Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Authors note: Review, please! I love constructive criticism :)
Summary: Hermione was riding horses before she could walk. When her parents died when she was just a few months old, she moved to live with her uncle on his ranch. Imagine her surprise when one summer, Draco Malfoy arrives for lessons.
Gypsy Hollow
Chapter 4 - Island in the Lake
It was almost six and, glad that the sun stayed up past it's bedtime in summer, Hermione and her uncle had finally figured out a regime with which they were both content - Hermione would exercise the horse and then bring it back the the stall where it would be groomed by Luke, while she would move on to the next.
After finishing their horses and skipping out the stable, Emily and Robin had left Hermione to finish the evening feeds, but first she had one horse left to exercise. Luke had gone inside as his niece headed towards her horse, a look of pure content on her face as he nuzzled her forehead.
Hermione climbed into the saddle in the courtyard, gently kicking Thumper on towards the trail. He happily followed her request, walking at a comfortable pace towards the end of the barn. His head swayed in rhythm with his steps, and his rider relaxed immediately into her seat as the clap of hooves on concrete beneath them changed to thuds on soft dirt and damp leaves.
They walked up the hill, transitioning smoothly into trot they second the hit flat ground. Thumper bounced happily along the path, his ears flicking back towards her as she encouraged him on. It wasn't long before he recognised the part of the trail they were following and began throwing his head around impatiently, making Hermione laugh. Finally giving in, she gave him his head, tightened the reign and kicked him on, shouting her enjoyment into the warm breeze as they flew across the dirt.
There was something different about cantering in the outdoors to the dignified dancing inside an arena. The horse always seemed freer, enjoying life at it's fullest. Hermione loved enjoying life with her Thumper.
He sped faster as the ground began to incline downwards, skipping between trees at a speed too high to try and control - but that's what Hermione liked about it. You couldn't control them, you didn't want to control them. You didn't need to - you were one heart, one body, one soul.
Eventually Thumper began to slow, his breath coming in heavy pants as he reached the bottom of the hill. Slowly, the trees opened up into a clearing, and in the centre of that clearing was a beautiful, crystal, beach like lake. The pair pottered down towards the edge, the blue water lapping Thunder's hooves on the sand. Gently, Hermione turned him back toward the forest edge to dismount.
She took off his saddle and bridle and placed it on the grass, allowing him to do what he wished without restriction, before sitting down halfway between the trees and the water. It didn't surprise her that Thumper came to stand beside her, nudging her gently and eventually lying clumsily behind her, curling himself protectively around her body. Closing her eyes against the bright sunlight, Hermione rested her head against the speckled coat, lifting one hand to gently stroke his neck and shoulders.
They remained that way for a while before Hermione stood up, Thumper frantically scrambling to his feet in her wake. Picking up a few stones, she tried to skip them across the water, collapsing in laughter as Thumper raced in after them, splashing wildly around. He paused to look at her, as if he were saying "Come on! Come and play with me!" Hermione just couldn't resist.
Pulling off her boots and socks, she decided she may as well take of her jodhpurs, too. There was no one to see her, anyway, and it wasn't necessary to get them wet. She threw her things beside Thumper's tack and chased him back into the water as he began to approach. He whinnied gleefully and reared up, only to land back in the sand and soak Hermione head to to. She screeched in shock before chasing after him again, trying to splash him back.
Suddenly she stopped, looking longingly towards the green island in the middle of the lake. Hidden by trees, Hermione longed to explore it. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders, walking out of the water and back to the tack. Thumper followed her, shaking thoroughly and spattering her with more water.
After brushing off her feet, she pulled her clothes back on and made sure there were no irritating substances hiding in Thunder's tack before placing it back on. He was happy to go home, trotting contentedly all the way back along the trail.
By the time Hermione had groomed Thumper again and finished the feeds, it was nearing nine o' clock. The poor girl was thoroughly frazzled, stumbling tiredly into the kitchen. Her uncle chuckled at her, standing up to hug her. Hermione closed her eyes and relaxed into his comforting, familiar embrace.
"I've missed you, you know." He told her. She didn't answer, only squeezed him tighter. When they pulled apart, they both sat at the table to eat the dinner before them. Famished, Hermione eagerly shovelled the spaghetti into her mouth, earning another chuckle. Luke watched her for a while, wondering how to broach the subject that had been bothering him for the past few hours.
"So, that boy - Draco, is it?" Hermione nodded absently, still focused on her food. Luke paused before continuing tentatively, "what was it he was trying to call you earlier?"
Hermione inhaled sharply, slowly placing her fork down on her plate as her temper began to rise. She was by no means angry with her uncle, but the simple reminder of Malfoy's common insult was almost enough to make her throw their newly established truce out the window.
"He was going to call me 'Mudblood'." She told Luke. At his obvious confusion, she explained, "it's a derogatory term for witches and wizards with muggle parents - non-magical parents." She stopped, watching the information sink in. "It is often used by folk who believe muggleborns, like myself, don't deserve magic, are worth less than the filth on their shoes."
"It's the worst insult, really?" He asked. Hermione nodded her confirmation. "So there's nothing... intimate, between you two?" The girl, who had by now calmed down enough to continue eating, choked on the forkful of spaghetti she had just placed in her mouth. Luke raised his eyebrows.
"Not unless you call abhorrence and detestation between sworn enemies intimate!" She sputtered, shocked. Her uncle just leaned his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers, his expression stoic.
"So, you often laugh like old friends with your 'sworn enemy'?" He challenged.
