Innocent

c h a p t e r n i n e t e e n

IT WAS 2 A.M. WHEN HERMIONE BURNED Ron's flowers. An itch had woken her up, and she sat in bed, staring at the crumpled parcel of flowers. She hadn't thought to put them in the vase, they were far too decayed for any more preservation. She imagined Ron's flannel outfit, a typical "Dad" like outfit. She avoided the thought of her parents and forced herself on. She remembered her encounter with Draco earlier and completely turned purple at the thought. It had been years since her innocence had stolen her body and acted impulsively, or to even write playful letters outside of Harry and Ron. While she was thinking about Draco, she realized her hand had tossed the bouquet into the furnace. The fire flared, eating at the flower buds, and for a second she was shocked. But then the tips curled into ash, and her fear was eaten with them. 

It was 3 A.M. when she decided it was useless trying to sleep, and slid out of the common room. She didn't know where to go, but her feet led her outside again. Damp air dusted her skin, and the stars shown like angels over her head. The wet grass soaked her boots and stockings, and her wolf side soaked in the whimsical scents of life. 

But as soon as she sat next to the lake, she knew something was off. Not a sound or movement, only a hard knot in her throat. She felt the hair rising on her kneck as she checked behind her. At first, she dismissed the thought, but with further inspection, she saw a ghost bulb shifting through the trees.  

Her legs were already stumbling towards the tranquil light. Somehow she knew if she didn't hurry, it would turn off, and she would spend the rest of eternity never knowing what it was. Behind a cluster of trees, she could faintly make out a field of grass. The beam shone above the field like a streetlamp, and she saw a figure shift in the darkness. Then the shard of slate plunged into the soil. 

Her breath was sticky on her skin, as she tried to muffle the pants. 

The figure moved and morphed into a lanky boy who was carrying a broom. He sauntered under the beam and plopped onto the ground. His face was pale as day but tinted with pink. 

Somehow Hermione already knew it was Draco before she even saw his face. 

Unwillingly, the bottled up air in her throat released. He looked up, and she couldn't hide the smile. If she could see him, he could surely see her.

He jumped up and yanked out his wand. 

"Who's there?" A horrid voice said. 

And the voice struck her with the old him, the tormentor. The air in her lungs had turned into a cold rod. Pure terror glazed her eyes and she ran into the light. 

"It's me, please don't kill me."

As he recognized her, he lowered his wand and let out a hoarse chuckle.

"You brooding startled me."

She forced the panic down, and tried to force it- Everything was melting into an abyss of blurred lights and colors. 

"Hermione!"

She curled up, and he awkwardly sat next to her.

"What's going on?"

She tightened up harder. He didn't need to know. She'd already cried so much lately, she felt like a weeping willow. It was time to sink her teeth in and hold it together. 

Didn't he know how terrifying it was to stare at his end of a wand?

He sat and waited, and she longed for him to keep talking, but he wasn't like that. Finally, she felt the words leaking through her lips. 

"I thought... I thoug- t you were going to hate me or kill me. It..." She clamped her mouth shut. 

He already got the gist, there was no reason for her to go on, but she did. 

She glared at him. 

"Why would you do that? It scared me, you looked like you wanted to murder me."

And then he did it. 

He laughed a broken yet full of life laugh that filled her soul with warmth and wiped the anger into dismal feelings. 

"What?"

She clawed at her eyes, wiping them dry.

"What are you doing out this early Hermione?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"You're tired."

She scowled.

"No, I'm not. It was a perfectly normal reaction. Besides, what are you doing out this early?"

"Just training."

His uniform was soaked through with layers of sweat, but he had a lively vibe in his eyes. 

"Thanks for responding to my letter."

"Weasletts owl is horrible," he held up a scratch on his arm and mocked his arm falling off. 

In the darkness of the night, a wild thought rampaged her mind, and then she was pointing at the sky. 

"Can you teach me to fly?"

"What? You... no, you want to learn to fly?" He mocked. 

She grabbed the end of the broom and noticed how smooth and well kept it was. Nimbus 2000 was written in gold on the end. 

"I want to try it."

"Well," he said standing up, "Hop on."

"D- I'm not going to try on that broom with you."

"How else are you going to learn? I don't want you to go crashing off in some field and have to rescue you in the darkness."

Her hands felt clammy as she stared at the broom again. 

"Fine."

She didn't want to fly it in utter darkness with no idea what chasm lay below her feet.

Draco sat on the broom and motioned her on the back.

"You still up to it?"

"Yes."

She walked stiffly forward and sat on it. Surprisingly, possibly through magic, it felt more comfortable and stable than she expected. 

"You need to hold on or you're going to fall off."

She tried clutching the broom, but as it levitated off the ground, she could already feel her hands slipping off. Her only other option was his back. She placed her arms around his back. She felt him tense, but then he was silent. Her entire body pounded as she felt his warmth covering her body. 

"What's with the change of heart?"

"I-" the broom launched into the air, and her tongue rammed into the roof of her mouth, "I don't know."

"Well, you certainly missed out on a great sport."

Since it was utterly dark, her body felt like it was falling in a horrid nightmare, but somehow exhilarating and amazing at the same time. 

"I just didn't even have time to practice." She retorted. 

"Sure."

She felt every movement through the lean muscles in his back. 

"...Hey, we're still friends right?"

"No, we're enemies, what do you think Gra-Hermione?"

"I don't know, I was just clarifying."

The broom jolted forward, and she grasped his shoulders harder. She wondered if he could feel her heartbeat. As she nestled her head against his back, she felt an even louder heartbeat. 

In her sleepy brain, she connected the two and stupidly wondered if he liked her.

And the words were more "Hermione" than ever and as unfemale as possible.

"Do you like me?"