A secret garden
Hermione (age 10)
Hermione could feel the boy's watchful eyes as she devoured her third piece of pie. Mippy had left them alone, excusing himself to ready her new room.
The pie was a revelation, its sweetness a delightful distraction. Lost in the moment, she nearly forgot she wasn't alone. Her eyes fluttered closed as she relished the final bite, licking every last crumb from her fingers. When she opened them again, Arys was staring at her empty plate, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
"So, you like pie then..." His eyes sparkled with amusement, his gaze returning to meet hers.
She blushed, clearing her throat. "Yes, I suppose I do," she admitted, unable to suppress a smile of her own. A giddy warmth spread through her, unexpected and welcome.
Arys's smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Then, his gaze dropped to his own empty plate.
"What's your name?" he asked softly.
"Hermione. And yours is Arys?"
"Yes."
A comfortable silence settled between them. She watched as the golden afternoon light began to fade, shadows lengthening across the kitchen floor.
Arys cleared his throat, a nervous edge to his voice. "Hermione?" he ventured, "Would you like to play chess?"
Hermione nodded eagerly, despite having never played before.
Arys led her to the living room, patiently explaining the rules of wizard chess. By the end of the evening, she was starting to grasp the game, though she hadn't won. But, she appreciated that Arys hadn't let her win; it wouldn't have felt right.
As she stifled a yawn, Arys guided her upstairs to their bedrooms. He paused at the first door on the left.
"I assume this is your room now," he said hesitantly. "Mine's just down the hall."
"Thank you, Arys."
"Hermione..." Arys's gaze dropped to his feet. "Wait here."
He disappeared into his room. She heard shuffling and drawers opening and closing. He emerged moments later, slightly disheveled, holding out a book.
"I'm not sure if you enjoy reading," he said quickly, "but this is one of my favorites. I want you to have it."
Ironically, there was nothing she loved more than getting lost in a book. "Hogwarts: A History," she read the title aloud, her voice soft with surprise. Snape had lent her books, but she'd never owned one. Her eyes stung with gratitude, a warmth spreading through her chest.
Arys studied her, a puzzled expression on his face.
"Th-thank you, Arys," she managed to finally say as she clutched the book to her chest.
His features softened, his shoulders relaxing. "Hermione..." He paused, searching for the right words. "I'm sorry you're stuck here... with me."
Her heart ached. He genuinely believed being with him was a punishment. She wanted to tell him the truth, that this was the best night she'd ever had.
"I'm not," she said honestly, meeting his gaze. A slow smile bloomed on her lips, and a single tear escaped, tracing a path down her cheek.
Arys watched the tear, a look of wonder in his eyes. Her response had clearly surprised him.
"Goodnight, Arys," she whispered, stepping into her new room, leaving him standing in the hallway, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and hope.
*****
She stepped into her new room, her own room. The concept was still surreal. Candles flickered on the side tables, casting a warm glow over the cozy space. The bed was enormous, adorned with soft pink bedding and a mountain of ruffled pillows.
Curiosity led her to a chest of drawers near a small closet. Inside, she found clothes she'd never seen before – silk pajamas, cashmere sweaters, trousers in every color. The closet overflowed with dresses, blouses, and flowing skirts. She selected a pair of turquoise pajamas, and just then, a quiet 'pop!' made her jump.
A house-elf she didn't recognize materialized before her. "Miss Hermione! Such an honor!" The elf practically vibrated with excitement. "Dolly has heard all about you from Mippy! I've come to help with your bath."
Though already clean, Hermione couldn't bear to disappoint the eager elf. "Thank you, Dolly," she said, clutching the pajamas.
"Right this way, Miss Hermione."
Dolly led her to a hidden door in the corner. The bathroom was surprisingly large, a clawfoot tub sitting beneath a moonlit window. With a snap of Dolly's fingers, the tub began to fill, lavender-scented bubbles rising like clouds. Dolly helped Hermione undress and settle into the warm water. Tension melted away as the bubbles enveloped her. Dolly gently washed her hair, massaging her scalp, and Hermione felt herself drifting off.
