Lost

The finest speckles of dust glinted in the sunlight over Hermione's desk, the miniscule flashes of a sparkle catching her mellowed eyes. She felt zapped; her usual energy had spilled out and left a sticky haze of leisure. Her natural urges to be three steps ahead of the lecture were long dissipated...her book was open, but she, regrettably, wasn't following along on the edge of her seat like usual. Instead, she was slouched over, her chin resting on her fist and legs crossed. She couldn't name the source, but the concept of time ebbed in and out of focus. Was she...bored? She wondered exactly how long she'd been zoning out for as Professor Flitwick's voice droned on in the background, but secretly she didn't care. A bit strange for her, but maybe it was just a strange morning. She'd be a liar if she said she didn't like this mood, just a little.

She pondered many things in this moment to herself. First, she'd gotten a whiff of the outdoor spring air. The essence of life fragranced her nose--she noted some floral and earthy tones, with an underlying cleanliness. It filled the bottom of her lungs and sent waves of relief through her chest. Nature was finally awakening, and it was positively glorious outside. She imagined the sunlight, similar to the rays illuminating the classroom's dust, and longed for its warmth on her bare skin. Sometimes the sun made hair strands look ablaze...she made a mental note once when Ron's head glowed in the summer. Was he and Harry practicing quidditch that day? Why was she with them? Was she running an errand? She couldn't remember, and, well, it didn't really matter...

"-and now we practice the movement, a nice flick at the end..." Hermione gently came back to the present to flick her wand with the class, her quill turning into a fishbowl with a pop! She observed the color of the algae at the base of the tank, mesmerized by the shades of green. They almost looked like Harry's eyes, but with a bit more pond water. She smiled at the thought of his face contorting if she were ever to let him know. Sort of the same face he makes when he's playing wizard's chess or attempting to pick up on a social que. Her fingers gently, quietly tapped on the wood of her desk as she continued to let her imagination wander, further ignoring the lecture. Ten minutes passed, then fifteen, then twenty, and when Hermione finally decided that it was time to come to, her vision glued to the sight of shiny, sleek, blonde hair on the opposite side of class. It was fascinating to observe and ignited a passing twinge of jealousy. It probably was so much nicer to wake up to than her own explosion of curls. 

I wonder what brands of soap he could afford...I'd try every shampoo in London if I had those kinds of resources. What if there's a place I don't know about that makes self-ironing spray? What am I saying, all that money could be used for such better things. Research, donations, travel...what a waste. I'd probably see somewhere in Asia.

She continued zoning out, barely noticing his piercing gray eyes flick over to her own. A second went by, then another, before he flashed a wink on his neutral face. It was so fast that she questioned if it really happened--heat rose to her cheeks when she realized she'd been staring at Malfoy like an empty-headed idiot. 

Ugh, that's vile. Pay attention.

She refused to look at him again for the rest of the lecture, returning to her intense captivation. Her writing hand had never been more furiously active.

When released from class, she'd completely forgotten about the interaction. She quickly put away her books and scurried to the courtyard, eager to finally take in the sunshine. The second the rays hit her face, she inhaled deeply, every muscle in her body relaxing and unfurling like a happy leafling. A grin spread across her face as she collapsed on her back. The urge to bask in the sunlight took over her free will--she'd just have to find Harry and Ron later. In her sun drenched stupor, she flicked her fingers in the breezy air and small cornflowers stretched open around the crown of her head. Her ears perked at the sound of songbirds and laughter, every sensation deliciously euphoric. With a satisfying exhale, she let her eyes gently shut, focusing on the sounds and smells. When she heard footsteps in the grass next to her, her eyes blinked open to meet familiar pools of bright silver and, unfairly, a handsome face. She tried not to let her mood drop, but she certainly didn't feel joy while looking up at Malfoy. 

His hands were in his pockets as he gently slouched over, some strands of hair falling out of place in front of his eyes. Her eyebrows raised a fraction; he was taking an unusually long time to spit it out. 

She began sarcastically, her eyes half open in annoyance, "To what do I owe the pleasure-" 

"I was under the impression that you needed something?" He appeared unamused, rather opposite from earlier. "See, any typical half-minded witch would know to use her words, but since you're not accustomed to the magical world and manners-"

"Actually, I decided I don't care. Stand over there, you're blocking my sunlight." She pointed her finger at the far end of the courtyard. Before she closed her eyes in dismissal, she saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. 

"Why? Want another gander from a distance?" he spat, "I don't know or care what you're playing at, but the next time you dare make mudblood eyes at me, I'll hex a bee hive into that abomination of what you call hair." She felt a slight sting at the insult, but defiance in her chest flared. She propped herself up on her elbows and felt her eyes darken at him.

"If you think for one second that I would ever intentionally put myself through the excruciation of looking at you, a pompous, conniving, evil little-"

"It's obvious no one's made you aware of your place, Granger. How you managed to claw your way into our world is really beyond me-" she cut him off with an offended scoff.

"My place here, Malfoy, has been rightfully gifted and earned, but I wouldn't expect you to understand what talent and-"

"Oh, yeah, that's rich coming from-"

"Stop interrupting me! You're such a childish-"

"I would rather listen to a mandrake than your shrieking. Honestly, why everyone loves you is just beyond my comprehension. Being an insufferable know-it-all doesn't make you any more than what you really are: a beaver-faced, improper, foul-mouthed mudblood."

Rage tore at her insides, but she fought the urge to lash out. It wasn't wise of her, she knew, and she'd be disappointed in herself later. He was baiting her; this was just the normal Malfoy game, and she was feeling a little too old for it this time. Something glinted in his eye as his venom dripped from his teeth. She held his hateful gaze for a moment, electricity silently growing agitated between them. Usually she was wiser to walk away, but that was when Harry and Ron were in the picture. Being alone with Malfoy was a beast she had never truly experienced before, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know how it plays. She could practically see his mind raking through more insults to hurl that might make her cry, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, she flicked her wand. A forceful gust of wind shot from the ground up, severely disheveling his hair and robes. A few papers from his bag went flying into the air, sticking themselves to the branches above them.  

"Hermione! There you are! C'mere, you've gotta come see this!" 

Hermione sat up and looked behind her, feeling Malfoy's cold stare aimed at her skull. She saw Ron waving at her from afar, his hair aflame in the spring sun. 

"Best go see your weasel," Malfoy spat, "before you regret breathing my air." 

She felt the best response was nothing at all. Erasing him from her reality, she kept her eyes on Ron and plastered a bright, wide smile on her face. She was sure to radiate every ounce of love she could...she figured if anything would piss Malfoy off the most, it would be a combination of pure joy and a lack of acknowledgement. She grabbed her bag and hopped over to her best friend, her "abomination of what she called hair" bouncing behind her and leaving the nuisance in her trail. Her body felt like she'd escaped a deadly trap of tar. She leaped and gave Ron a large hug, the weight of her body smothering him. He met her with open arms, lifting her off the ground while their hearts sang hello to each other. When they separated, he looked warily behind her.

"Blimey, 'Mione, what'd you say to Malfoy? He’s looking at you like he witnessed Fred pop a pustule..."

"Nothing of importance." She glanced over her shoulder to meet those squinted pools of silver that cried hatred from her audacity. “What is it you wanted to show me?” 

She took Ron’s arm as he led her away, babbling about some massive slug he thought was “totally wicked! It kind of looks like Seamus’s foot…” She felt her light leave alongside them, her mind half listening to Ron and half contemplating her triumph over the cold, brooding, prissy of a man. She couldn’t see, but for the slightest of moments, Malfoy’s attention hovered the little flowers where her head was before swaggering away.