The Two Musicians

Chapter 3: The Lake

By Silver Chessboards

Hermione sat up in bed, with her eyes closed and her back against the wall. She had awoken not long ago and sleep refused to claim her again. It was still early and the merry tune of the birds outside irked her. She didn't feel like sleeping anymore and she hadn't anything to do to keep her preoccupied.

She got out of bed and walked over to her unused dresser. As head girl, she had her own dorms complete with her own bedroom, a guest room, kitchenette, common room and a single bathroom. It was rather spacious but she did not mind for it was much better than when she had to share dorms with Lavender and Pavarti. She had absolutely no idea why Dumbledore would have placed a dresser in her bedroom when he probably knew that she would never use it.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her eyes sweeping over the bags under her eyes and her much more defined cheekbones. Ever since Ron had cheated on her she had stayed up late studying and ate less. She had lost her appetite completely, she couldn't even remember the last time she had a decent meal. She sighed and thought of Malfoy and how he had left her pondering the same question for a whole week.

#Why had he helped her?

He had went around being his usual aloof self. She would only see him ocassionally, when they crossed paths in the hallways, at mealtimes, during lessons and at the library. He was often seen with Blaise Zabini, an Italian Slytherin in the same grade as they. She hadn't felt like approaching him with the question for she felt that it would only be awkward. Besides, it wasn't really that necessary for her to know although she was curious.

Ron had tried several times to start a conversation with her but she had refused to even spare a glance in his direction. She had decided that he wasn't worth her time. This usually resulted in Ron storming off in anger, muttering profanities.

Harry and Ginny had been amazingly understanding about her behaviour towards him. They had comforted her and said she could take all the time she needed to finally forgive him. They still did talk with the redhead but not as friendly as before.

She sighed.

Life was such a pain.

The morning air was sharp and glacial against her skin. She wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. September was cold and unforgiving, October would probably be worse. Leaves crunched under her feet as she made her way to the lake. The surface of the lake was still and undisturbed by all but the wind which caused an occasional ripple. The sky was grey and gloomy.

It was still extremely early in the morning so there would be no one to disturb her for everyone was fast asleep, tucked in their beds. She came to a halt and sat down on the grass, her back leaning on the bark of a tree for support. From where she sat, she had a good view of the lake and the castle. She stretched her feet out in front of her and retrieved her writing materials from her satchel.

She had awoken earlier that morning and had decided to make use of the time she had, for sleep would not take her. She unfolded the piece of parchment, studying it. After a moment, she added a few notes to the bars. She smiled down at it, it was only the beginning.

"Good morning."

It was a deep and masculine voice that broke the silence. She looked up to see Draco Malfoy towering over her, leaning on the trunk of the tree with his hand. He, however, had his eyes trained on the spectacular view of the castle that could be seen from where they were.

"Good morning, Malfoy," she replied absentmindedly, averting her attention back to her composition.

"Is that...a composition of yours?" he asked, looking down at her.

"Well, yes. Not that it's any of your concern."

Ignoring her last comment, he said, "May I join you?"

She thought of it for a while. Malfoy sitting on the grass? With her? She shrugged, replying.

"It's a free country," she said.

"I'll take that as a yes," he muttered as he sat down beside her, stretching his feet in front of him. For a while, nothing could be heard save the chirping of the birds and the sound of the wind in their ears.

"An F sharp would go well with that," he said, glancing at her work. She suddenly became aware of how close they were sitting. How their legs brushed against each other and the scent of his cologne. She felt her cheeks flush but she shook her head, telling herself that he may have just chosen to sit without noticing the space between them.

"That sounds right," she replied, adding an F sharp to the bars. There was a moment of silence before he asked a question.

"You play an instrument?"

She turned to look at him before replying.

"The violin. You play the piano, if I am correct?"

"Correct," he glanced at her, an expressionless look on his face. Their eyes met for a moment and she looked away.

She folded the piece of parchment on her lap, deciding that she had wrote enough. She gently closed her eyes, enjoying the peace. The silence that passed was comforting to her. The lovely chirps of the birds and the soft breeze of the wind against her skin were incredibly soothing.

She heard him get up, his shoes making crunching noises in the grass and leaves. But she didn't open her eyes. The sounds of him walking away soon became distant until she could hear his footsteps no longer. She gently opened her eyes, seeing him walking towards the castle in the distance.

She then remembered the handkerchief he had passed to her, she slipped it out of her pocket and looked at it. She had forgotten to return it. It was a silk white handkerchief with his name printed neatly at the bottom. She sighed, getting up and heading back to the castle.

