Um, alright, I initially forgot to do this, but I had enough thought to add a little note before throwing the story at you. :o) This isn't my first fanfiction. I used to frequent this site quite a bit, but left it for a long time, and only recently came back to check out things. This is a brand new pen name, and a brand new fanfic. I've never written a HP one before…hopefully this is a good attempt? Please, tell me what you think. Otherwise I might feel like I'm wasting up valuable internet space. ;)
I do not own Harry Potter, or anything in the series. JK Rowling does. I do not own the moon, or the lake, or the castle, but I do own the imagery. :o)
Chapter One: Caprice
The lake was a sheet of placid glass, undisturbed by any sentient movement, only the whisper of a summer wind. The moon hung overhead, suspended by a pivot, as if it had been hammered into place as decoration, with starry nail and mallet, by some smiling god. The air hung, languid on the warmth of the night, and moved all who inhaled it into a mindless gaity, wiped any trace of worldly stress from her mind, allowed him to exist, simply. To exist.
The night was a silky sheet, and lingered above the world, filtering the light of the moon into shades of flower-scented lavender and mercenary black.
Hermione Granger was studying. Inside, by the common room fire, attired in boxers and a t-shirt, all her books laid out methodically on the scarlet rug, she worked earnestly toward something she was never sure of. Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, A History of Magic, all leather-spined giants of volumes, beckoning with their yet undiscovered knowledge. Her quill darted black over a scroll, casting an impossibly long shadow that pointed like an arrow toward the door to the common room.
Hermione realized the importunity of the odd bulk of homework assignments she had been assigned for the day. She was accustommed to studying for hours without a lift of the chin, but today she was obligated to read a history of the troll wars in Munich, study the endless process of creating a Nightshade potion, based on a poison capable of luring the victim into a delirious sleep, perform calculations on the orbital eccentricity of Jupiter, read through a section on probabilities as applied to magic, review the mehod of transfiguring liquids for tomorrow's class, and study Stonehenge and its historical usage, as a magical gathering place. All this, as the lake-scented air pried tendrils through the open window, crept unknowingly through her mostly untameable hair, drifted teasingly before her nostrils, played at her exposed legs, tempted her to step outside and revel in the first delightfully temperate day that Hogwarts had seen for the school year.
The sad truth was that Hermione had not stepped outside all day, save for changing between classes and an hour of Care of Magical Creatures by Hagrid's hut. Now, she was sorely tempted to put aside her endless pit of homework and take a well-needed breather outside. She rolled her eyes and cursed herself for neglecting her studies even momentarily, and suddenly wondered where everyone else was. She then realized that they were all enjoying their day, whereas she had the ability to make the most gorgeous day she had seen into a work-laden bore. Even now, she imagined Ron and Harry chatting up some admiring underclassmen, lazying around in the courtyard.
Seventh year was important, as it was to everyone, but Hermione was always harder on herself than anyone else in her year, perhaps not always necessarily.
And this thought led Hermione to the edge of the lake, dipping her toes into initially harshly cold water, which gave way to an invigorating coolness. She sighed and leaned back, smiling, closed-eyed, at the night sky. What a relief it was to simply exist. But she could not, as long as her unfinished essay for Professor Binns lay on the floor of the common room. With a groan, Hermione released her toes from their relaxing spa, and tread, barefoot, back to the school, shoes in hand and heart in disappointment.
That was when an unmistakable groan of ecstacy reached her unwilling ears, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Curious, as anyone would be, she followed the noise, which became much like a squealing baby elephant, eyes wide when she came upon a very entangled, very oblivious pair, making love like truly, there was no tomorrow. Now, Hermione Granger was not remotely experienced in these matters and now let out the tiniest of squeals as she dove headfirst for the nearest cluster of trees.
It was Draco Malfoy, normally perfect hair now completely in disarray, tongue lingering on the lips of a girl with hair that blended away into the night. And she could very easily see his nicely shapen butt. Just a second now. Hermione could not possibly be thinking about Malfoy's butt. But she was, and it led into a glistening back, and firm shoulder bones, and a neck that oddly reminded her of a swan's, that effortlessly gave way to a shock of white-blonde, and eyes of silver that penetrated like daggers. Eyes…of silver. Malfoy was staring directly at her, or rather, at a pair of bewildered amber eyes through some foliage. Breath caught in mid-exhale, Hermione hoped that he was only looking at a budding flower on the tree, and not at her very red-handed self. As she pondered what to do next, with Draco's eyes now unmistakably fixed on hers, the pair of lovers reached their limits, and those rather irritating groans became shockingly loud. The sight was beautiful, in some strange demented way, like a god and a goddess embracing in their immortal glory. Like Draco Malfoy was close to being a god. Right. Hermione would not give him the satisfaction of catching her, so she ran away, as fast as she possibly could with bare feet and a difficulty with breathing, from her unconsciously bated breath.
She panicked as she heard definite steps behind her, and began running impossibly faster. At this rate, she could have easily made a muggle track team. But the steps somehow overtook her, and she gathered herself up to confront Malfoy, racking her mind for excuses for her obvious spying. But it was no Malfoy who confronted her, just a pair of shimmering green eyes that wore a concerned and quite amused expression.
"Hermione? You ok? Why were you running so fast?" Harry inquired, thinking that he had never seen his old friend ever running at that speed.
"Uh…" Hermione was now feeling the effects of her track-star imitation. She stumbled under his support, and after a few efforts to stand upright, sat down on the grass.
"I needed the exercise," she finally managed, after breathing like an asthmatic.
Harry's eyes widened a bit, obviously not convinced.
"I see." He helped her off her feet, deciding for the moment that further inquiry would have her in a serious condition.
They treked to the school, Harry supporting Hermione as she found her legs again, two friends silhouetted by the moon, one relieved to be silent, and the other quite unrelieved of his curiosity.
If you haven't figured it out by now, it will quite likely be a Draco/Hermione pairing. Am I too long-winded? I catch myself at it sometimes. :-P