Pastel Skies

Chapter 17

Hermione woke early. Dawn had barely broken, no birds were chirping just yet. It had rained overnight, and torn clouds moved lazily across the indigo sky. They hadn't bothered to pull the curtains close last night. Draco lay on his side facing her, his breathing slow and deep, peaceful. She watched him for a while, taking in his features in the dark. Her breakdown the evening before had rattled her more than she cared to admit. She had dreamed of fire, warm and comforting. She'd stood by the fire so close, nearly touching, reveling in its heat, feeling old fears passing and new joy and deep love entering. Then Draco had come up to her from behind, embracing her, taking her hands and wrapping their arms around her body. They watched as the fire encircled them, bonding them with heat and golden light. That's when she'd woken up.

She reached out and ever so gently touched his hair, smiling as she did so. As quietly as she could without disturbing his sleep, she slid out from under the warm duvet and tip toed to the wardrobe. She found the thick cardigan she knew she'd be needing for the chilly temperatures of Scottish mornings and evenings and pulled it on. Without making a sound she slipped into the en-suit bathroom, brushed her teeth in the semi-darkness and splashed luke-warm water on her face.

She grabbed her muggle mobile phone off the chest of drawers and stepped over to the window to witness the slim pastel lining at the horizon growing ever wider. With a loving look towards Draco and a smile on her lips, she silently closed the door to their room behind her in hopes of finding some tea. In the carpeted hall she spoke a quiet Lumos, causing the tip of her wand to light up and crept down the stairs towards the kitchen. A shaft of light shone underneath the kitchen door and she heard voices quietly talking.

Tentatively she knocked, before carefully pushing the door open and squinting against the light.

She must have looked funny, the way she screwed up her face against the glare, for Angus started to laugh heartily and came towards her in a warm good morning embrace. "Whit are yea dain' up sae early, lass?"

Returning his hug, she smiled happily, "I suppose I was just done sleeping for now."

"Better tae hae a wee forty winks afore the wedding later."

"I promise," she said. "Goodness, what smells so good?"

"Ma fresh, out of the oven crusty rolls wie our ain creamy butter. Ian here's making his special porridge tae. It's a must tae try it, he sweetens it wie Luna's honey and it's the best there is."

"I haven't had porridge in ages... can I have some tea, though first?"

"Aye, of course lass! Here, sit yersel' doon," he pulled out a chair from under the rustic kitchen table and steered her towards it.

The tea was lovely, hot and fragrant, and it lifted her spirits further still, as Angus placed a single macaron on a tiny porcelain dish in front of her.

"Can yea guess its flavour?"

"Oh my," she said. "Let's see." She picked up the beautiful cream coloured treat, brought it to her nose and her eyes went wide. "Could it be?" she asked, looking up at Angus, who grinned at her expectantly.

"Try it! Try it." He urged.

Taking a small bite and letting the flavours hit her taste buds, she marveled at the smooth texture and divine tea flavour. "Earl Grey," she stated.

Ian grinned and Angus folded his arms across his chest. "Yer a bright wee scone, aren't yea lassie," he winked at her.

The men set to work again, continuing their preparations for breakfast and the coming wedding feast, while Hermione watched fascinated, trying to stay out of the way, chatting with them merrily.