Sooooo ... It has been a few weeks since my last post. I promise I did not abandon the story. I merely got caught up in life. As is the case in many a life, life itself has an annoying tendency to get in the way of what we want to do with things that we have to do. But the next chapter is up and ready to go ... or be read ... or whatever. Without further typing ... Enjoy!
- Chapter Nine -
Bedtime Stories and an Unwelcomed Guest
Valentine's Day had arrived and the students of Hogwarts, both paired and unpaired alike, roamed the streets of Hogsmeade with a skip in their step. Whether it was the spirit of the holiday or the effects of the Bottled Bliss Fred and George had used to spike the pumpkin juice on the Ravenclaw table at breakfast, one could not be certain.
The latter was part of an ongoing prank war the twins had begun with Terry Boot and Anthony Goldstein, in part due to their friendship with Michael Corner whom was currently coupled with Ginny. And while Bottled Bliss, in and of itself, was a relatively tame prank, Fred and George had added an extra twist of incorporating the ability to pass slightly diluted effects of the potion along to others via burping. This led to an entertaining morning filled with belches and smiles.
Luckily, Hermione had been given advance notice of the prank, so she and a few fellow Gryffindors were able to breathe in an incense mixture of mint leaves and olibanum to create an antidote for the belching augmentation of the euphoric elixir. Doing so was a proactive way to avoid finding themselves victims of another of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
"Did anyone see you?" Hermione asked as Killian approached the location they agreed to meet near the end of High Street where the road branched off into the surround woods.
"I imagine numerous people saw me," Killian answered with a smirk.
Sarcastic, but not particularly blissful, Hermione thought. "Did anyone burp on you?"
"That is an interestingly odd and specific question," Killian answered, visually perplexed.
Better to be safe … Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a small jar of the ground up antidote to the Bottled Bliss. With a quick flick of her wand, she ignited the mixture. A thick plume of smoke arose from the jar and Hermione waved its trail under Killian's nose before he had an opportunity to process what was occurring.
"That is absolutely horrid," he said, his face contorting in wrinkled features of displeasure. "Dare I ask its necessity?"
"Fred and George," Hermione answered, as if the mention of their names was enough to suffice as an explanation.
Apparently, it was, as Killian offered no further complaint or inquiry. After Hermione snuffed the incense and replaced it in her bag, she and Killian walked along the path on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. It was relatively quiet, as most of the happenings were occurring within the central areas of Hogsmeade near Honeydukes and Zonkos. While Madame Puddifoot's was only a stone's throw away, those who were haunting that establishment were far too preoccupied gazing into the eyes of the person sitting across from them to notice a pair of students walking along the tree line through the frosted windows.
"It's a beautiful day," Hermione said, catching a snowflake in her palm.
"For February, I suppose," Killian said as he twirled his wand, creating a tiny vortex among the falling flakes in his area. "I often pondered why a holiday intended to warm one's heart would fall within the most cold and dreary month of the year."
"I imagine it was purposefully planned as such," Hermione mused with a thoughtful smile as she gazed at their surroundings. "The cold of the season warmed by feelings of love and all of that."
"Lust," Killian corrected.
"That was cynical," Hermione said, kicking lazily at the snow and she strode towards Killian. "Even for you."
"It was not meant to be," Killian went on, his tiny vortex drawing in the surrounding snowflakes as they fell about him. "I merely meant that love and lust are often incorrectly interchanged. Lust is a simple chemical reaction to visual stimulation. Love is far more complicated."
"So you're brilliantly cynical," Hermione punctuated, flicking her wand and dispelling Killian's parlor trick.
Killian paused and watched as the swirling bits of crystalized water fell at his feet. "You're stressed," he said, giving the snow a disinterested kick of his own. "I should not be antagonizing you."
"It's not that," Hermione said, turning and pacing in random paths. "I mean, yes," She quickly corrected. "The stressed part, not the antagonizing. Well, that too, but not just that. I don't even—" Hermione cut herself off with an amalgamated sigh and grunt, frustrated she could not put her thoughts to word. Even more so that she was not entirely certain why Killian's remark had set her off in the first place.
"Take a breath," Killian suggested.
"I just did," Hermione said.
"Take another," Killian suggested further.
Hermione folded her arms and closed her eyes, taking in the cold winter air. The fragrances of the surroundings filled her senses. The scent of baked goods, candies, frozen trees, and wood burning from any number of fireplaces … Through she would not admit it, Killian was right. It was calming.
"It's Valentine's Day, is all," she finally admitted. "I just wish I wasn't preoccupied with all of this. There are better things to do."
