Amid the Falling Snow

Chapter 6: The Knight in Shining Armour

"Hermione, is everything alright?" Jason asked, standing in front of Hermione's door with a puzzled look on his face.

"No, not particularly," she mumbled. She didn't ask Jason to come and visit her, nor did she really want him there. Draco appearing from nowhere only made it worse. He had surely gotten the wrong impression of the situation. Nothing, she repeated, nothing was going on between her and Jason! She would rather die than go out with him again. If only Draco wasn't so quick to come to conclusions.

Jason's smile transformed into a frown. "Anything I can do to help?"

She blew a stray hair from her eyes. "No, nothing you can do. I think it's best that you leave, Jason," she told him gently.

"Was that your boyfriend?" he asked curiously.

"Yes. Well, he was anyways," she answered quietly.

"Is that why you ignored me those times that I wrote to you? You were dating someone else?" She was hoping he wouldn't have asked such a question.

"How about some tea?" she suggested, avoiding his question.

"Sure, that'd be great," he answered, walking into her flat and flopping on the couch. "Two cubes of sugar and a drop of lemon, don't forget!"

Hermione went into the kitchen and started the water. What did she just get herself into? Hopefully he'd drink his tea and leave. If he didn't, well, that was her fault for inviting him into her home. Perhaps she would have been better off with just answering his question and never speak to him again, but that would just be mean. What was she going to tell him? No, I ignored you because you are creepy and borderline stalker status? No, that'd be even worse.

"Lovely home you have, Hermy. Do you mind if I call you Hermy? It's absolutely adorable!" he cried from the sitting room.

"Oh, God," she whispered to herself. Drink tea and leave, she repeated. Drink tea and leave.

The teapot whistled noisily, shooting steam from the spout. She quickly turned off the heat and retrieved two cups from the cupboard. After pouring the tea (completely ignoring Jason's request), she hurried into the sitting room.

"Oh, just lovely, Hermy. These cups are absolutely stunning!" Jason said, admiring the mug in his hand. "You know, my mother has genuine cups from the early 1400's..."

Hermione pretended to listen as Jason droned on about God knows what, her saying "Mhm" and "Oh" when needed. Truth be told, she actually thought Jason would have left by then. She was sorely mistaken. It wasn't even that, really. If he didn't have the personality of a ninety-year old, it wouldn't have been so bad. Unfortunately, all Jason did was talk about him, whether it was about his precious cups or how brilliantly he used the English language. Hermione decided she'd rather spend a week with the Malfoys than have to ever listen to Jason again.

"Hermione, are you even listening to me?" Jason demanded, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Of course I am. Would you mind getting your hand out of my face?"

"Sorry. It's just that you had this strange grin on your face when I was talking about the death of my uncle. I figured you mustn't have heard me, because who would smile about death?" he explained without Hermione even asking.

"Oh dear. I must have zoned off. Sorry, Jason." She then stretched, faking a yawn. "I'm awfully tired. It'd be best if we just call it a night."

"Indeed. I'm a bit tired myself," he answered, putting his jacket on. "I'll be in touch."

As soon as he left, Hermione picked up the flowers and tossed them into the rubbish bin.

"If only he would forget he was ever here," she muttered to herself. She hoped desperately he wouldn't come around anymore.

***

Hermione awoke from a bitter cold, shivering beneath her covers. She glanced around, and noticed her window was open. That's odd. I swore I closed it before bed, she mused. I must have forgotten. She changed quickly and hurried downstairs for breakfast. She was sipping her coffee and reading the Daily Prophet when an article caught her eye.

Death Eaters: Back again?

Peter Welling, who was at the Leaky Cauldron for a late night drink, overheard two wizards in deep discussion. "I distinctly heard You-Know-Who's name come out of their mouths numerous times," he told us. "They didn't speak of him in disgust either. They sounded as if they worshipped him!" Peter went on to say that he heard a few snippets of their conversation, but none were really out of the ordinary. The two wizards we speak of were said to be wearing dark, long cloaks with a hood over their heads. If they are Death Eaters, it wouldn't be that big of a deal, as You-Know-Who is dead. The Great Harry Potter, an Auror at the Ministry of Magic, defeated him. The Ministry is looking into the matter, so readers needn't worry.

Hermione threw the paper down in disgust. The things they put into the Daily Prophet! As if the "Death Eaters" would honestly talk in public about it. All the paper was doing was worrying the readers. Nothing more than that. Glancing at her watch, she realised that she was going to be late for work. Just great, she mumbled to herself, grabbing her bag and running out the door. With two weeks off, she had gotten rather used to going about the day in a leisurely way. Now she would be back to running to the bookstore to be on time.

She stormed into the store, breathing heavily. Had she made it? Her boss, Mr. Luton, a thin, elderly man with all five senses sufficient, approached from the back room.

"Hermione," he whispered, staring at her. Ironically enough, it was when he whispered did she become worried, not when he yelled. "You're late...again."

"I'm sorry, sir. I'm just getting used to working again and it just caught-" she explained frantically.

"I don't need excuses," he started, interrupting her. "What I need is efficiency. And apart from arriving late everyday, you've got it. I suppose that if I made your workday start later, you'd probably be late anyways. Just keep arriving at the same time, and I'll let it slide."

"Thank you, sir," she answered, smiling.

"Now, get behind this desk to help customers!" he demanded, and before he went into the backroom again, he returned her smile.

Hermione sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. He could have fired her many times, but he kept her. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she was grateful for his kindness. Something else was bothering her, too. She couldn't figure out why she was always late. At Hogwarts, if she had been late, she'd reprimand herself for hours, arriving early for the rest of the year. Now, it was different. She couldn't seem to care enough to be early. Was that the person she was? Yes, the war changed a lot of people, and she supposed that she had changed, too, despite what she previously led herself to believe.

