Hermione Dark-An Offering

Burrowing through her closet at home, she dug out her ice skates and was overwhelmed with a desire to try them again. There was an outdoor skating rink downtown, like the one at Radio City Music Hall, surrounded by shopping centers and food emporia. She'd skated here as a child, getting frequent mugs of hot chocolate between forays around the rink and into the gift shops. She much preferred this to the arena rinks which always had an inordinant amount of pushy teenaged boys showing off and shoving everyone around. Here the clientele was much more sedate, and the rink a lot less crowded.

Although she hadn't been on the ice in over a year, it was like riding a bicycle. She and Gwen, the girl from next door, glided around the rink several times holding onto one another and giggling at the other skaters, some of them old enough to be her grandparents.

She felt confident, let go of Gwen's arm and sped off on her own, her hair whipping behind her. She wove in bewteen the slower skaters, circumventing the rink twice to Gwen's once. Then she slowed down, her heart pounding and her face flushed, and skated with her friend once more.

"My God, you should bottle that energy and sell it," Gwen noted. She was a gentle doe-eyed girl of eighteen who was clearly in awe of Hermione. Slightly pudgy and clearly less energetic, she would nonetheless go anywhere and do anything with Hermione if it sounded fun.

"Perhaps I shall. It's good to be home. I've missed the city so much," Hermione answered.

"Are you kidding? I'd love to visit the country."

"Visit yes, but for the whole school year? Try it..."

"I'd love to."

"You'd go mad within a month-there's no place to shop.Oi! Christ!!"

A black lightening bolt had just careened by them on the right and now weaved through the other skaters like a wild Moray eel. Although he hadn't touched anyone, the sheer force of his velocity made Gwen and Hermione flinch. It was surely one of those obnoxious hockey playing boys from the arena! Gwen observed, and let out a loud disapproving remark. "Tsssk! Not that one again!"

"What cheek, the bloody cheek...!" Hermione commented, and had to fight down an overpowering urge to make the speedster trip over his own feet. Oh, it would be so easy she thought as the slim, black clad figure's skates now executed cross-overs and rounded the far corner. It was then that she was able to see his face, and her anger evaporated.

He was the most beautiful boy she'd ever seen-even from this distance she could see bright green eyes that burned with energy and cleverness, his face had delicatly chisled cheekbones and was flushed pink with vigor and health . He wore a black and aqua ski band around his head, and the short hair that flowed behind as he skated was straight and tawney. His jacket was also black with bright aqua insignia, and he wore denims.

He closed in as they passed on opposite sides of the rink, now parallel, but he did not look at Hermione. Instead she regarded him.

"Bloody cheeky bastard!" she decided, (God it felt good to swear sometimes!) then added, "Let's get a chocolate."

They sat rinkside with their steamy sweet drinks and Hermione took the luxury of watching the Eel (she had already nicknamed him) Gwen made small talk and seemed not to notice that her companion's eyes followed only one skater.

There were moments of certain clarity that came to her that were quite difficult to distinguish from magical thoughts. Like now as she watched the fast moving Eel wend his way through the crowd, Hermione felt his personality in the swift graceful movement of his body. He was egotistical, but not shallow. He loved to laugh-she saw it in his eyes and in the way he moved behind slower skaters, gently mocking their wariness-but he was not cruel. There was something indefinably sweet about him. Or was she just imagining these things because of his great beauty?

Then something happened that convinced her that she was not just mentally elaborating a sudden crush. Just ahead of the Eel was a girl about her own age who was skating with an elderly woman, probably her grandmother. Something made them stumble and down the grandmother went, with a great laugh. She was hearty and resilient, unhurt, and her granddaughter leaned over to help her up, both of them laughing. The Eel came to an abrupt halt by them, gently helped the grandmother to her feet, and then looked about as if to make sure everybody had witnessed his magnanimous gesture. He is a Leo, Hermione suddenly realized, A big, vain, blustering Lion who probably can't pass a mirror without at least a quick peek...

"Hey, wake up! Do you want to go to Neiman's or not?" Gwen was asking.

"Yes of course," she answered, "I was just watching that boy. Thinks rather highly of himself I'd say"

"Who?"

"That one there-the fast, cheeky bastard with the ski head band"

"That's not a boy, that's a girl. A girl from America."

Well it couldn't have been magical thoughts she'd been having about the Eel if she hadn't even divined the proper sex! That the girl was nonmagical had come through loud enough, but certainly some evidence of her womanhood should have been clear. Had the shock of her beauty fogged over her own perceptions?

She had always been precocious, ahead of her classmates and her friends in any number of ways. (Ahead of most adults as well) She took great pride in her intellect too-the head rules the heart had been her not so secret credo for as long as she could remember. This did not endear her to her peers she soon found, and was surprised when their backlash had hurt her so deeply. Perhaps the heart did overrule the head in some manner, she realized, and she had set about to understand and test this theory in her usual orderly fashion.

It didn't work. Her emotions would not be so easily dissected and this frightened her at first. When she found herself susceptible to the same banal desires that every other person on the planet fell prey to, it appalled her. For example, after seeing a jacket photograph of the American author Patricia Cornwell, Hermione had become infatuated, her first real crush. She dreamed of meeting the talented writer of forensics crime stories, and she snuck her paperbacks into class and secretly read them. She was usually so far ahead of the class that it didn't interfere with her studies, but her heart began to change.

She watched the Eel and realized that she resembled the American author a little and that was probably what had stricken her so, even if she had mistaken her for a boy at first. There! She turned her head a certain way as she skated and Hermione saw a definate feminine slant to her features. Her own heart swelled as she observed the graceful ice skater, and the uncomfortable feeling of wanting another human being began to settle in. There was nothing she could do about it, except to extricate herself from the sight of what she coveted. Leave and go shopping within the safe company of Gwen; that was it. Run away. She hated feeling this way.

"What is wrong with you?" Gwen now asked, observing her with a worried expression. Hermione's deep introspection was unsettling to her friend-it was most unlike her. She was usually chatty and energtic

"Nothing, really" she lied, "Just got my period."

"Oh, that's a drag. Want an aspirin?"

"No, Let's just go" She reached down for her skates. She wouldn't even ask Gwen how she knew that the Eel was an American. She wouldn't, she wouldn't! They would go shopping and she would forget about her. Go back to her Pat Cornwell crush.

"Hey look!" Gwen now called out, oblvious. Hermione looked up and felt her face redden, her heart race. Goddamn it! Gwen lowered her voice to a whisper.

"Here comes the American! Want me to get rid of her?"