1Once upon a time in England there lived a young witch with long curvy brown hair that fell in waves down her shoulders. In a long damned past, her hair had been so bushy that a bird could have mistaken it for a real bush and built its nest in it. And this brown haired girl is different, not only because she read all the time and knows way too much for a sixteen year old girl. Even without studying she would be a straight A student. But as we al know, it's pleasant to have something that keeps your mind of other things. Like a certain redhead in her third year, and the name of that certain redhead is certainly not Ron. She admits, she had been working herself to death in her third year, but the times she thought of the little ginger were limited to a minimum.
And helping Harry with the Tournament in her fourth year helped her to stop thinking of someone with the blondest hair you have ever seen. But when your nose is buried in books, you can't see brilliant shimmering blond hair attached to an if possible even more beautiful head and body.
In her fifth year it kept her from dreaming hair that changes color so often that it will be quite clear of whom I'm talking at the moment. This was the only year she wanted to become an Auror in stead of a mediwich or a teacher.
But all that doesn't matter any more, because this year no matter how much she read, how much she studies, she can't stop thinking of dark black hair that flows down in nice curls, like some Charlies Angles kind of do, but even more gracious. The thing is, that girl, (yes, if you haven't noticed yet, she's gay) is a Slitherin, and well, our heroine is a Griffindor. But all of that doesn't matter in love, and I'm tend to say war, but in this war, it matters who your family is and in which house you've been.
But all that doesn't seem to matter, because our heroine noticed certain things during her studies of this girl. Like that this girl, Daphne Greengrass, runs laps every morning, and that when Millicent and Pansy insult the Brunette, she doesn't participate, and afterwards, she throws an apologetic look at my dear Griffindor. And that, together with her stunning looks and smartness, she's brilliant with potions, makes my protégé crave her, want her, love her.
So instead of waking up early to read more books, she get's out of her bed to ask her if she can join her in running laps.
Daphne laughs at my brilliant brunette, but not in an unfriendly manner, and she promises to train her. Not wanting to be a weakling, my brave girl runs as fast as Daphne, and her legs give in after every training that week. But Daphne doesn't let her crawl back to the Great Hall, she supports the Brunette.
After two weeks of silent training, the first conversation is a fact, and although for an out stander it seems like it's just chit-chat, they know it's more. It has a subtekst that screams: "I'm gay, but I'm Slytherin, so I can't tell you!" And from chit-chat, it rapidly develops to something more, cause three weeks after their first "date" the brunette asks:
"Why do you defend me, when Pansy and Millicent are in bully mode?"
And the girl with the hair even blacker than Mr. Potter himself answers.
"Because Pansy is a whore that blows whenever Draco wants to whistle, and Millicent has like, maybe one brain cell to control her need for food, so they're damn idiots. Thing is, our families have ties, way old, and I want to break them, I don't want to that girl that takes the wrong path because her parents her friend everyone she knows is taking it. I want to be that girl that takes the right path, just because she can, and nobody else she knows does that. Hermione, you need to understand, I want to get in the light, or be damned, just in the grey area, but I want to get out the black abyss before I have the same ridiculous tattoo on my arm like my parents."
And the black girls cries, and the brunette hugs her, and kisses her cheek, and wipes away the teas with her ink stained digits.
The crying succumbs and the running continues while lighter matters are discussed, like the always constant factor of homework and Snape's cruelty.
They always run in the dark, my little angel and the black devil with angel aspirations, because what they do, "Inter House Unity", is a despicable act. So they run early, because no Slytherin dares to exit their dorm before half past seven, and if possible Griffindors are even lazier. So every morning, at six o'clock, two figures in black hoods and trackpants are stretching their muscles in front of the great wooden door. Always twenty feet apart, so for outsiders it looks like they have separate training sessions. I love to watch their play of hand gestures, sometime's teasingly rude. And when they start running in the darkest parts of the shadows they come closer, to have a real talk, and things never confessed to others are told.
"Daphne, what do you think of Katie and Cho?"
"As in a couple, I think they're quite cute together, I wish more gay people would come out, but I get the anxiety around it. Voldemort has yet to make a statement about what he thinks about homosexuals, so you don't tell because you're afraid right?"
"Yeah, but, like, I'm trough with being afraid, I want to be a real Griffindor, so starting with you, I'll not hide for my sexuality anymore."
"So you gay? And you are going to tell more people?"
"Yeah I guess, and yeah, I'll tell Harry and Ron and Gin of course, and we'll see from there. But thanks for taking it so well."
"Guess I have to, I'm not going to scold my own team."
I would have paid a thousand pounds, although I don't own any money, for being able to see Hermione's face at the moment.
"So, you mean, you're gay to?"
"Merlin, I thought Pansy already told the complete school, well she's some dignity at last."
They do an extra sprinting lap, and then separately make way to their respective dorms, and for the rest of the day it looks like they don't even know each other. I know it's untrue, you see it, in eyes crossing the Great Hall, a hi! In a deserted corridor. Like I said, for the attentive watcher, every little gesture is noticed.
On a rainy December morning the two share their first kiss, first as in a couples first, because the both of them already had their experiences with men. But Krum and others are immediately sentenced to a stay in the "once but never again" department of their minds.
It gets harder, as the war approaches and both sides are getting their alliances up. They both try to not think about it, and for some time, the drug that they call love banishes out all war horrors. But every story will have his bad turn, and this one is no exception. Because on a lovely morning in May, so completely different from the one in December, Daphne appears with taped forearm.
"You did it don't you?"
Daphne sighs, black eyes full of remorse look down in chocolate ones.
"The Black mark, I now it's underneath the bandages, I'm the brightest witch of my era for Merlin's sake, you thought I wouldn't notice!" the words are a whisper, not meant to harm, and a warm hug follows suit.
"I'm sorry, but there's no choosing here, just like the light owns you, even if you wanted to join the darkness with me."
A temple gets kissed, and the embrace is tightened. The two hours of what was meant to be their training are spent embracing each other in complete silence. The girl with the black hair stands in the shades, only her arms that are around the back of the brunette are in the light, where the Brunette is. They part, a last kiss is shared, and they both walk back to the castle, with the edge of the shadow as a border in between them.
That was the last time they shared something, anything. As if something in them knew Dumbledore would die that day, and there would be no turning back. But their history has yet to end, on the day of the last battle, where they meet once again, and the Slytherin ends up killed, slaughtered by a overdose of different curses, taking Hermione's favorite Auror with her.
H will never forget her, I as an attentive watcher, know this. Although her heart belongs to someone else now, to me, she can't forget. But I don't mind, I won't forget about my first love either, but apart from Daphne and Pansy, I knew I had a choice. It wasn't fair I know, I could let the old Blaise, the guy Blaise, die, and come back as the girl Blaise, the girl I always was. Because no matter how hard my Brunette tries, she can't stop thinking of blonde hair that once was short, and of a forearm with a fake dark mark. Nothing stops the glances over my body, amazed because I proved Daphne wrong.
I let her do anything, as long as I'm the only person able to stop her train of thoughts.
Just a little one-shot, a penny for your thoughts D
I try to get a new chapter of Corrupting Hermione up as fast as I can!