[Second chapter!
I'll be sticking with the slice-of-life approach for the entire story, so my apologies to any readers expecting a fabulously complicated plot. And I'll also be experimenting with different writing styles (no drastic changes, of course) as I go, but I hope you'll enjoy the story, nonetheless, for however many chapters that follow.
And feel free to leave a review, of course. :) ]
Breathe
by: Azure
He can taste the summer rain on his lips.
He kicks back and falls into the grass and waits in silence, his eyes lost somewhere up in the skies. The stars are out tonight, a thousand drops of white in the warm water washing over his glasses, and he can't help but feel like this is the first time he's seen them in years - like this is the first time he's stopped to let the strong wind run along his skin.
And perhaps it is. Perhaps this is the first time he took a step back, opening his eyes and his ears to the night falling all around him. There's a rumble and a thunder out over Hogsmeade, the gentle call of a coming storm, and even so Harry Potter waits quietly at midnight, his eyes open wide to the scattered stars.
He thinks this is nice. He also thinks that there's a much better word for it, something better suited for the scene, but he really can't bring himself to care.
That's Hermione's thing, he thinks, and that's the end of that.
He wonders where she is. It's been two long nights since he last saw her, since he left her sitting quietly in the sun, and he's been busy and she's been busy and that's nothing new but still he thinks everything has changed.
For the better, she had said.
Harry smiles at the thought.
"You look happy."
He is not surprised in the slightest when Hermione lowers herself into the grass beside him. This is what he expected, he thinks. This is what he was waiting for when the wind brought him here, when his feet carried him to the now-silent Shrieking Shack just a step outside Hogsmeade. It's a lovely great mystery as to how exactly she does it, but the girl is remarkably good at finding him.
"Must be the gorgeous weather," he replies, smiling as the rain trails slowly down his face.
"A tad wet," she says, raising a small hand to tug the damp hair away from her face. "But I agree."
"Good."
"Good," she says, with a quiet giggle.
He can't help but chuckle. Everything's changed, he thinks, and still it's such a simple and plain thing to lay with Hermione in the rain. He sneaks a glance at her from the corner of his eye; she's resting quietly, her eyes trained on the stars, and her pink lips are parted slightly with wonder or amazement or something else that's completely distracting.
"Yes?" Her voice is gentle and warm.
Harry blinks, finding with some surprise that her had eyes had fallen at some point to rest squarely on him.
"Oh, nothing," he says, giving her a broad smile. He thinks it might not be such a good idea to tell her he was staring at her mouth.
Her eyebrows arch upwards and she gives him a trademark Hermione look and then that's it - Harry sighs, grumbling to himself, knowing he has already lost the battle.
"You ruined my dramatic exit," he says, with great seriousness. "I don't think I'm supposed to see you for another five days."
Hermione simply shrugs, a delicate smile settling on her lips. "You couldn't last that long, Harry."
He ponders this as she shifts slightly in the wet grass. "You might be right," he says, at length. It occurs to him then that he can't stop looking at her. "How'd you find me, anyways?"
She gives him an exaggerated wink. "Magic."
"Of course," he says, with an equally extravagant roll of his eyes. "You are the brightest witch of our generation, as I recall."
She swats at him a second later, her moist fingers slapping lightly against his own. "Oh, shush," she says, not even bothering to blush the usual red. "You're not hard to find, Harry."
"That still doesn't answer the question."
"Magic," she says again, her eyes beginning to gradually slip shut as she snuggles back into the grass. "It's magic."
"Yeah," he says, and closes his own eyes as the summer wind brushes lightly over his skin. "I guess so."
He rests in silence for a long moment, wondering just how something so new and strange could be so quickly reduced to one small word.
Magic, he thinks. She might be right.
He cracks his eyes back open when he hears soft breathing at his side. Hermione had moved, slightly, to ease closer to him, so that now their shoulders are touching and her head is much closer to his own.
Harry blinks. His stomach is doing strange things and he's having trouble breathing and this is it, he thinks - this is how everything has changed. This is how things are different, he knows, and it's a wonderful change even if he doesn't have the damnedest clue of what it means.
He doesn't know if he can ask, either.
"For the better, right?" he says at last, his voice reaching out to her across the wind.
Hermione simply nods, her eyes still shut tight.
"Right," he says, with a nod of his own. "Good."
For the better.
A second passes before she gives him a tired smile. "This is nice," she says, and still those brown eyes are hidden under long lashes.
Harry blinks again. He can feel the laughter rocking around inside him, threatening to spill out through his lips, but he fights it back and settles for a broad smile instead.
He still doesn't know what this is. He doesn't even know what he's going to do - but he can still taste the summer rain on his lips and he can still feel Hermione quiet and warm right beside him, so he supposes that's a pretty good start.
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