"Really?" Killian asked, his eyebrow raised with a grin that curled the corner of his lip. "Someone has captured your fancy? Dare I ask whom?"
Hermione nearly choked on her own breath. Did he really just ask that? Was he teasing? He had just remarked that he should not be antagonizing her at the moment. Of course, she had also just told him that his actions were fine. He knew better though, did he not?
She had asked him to meet her while she waited for Rita Skeeter. He said he would, as he knew it would be a difficult day for her. She had no love lost for the disgraced journalist, if she could even be referred to as such. That was a certainty. But Rita was a vital part of Hermione's plan, and as such, today's events were unavoidable. But Killian did not agree to meet Hermione, a request he had not acquiesced to in the past, simply for that reason alone, had he?
"Just some boy," Hermione answered, believing she was playing along, but oddly uncertain. "He quite insufferable most times. But he has his moments."
"I like him already," Killian said without hesitation.
Perhaps Killian was simply better at these games. Or perhaps Hermione was too distracted with the task at hand to keep up with his plays. Perhaps still, Hermione had somehow been misreading their relationship over the past year. She did not believe she had. During their previous visit to Hogsmeade, he held her hand as she lay her head on his shoulder. She supposed it could have just been a friendly gesture. She had certainly laid her head on Harry or Ron's shoulder any number of times in the past. Maybe not interlacing her fingers with theirs, but still … The night they first met, he was going to—
Hermione's thought processes were suddenly impeded as a fairly good sized snowball struck her in the shoulder. Standing with her mouth agape, she looked over and saw Killian, his wand drawn with several more snowballs hovering before him, ready to be fired at will. Forgetting her doubts, she drew her wand and deflected the next assault before retaliating with her own barrage of icy projectiles.
The onslaught continued for several minutes of laughter and shrieks. Feeling much more at ease and forgetting everything that had been plaguing her conscience, both in regards to Killian and otherwise, Hermione summoned up a hefty pile of snow and thrust it at her Slytherin adversary. Killian diverted the strike with a slash of his wand, sending the avalanche directly towards Luna, who had walked up upon the two of them unnoticed.
"Luna!" Hermione gasped as the whimsical Ravenclaw shook the snow from her hair and brushed down her coat. "I'm so sorry!"
"It's quite all right," Luna dismissed. "Most of the snow missed my face. I saw the commotion and thought there might be Wytherharns afoot. They can be quite mischievous. Are you quarreling?"
Hermione ran to Luna and helped her clear the snow from her hair and clothing. "No, of course not," she answered.
"Were we not?" Killian asked with a grin.
"No," Hermione reiterated, glaring daggers at Killian, "we were not."
"Oh hi, Killian," Luna offered with a smile. "I didn't realize it was you."
"Hello, Luna," Killian returned.
"You know Killian?" Hermione asked with surprise.
"Not really," Luna answered. "But I've heard of him."
Of course she has, Hermione thought. Everyone has heard of him now.
"From my father mostly," Luna continued, catching Hermione unaware. "Not so much about you as your family. Although he does ask about you from time to time. I told him you mostly keep to yourself. But not today, it seems."
"Your family knows the Lovegoods?" Hermione asked Killian.
"Not that I'm aware of," Killian answered with a shrug.
"He talks about them a lot," Luna went on. "They're a very interesting family."
Now Hermione's curiosity was piqued. Why would Xenophilius Lovegood be speaking of the Finn family? What would there be to speak of?
"Interesting ho—" Hermione was suddenly distracted, seeing a peculiarity in Luna's attire. "Why are you only wearing one boot?"
"My other one turned up missing this morning," Luna explained. "Nargles, I suspect."
"Nargles?" Hermione went on. "Luna, you can't walk in the snow with one boot."
"I can't walk in the snow with no boots either, now can I?" Luna argued in return.
"No, you cannot," Killian agreed.
He was not smiling. Not even a grin. No gleam in his gaze, no raised eyebrow. Instead, his eyes were narrowed, his brow tense, his lips pursed. It seemed as though he wished to say something, but feared to expel his current thoughts. His mind was awhirl, that was a certainty.
"Wait here," he went on before turning and heading towards the inner streets of Hogsmeade.
Hermione and Luna obliged in silence, watching as Killian disappeared around a corner. For several moments, they stood there, neither saying a work. No thoughts came to Hermione's mind. Her only concern at the moment was that Luna had come across her and Killian together. Did she find it odd? Would it be something of concern? They had agreed to meet in that location to avoid this exact scenario. But Hermione should have known Luna would come looking for her. She was an integral part of her plan, after all.
