Not Yet (A Hermione Granger fanfic)

Chapter 8

Orev's left the blue campfire burning. With an exasperated sigh, Hermione extinguishes it. This night is darker than the one before. Clouds cover the moon. Being underneath the heavy canopy of trees almost feels like walking the dungeons of Hogwarts, except without the torches; the cold, damp smell is just a little more earthy here. The feeling of being completely surrounded by darkness is unnerving, like she's floating out in nothingness. Only the ground at her feet roots her to the spot.

But Hermione's been in the forest for weeks. The blackness doesn't bother her anymore.

It doesn't.

She shivers anyway.

She sits down in the opening of the tent, ready to wait. After a while, her head nods down toward her chest; she bolts upright and pinches herself.

Maybe Orev's left for good. But then why would he leave the campfire burning?

"Trouble, Wren?" She hears his voice before she hears him walking toward her.

"No. I thought you'd left."

"Miss me?"

She scoffs. "Where are you?"

"I'd have an easier time finding my way back if you hadn't doused my light—Lumos." His wand tip flares as he emerges from the trees. He passes through the wards to stand in front of her.

"Why aren't you sleeping?" he asks.

"I don't sleep much." And I can't sleep when a complete stranger is camped outside my door.

"Mind if I sit beside you, or will that violate Rule Number One?"

Hermione scoots over so he has room to sit at her left, but she keeps her hand on her wand all the same. As an afterthought, she summons the book to her from the table inside. It whizzes out through the flap, barely missing Orev's head. Hermione catches it.

Orev jumps away, wand ready. "Son of Merlin," he breathes, looking relieved to see it's just a book.

"Sorry," she mumbles.

Orev glares at her. "You're lucky I didn't accidentally hex you."

"Sorry," Hermione says again. "Lumos." Her own wand lights, and she opens the book, scanning for the page she remembers reading, the one about the wizard who lost all his powers. Hermione flips through several pages before she realizes Orev is still looking at her. She sits up a bit straighter and looks back at him, her eyebrow raised in a silent question.

"So these books . . .," he begins.

"Yes?" She tries hard to keep the irritation out of her voice. Although she really doesn't know why she's irritated. It's perfectly natural to be curious about a slightly manic witch camping in the forest, carting around hundreds of books inside a charmed purse. What she must look like to him.

Orev leans over to look at the title printed at the top of the page. "I've checked that one already."

"You have? When?"

"About three years ago. And it's funny you should have a copy of it. Only one is known to be in existence, and it resides in a stuffy old library in Venice."

"Not anymore, it doesn't."

"Tsk, tsk. I didn't take you for the type."

"Hmmm..." She closes the book. If he's already checked it, then there's really no point to reading it right now. "The library wasn't that stuffy, though. I thought it was rather charming."

Orev's eyes sparkle.

"Amused?" she asks.

"Maybe. Any other rare editions hiding in your bag?"