She woke with a start, tucked into the large bed, wearing the new pajamas. The candles were out, the room cloaked in darkness. Branches scraped against the window, their shadows forming menacing shapes on the wall. The silence was unnerving. No muffled cries, no snores—none of the familiar sounds of the orphanage.
Unable to sleep, Hermione crept down the hall to Arys's room. She hesitated at his door, then quietly turned the knob.
Arys was asleep, his features relaxed, his breathing slow and steady. She studied him in the dim light. His dark hair, usually tucked behind his ears, fell across his face. His dark brows and lashes stood out against his pale skin. He was, she realized, a beautiful boy.
His breathing softened, and she considered leaving.
"Hermione?" he murmured, blinking sleepily.
"S-sorry," she stammered, backing away. "I shouldn't have—"
He sat up, confusion giving way to a gentle smile. Despite their short acquaintance, his presence was strangely comforting.
"I was wondering if I could stay here... with you," she blurted out, her cheeks warming. "I could sleep on the floor..."
He scooted over, lifting the covers in an invitation.
She slipped in, careful to maintain a distance.
"Mippy said you're Muggle-born," he said cautiously. "Did they take you from your family?"
"I don't remember them. I've been at the Oxford Home since I was two."
He was quiet for a moment. "I never knew my parents either."
She nodded in the darkness, a shared experience drawing them closer.
"Is that why you're here?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Why don't you live at the castle?"
"The castle?"
"The one where Lucius lives. It looked huge."
"Oh, the Manor. I don't know... I guess Lucius doesn't want me there. I've never even seen it. I've always been here, at the cottage, with Mippy and Dolly."
The pain in his voice was unmistakable and she struggled to find the right words to say.
"Was it bad... where you were before?" Arys asked, breaking the silence.
She pondered the question. It wasn't bad—it was all she knew. She had always had the basic necessities. There weren’t many children her age at the home when she left. She had spent most of her time curled in a chair, reading, in Snape’s study. Snape was not a warm person, but they had developed a special kind of relationship. They often sat together in a comfortable silence while she read and Snape did - whatever it was he was doing. Writing, reading, brewing potions, sometimes just scowling at nothing in particular. She had had friends come and go, many being taken without saying goodbye. She soon found it was easier to not get close to anyone at all.
"No, it wasn't bad," she replied honestly.
Her eyelids grew heavy. She turned to face Arys, his gaze still fixed on her.
"Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Can I show you something tomorrow?"
"Yes."
Their eyes met in the darkness for a moment her her eyes fluttered closed, and she drifted into a peaceful sleep.
******
The next day was a whirlwind of laughter and exploration. Arys and Hermione raced through the meadow, climbed trees, and ventured into the nearby woods. They scraped their knees and shrieked with delight, their carefree joy a balm to her weary soul. Occasionally, they'd catch glimpses of Mippy and Dolly watching from the cottage windows, their faces beaming with smiles.
After lunch, Arys led Hermione down an overgrown path, deeper into the woods, away from the prying eyes of the elves. They reached a moss-covered stone wall, where Arys unearthed a hidden door. With a gentle touch, it clicked open, revealing a dark tunnel. She followed him as they crawled through, a fleeting fear of being trapped momentarily gripping her.
Emerging on the other side, she gasped. A breathtaking secret garden unfolded before her, the high stone walls draped in lush ivy. Lilacs, roses, and wildflowers painted the earth in a vibrant tapestry, their fragrance intoxicating. Small creatures scattered at their approach, but the birds seemed to sing louder in welcome. In the distance, a shimmering pond lay beneath a majestic oak, a swing dangling invitingly from its branches. Butterflies fluttered through the air, their wings a blast of color.
Hermione turned to Arys, speechless. He was watching her, and for a moment, she felt like the most precious treasure in this hidden paradise. She blushed, turning away to hide her flustered cheeks.
"I come here to be alone," he confessed softly. "I don't think the elves even know about it."
"I can feel the magic here," she whispered, her own magic stirring within her, a comforting warmth spreading through her veins.
"Do you want to swim?" he asked, his eyes sparkling.
"I don't know how," She admitted shyly.
He reached for her hand, leading her deeper into the garden's embrace.
"I can teach you," he offered, his voice filled with a gentle promise.