"Do you think he's coming back?" Luna finally asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
"I don't know," Hermione answered honestly. She was entirely uncertain where Killian had gone or why. For all she knew, he had used this as an opportunity to escape. Certainly Killian was as thrown off as Hermione had been. "Why don't we sit down?"
Luna agreed with the suggestion and the two of them found a flattened stump to sit upon. Whether Killian returned or not, she and Luna still had time until their scheduled meeting with Harry to discuss her Rita Skeeter plan. With Luna being short one boot, it did not seem right to be walking about. So passing the time sitting on a stump seemed the only logical option.
However, since they were now alone, Hermione had an opportunity to dig a little deeper into the Xenophilius' Lovegood's interest with the Finn family. It seemed peculiar to Hermione. Mr. Lovegood's interests always appeared such things that were strange and out of the ordinary in some fashion or another. From the little that Killian spoke of his family, Hermione gathered they were, dare she say, boring and proper, possibly having some political ties, but certainly mingling within upper tiers of society. And as much as Hermione hated to categorize people, she could not see Mr. Lovegood mingling with anyone within said upper tiers.
"It's nice to see," Luna said.
"What is?" Hermione asked.
"A Gryffindor and a Slytherin getting on," Luna clarified. "I imagine that doesn't happen very often."
"I imagine not," Hermione agreed.
"I don't think anyone would even believe me if I told them," Luna went on. "So I suppose I won't."
Hermione looked at Luna. The odd Ravenclaw wore a sweet smile. An oddly distant smile, but sweet just the same. She was certain this was Luna's way of saying she understood Hermione's quandary. At least, she was mostly certain. Being that Hermione, herself, was not entirely certain what was or was not going on, it would be difficult to believe that Luna would be all the wiser. However, regardless of the less than flattering nicknames that bounced around the school, Luna was not a fool. She knew very well that a Gryffindor and a Slytherin together in the outskirts of Hogsmeade, not firing violent curses and jinxes at one another, was something meant to be hidden by those involved.
Fred and George, and now Luna. Hermione's secret was beginning to test Hermione's ability to trust. She had often trusted before, and trusted many different people. But rarely had it been something so close and important to her, as well as potentially damaging should said secret be revealed.
"So how is it that your father knows the Finns?" Hermione asked, deciding to leave things as they were, not wishing to try her luck.
"I don't think he actually does," Luna answered. "But he finds them fascinating."
"Why is that?"
"I'm not sure … But my father also a healthy obsession with Voldavia."
"Voldavia?" Hermione echoed with a laugh that she immediately choked away.
Voldavian folklore and everything contained within would certainly be of interest to Mr. Lovegood. However, to all else within the wizarding community, it was little more than bedtime stories and fanciful parables. And rare ones at that. Hermione could scarely recall a tale or two and could not recall ever seeing anything in print.
"Yes," Luna confirmed. "He's read a great deal about it. I enjoy the stories about the Goddess myself. Do you think Mr. Finn could be an author?"
"I don't know," Hermione answered. In truth, Killian had never mentioned anything about what anyone in his family did for a living. Old money she assumed. It was not as though the topic was avoided, it simply never came up. In the vast amount of conversations they had over the previous year, the only family they ever spoke with any amount of frequecy was his sister. Even then, it was more or less just about her time at Hogwarts and Killian's clear envy of her talent. "Why would you ask?"
"No reason," Luna said with a shrug. "It's just that when he talks about the Finns it's usually when he's reading. Recently when he was reading about the Outland Circumbendibus. It sounds lovely. Have you heard of it?"
"I don't believe so," Hermione answered honestly. This sort of fiction had never been of interest to her. Not that it did not have its place. It was just that Hermione preferred to fill the corners of her mind with subjects that had meaning and purpose in the real world.
"It's a gathering ground in the plains of the Outlands," Luna explained. "By the old cobblestone castle. It's like a festival that never ends. And everyone is welcomed, without fear of rivalry."
"It certainly sounds like a fantasy," Hermione mused.
As everything of Voldavia came from children's stories, fantasy seemed the appropriate term. Fanciful fantasy might have actually been more accurate, as the very thought of rivals gathering anywhere without tension or incident seemed as likely as the Slytherins forming a house tie with the Gryffindors. Yes, she and Killian went against that belief, but they were two individuals. To believe that entire groups of individuals who are at war with one another would be able to form anything of an even remotely similar bond is an entirely different scenario.
"One of my favorites," came a raspy voice from behind.
