Softly and Slowly

Hermione was not interested in appearances, especially not her own, and she did not care about the features of others, either. But this boy was too handsome for her not to swoon over. He was just a kid, likely only a few years older than herself, but he seemed more mature. He was captivating. 

His dark hair had not a strand out of place, and his pale, fair skin harbored not a single blemish. The gray, drab tunic he sported did nothing to conceal his good looks. He probably met the standards for the golden ratio exactly. 

Her pulse began to race, and she faintly discerned her ears turning red. 

Hermione didn't understand what love was yet, but this sensation had to be similar. 

She had been staring for a while, which he caught, and met her eyes with a glare. Pretty but cold, onyx eyes met her own, a sneer becoming evident on his face. Her blush dimmed significantly, and she recoiled a little at it. He examined her like she was a bug about to be squashed. 

The only thing squashed was her barely-burgeoning feelings. She would no longer be swooning. 

Then, he smiled and she almost swooned again. 

"I see you kept your promise, Astrid. Good for you. There would have been dire consequences if not. But you knew that." His voice was high-pitched. It undoubtedly belonged to a little boy, but there was a cruel lilt to it that she didn't like. 

What was going on here? Were her instincts correct? Was there something nefarious going on? She glanced sideways at Astrid, who appeared to be huddling into herself, trying to become smaller. 

"You're all dismissed." He said, now taking on an impassive tone. Then, his eyes zeroed in on her. They were greedy, black pits. "Except for you." Both orphans exchanged a look, then fled back to the building. Astrid didn’t even glance at her before taking off. 

Hermione quickly realized what was happening as the others fled. She got misled into a haunted orphanage by Astrid (who she presumed was being blackmailed) and this angel-faced little devil intended to do something with her. Probably larceny. Good thing she only brought books with her. Even if this juvenile boy stole them, she highly doubted he'd be able to read them. They were advanced ones intended for somebody four years her senior. 

"Give me your bag." He said impatiently. How rude. At least he was straightforward about it. 

"And why exactly should I give you anything of mine?" Hermione goaded. She would be no willing victim. 

"Because I said so. Now hand it over before you regret it." The dark-haired boy scowled at her and she had a feeling he was telling the truth.  

Crossing her arms in a defiant stance, she tried to conceal her fear. Astrid truly had just abandoned her. So much for Hermione's plan of bonding. 

She was scared, but she was not about to hand over her bag. 

"No." 

Goosebumps broke over her arms, and she began calculating his next move. Would he kick her? Attempt verbal abuse? Because whatever he did, she would ensure he did not get the upper hand. 

He smiled.  

Wait. 

He smiled? 

"Fine. Be that way.” He said, still bearing an unsettling grin. She tensed up. How could she feel so threatened by a boy her age? And why did he seem so dark? She had yet to witness whatever terrifying things he could do, but they were enough to make Astrid and the two other children so afraid they obeyed his commands with dread. It was unnerving. 

Hermione quickly devised a plan before he could attempt something. She would have her back face him for a moment and let him believe there was an opening. When he drew closer, she could swing a right hook to his nose. It would be unexpected, and hopefully, it would daze him enough that she could make a run for it. 

She rolled her shoulder, preparing herself, and glanced around. It was strangely empty. Almost lifeless. That was unusual for a residence housing kids. Didn’t Astrid say it was their off-time? There ought to be children and caretakers out. Where were her witnesses? 

She supposed it didn’t matter now. Not when she was about to sock this lovely waste of a face. 

Immediately after Hermione turned around, she felt him trying to wrench the bag from her shoulders. He wasted no time attempting to be gentle, and she nearly toppled over before she could ball her hand into a fist. That was good. He was close enough to punch if he was capable of manhandling her backpack.   

Digging the heels of her shoes into the dirt, she bent her knees a little and tightly shut her eyes. Applying all her strength into the singular point of her right fist, she pivoted and hit...  

Nothing. 

Hermione opened her eyes. Her fist was still in the air, where she had predicted his face to be. The boy stood motionless beneath the tree as if he never even moved. That was impossible! He was tugging at her bag, full force, just moments ago. 

Bewildered, she scrutinized him. He held a concentrated expression. His brow furrowed, and his nose scrunched a little. It was outlandish to imagine this skinny kid had run back to the tree before she could witness it, even if he had sprinted. There was around a ten feet gap between them and only seconds he could use to run back. Considering the skirmish he went through, and assuming he ran, he should be out of breath. But he displayed no sign of it.  

There was still not a hair out of place and his breathing pattern was regular. He was calm and collected, unlike Hermione, who was growing irate at trying to deduce how on earth he managed it. 

He began to laugh. It was cold and high-pitched. Sinister. 

“You’ll never be able to figure out how I did it, so stop trying and just hand over the bag.” He said, presenting her with that evil smile. “Or, I could do something much worse, if you prefer.”  

Hermione disregarded his provoking. There was only one possible explanation.  

He was like her. 

But he had a noticeably better handle on his powers. 

It was a huge discovery, albeit a disappointing one. Hermione wasn’t the only one with magic, but the person that she shared it with was an absolute lout. Surely though, if there was him and her, there must be others too. So, there was hope yet! A smile spread across her face, leaving the bully in front of her completely forgotten. 

“What are you smiling at, you stupid girl?” He snarled. He did not like being ignored.  

This boy was intimidating. She could see why Astrid cowered under his gaze, but Hermione would not. So, she didn’t hesitate in walking towards him and lugging her bag over her shoulders. But before she could chuck it, she tripped, and she had a hunch over who was to blame. 

“Ack!” She shouted as she fell, skinning her knee and dropping her bag. She glared at him viciously. All he did was laugh. 

“You’re rather tactless, you know. Using brute force to fight something you can’t even comprehend.”  

She was infuriated. She could comprehend better than anyone else, and this barbaric, uncivilized cockroach was the one using force on her! 

Scowling, Hermione raised her bag again and threw with all her might. Instead of hitting him in the chest where she aimed, it levitated above his head before the bottom seam broke. His face remained blank besides a sneer, but he privately questioned how she managed to do it before the heavy tomes spilled over his head. He barely avoided a concussion by ducking and having them land on his back. 

She got up and brushed herself off, only wincing a little at her knee. The boy was already starting to get up. 

“I believe both you and I should have a talk.”