Chapter 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Author's Note: It's me again! I'm sorry if I completely abandoned my last story, "Scoop", but things became so busy that I didn't have time to update. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this. It's not finished yet, so there's more to come. As always, please read and review.
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"The moon is pink tonight," she whispers behind me as I look at the stars above us. They are all out tonight, glistening amidst the darkness like a million fireflies.
I feel her breath on the back of my neck. I restrain a shiver.
"What do you mean?" I finally ask. The moon isn't pink. I do a double take just to be sure. She notices this and she suppresses a giggle to no avail.
"Not literally, Harry, not literally."
The palms of her hands rest on my shoulders.
"Kindly enlighten me then," I reply, a little sarcastically and a tad sweetly.
"It means..." she starts. She takes a deep breath again. The hairs on my nape stand up. I hold unto the stone pillar for support.
I wait for her, but she doesn't continue. I feel her hands slide down. This time, it rests on the crevice where my shoulders meet.
"Anything and everything is possible," she finally finishes.
We remain silent for the next hour. Her hands eventually leave my back and I feel cold. Her hand eventually holds mine and I feel warm.
We watch the stars.
And the pink moon.
Later on, we hear footsteps. She immediately drops my hand. I restrain the urge to grab it again. My heart clenches but I go on. I go on because I have to go on. I go on because she has to go on. I go on because we have to go on.
My heart clenches but I brave it.
It pains me.
But I smile a small smile.
She looks down. She sees through me. But she doesn't say anything. We don't say anything.
"I guess you have to go, Hermione," I finally say.
She gives a small nod. But she doesn't leave.
I lightly touch her chin and she looks up to me. Her brown eyes are wide. I see my reflection. I see the same sadness in my eyes.
"I don't want to go," she says softly.
My heart clenches even more.
"You have to go," I reply, strongly with such conviction even though there is no conviction at all.
Immediately, she throws herself to me. I wrap my hands around her as she cries. We hear the footsteps again and she immediately steps back.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" She asks, a bit hesitantly. Her eyes betray her. She looks at me expectantly.
"Of course, I'm dropping by. I'll give Ron the assignment for next week," I reply, knowing full well that she means something else.
"Oh, ok," she answers, disappointment obvious in her tone, in her voice, in her eyes.
It pains me. A lot. But then her ring glistens and I stop myself.
"All right then," she regains her businesslike tone. The tone that everyone associates with her: authoritative and a little bit bossy. It's not fooling me. Nor her. Immediately, she cracks again.
"Good bye, Harry," she says. Her eyes are downcast, her hands fidgeting in all directions. One minute she's touching the wand in her pocket, the next she's straightening the collar of her shirt.
"Good bye, Hermione," I reply.
She gives a nod again. I nod back. And then she kisses me on the cheek. For a brief second, everything stops. I inhale her scent, that cinnamon scent that reminds me of her and her alone. Immediately, she pulls back.
We don't trust ourselves.
There's an unspoken agreement there.
We don't trust ourselves.
This time, she gives a final nod, and with a crack, she's gone.
I stare at the ground before me.
She leaves a small piece of parchment on the floor.
I pick it up and read it.
Hermione Weasley.
I crumple the parchment into a ball and I begin to cry. Like I often do when she's gone.
She's not mine.
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