spreads it on his burnt scone.
they talk little or none, not in the corridors, not in the lavatories, not in the common room, they just don't talk.
on a cold winter's eve, he kisses her. it's her first kiss, and she'll never admit it. they're out on the grounds and the snow falls all around them like a tent. keeping them inside. keeping them warm. keeping them safe. her light pink lips are chapped and cracked. her hair falls in her eyes.
'how's krum?'
with hesitation.
'i told you i'm not conversing with him.'
with a condescending although removed tone.
'tell me again.'
forcefully.
'no.'
never.
so he angrilly walks away and she kicks snow into his eyes. he rubs his stinging eyes, annoyed and kicks snow back into her eyes. not so playfully.
they're being children.
she laughs a hollow little laugh and he laughs dryly. when they are both covered in snow they walk back to hogwarts, their hands locked.
'hermione?'
always.
'yes?'
forever.
'i'm scared.'
truthfully.
'me too.'
childishly.
the snow melts under their warm feet.
x
x
x
