Disclaimer: JKR owns all of the Potterverse. I am but a humble fan who loves her world enough to pay homage in prose.
Chapter 1: Small Miracles.
The young boy ran around the grand gardens of his parent's estate. Usually, when his parents would fight, he would hide away in his bedroom, but once he turned 7 he was granted access to the vast paradise of hedges and mazes, exquisite foliage and stone statues. In his small notebook which he always clung to he would make notes on the differing types of plants and make sketches of them, looking them up in the family library when he returned indoors. He would also admire the beautiful carved figures, which were scattered throughout among the pathways, amidst the flora, or hidden in the hedges. But his favorite of all was in a far corner of one of the labyrinths. She was a young angel standing on a short pedestal beneath an arch of pale yellow and powdery pink roses. A stone bench the same height as her pedestal was set directly before her, and the young boy would often sit upon it, legs crossed, and gaze upon her delicate face. He spent many days there sharing his thoughts and secrets, and as many nights gazing at the stars.
Late one night, as he sat on the bench leaning his back against her and watching the cloudy sky, he caught sight of a meteor streaking across the heavens in the only patch of clear. He sighed and tipped his head back to gaze at her face. "Was that not beautiful, dear angel? It is amazing how something so small and far away could have such an impact. I don't much believe in miracles, but sometimes I have to just so I can make sense of such things." The wind wrapped itself around him and ran its fingers through his hair, filling him with a sense of wonder to accompany his thoughts. Leaning forward he helped himself to his feet on the bench and came face to face with the angel, gazing into her unseeing eyes. He wasn't sure why he did it, only that he wanted to. He ran his hand along the angel's face and kissed her stone lips softly. With his forehead resting against hers he closed his eyes, sighed deeply, and whispered a lament. "I wish you were real, dear angel." A rumble of thunder passed and he cupped her face as he returned his eyes to the sky. Small drops of rain ushered in a downpour and he closed his eyes once more, letting his sadness wash away. Looking back to her face he frowned; the rain ran down her cheeks in a stream of simulated tears. He carefully wiped them away with his thumbs and smiled. "Just another small miracle," he whispered before kissing her cheek and stepping down from the bench. "Until tomorrow, dear angel, I bid you goodnight." He bowed to her and made his way back to the house.
The storm raged violently all the next morning, sending down bolts of lightning to be followed by a symphony of thunder. He spent his day in the library reading a lengthy novel, sniffling his runny nose softly and drinking hot tea. By the late afternoon the storm had let up and the sky, as well as his nose, began to clear. He set the book on the table, stood up and stretched himself upwards. With a few satisfying cracks and pops he headed downstairs and ran out into the garden until he reached the labyrinth. He strolled through it slowly, running his hands along the hedge walls causing water droplets to flick off behind him, hearing his boots splash in the puddles and slosh in the mud, and deeply inhaling the damp air. The occasional swirls of wind played tricks on his ears, and he could almost swear he heard whispers and giggles and footsteps.
As he rounded the corner to his haven, he stopped dead in his tracks and almost tripped over his feet. The angel was gone! Only some singed debris from the pedestal and bench remained, scattered around the clearing as though they were struck by lightning. He felt his throat tighten and eyes well up with tears as he took a step closer. No, he thought. This can't be! My dear angel, my best friend, destroyed! He crumpled to the ground and buried his face into his hands. "Why?" came out a muffled cry.
"Why what?"
Startled he jumped up whipping around. He opened his mouth to reply, but no sound came out. Before him stood a small girl, with milky freckled skin, honey colored eyes and bushy brown hair highlighted with gold. She watched him with her head cocked to one side as she chewed her bottom lip, her hands curled together in front of her and her dress rippling slightly in the breeze. "Well?"
He blinked and came out of his trance. "Who- Who are you?"
She closed her eyes and giggled, twisting her body from side to side. "I'm Hermione," she finally replied and curtsied, crossing her buckled shoes gracefully. She stood straight again, nervously biting her lip once more as she tucked her hair behind her ear.
"I've never seen you before. How did you get in here?" He crossed his arms and stepped closer to her as he said this.
"Hrm," she said thoughtfully, touching her finger to her chin. Her eyes widened and sparkled mischievously as she replied, "Consider it just another small miracle, Severus."