Hermione and Luna turned around and saw an elderly gentleman standing behind them. He appeared to have come from the woods, possibly from one of the many nearby trials leading from the brush. His display was simple and harmless, wearing a kind smile in contrast to his dark robes and deep purple gloves.
"Didn't mean to startle you," he said. "Just overheard your conversation. I was not aware Hogwarts now offered studies in fiction"
"It doesn't," Hermione clarified.
"No?" the man said. "Probably for the better. Fictions are a wonderful escape, but probably not fitting in your world of academics. Better for the elders like myself. Much less to distract us."
There was nothing threatening about the man whatsoever. Nothing in his eyes, nothing in his expression, nothing in his stance would give one the impression of ominous intentions. Yet, for some reason Hermione felt uneasy. She could fathom as to why. But it was something. She wanted him to leave. His very presence made the hairs on her neck stand on end.
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione could see that Luna held the same intuition. She remained silent, staring at the aged man who stood before them, her eyes glazing over, her normally clunky, yet uplifting expression washing away.
"Is everything all right?" Killian asked, walking over with a box and small wrapped package under his arms.
Hermione was not certain she had ever been more relieved to see her Slytherin. Her breath of relief had never felt so soothing. She would have run to him if not or in doing so she would have to cross the individual who had intruded on their moment. And leaving Luna on her own was out of the question.
"Quite," the man said, turning to Killian and straightening up.
Killian stopped and narrowed his eyes at the man. It was clear he, too, also shared in Hermione's disconcerted sensation. Unlike Hermione, however, he made no attempt to hide it.
"Then perhaps it's time you moved along," Killian suggested, although it was painfully evident this was much more a direction than a proposal.
"My apologies," the man said, raising his hand over his heart. "I meant no harm."
"Even still," Killian came back, his head tilting forward, his eyes fixed ahead.
Hermione had seen the expression before. Earlier in the year as Killian stood across from Adrian Pucey in the courtyard outside Hogwarts. That day did not end well, and Hermione did not wish to revisit it. Taking Luna by the hand, the two of them stood and quickly joined Killian. Together, the three of them watched as the old man took several steps back before pausing with a broad and unnerving smile.
"Again, my apologies," he reiterated before vanishing in a wisp of smoke.
Hermione exhaled. She could feel Luna's hand shivering in hers, even through their warm woolen gloves. It was if the air had been lifted upon the man's departure.
"Who was that?" Hermione asked.
"I don't know," Luna answered in her usual calm and capricious tone, although the shiver in her hand remained. "But I've seen them before."
"Them?" Hermione asked on.
"Oh yes, there are several," Luna answered.
"Where have you seen them?"
"By my home mostly," Luna explained. "They like to watch. Father says we shouldn't speak to them."
Hermione's heart rate increased as her as portentous thought raced through her mind. "Are they Death Eaters?" she asked.
"I don't believe so," Luna answered.
"No matter," Killian interjected. "He's gone now."
Hermione could not have disagreed more. Whomever the man was and whatever his purpose, it seemed very much to matter. Luna's anxiety contrasting with Killian's dismissal of the event made it it even more so. Regardless, he was gone. And for the moment, it appeared that would have to be enough.
"These are for you," Killian went on, handing the box to Luna as if nothing had transpired at all.
Luna accepted the box, opened it, and pulled out a pair of black leather boots crossed with straps and silver buckles. They were much finer than the patched cloth boot she wore along with the simple worn shoe that adorned her opposite foot. Luna smiled and walked over to the stump she and Hermione had used as a makeshift chair. Sitting down, she removed her shoe and put on one of the boots.
"It's lovely," she said, standing and taking several steps to get a good feel for the fit.
"I was not certain of the size," Killian explained. "I hope my estimation was correct."
"Perfectly," Luna said. "But you didn't have to do that."
"There are a great many things we do not have to do," Killian said with a grin.
Hermione looked at Killian. She thought of how his actions often were so very unlike a Slytherin. His words were so very unlike a Slytherin. He was so very unlike a Slytherin. She knew this. She had known this since the very moment they first met. But at times is seems so insignificant, so far from her mind, she would forget the barriers they were forced to endure over simple house placements. A pair of boots for a fellow student who was being teased and harassed both reminded Hermione why she was drawn to Killian as well as why their existence was so difficult.
"You realize there are two boots in that box," Killian offered.
Hermione turned and saw Luna still pacing back and forth in the snow, the box now closed to secure the second boot and her single shoe.
"Yes," Luna replied. "But I think it would be better to save it. Nargles are funny creatures. If they fancied my one boot, it's likely they will come back for the other. This way, I should be better prepared."
