Chapter 19: The Meaning of Auras

The library was quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of parchment or the soft creak of a chair. Dim light from the enchanted lanterns cast long shadows across the rows of bookshelves. Daphne sat across from Hermione, her sharp eyes scanning a heavy tome, while Hermione scribbled notes furiously in her neat handwriting.

For once, Daphne felt a flicker of admiration for Hermione. The Gryffindor's relentless determination was impressive—if a bit exhausting. They had been combing through books for days looking for anything that could potentially be used to protect the stone. Now they were taking a break and chasing the elusive truth about Harry's aura.

"When did you first see it?" Hermione broke the silence, her voice curious but cautious.

Daphne didn't look up from her book. "During the Sorting Hat ceremony," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. "It was… impossible to miss."

Hermione set her quill down, leaning forward slightly. "What was it like?"

Daphne hesitated, her fingers pausing mid-page turn. "It was overwhelming," she admitted. "Everything else in the hall felt dim compared to him. It was like watching the sun rise in a room full of candles." She finally met Hermione's gaze. "I couldn't ignore it, even if I wanted to."

Hermione smiled faintly, but her curiosity only deepened. "And you've never seen anything like it before?"

"Not even close."

Daphne turned back to her book, but Hermione wasn't done. "What about before Hogwarts? Did you ever see anything unusual back then?"

This time, Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Before Hogwarts? No. My life before coming here wasn't exactly… magical."

Hermione tilted her head, picking up on the hint of bitterness in Daphne's voice. "What was it like?"

Daphne closed her book with a soft thud, leaning back in her chair. "Why do you want to know?"

"Well," Hermione said, a bit sheepishly, "you're always asking about my life outside of Hogwarts. I thought it was only fair to ask about yours."

A small smirk tugged at Daphne's lips, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Touché." She hesitated, then added, "I had a muggle friend once. Her name was Lucy."

Hermione straightened. "Really? What was she like?"

"Smart," Daphne said simply. "Kind. She loved books almost as much as you do. We used to wander the woods all day near my home and talk about what we wanted to be when we grew up, muggle life, and movies she really loved spy movies." Her voice grew quieter. "It was the closest thing to normal I ever had."

"What happened?"

Daphne's smirk vanished. Her expression hardened, her eyes dropping to the table. "My parents found out."

Hermione's face fell. "Oh, Daphne…"

"They weren't pleased," Daphne said tersely, a chill creeping into her voice. "Let's just say they made sure I wouldn't see Lucy again. And they made their displeasure… known."

The words hung heavy in the air. Hermione looked horrified, but she didn't press further. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Daphne shrugged, though her shoulders were tense, her eyes guarded. "It was a long time ago."

They fell into silence for a moment, the sound of pages turning filling the void. But then Hermione's sharp gasp broke it.

"Here! I think I've found something!"

Daphne leaned forward as Hermione pointed to a passage in the book. Her finger traced the words as she read aloud.

"'Magical Auras and Meanings:Gold signifies virtue and resilience, Green represents renewal and compassion while red represents love and loyalty. Black reflects the touch of dark magic, death and destruction. Silver…'" Hermione's voice faltered. "'Silver/white is a rare aura, only ever referenced during the Arthurian times. With few accounts many conflicting and vague it has been alleged to be connected directly to Arthur Pendragon.'"

Daphne's stomach flipped. "So what does that mean?"

Hermione flipped to the next page, her voice steadying. "'In rare cases, the ability to see an aura stems from a soul connection, sometimes referred to as a soulmate. This connection is said to defy time, logic, and reason, existing beyond the bounds of normal magical understanding. Consequences of such a bond are unknown.'"

The words settled over them like a storm cloud. Daphne stared at the page, her mind racing. Soulmate?! Could that really be what tied her to Harry?

Hermione looked up at Daphne, her brow furrowed. "Do you think Harry feels it too?"

Daphne stiffened, quickly masking her shock with a scoff. "Harry deserves someone better than me," she said, her words faltering slightly. "Someone who isn't… complicated. Someone who is good, who doesn't have this pain.."

Hermione didn't look convinced. "Harry trusts you completely," she pointed out. "In my experience, Harry doesn't give his trust easily. And when he does, it means something. And it's his choice as well and I believe that he picked you even if he isn't fully aware of it yet."

Daphne opened her mouth to retort but closed it again. Hermione's words struck a chord, though she wasn't ready to admit it.

Before she could say anything, Hermione suddenly stood up and pulled Daphne into a bone-crushing hug.

"What are you—" Daphne froze, completely unaccustomed to such a gesture.

"I'm glad we're friends. But Ill keep this between you and me. Its your choice when you tell Harry." Hermione said earnestly, squeezing her tightly.

Daphne awkwardly patted Hermione's back, her cheeks burning. But after a moment of hesitation, she gave the smallest of hugs in return—a quick, tentative squeeze before pulling away as if nothing had happened.

When Hermione finally let go, Daphne cleared her throat and grabbed her book, doing her best to regain her composure.

As they left the library together, Hermione glanced at her with a warm smile. Daphne didn't say anything, but for the first time in a long while, she felt… lighter.