Author: The*Spangled*Pandemonium
Title: In the Hands of the GodsChapter Title: Weak if We Were and Foolish
~~~*~~~
Hermione:
The sun was one big red firework against the nighttime sky. Dawn had come splashing into the firmament, an artist's tentative paintbrush against a dark canvas.
Right after I had woken up from my dream about Hermia, I had tried to go back to sleep, but I, Hermione Granger, did not abandon puzzles so easily, even if I dearly wanted to leave this one be.
From then on, I had been searching (in vain) through the wide library of my mind for the meaning of it all. I've had my share of recurring dreams in the past… What made this one special? Was it because I loved the feeling of soaring through the heavens? Or maybe it was because of the rich majesty of Greece?
Denial is more than just a river in Egypt.
Remembering my grandmother's old saying, I cringed. I had been shunning the obvious reason of why this dream had gripped me so… It was Damian—blonde-haired, avaricious, sexy—Damian.
I felt my face grow hot, and I put a chilled hand against it. Suddenly, I was glad no one was up yet, for I knew I was blushing.
He was the reason I just didn't condemn this dream as a mere fantasy. How could I resist anything with such a unique, intriguing character in it? I could totally relate to Hermia. She too came back to that inn to satiate her curiosity of him.
I had been fighting off the inevitable. I needed to know what this dream meant, and if I had to swallow my pride and look it up in my Divination book—I would do it. My thirst for more information overwhelmed my scorn for that field of magic.
Tossing my blankets to the side of my bed, I stood up just as Hagrid's roosters started crowing outside.
Now where did I put that awful copy of Unfogging the Future? I seemed to recall stomping back to my dorm room after my last Divination class and giving it a departing kick. Maybe it was under my bed?
I shuddered as I imagined the thick layer of dust it had accumulated after three years in hiding. Squashing the thought of flourishing dust bunnies having a fiesta, I bent down and peered into the darkness.
"Lumos." I mumbled, gripping my wand tightly.
I reached down by the side of my bed and stuck out a tentative hand under my bed.
After seeing a boxful of old SPEW badges, a couple of abandoned hair clips, and one sad, lonely sock, I spotted what I was looking for. I grabbed the book hastily, and threw it on the floor next to me, sending up a miniature mushroom cloud of dust.
Impatiently, I grabbed a tissue from my side table and wiped it clean. Flipping to the chapter of dream interpretation, I read quickly, not even bothering to sit down.
"Dreams. They have been a part of the human psyche since before recorded time. They have been said to have different purposes at different times throughout the ages. Some divine messages from omnipotent beings are thought to be read in them; others later saw them as a window to the unconscious."
Blah, blah, blah.
"Deciphering Dreams"
Ah ha! This was the stuff I wanted…
"1) Do places in your dream remind you of anything/anywhere?"
Duh. Everything just screams Greece. I've never set foot in that country, but its quite evident by the architecture. Besides, when I'm Hermia, I obviously know which civilization I'm from…
"2) How do you feel in the dream, and what is the overall mood?"
I feel… happy. At least when I'm with Damian, I am. I'm both contented and a wee bit suspicious whenever I talk to him. An awkward combination, but I'm being perfectly honest.
"3) Does this dream remind you of any previous dreams you might of had?"
It's recurring. I've had this dream for several days now… It simply just continues…
Stupid book… It's just telling me stuff I already know.
"4) If there are people in the dream, do they remind you of anyone, possibly even yourself?"
Hermia is me. Well, excluding the fact that I can't fly. And I'm not a super cool goddess, and I'm certainly not the daughter of Hermes. Plus the fact I live in another country. In another time.
Still. Hermia and I have freakishly similar personalities. Usually, I act different in my dreams, but this immortal woman was me. We are brave, kindhearted, intelligent, and have that streak of arrogance too.
I bit my lip and continued down the page.
"4) What are the main images in the dream? (a person, place or thing that is the dream's focus)"
Main images? Damian, certainly. That gorgeous fool was certainly the star of this story.
"5) What comes to mind when you think about these main images?"
Hmm… Ahh… Umm…
My fingers grew slack, and Unfogging the Future fell down onto the floor with a loud THUD, which jolted Ginny awake in the bed next to mine.
Draco.
He was the only guy who fit the description. Who else was blonde, gray eyed, and had that magnetism that made a girl want to slap him for simply being too hot?
Damn it! Even their personalities were somewhat alike! I mean, except for a few things. Damian… Damian seemed softer, sillier, more inclined to fail. His lack of self-control and badly planned schemes make one feel both irritated and affectionate.
