Charming
Chapter Eight – Mistletoe and Wildflowers
~oOo~
Disclaimer: The Potterverse still doesn't belong to me. Oh well.
~oOo~
Hermione was understandably a little preoccupied as she left History of Magic behind. If only I knew how the Daydream Charm actually worked, she thought, then I'd be able to figure out whether Draco was a part of the spell or a part of my own imagination. The spell's got to draw off the subject's imagination in some capacity, otherwise–
A startled cry ripped her out of her reverie, and she looked up to see Harry flailing around a few metres away. He appeared to be struggling to move from the place he was standing; he was in danger of taking out a short Ravenclaw sixth-year standing directly behind him with all his thrashing about. Immediately, Hermione looked around for the cause of the disturbance, seeking a malicious spell-caster or trap of some sort. Her eyes widened as they found a sparkling object floating in the air about a metre above Harry's head.
"Stop!" she cried. "Nobody move!"
Harry froze, as did Ron and the other two-dozen or so people in the corridor. They all stared at her as though expecting further orders.
"See that above Harry's head?" said Hermione. "That looks a whole lot like the Mistletoe Charm, don't you think?"
There was a groan from her two best friends, who knew what that meant – and a giggle from someone else.
Hermione whipped around to glower at the source of the noise, the sixth-year girl standing suspiciously close behind Harry, grinning almost ruefully. She recoiled a little from the fiery Gryffindor's piercing glare. "I suppose you think this is funny?" Hermione snapped, before looking pointedly at Harry. "I'm afraid there's nothing for it. You've heard how it works."
He gaped helplessly at his friend, the reality of the situation clicking into place. "Can't you do something?"
She shook her head and Ron started forward angrily, saying, "Look, can't we just pull him out or something? The stupid curse can't be that strong–"
"Ronald, no!" said Hermione forcefully, grabbing him by the sleeve before he could take another step in Harry's direction. "If any of us get much closer we might get caught in it too, and I really don't want to think about what kind of three-way kiss we might have to endure if that happens."
Harry looked positively woeful. "Hermione, do I really have to kiss her? Is it really the only way?"
Why does everybody always have to look to me for answers? thought Hermione."I can try Finite Incantatem but I don't think that'll work, if the rumours are true and the Ministry can't even find a solution. You'd think they'd've tried that."
The pleading look in Harry's eyes said it all. She could well imagine that he didn't want to kiss one of his many predatory fangirls, but at the same time she couldn't see another solution. Sighing, she tried ending the enchantment, but to no avail. To the Ravenclaw girl she said tersely, "And your name is...?"
The girl gulped and whispered, "Patricia." Hermione raised an eyebrow and the younger girl spluttered, slightly louder, "Patricia Cornstalk."
Hermione sniffed disdainfully and said, without taking her eyes off the girl, "Harry, hurry up and kiss this bit of pond slime so that we can get on with our lives." She paused. "And Patricia? Don't think you can try this again and escape unscathed," she hissed.
As though resigned to his fate, Harry turned to look at Patricia. A toothy smile spread over the girl's face – and then she launched herself at him. The spell broke a split second after their lips touched, and since Harry's feet were no longer rooted to the ground he toppled to the floor under the onslaught.
Seeing that the floating mistletoe had disappeared and the requirements of the spell had been met, Hermione pointed her wand and yelled, "Stupefy!" sending Patricia flying off Harry in a flash of red light. She landed with a muffled crash against the wall opposite Hermione, paralysed by the spell, while Harry scrambled to his feet, panting and a little pale.
Looking at the both of them and shaking her head, Hermione said, "Come on, let's go before something else happens."
"Chin up, mate," said Ron stoically. "It could've been worse. At least you didn't have to kiss anyone you really hated... she could've been a Slytherin!"
Harry only grunted, a surly and hard-done-by expression on his face as the trio marched back to the Gryffindor common room.
~oOo~
Two days later Hermione was sitting in History of Magic, again with her wand out beneath her desk and the piece of parchment with the Daydream Charm on it clutched in her other hand. Professor Binns was giving a lecture on the Second Goblin Revolution yet again, so Hermione didn't feel too bad about planning to skip out on the monotony once more – after all she knew the material back to front – and yet she was oddly nervous about sinking into another Weasley-invented daydream.
You know what, she thought, I'll bet the reason Draco popped up in my daydream was because I've been running into him everywhere. At the Lake, in Harry's Pensieve, and our Potions assignment... that'll be it. Well, I haven't seen him in over a week now, so... nothing to worry about, she told herself. And with that, she tapped the enchanted parchment and recited the words of the charm.
Moments later, she found herself standing in the middle of a large, grassy field dotted with thousands of tiny wildflowers. Golden sunlight streamed down from above, and around the edges of the field there grew dense pine forest. The scent of crushed pine needles filled the air.