With a tilt of his head and a raised eyebrow, Killian looked to Hermione for some offer of explanation. Hermione had nothing but a shrug and smile.
"She makes a good point," she said.
"I suppose she does," Killian agreed with a laugh.
Hermione leaned into Killian, bumping him on the shoulder and resting her head on his shoulder. She wished to do more. She wished to hug him, to demonstrate how she felt. But her sudden doubt and Luna's presence cautioned her to be more subtle and restrained. She felt good, she felt comfortable, and she did not wish to do anything that would compromise that sense of calm.
"Should we be off?" Luna asked as she approached, rocking back and forth on her heels, admiring her new apparel. "Won't Rita be waiting for us?"
"We probably should," Hermione answered. "I am not looking forward to seeing that woman."
"You will survive this," Killian said with a comforting grin. "And all will be well, I am certain."
"If only I had your confidence," Hermione groaned.
"Confidence is just a word people use when they already know the outcome," Luna said as she began towards the path. "I find that determination is far more impressive."
With another exchange of glances, Hermione took a step towards Luna before pausing and turning back to Killian. She was going to let it go. Perhaps it was better suited for another time. But her curiosity could not be quelled.
"Is your father an author?" she asked.
"He's an ambassador," Killian answered with a quizzical expression. "Why would you ask?"
"No reason," Hermione answered. "Just curious."
She then joined Luna and the two continued on towards the inner streets of Hogwarts to make their way to the Three Broomsticks. As much as Hermione detested the company she was about to keep, she knew it was for the best. The end would justify the means. And Luna was correct. Determination outweighs confidence. Regardless of her doubts, Hermione's determination had never been a character trait in question.
"Wait!" Killian called to them when they had already walked a good distance.
Hermione and Luna turned to see Killian running up along their fresh footprints in the fallen snow, the small package he was carrying still under his arms. When he reached them, slightly winded, he unwrapped the bundle and displayed a pair of flowers.
"I could not help but notice that it is Valentines Day," he said. "And it appears that whomever it is that has caught your eye neglected to engage in the even the simplest of affections." He then took one of the flowers and offered it to Luna. "Nor, it seems, has anyone properly appreciated you."
Was he teasing? Playing along? Did he really believe she was serious when she mentioned an interest earlier? Did it really even matter at the moment?
"I've never received a flower," Luna said with a beaming smile as she accepted Killian token.
"Truly an oversight that required rectification," Killian said with a bow of his head. "As is this," he went on, offering Hermione the second flower.
Hermione took the flower and closed her eyes, hoping her smile was not as telling as she believed it to be. She then lean in with her lips on Killian's ear.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Happy Valentine's Day," Killian whispered in return. "Now off with you. You have an arrogant and conniving reporter to manipulate."
She did not wish to back away. She wished to remain in the moment, feel the warmth of his face, take in the scent of his skin that enveloped her senses. But Hermione knew there were more important things that needed to be addresses. As Killian often reminded her, there would be other times. And while she was growing impatient, the exhilarating tension of their pace, if there even was a destination, made it worth the wait.
"All right," Hermione said to Luna, who was taking in the fragrance of her flower. "Let's get this over with."
"Yes," Luna said. "The sooner the better I think. I find Rita Skeeter to be less than pleasant. But I suppose we have to deal with unpleasantries from time to time."
Sometimes more often than that, Hermione thought.
"Thank you for the flower," Luna said.
"It was my pleasure," Killian said with another bow before turning and walking away.
Hermione and Luna continued towards the Three Broomsticks, down the crowded streets of Hogsmeade, dodging both couples and those wishing to be in the company of someone. It was in the air, it was in the heart, and it was in the flower Hermione held in her hand.
When they reached their destination, they stood at the window and saw Rita Skeeter sitting alone at a table. She looked quite different than the last time Hermione had crossed paths with the journalist whose leads she manipulated via her status as an unregistered Animagus. Her hair was out of place and her face held an expression of continued distress. It appeared her current state of unemployment had not found her well.
Hermione took a deep breath before reaching for the door.
"He doesn't seem like a Slytherin," Luna said unexpectedly.
Hermione just smiled. No, he did not seem like a Slytherin at all. More and more Hermione began to realize that Killian was not a Slytherin. Nor was he a Ravenclaw, as he had wished to be. He did not belong to any house or group or faction. He was simply Killian. And as she breathed in the scent of the flower he had presented to her, Hermione convinced herself once again that, if only for the day, he was hers.
