Wish Upon a Shooting Star

Wish Upon a Shooting Star.

A shooting star passed overhead and the young witch made a wish. It was foolishness she knew, the wish would never come true, but she wished none the less. She wished for love.

She knew she was loved, her friends loved her like a sister and she loved them like brothers. She wanted the kind of love that made the world stand still and shook the foundations of the heavens. She wanted someone to look at her in such a way that she knew in their eyes she was perfect, and they were perfect in hers.

The kind of love that only happened to bushy-haired bookworms like her in Muggle movies, and only after a sudden transformation where it is discovered that the bookworm is actually beautiful after all.

No, her wish would never come true, but that did not stop her wishing it on a shooting star.

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A shooting star passed overhead and the young wizard made a wish. A wish none would have expected him to make. A wish for world domination no one would have battered an eyelid at, a wish for love though, that was unexpected.

He wanted someone to love him enough to look past the sneers, the taunts, and the persona he presented. Someone who would look past the ice in his eyes to the flowing waters beneath. Someone to love him enough to accept him for who he was, to help him find the strength to stand against his family. Someone who would be there to catch him should he fall, to help him while understanding that he would never bring himself to ask for help. He wished for someone who would look at him in such a way that he knew in their eyes he was perfect, and they were perfect in his.

No, his wish would never come true, but that did not stop him wishing on a shooting star.

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The young witch turned from the lake and slowly headed back towards the castle. The young wizard turned from the window and slowly headed back to the dungeons. The paths of the witch and the wizard crossed in the entrance hall. Both paused, only a few metres separated them, but a yawning chasm of Wizarding tradition and belief lay between them.

The witch moved first, summoning all of her Gryffindor courage she walked towards the wizard and the stairs. She paused for a moment when she drew alongside him.

"Goodnight Draco," she whispered before continuing on her way. She was halfway up the stairs when the wizard turned towards her.

"Goodnight Hermione," he called after her softly.

Neither could have said with any certainty why they chose to use first names instead of last. The witch would have said that it just seemed right. The wizard would have said that he could not let a Gryffindor, a Muggle-born Gryffindor, out do him, a pureblooded Slytherin. What he really would have thought however was that if anyone seemed capable of seeing through the ice, it was her.

They did not know what would happen when the sun rose and banished the stars. If everything would return to the way it was or if everything would change. All they knew for sure was that they would be damned if they were going to leave their fates in the hands of a shooting star.