"We weren't laughing together!" She defended, "I was laughing at him. And, we have called a truce while I work with him. Merely professional, simply so he can learn something without risking a broken nose by my fist." She smiled as she said this, remembering the punch she had handed him in third year.
"Ah, so it was you that caused the bruise on his jaw." Hermione couldn't remember noticing the bruise - she realised she must have been to busy gazing into his eyes to notice it. She desperately hoped her uncle would take the blush rapidly forming on her cheeks as embarrassment for punching the boy, rather than any thing else.
"Yes, I suppose it was." She agreed quietly.
"Good." He grumbled. "I don't like that boy. Rude, impolite, inconsiderate." Hermione had thought the conversation ended when they both returned to finishing their dinner. She had just forked the last scraps into her mouth when he said, "so you don't have a crush on him?"
"That's it, I'm done with this interrogation!" She huffed uncomfortably, sweeping his plate away and disappearing into the kitchen before he could object. She hoped the time she spent washing the dishes would be enough for him to forget the topic. Luckily, he seemed too wrapped up in the documentary he was watching when she walked into the living room to bother with anymore questions.
Hermione leant over the back of the sofa to wrap her arms loosely around his neck, placing a kiss on the tiny bald patch of his head. She briefly contemplated questioning him on his new, apparent fear of riding, but threw it away with a yawn. Tomorrow, she promised herself.
"Goodnight, uncle." She bade. "Don't stay up too late and make sure you don't fall asleep down here."
"Yes, mother." He laughed at her in response. She poked her tongue out at him before ruffling what was left of his hair and disappearing up the stairs. She heard a call of "goodnight, Sweet Pea," as she opened her bedroom door.
Closing it behind her, Hermione collapsed tiredly onto the bed. As she closed her eyes, she struggled to fight away sleep and find the energy to get up and change, before going to brush her teeth. After gently pulling a brush through her hair, she longingly glanced at the book on her bedside table. She dismissed the idea in her exhaustion, turning off her lamp to curl under the bed covers.
Her eyes swiftly falling shut, Hermione hoped it wouldn't be long before she got used to the hard work and routine again. It was mere minutes before she was sleeping soundly.
There were delighted cheers, excited screams and thrilled shouts. A baby was being held to the sky, the enthusiastic crowd below the balcony calling towards her. Scoffing, Hermione recalled the similarity to the scene in Lion King.
The baby was clothed in an elegant maroon dress that fell far past her feet. The man holding her had a hand behind her head, keeping her steadily looking towards people gazing at her in wonder. Hermione herself had to acknowledge that she was a very pretty baby.
Behind the young man and the baby, a couple stood. They were dressed extravagantly in clothes that looked simply royal. Hermione gazed at the woman in wonder - that was her. The same mahogany hair in perfect ringlets, the same chocolate eyes, the same light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Beside her stood a blond man. Clothed in emerald green robes, his molten silver eyes burned into her, his hair tidily slicked back from his face. Hermione only knew one person to look like that, and she didn't like the message this dream was giving her at all.
As the crowd continued to roar joyously at the baby, Hermione watched as Malfoy reached over with a smile, taking her dream self into his arms and kissing her passionately. And she seemed to be enjoying it!
"Welcome," called the young man holding the baby, lifting her higher into the air which earned delighted giggles from the little girl, "to our Princess Hermione!"
Hermione awoke with a start, her breath coming in heavy pants as she wiped the sweat from her forehead, her hand reaching out to turn the lamp on. A dream in which she and Malfoy were royalty, a couple, with a baby? And did she seriously name the baby after herself?
She shook her head, falling back into the pillows with a sigh. She closed her eyes again, and couldn't stop the images flashing through her mind - images of Malfoy and her, together. He chased after her with a grin, wrapping his arms around her waist and spinning her around with a laugh. He held her close to him on the sofa as they watched a movie. He held her in his arms as they read a book together. He brushed a lock of hair from her face and gently pressed his lips to hers...
Hermione had to admit that maybe it wasn't that much of a nightmare. He was rather handsome, after all. He had enough money to support a family without needing to work, so there was never a risk of struggling. He was better known in Hogwarts as the Slytherin Sex God, and after their truce in the arena, they had had fun as she taught him how to ride. They had joked and teased and found they actually had rather a lot in common.
Hermione sighed in distaste, blaming her uncle's interrogation for the insane imaginings of her tired mind. Grumbling quietly to herself, she tried to get back to sleep, switching the lamp back off. It wasn't long before it was on again as she dug through her drawer, sitting on the edge of the bed to stare at the photo.
Her parents. Two humble, muggle dentists. She was the spitting image of her mother, if what the photo showed was true, and had inherited no physical characteristics at all from her father. Instead, her uncle claimed that her superior intelligence and brave heart were attributes from him.
Her uncle was the one to have taken the photo; her parents stood before a castle. It was amazing, a magnificent building. He told her they had visited castles all over the country at one point, exploring the history of England.
Hermione smiled, placing it next to the frame on her bedside table. It held a photo of a six year old girl on a grinning man's shoulders. Hermione is laughing as her uncle reaches up to tickle her, making her grip harder onto his forehead. It was one of her favourite photo's, and always took it with her when she went to stay somewhere else.
Tracing the features on her uncle's face, she sighed again. He was the closest thing to a father she could remember having. When she was younger, he would tuck her in at night and read her a story. He taught her how to walk, how to talk, how to ride a horse and how to look after them. He taught her how to read better than her school ever did, taught her responsibility. He taught her almost everything she knew, and she owed her life to him. He was her family.
Turning off the light for a final time, Hermione got back into bed and closed her eyes once more, praying that she wouldn't be plagued with any more dreams of Draco Malfoy.