Chapter Four
"Hey, Hermione?" Draco smiled.
"Yes, Draco?" She grinned in return.
Their parents — close friends since before the children were born — were taking them camping and the pair chose to sit in the very back, next to each other.
"Why do you think the leaves change colours in the autumn?" He questioned sweetly.
"Draco," Hermione chided while rolling her eyes, "you know why they change colours."
"I know what Miss McGonagall told us, but I want to know why you think they do," he replied seriously. "I like the way you think."
Hermione felt a blush burn up her cheeks and she turned to look out the window at the passing scenery. After a few long moments, she released her bottom lip with a pop and turned back to face a patient Draco.
"Once a year God tells the angels to paint the trees, like a reward for a job well done. Ya know? Before the world goes all cold and everything is covered by white, he tells them to paint the world on fire…to keep us all warm until spring comes again."
"Yeah?" He whispered with a touch of awe in his voice and Hermione just shrugged. "Do you think my grandmother might be one of the angels that gets to paint the leaves?"
"Most definitely, Draco. I'm sure she paints the prettiest ones."