The Light

Chapter 90- The Meadow

Chapter 90- The Meadow

Hermione sat in the meadow, and the summer air was warm and lovely against her skin. She was under the shade of the tree, sifting the long lavender stems through her fingers. The summer day was lazy, coaxing her, and she closed her eyes, leaning back against the base of the tree. She could fall asleep, maybe forever; just sleep away her life. That would be so much easier, she was sure of it.

She didn't hear when he appeared, and didn't even bother to open her eyes when she heard his voice call across the field.

"This is odd," said Avery. "You almost look innocent."

Hermione opened her eyes at that to look at him. He was standing in front of her, towering, blocking out the sunlight. She raised her eyebrows.

"I am innocent."

He scoffed, "You nearly got us killed by enticing an entire army of werewolves after us."

He sat down opposite her, lifting up her outstretched legs to lie across his. Avery didn't seem to think twice of this, but Hermione felt her face heat up and pretended it was the sun. He finally looked at her, and she'd forgotten how pretty he was. His eyelashes, dark and long, cast a shadow against his pale cheek. His cheekbones were high, his jaw sharp. He looked like a piece of art someone had drawn with very dark charcoal.

When she blinked, she realised Avery was watching her intently. He said, "Sometimes I do wonder what goes on in your mind."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yes," he replied. "But then I think actually I'd rather not. I've seen some terrifying things but the inside of your head would most likely top them off."

She thwacked his arm, and he laughed. The sound was so genuine and rare, and Hermione found that she liked these moments- the ones where they could pretend they were normal people, relishing in the intricacies of life.

"The plan went smoothly," she said instead, if only for the way it cracked her fantasy. She hated the reality, and the way it poisoned the dream, but it was what it was and some whimsical fancy would not change that.

Avery hummed in agreement. "Much better than I expected, though 'smooth' isn't the word I would use."

Hermione frowned at him and said, "But it all worked out."

He sent her an exasperated look, and she was almost distracted by the way his fingers played with the bare skin of her calf absently, like he didn't realise he was doing it.

Almost.

"Oh yes, after we couldn't find the Horcrux for hours, fell out countless times, struggled to destroy the damn thing, had to lock up one of our own so he wouldn't flip out and kill us then fight off an entire army of werewolves," summed up Avery and she winced a little at the memory. "'Smooth' can definitely not be used here. It's not even in our vocabulary."

"Well, when you put it like that..." Hermione conceded sarcastically, and he quirked his eyebrows at her.

"This is before we even mention the dead girl."

She felt her throat grow tight and swallowed repeatedly to try and clear it. Hermione had told Avery the next day what had happened with Dorcas and Emmeline, and he hadn't seemed very sympathetic about it. It wasn't like she had expected him to care, she just couldn't shake the guilt that Dorcas' death was her fault. Even the most conclusive of plans could be thwarted- really, she shouldn't have expected anything less. Like Avery said, 'smooth' was not in their vocabulary.