Once upon A Thyme

10. Drraco

"1 Timothy 2:11-15. Mulier in silentio discat cum omni subiectione docere autem. Mulieri non permitto neque dominari in virum sed esse in silentio." Hermione intoned, her mind was
constantly toying over how she felt about Draco.
"Correct, please continue" said the old priest.
"Adam enim primus formatus est deinde Eva. Et Adam...er... Et Adam...er, I forgot. Sorry."
Father Lorenzo hinted, "Et Adam non est seductus...
"...er..non est seductus in praevaricatione fuit. Salvabitur autem per filiorum...filiorum...er.."
The old priest sighed and shut the Psalter.
"Mistress Granger... is something troubling you? You have been distracted all week."
Hermione bit her lip and blushed. "There is nothing, father."
"A young maid does not blush when there is nothing the matter."
Father Lorenzo looked shrewdly at the young girl before him. He had watched her grow up and knew her to be impulsive and strong-willed. "Perhaps you have something you wish to
confess?" He asked, gently.
"Confess?" Hermione looked surprised
Father Lorenzo gave her a knowing look, "Perhaps it involves a man...?"
Hermione blushed even redder.
"I have no beau. You know that."
"Then perhaps it involves one who is not such....yet."
Father Lorenzo had come so near the truth that Hermione felt like panicking. But that would only let the old man know and he might tell her father
"No!" she said, rather loudly. "If I am distracted, it is only because these passages are so old-fashioned and difficult to understand."
"Do not blaspheme!" said Father Lorenzo, crossing himself "Your mother should have insisted on bringing you to chapel more often, but she was soft...The words of the bible are
beautiful, like pure music that speaks to the soul."
"I'm sorry," she said
Father Lorenzo patted her hand "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind. Whatever is troubling you, Hermione. Be at ease, for as
long as we can love and reason, all will be well."  

Easy for him to say, thought Hermione wryly. He was a priest. What would he know about things like this? He didn't understand at all...what she was facing was impossible.
"Let us continue," said the Father Lorenzo opening the psalter "Repeat after me Hermione... Luke 6:35 But love thine enemies and do good, and lend, hoping for nothing again; and your
reward shall be great ..."
She tried to distract herself in the strict routine of daily duties. Mornings were spent studying latin and the bible with Father Lorenzo, afternoons were spent seeing to the estate accounts
with Audley and Fanhope or working on her sewing. It was only the idleness of the long summer evenings that tormented her, for then she would be left alone with thoughts of him, and
whether what had taken place had been real.
She went about her duties efficiently and calmly, but all the while, she felt her thoughts wandering back to him and that look they had shared. She was beginning to understand her
feelings toward Draco. During that moment, she knew for certain that he must feel at least of a little of it for her as well. But wasn't that so impossible? They were enemies! Could such
feeling spring from deepest hate? And was not Blaise Zabini claimant to such feelings of his already?
Stupid, stupid she scolded herself. Running away had been idiotic, she should have stayed to play it down! So Hermione agonized over what to say to him at their next meeting. Would
he laugh at her? Would he sneer? What if she had imagined the whole thing? How long could she go on avoiding him? It had been already been a week...
"The mistress has grown thin,"the servants whispered to one another "she ails..."
Mary was very concerned. It seemed that with each passing day, Hermione wilted like a plucked rose. Mary had not lived so long in the world without some knowledge of it, and it
seemed to her the only illness that could bring this on was a sickening of the heart...but what was its cause? Her mistress' heart had seemed to be of stone- no suitor thus far had melted
t, indeed, that was the greatest woe of her parents. But now, in the way Hermione sat listlessly at her sewing, sighed at the window or tossed in her sleep, Mary was sure that she saw
signs of heartsickness
It pained Mary her to see Hermione thus. If she could but help in some small manner..Perhaps she could think of something to cheer her up.
"M'lady?"
"Yes, Mary" Hermione replied, listlessly
"I know of something of great fun, Mlady...but you must swear never to impart this to another."
Hermione's curiosity was piqued, and she nodded. "I swear."
"In two weeks, it will be midsummer's eve, mistress. Tis a magik time, especially for young maids like yourself"
"What are you suggesting?"
Mary lowered her voice to a whisper, " we do not speak openly of it now, but the old traditions of Feill sheathain live on. It is the night when young  girls may implore the fay-folk to divine
their true loves. There are magik rituals that live on, harmless fun though the church frowns on them... and that night is coming. If you suffer from heartsickness, midsummer is a time
to settle such matters."
"You believe in fay folk?" Hermione found she was whispering as well.