Thinking back on it, everyone she knew had changed. Harry changed only a little, but it showed in his personality. He didn't really stand up for things anymore. He was no longer the stubborn, fearless boy she had known most of her life. Harry's trademarked personality had faded, long gone, just as Voldemort had. Ron, well, he was Ron, but he was different. Somehow, he had gained self-confidence, proving him worthy of being someone other than a silly sidekick as a lot of people thought of him as. Hermione never told him the truth. If she had, he probably would never have talked to her or Harry again. Ginny went from a fiery, bat-bogey hexer to a homemaker. A remarkable difference from each other, that was for sure.

And then there was Draco. He, in Hermione's eyes, had transformed the most. This change puzzled her the most, too. How does one go from a Death Eater to quiet and insightful? It made absolutely no sense.

"Miss, could you help me, please? I'm looking for a book on plants and I don't know where to look," a woman asked, tapping the counter with her long fingernails impatiently.

"Yes, of course! Right this way. Is there any type of plant in particular that you want to read about..." Hermione helped the woman for another ten minutes, and when the woman found what she was looking for, she paid and was on her way.

A few younger wizards strode in, glancing around. "Hello, how can I help you today, boys?" she asked, smiling.

"Oh, we're just browsing. We'll let you know if we need anything...er..." said one of the boys who looked to be about nineteen or twenty.

"Hermione," she answered.

"Right. Thanks," he said, smiling.

The boys browsed around for a little while, and the youngest, who looked about five or six, was starting to get a little anxious. "It's so quiet in here! Can we please go!" he cried.

The oldest knelt down to his level. "Ralph, listen. How about you and the others go to the ice cream shop down the street. I need to get a book. Alright?"

"Ice cream!" Ralph cried. "Let's go!"

As the boys filed out, the one that talked to Ralph called, "I'll meet you there in a little while."

"Kids," he stated, smiling. "Sorry about that. My brothers can get a little rowdy."

"Oh, it's alright. It happens," she answered, smiling.

He went over to the counter. "I'm Aaron," he told her, extending his hand.

She shook his hand, getting a good look at him. He was tall, with dark purple hair spiked up. There was something about him that was familiar, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. One thing struck her in particular, and that was the fact that he looked like he read a lot of books. She didn't know how she could point out that quality, but she knew she could.

"Hermione," she said without realising that she had already told him before.

"I know," he answered, grinning again. "You told me, remember?"

"Oh, I suppose you're right," she answered, blushing.

He grinned again, and stared at a random object behind her. "So, anything you recommend?"

"There are loads of fantastic books here. There's one I've just begun reading that's amazing. It's a history-romance type of book and it's beautifully written. I know it's probably not your cup of tea, but if you like those kinds of books, it'd be brilliant," she explained, far too quickly.

"Ah, I see. Listen, I was just wondering, um. If you aren't busy or anything, would you like to get a cup of coffee later today?"

Did he just ask her out? She was not expecting that. He did seem sane enough, but should she accept? Well, what better opportunity than now to get over Draco.

"Sure, I'd love to. I'll meet you at the coffee shop down the street from here. Is that alright?"

"Perfect! I'll see you then, Hermione!" He grinned widely again and zoomed out of the store, running down the street.

Hopefully it wouldn't be another date doomed for disaster!

***

Hermione and Aaron had talked well into the night, and Aaron offered to walk her home-- an offer she took graciously. As they walked along, they talked of various things, mostly books. The crisp air made Hermione shiver, the air was still, the street quiet and lifeless.

"Something is odd about this place," she whispered, pulling out her wand.

"Right you are. I wonder why," the young wizard mused.

"Expelliarmus!" a voice cried from behind them, hitting Hermione's wand out of her hands.

"What the-oh, bloody hell. I don't have time for this," Aaron muttered, staring at the group of men in front of them.

"Give us the girl," one of them demanded. "And you won't be harmed."

"Promise?" Aaron answered. Hermione glared at him.

"WHAT? You're leaving me here alone? You little-" Hermione started.

"Shut up girl. Run along, you," the man ordered, shooing Aaron away. He did as he was told. That bastard!

The group was moving in on her, and she was completely surrounded. What was she going to do without her wand?

"Leave me alone!" she cried desperately.

"Mudbloods go first, I'm afraid. No leaving any behind this time," one sneered, grinning at her in a way which made Hermione rather disgusted.

"You're going to kill me, then?" she inquired, trying to buy time.

"Worse," the man closest to her stated.

Hermione laughed nervously. "What could be worse than death?"

"Watching others around you die."

Hermione glanced around nervously. What were they going to do?

"You really think that you are really going to be somebody being a Death Eater? Did you ever once feel any pride in having to follow orders from Voldemort? You were no one! Now he's dead, and you are still no one." Even though she sounded as if she wasn't afraid, she was terrified inside.

"Don't you dare say his name, Mudblood. If he heard you..."

"How can he hear me? Are you all insane? He's DEAD!" she snapped at the idiots around her.

"You think that Potter killed him? That's a joke. We are still the followers of Voldemort. He will be reborn."

Reborn? But they had destroyed all the Horcruxes. He was mortal, and Harry killed him. He was gone. How could the dead be reborn?

"You've been highly misinformed."

"That's what you think. Let's have a little fun, shall we? Cru-"

"Incarcerous!" a voice cried from nowhere. Ropes wrapped themselves around the men, missing Hermione.

A shadow approached from the darkness and into the light. It was Draco.

She ran over to him and hugged him, tears falling down her face.

"Are you alright?" he asked, allowing her to sob on him.

"I don't know," she answered uneasily, suddenly feeling dizzy, and fell lifelessly into his outstretched arms.