FIVE
Toying with the trailing ribbons of her crown that had draped over her shoulder, Hermione's eyes narrowed, gaze fixed on the flames. She knew perhaps expressing herself on this point might not be the wisest thing, given that some cultures took divination quite seriously and she couldn't be certain how Oksana would feel about any perceived dismissiveness, but if Oksana was truly anything like her friend Minerva, then honesty would always be preferred to a lie, no matter how politely intended. "I quite agree with them. I've never put much stock in any sort of divination myself."
"Well, then," the old woman said, climbing to her feet and offering Hermione a hand up. "I think you'll find this next custom a bit ridiculous."
Hermione couldn't imagine putting any of her weight on the elder witch. The gesture was kind, however, and she would not let the sentiment go to waste. Slipping her hand into Oksana's, Hermione only held very lightly as she climbed to her feet on her own.
A few other witches were moving toward the riverbank, a small line gathered there already, and Oksana led Hermione to follow them. The witches were lighting candles nestled in the center of beautiful flower wreaths and setting them adrift in the river.
She looked on as they observed the ornate crafts floating along. Oksana patted her arm and then stepped away a moment, returning with a wreath and holding it out to Hermione. "Seems such a shame," she said, turning it between her palms to marvel over the time and effort it must have taken to create.
"Tradition," Oksana said. She nudged Hermione gently with her elbow, "Besides, if you like to know, I'll teach you to make them. Now, you see how they continue to watch the waters?"
"Yes?"
The elder witch placed her hands over Hermione's and guided her light the candle atop her wreath before setting on the water. It drifted away, slowly spinning and swirling along with those before it.
"Well, it's said that by watching the flowers, you may see an image which predicts your future."
Hermione's mouth pulled to one side as she considered Oksana's words. Ivana Kupala was a fertility festival. So …. "I see. You mean my romantic future."
Oksana smiled, shrugging.
"Oh, all right. I'll look, but I hope you'll understand I'm doing it for the sake of not insulting my host."
Snorting a chuckle, Oksana held up her hands. "Consider me not insulted."
Hermione turned back toward the water, ignoring the other witch's laughter.
For what seemed hours she watched, aware that in reality only a few moments had passed. Just as she was sure nothing was happening, feeling vindicated—that this tradition was just as much of rubbish as any other form of divination—she did notice an image starting to form.
Instantly she tired to will it away. Tried not to let it make sense as it came into shape. The twisting line of flame and flowers doubling in on itself … the rough circle that was slowly morphing atop the lapping waves into something more distinct.
The shapes weren't precise, and meant nothing to the others—might even appear quite pretty—but Hermione knew better. She had seen these shapes …. The first time hanging in the night sky and possibly hundreds of times since, usually stamped on the inside of a Dark wizard's forearm.
Impossible. The Marks had faded following Voldemort's fall. She'd forged a strained friendship with Draco in the years since, and she'd never forget his joy at realizing he would not bear the Dark Lord's brand the rest of his life.
Hermione turned away, laughing to cover up the sudden nervous quivering in the pit of her stomach. She could only hope the sound was convincing. "Nothing. I suppose I was right. Divination and I just don't mix."
Because there was no way she had just watched those candlelit flower wreaths mimic shapes of the Dark Mark's snake and skull whilst predicting anything to do with her romantic future.