"Hermione?"
While Draco… I knew from the moment I met him that Draco Malfoy was destined to rise to the top and make everyone pay for the crime of living. He gives off an aura of danger and spite to those who oppose him. When he is near, the world seems like a tenser place. It's as if there is there is something about him... Like he was born to reach an obscure goal, and none would ever get in his way…
But between Damian and Draco, there is absolutely no doubt that their pomposity is exactly the same.
"Hermione?"
Suddenly, I felt like retching. It was disgusting! Nasty! I had been working with that bastard for days now! Now I find out I was dreaming of him as well?! Argh! I felt like smacking myself for even bothering to pull out that blasted divination book.
Stupid dream!
"HERMIONE!"
I glanced over at Ginny, who was squinting strangely at me.
"What on earth are you doing?" She asked worriedly, gazing at me as if I were insane. "Haven't you slept at all?"
I realized how crazy I must have looked to her, my poor friend. I was wild haired girl in purple pajamas with intense, gleaming eyes, staring at a book based on a subject I loathed.
"A bit." I grunted, staring past her, into the full-length mirror we both shared. "I—I just had a bad dream."
How had it come to this?
~*~*~
I was walking to History of Magic with Ron and Harry, but seemed like all of us were absorbed in our own problems. I still couldn't quite swallow what I had discovered this morning! Usually, my technique was to use the "light-switch" method when it comes to stress outside schoolwork. I "turn off" my thoughts about the problem until I'm done with my studies and I can think about it freely. But somehow, it just wouldn't work today. I believe my teachers were curious by my distracted silences in their classes…
Ron, as usual, was wearing out his troubles by talking about them. His eyes blazed with as much passion as his words, and he nearly tripped on a passing Neville as he entered the classroom.
"Ooh. Sorry, Nev." He apologized, "So anyway, we were just sitting in the library, at the same table, y'know…"
"Obviously." I sighed tiredly as I collapsed into my seat.
"And she actually moves her chair closer and puts her hand on my arm! And I look at her as if she's gone nutters, and she gives me this!"
Ron offered a simpering smile that seemed like it had been cut from Pansy's face and pasted onto his.
"Then she did this."
He fluttered his eyelashes at me and tilted his head to the side.
I gave a small wheeze, since I was too tired to laugh. "So the entire time she was talking about guys and she kept on flirting with you…" I concluded, smiling amusedly. "And she didn't touch the books at all?"
"NO! I mean, no! She probably had something in her eye or something." He shuddered. "And she didn't touch the books. Not once. So what am I going to do?" He moaned, placing his head between his arms.
There was a moment of silence as Professor Binns floated in through the blackboard. Immediately, he started droning about so on and so forth about the Ministry of Magic in the fourteenth century.
The golden light shining from the tall windows seemed a bit duller after that, and everything seemed infinitely more boring. I let out a small yawn and rubbed my exhausted eyes, wondering why Harry was so silent. He hadn't said a word the whole time Ron had been talking.
Ron suddenly lifted his head and ran a hand through his flame-red hair. "Hey Harry?" He whispered. "How's your project going? How's Hannah?"
The Boy-who-lived suddenly sneezed and knocked his bag off the table with an elbow. The crash rang out loudly, but Professor Binns never halted once in his dull lecture, oblivious to the students' snickering.
Harry bent down and picked up his things slowly, and when he got up again, he seemed surprised to see that Ron and I were still staring.
"Hannah? Project?" I prodded, twirling my quill between my fingers.
"Oh." Harry said, smiling sweetly, "It's okay."
Ron and I looked at each other slowly, and turned our eyes back to our friend.
"Are you alright? Not sick or anything?" I reached out and placed a hand on his forehead.
"I'm fine… Really." He said, and blinking his green orbs at me. "Everything's alright."
"Did you have a hard time researching on Indian Magic? I've heard much about it. It's such a fascinating culture, with all their profound knowledge on auras and their belief in faith influencing their—" I trailed off, slightly hurt that no one was listening.
"So, Hermione." Harry said, brightening up after some silence, "How's yours? Got any horror stories about Malfoy?"
Ron leaned over, grinning wolfishly. "Has he called his father yet to save him from you? Or is he making Crabbe and Goyle do his research for him?"
They both laughed at the mental image.
"Umm… Ah…" I mumbled intelligently.
"Hermione?" Harry said in a concerned tone, "He hasn't upset you, has he? Or threatened you? Because you tell us if he has…" His eyes took on a menacing look.
