Diamonds

2. Energy of Sun

The sunlight of early afternoon blazed down on the scarlet train, flooding the carriages and the compartments that lined them with light. To anyone looking in, this particular compartment held a serene image: a young witch in her Hogwarts robes already, alone in the near silence with a book.

Hermione Granger tucked her feet neatly beneath herself on the periwinkle seat. A heavy textbook- Hogwarts: A History- was open on her knees, but it was her hand she was focused on. The sunlight caught on the silver of the ring, recasting the black dragons in a brutal shade of gunmetal. But if she tilted it just right, she could return it to the original design, the one she'd memorised since that fateful day three years ago. Twin dragons wrapped around her finger, the tails whirling together and binding the thing to her left ring finger- an engagement ring on the hand of an almost-twelve-year-old girl. The insignia was unique; a silver M on a green and black shield, held aloft by matching black dragons and topped by serpents. Though she couldn't make out the tiny engraved message on the crest, she knew what it said, having read it in a book: sanctimonia vincet semper. 'Honour always overcomes'. It was a beautiful design, really.

So why did the sight of it fill her with a sense of dread?

Hermione was a clever girl. She'd always been exceedingly bright, more so than her peers. This gave her a home on the outside of everything, where she could read instead of listening to people get things wrong, only to refuse to fix it. When she'd been told, almost-age-nine, that she was a witch, she'd been sceptical. Oh, she'd wanted it to be true, there was no doubt about that- any reason for her unusualness would be wonderful, after all. But the information that she was a witch-explained by some hideous woman with a face like a toad in a condescending, sugary sweet tone that had her wondering how her teeth hadn't rotted away during the explanation-came with no evidence, so she had continued to doubt it.

Until the lunch meeting.

She'd been reading Jane Eyre at the time, she remembered it because grandma Jean had given it to her following grandpa's first heart attack. Her mother, Monica, had been erratic and uncertain but had taken her to the lunch nonetheless. "Oh, all the other girls are wearing such nice dresses."

"I like my uniform, mum. And I'm going back to school after this. Getting dressed up would be pointless."

Monica had sighed, but smiled nonetheless, bending down to kiss her forehead. "That's my Hermione."

Hermione had retreated from the rest of the so-called 'muggle-born' 'witches' with the intention of reading, but something stopped her from opening the book. That something was a sudden pop coming from the middle of the room.

A blonde woman and her son had appeared out of nowhere, looking not at all ruffled by the experience and forcing Hermione to accept the idea of magic on the spot. The bushy-haired girl stared curiously at the pair: the woman's expression was one of disgust, but only, Hermione had noted, when she looked towards the 'muggles'. The rest of the lunch had been a blur, memories lost to Hermione as she blocked the room out to focus on her book. It wasn't until she felt someone's eyes settle on her that she looked up at all, though it was through her hair so he couldn't see that he had her attention.

And then he spoke. I want that one. As though she were a toy in a shop.

The ring had been just one of the things that followed, the boy himself sliding it onto her finger as he followed the instructions given later, by a man too dark to be his father. Malfoy, the boy said, Draco Malfoy. And this marks you as mine. There was no mention that he was hers, or that she would have a choice. Both her parents had looked on with something like pity in their gaze. And that was that; she hadn't seen the pasty boy since the ritual.