Author's Note: Sorry it has taken me so long to update the story I have had a lot of things happening in my life. I've been sitting on this next chapter for a few days and I'm going to try and get it out before I forget it all.
*FLASHBACK*
As we await the next step of our sorting, I'm nervous. I'm babbling all the information I've learned about the school, though I know they are not listening. I've already decided I'm going to like Professor McGonagall, her strictness is something I am very used to. As we march into the Great Hall, I continue my babbling trying to calm myself down. As McGonagall starts calling names, I turn my attention to the high table before me. The teachers all look so regal and important… almost as if they are royalty.
Starting at the right end of the table, I look at each teacher closely trying to guess what subject is theirs. They all sit impossibly still and they give nothing of their personalities away. One by one I stare making my way across the table until I come across him. As if feeling my eyes on him, he snaps his gaze towards me and stares me down. The professor next to him is still talking but he and I are in a staring contest.
As I look into his eyes, I feel myself begin to calm. How can eye be so dark? How can eyes be so deep, empty, yet expressive at the same time? They are hard as ice but I can still see something just beneath the iciness. It's almost like the mist that surrounds dry ice, blocking the ice itself but you know it's there if you just look hard enough. I can also tell, like dry ice, getting near him without protection will end in very bad burns.
I hear my name called and I jump. Telling myself to relax I walk to the stool and feel that hat cover my head. I chance a glance over my shoulder and notice he is still watching me, and again, I become calm. The voice within my head keeps going back and forth between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, but I'm not paying attention anymore. Something in those dark eyes has made me pause.
I vaguely hear the hat shout Gryffindor and the something in his eyes vanished and became even colder than before. I walk over to my table and sit ignoring everybody else around me. He seems to refuse to look in my direction again even though he knows I'm looking. I can't help but feel that I have lost something.
*End of Flashback*
Hermione rests her forehead against his temple as she prayed for an answer. Briefly noting the smell of herbs that seemed to cling to his hair. The sands of time trickle away as she wonders how long she has been separated from her friends. Knowing the people she cares for are out there fighting and dying while she sits here trying to save a single life. I know I have to though, I'll never be able to forgive himself if I don't try. No matter how mean to me he was, I remember that first meeting and I know it means something. "Gold" a whisper so low, I wonder if it really happened.