"Yeah. Has he insulted your muggle heritage?" Ron continued, flexing some muscle.
"No more than the usual amount." I fumbled.
"Has he said anything bad about us?" Harry whispered angrily. "I wouldn't be surprised…"
They were completely furious, and I hadn't even said anything!
"Guys! You're as bad as Parvati and Lavender! And people say girls are the only ones who like gossiping…" I said, rolling my eyes, "He's aggravating, but he has done his work. We'll be having our detentions later…"
They looked away, doubt clouding their expressions, and soon the only noise was the monotonous sound of Professor Binns' voice. Only then did I breathe a sigh of relief.
~*~*~
We ended up polishing up in the trophy room.
Draco and myself, I mean. At first he had simply grumbled absentmindedly about how "his father would hear about his only son laboring like a worthless janitor". But the conversation soon dipped into an intense comparison of our lives.
Can you believe that the earliest time Malfoy had been allowed in muggle London was the day we first went to Platform 9 ¾?
And you really could not imagine his astonishment when I described a television to him… Naturally, he promptly covered it up with a sniping, "Yeah, right." Yet I had the sneaking suspicion he believed me…
We also fell into a heated debate about certain magical political issues (apparently, I was not the only one in our year level who reads The Daily Prophet every morning), in which he cussed quite a bit.
Draco was surprisingly well read, too, due to the numerous tutors Lucius had hired throughout his childhood. The comical way in which he described some of them made my laughter ring in the halls.
I am considered smart by my peers, yet Draco seemed to have no trouble understanding my frame of thought and adding to the banter.
Of course, he never failed to throw in an insult here and there, but I shot back comments with unexpected ease. It no longer affected me, I noticed.
Just when we were in the middle of waxing the floor, Harry and Ron walked in.
"Hi, Hermione." Ron said to me, though he was glaring daggers at Draco, "Erm, we just wanted to check up on you."
Seeing he was at a disadvantage sitting down with a ratty cloth in hand, Draco stood up and crossed his arms threateningly. "Why, Weasley? Afraid I'm going to hurt your dear Granger?" He patted me on the head and received a swift elbow to the knee.
"I'm fine, Harry, Ron." I said, smiling sweetly as I got to my feet. "Draco isn't hard to handle."
Draco flushed, and glared at me. "You probably get a lot of experience managing these two toddlers." He turned his gaze to Harry, "I think we're done here, Potter. You can have your surrogate mother back."
He swept out of the room as grand as a king, clutching that dirty rag.
~~~*~~~
The sun's golden glory had faded to rust, and the sea of the sky had swallowed up the last trace of day as Damian and I walked through the vineyards one last time.
Shrouded in sheer joy, I smiled faintly and closed my eyes.
Damian had led me to this place, assuring me I would enjoy every minute of it.
And I did.
We had wasted the entire afternoon, picking the fat, juicy grapes from the vines and popping them into our mouths.
At fist, I had questioned Damian whether we were allowed to intrude, but he calmly told me that he knew the owner.
Knowing Damian, he was probably lying, but I wasn't the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, I was enjoying myself too much to be suspicious.
Talking to him was so refreshing. He spoke of things I never conceived of in my pampered, sheltered (but long) life! One could even say he knew more about living than I did!
Suddenly, I felt a warm hand envelop my own.
I looked at him, and found those intense thundercloud orbs on me.
"Yes, Damian?" I asked. "What is it?"
He shook his head, blonde hair rippling, and smiled crookedly.
We walked in comfortable silence until we reached the edge of the vineyard.
"Well, goodbye, Hermia." He said, letting go of my hand. "Until we meet again."
I took in his strong forehead, those perfectly angled cheekbones and his beautifully straight nose. He was breathtaking.
Sliding my arms around his shoulders, I tiptoed and gave him a sweet, simple, earth shattering kiss.
Releasing him, grinned happily as I saw the shock on his gorgeous face.
Taking five steps, I flew into the air, laughing softly to myself.
From below, I saw a blonde girl, staring at me with piercing hatred.
~*~*~
I woke up, coughed, and turned over. What more could I say? The kiss—that kiss was cruelly delicious. My lips throbbed with the memory as I placed a tentative finger on it.
Taking a deep breath, I stumbled to an uneasy sleep.
~~~*~~~
Authors Note: Oh no. Not another kissing scene! Once again, I plead for some kind of criticism or compliment. I still haven't kissed anyone since my last fic, so I can say that this bit has not come from experience. Pooey.