The wind didn't seem that cold anymore.

Her quill made scratching noises as she took down notes with haste. It was mid afternoon and potions was her last lesson of the day. Slughorn was explaining the properties of several potion ingredients, smiling widely at the students. Many of the students had chosen to bury their heads in their arms and drift off to sleep, some were munching on sugar quills and others were chatting nonchalantly. She frowned at the inattentive students before averting her undivided attention to Slughorn. The classroom door swung open and someone entered the classroom.

"Ah, Mister Malfoy. Please take a seat and I expect you not to be late the next time," Professor Slughorn said before continuing the lesson.

Hermione heard a colourful string of words and the scrape of a chair against the floor as Malfoy seated himself in the seat directly behind her. She dipped her quill in the black inkwell and continued writing but found herself stopping in her movements. She could feel his gaze on her. She felt a drop of sweat trickle down her brow.

She didn't know the reason why but she felt nervous.

A drop of ink fell from the tip of her quill and stained the parchment, soaking into the material and spreading out slightly. She stared at the drop of ink on her parchment before shaking her head vigorously, her locks rustling with the jerks of her head. She had to pay attention. Her NEWTs were approaching, for Merlin's sake! She returned her attention to Slughorn, struggling hard to not be distracted. Throughout the whole lesson, she could feel his eyes on her. The bell rung, signalling the next lesson. She rushed out of class, her steps quick.

She hadn't taken as many notes as she usually did.

He didn't even know why he did it. He just did. He couldn't help but stare at her throughout potions as Slughorn droned on about potion ingredients. He noticed how her brown locks shone brightly when the light caught it and how her clothes seemed so baggy on her frame. She seemed rather...intriguing. He didn't know how or why.

He had never really noticed the bookworm before, it seemed strange that he did now after seven years of know her. He shook his head to clear his thoughts as he walked away from the potions classroom. His shoes made soft clicks on the ground as he walked. Lessons were over for the day and he didn't have anything to do. He shrugged, deciding he would do his homework

After Dinner

Hermione sat in the Gryffindor common room, doing homework. She dipped her quill in the black ink well and continued to write, her concentration fully on the Potions essay she was working on. Harry and Ginny were in the couch opposite the one she was sitting on and they were conversing in soft tones, careful to not disturb her.

She heard the portrait door swing open and someone entered but she paid the person no heed until she looked up to see said person standing in front of her, waiting for her to notice him.

Ronald Weasley.

"Look, Hermione–"

"No. Don't you 'look Hermione' me, Ronald," she said in a harsh tone, glaring at the redhead who winced at the sound of his full name.

"Let me–"

"I will not listen to anything you have to say, Ronald. It was you who cheated on me. You have no idea how it hurt when I saw you with her. I hate you, so much!" She shouted the last sentence and stormed out of the common room leaving behind a speechless redhead.

She felt tears well in her eyes, how could he be so cruel? How could he just cheat on her? She had been in love with him for years he had crushed her heart in just a few seconds. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks as she ran. She couldn't see clearly for the tears clouded her vision. Her loud footfalls echoed in the empty corridor and locks of hair tangled themselves in the wind.

She finally stopped running, collapsing to the ground and pulling her knees to her chest. She buried her head in her hands, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. She didn't want to see anyone at that moment. Especially not Ron.

She felt a pair of arms snake around her shoulders and strangely, she felt warm. Someone was stroking her hair.

"Don't cry, Granger."

He didn't know what made him do it. He just felt the urge to comfort her after seeing her there. They were on the sixth floor, the deserted corridor, in front of the music room. He had just finished playing the piano and had slipped out of the room to see Granger sobbing in the same spot where he had found her just a week ago. He immediately knew that she was crying over the red headed git that cheated on her. He had felt a flare of anger in his chest and had walked up to her, slipping his arms around her.

It was not like him to comfort someone.

But he couldn't help but feel sorry for her. After countless words of comfort and hushing, she finally quietened down. He looked down at her, she had fallen asleep. He shook his head, scooping her into his arms and standing up. He knew that she was head girl and had her own private dormitories but he had no idea where her dorms were located. He sighed, heading towards the music room and opening the door. He carefully laid the unconscious girl on top of the table in the corner.

Retrieving his wand from his pocket, he transfigured a nearby armchair into a bed. He then scooped her up in his arms and gently laid her down onto the bed, drawing the duvet up to her chest. Sighing, he brushed away a tendril of hair from her face. He then sat down on a armchair facing the side of the bed. It would have to do, for he couldn't just leave her there in the music room.

Soon, he too drifted off to sleep.