Hermione turned in a circle, taking in her surroundings, as well as the fact that she was now clad in a long, elegant coat with golden-brown fur trimmings, accompanied by tight leggings and what appeared to be rather expensive boots. Her breath misted in front of her as she looked around the clearing, and yet she only felt pleasantly warm beneath her layers of (stylish) clothing.
"Hermione!" she heard a familiar voice call, and she turned to see none other than – you guessed it – Draco Malfoy striding across to her from the woods. He was wearing dark jeans and a well-fitted grey woollen coat that brought out his grey eyes spectacularly, along with a mossy green scarf – Slytherin forever, Hermione supposed.
"Draco," she said as he approached, half in surprise, half in joy at seeing him again. Must be the Daydream Charm at work, she told herself absent-mindedly.
He walked right up to her and took both her hands in his, smiling warmly. He pointed to the far side of the field. "I've got something set up for you over there, if you'd like to come with me...?" he invited.
"Okay." Hermione couldn't help but grin as she agreed. There was just something so wonderful about being in a place like this, magical in more than just the Wizarding sense... which, of course, had nothing whatsoever at all to do with the company. Of course.
Draco led her through the swathes of wildflowers in every colour of the rainbow to the end of the field, holding her hand all the while. Neither of them was wearing gloves – though oddly, Hermione's fingers never felt cold – and the tug of Draco's hand on her own felt somehow reassuring, tender. There, spread out on the grass, was a chequered picnic rug, complete with wicker picnic hamper sitting in the middle of it.
"Come, sit down," said Draco softly, and pulled her gently down to sit by his side. He pulled two large mugs out of the hamper, followed by a flask that steamed when he unscrewed the top. Hermione watched as he poured them each a generous quantity of hot chocolate from the flask, and was just about to pick up one of the mugs when he held up a finger to stop her. He reached inside the hamper again before depositing several large, fluffy marshmallows in each mug. Then he picked one of them up and offered it to her, a sweet, hopeful smile on his lips.
Hermione took the proffered mug and sipped. Delicious, molten, chocolatey warmth spread throughout her body and she hummed in contentment. She looked up at Draco, who was sipping from his own mug, and smiled quietly, more to herself than anything else.
He smiled angelically back at her, and her breath caught in her throat. Never had she seen him so carefree, so happy... or so beautiful. It was a happy, contented soul that looked at her through Draco's eyes, and seeing it, she couldn't help but grin wider. They sat in companionable silence for some minutes as they emptied their mugs.
"I did this for you," he said after a while, making an expansive gesture that encompassed the whole field before them.
"Oh?" replied Hermione playfully. "I'm not sure you can reasonably take credit for the natural beauty of the environment."
"No," he returned, smiling, "but for the flowers I can." He leaned backward and plucked one from the grass beside the rug, holding it up for her to see. It was tiny, blue, and delicately shaped, each one of its petals a miniscule, precise work of art. It looked incredibly fragile between his fingers. "I made it for you," he said. "I created them all. Each flower in this field, I made for you."
He held the tiny blue plant out to her and Hermione took it, wondering at the amount of spellwork that must have gone into covering the entire field in flowers. Dimly, in the back of her mind, she considered the fact that she was daydreaming, but that didn't seem to be relevant.
"Well," she said, looking up at him with eyes shining. "Thank you. It's beautiful, all of it."
He shrugged off the compliment with a smile as he looked down at her. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out a hand and touched her face. Hermione couldn't help but lean her cheek slightly into his palm, feeling completely at ease... apart from the faint fluttering of butterflies in her stomach.
She looked up, deep brown eyes meeting stormy grey, and for a second she fancied he was leaning forward... She breathed in, blinked –
And found herself back in History of Magic. Hermione sat up with a start, feeling disorientated and inordinately disappointed for some reason. It seemed so real for a while there...
Wiping a thin line of drool from the corner of her mouth – stupid side-effects of the charm – the Gryffindor was perturbed. That's twice in a row I've daydreamed of him, she thought. That's not a coincidence. And that was definitely not the Draco I know in reality... But I'm not doing it on purpose! I've got to think of something. The Daydream Charm obviously affects emotions... but me wanting to kiss him – him! – is taking it a bit far. There's got to be something wrong with the charm. That's got to be it... right?
~oOo~
Author's Note: That's right, another chapter, and a long one at that! Were you expecting to have to wait another few months? ;) I apologise for the severe sickly-sugary-sweetness in the daydream sequences... it seemed necessary, somehow, though it was a lot worse before I edited a lot of it out. In any case I promise to cut right down on it so I don't give you all diabetes or something. :P
Oh, also! I recently put up another Harry Potter one-shot, titled 'Click' so if you guys want to check that out and leave me some feedback, feel free; the link is on my profile. I'll love you for it! ;D
So if you enjoyed this chapter, or even if you didn't, please don't hesitate to leave a review! I live off your comments, and reply to each one. I'm going to try to make Wednesday my Update Day, so if all goes to plan there should be a new chapter for you guys each week. Thanks for reading! :)