𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐚𝐢𝐫 [ON INDEFINITE HIATUS]

01 | The Assignment

Romeo and Juliet were completely and utterly daft.

At least, that's what Hermione thought when she gently snapped the pages of her novel shut. She was finishing up the last act when the sun began to cast a lazy golden glow across its pages.

The lovers had died.

She enjoyed the story, but Hermione still found it strange. How could two people, enemies nonetheless, fall in love so deeply that they would take their lives for each other? It didn't make any sense to her, she would never sacrifice herself for someone out of romantic interest. In fact, she couldn't see herself bewitched by anyone at all.

She thought she fancied Ron up until last year; when they shared a short illicit kiss by the Great Lake. It was sloppy, and quite frankly, foul. She knew then and there that she only saw the ginger as a friend. The memory of it simply made her cringe and shrivel up in pure embarrassment.

The young witch left the lonely cabin she was seated in and into the narrow corridors of the Hogwarts Express. Her fingers grazed over the edges of her book, the train rocking rhythmically beneath her feet.

She had left her own cabin when Harry and Ron fell asleep. It didn't take long for their snores to become unbearable. Hermione could barely register what she was reading with their incessant snoring ringing in her ear every few seconds. She retreated to an empty cabin to read the distinguished Shakespeare play in peace. There, she could absorb every word to its full extent and react without bothering the boys.

Hermione fixed her gaze out past the misted windows. She loved the way the rolling hills and fields of green looked at this time of day. The way the fiery light of the setting sun bounced off the lake and onto the September trees always took her breath away. A small smile crept its way onto her lips. They should be nearing Hogwarts soon and she'd begin her fifth year.

Her body was suddenly met with a tall figure, causing her to stumble back a few steps. Though she regained her balance, Hermione's book was not as lucky. It slipped out of her fingers and landed in front of her with a loud thud.

"I'm so sorry," she flushed, tucking her mocha-colored curls behind her ear as she kneeled down to pick her belonging back up. Just as her fingers were about to make contact with the cover, the sole of an expensive black leather shoe stepped on it.

Hermione's eyebrows furrowed into a tight knot as her eyes darted up to meet the person who was so rudely stepping on her precious book. She firmly believed literature should be treated with the most utmost care; seeing a shoe pressed on her book was infuriating. A pair of cold grey eyes stared back at her and the platinum-haired boy's mouth twisted into a disgusted snarl.

Of course, it was him.

"Watch where you're going, filthy Mudblood," Draco Malfoy sneered. The Gryffindor scowled at the derogatory term he tossed at her. If she had a galleon for every time he used that word on her, Hermione would be more wealthy than the boy himself. Apparently, that was the only insult he had in his vocabulary. If he was going to be rude, she thought he could at least be clever about it.

Malfoy bent down and grabbed her book from under his foot in one smooth motion, examining it with narrowed eyes. His right eyebrow raised into a curious arch. It was a look she knew all too well and Hermione prepared herself for another barrel of insults. Perhaps she should've stayed in her cabin after all.

He scoffed, punching the inside of his cheek with his tongue, "Shakespeare, Granger? You're even more predictable than I thought. Of course, you're into this atrocious fucking muggle literature."

She rolled her eyes and got up, "Shakespeare is a classic, Malfoy. You'd know if you weren't so caught up in your pretentious Pureblood bullshit."