Flight of the Stars

Chapter Thirteen

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. That is really sad. I wish that I could rhyme, 'cause this is pretty bad.

A/N: I recommend Message Man by Twenty One Pilots and Castle by Halsey.

o-0-o

Hermione yawned and stretched, trying to bury her face into her pillow. When she didn't fall back asleep, she tried to turn over but just ended up falling off of the bed. She grunted and untangled herself from her sheets, finally standing up and glaring grumpily at the faint light that was coming in from the window. It was far too early for this.

She must have looked a sight, with her curly hair a tangled mess, her pajamas in complete disarray, and all of her sheets wadded up on the floor, standing there glaring bloody murder at the sun. Oraia giggled from her bed. "You don't like mornings, do you?"

Hermione hastened to check that the sleeve on her left arm was all the way down. "Hate them," she muttered. "Too bright. And cold. And early."

Oraia laughed, and Lucretia murmured something and shifted. "Let's go into the common room," Oraia whispered, and Hermione followed, still scowling.

They found Abraxas asleep on one of the couches, a textbook open on his lap. He must have fallen asleep studying, Hermione thought, amused. She stared at him a moment longer, then had an idea. Smirking, she pulled out her wand and whispered, "Levicorpus."

Abraxas was lifted into the air by his ankle, and he awoke, sputtering. Oraia cast a Silencing charm before dissolving into laughter, and he glared viciously at them both, a sight made less intimidating by the fact that he was completely upside down. "Bloody awful way to wake up."

"Oh, you're fine," Hermione scoffed, lowering him down to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, adjusting his uniform and scowling at the pair of them.

"We should go down to the lake," Oraia said excitedly. "No one else is up yet, and we'll have it all to ourselves."

Hermione shrugged. "Sure, why not. I doubt I'll go back to sleep anyway."

They turned toward Abraxas, who had his arms crossed, and he sighed, running a hand through his already extremely messy white-blond hair. "Fine," he muttered. "I don't think I'll be going back to sleep either." He glared at Hermione again and she laughed, linking one arm with him and another with Oraia.

"Like I said, you're fine."

"Don't expect me not to reciprocate," he warned. "I've been in Slytherin longer than you have."

"I'll keep an eye out," she promised, but thought to herself, and I used to be a Gryffindor and was friends with Fred and George Weasley, the legendary tricksters themselves. Honestly. A pang of sadness struck her at the thought of Fred, but she pushed it down and they made their way out to the Black Lake.

The grounds were completely deserted, and they, to her delight, seemed to be the only ones awake. It was still slightly dark outside, and Hermione shivered in the cold morning air. The edges of the lake were iced over, and a brisk wind bit at their faces, but she reveled in the quiet and the aloneness.

They sat down at the edge of the lake, and Hermione wrapped her arms around her legs in an attempt to keep out the cold. "It really is beautiful out here."

Oraia nodded. Abraxas lay down in the grass, a relaxed expression on his face. Hermione breathed deeply, closing her eyes as she felt the biting chill of the air around the lake.

"I've always liked the cold," Abraxas said. Surprised, she turned her head to stare at him, and he shrugged. "Malfoy Manor was always drafty. I learned to like it."