Your imprint,
Your marks,
Your impact,
All on me to savour.
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So much tension between two girls, so much things to unfold between them, so much to explore within them.
This story contains mature content.
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"(Y/N) (Y/L/N) has caught the golden snitch!" said Hogwart's commentator with a low groan. "Ilvermorny wins!" it was quite an embarassing loss for their school, especially when the opponent was playing in Hogwarts's own schools ground.
"That's our girl!" shouted Draco, Pansy and Blaise from the audience as (Y/N) held up the golden snitch, wearing her usual arrogant smirk, ruffing her hair with her other hand. They were cheering for Hogwarts, of course. But this was their bestfriend so you couldn't really blame them.
"What an absolute show off." snickered her teammate playfully, earning him a roll of the girls eyes. "Look like you got a hell lot of admirers up there." he said, pointing his finger at the audience, more than a dozen girls screaming and chanting (Y/N)'s name both from the Hogwarts and Ilvermony students.
"Oh." said (Y/N), not at all bothered by all the attention. Instead, her eyes scanned for the familiar Gryffindor, finding her with a book in her hand, not even giving a polite applaude for her splendid performance. "Cool." she hummed in a slightly disappointed tone.
...
Two hours had passed since they won the Quidditch match, students of Ilvermorny had a week to remain in the walls of Hogwarts. The Slytherin decided to sneak off to her old usual spot, trying to get away from her fanclub. She plopped down onto the ground, the leaves crunching under her as she did, resting her back against a familiar tree as she began to scribble on her notebook.
"Hi," greeted a familiar soft voice, a figure settling themselves next to her. The Slytherin felt like the air was lighter now with the Gryffindor's presence.
"Hi." replied (Y/N) politely which was uncommon, ruffling her hair slightly. She watched Hermione bring her knees to her chest, hugging them as she rested her chin on top, the cold breeze tinting her rosy face.
"You still write?" The Gryffindor queried in an ordinary conversing tone.
"Mm, not really." replied (Y/N) with a small shake of her head. "I stopped writing since... well, you could say I just lost motivation for a bit. But I found my source today. Wanna hear?" she suggested.
Truth was, Hermione was her source, her motivation and inspiration to write. Her poems were her unsaid words to the latter.
"Of course." nodded Hermione with a gentle smile, her features soft.
"Her beauty is like a field of flowers in spring, blooming with power. Her eyes shine like the morning sun, Her smile makes all worries undone.
Her beauty is like the sky at night, A peaceful sight, so pure, so bright. Her hair flows like a gentle river, A sight so stunning it makes me shiver.
In her presence I feel divine, A joy that makes my heart twine. Her beauty is a gift from above, A true reflection of pure love.
She's my guiding light, My beacon in the night, And I shall love her with all my might, Until the end of time's flight."
