Happy Halloween, withdrawnred
Trick or Treat!
Title: Eleven is for Love
Author: xfsista
Prompt: Raven
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,375
Summary: The ravens are gathering, but what does it mean? Post DH/EWE. Fluff.
Notes: At the end. :)
In the tiny lounge of a little cottage in the English countryside, a stage was being set. A fire was crackling in the small wood burning stove and tea had been made. Wearing her comfiest pajamas and softest slippers, Hermione curled into her favorite, fluffy armchair and pulled an old crocheted afghan that her grandmother had made for her years ago across her lap.
In her hands, she held a well-worn book. Opening it, she inhaled and enjoyed the dry smell of the pages.
It was a tradition her parents had started years ago. Every year, as Halloween approached, they treated their bookish daughter to scary tales of intrigue. Nostalgically, she continued the custom as an adult. Tonight, her book of choice was The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe.
With a sip of her tea, she settled in and began reading “The Raven.”
“Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping…”
It was then she heard a real tapping at her window. Startled, she walked to the kitchen to see who had sent an owl. Pulling back the curtains, she came face to face with a different kind of bird.
It was a raven.
Hermione was not one to cower and she didn’t believe in omens. However, she couldn’t help but feel a little disconcerted. Knowing it was irrational, she flung the drapes shut and scurried back to her chair.
Mr. Poe’s writings would have to wait another day.
The following morning, she woke up in a foul mood. Despite using numerous charms, she could still hear that damn bird faintly pecking on her window all night. As she went through her morning routine, her eyes caught a glimpse of a shadow through her curtains. Peeking out, she was annoyed to find that the raven was still sitting on her windowsill. Tamping down the urge to hex it into next week, she continued to ignore it and prepared for her day.
Stepping out onto her stoop, she stopped short at the sight before her. The raven had brought friends; the front garden was full of them -- eleven more, to be exact.
A shiver ran down her spine and she quickly Disapparated.
Alas, running away didn’t help. They followed her everywhere, always flying over her head in formation. Idly, she wondered if they were plotting her demise and would attack her like in that Alfred Hitchcock film.
A week later, Hermione was dodging her feathery frustrations in Diagon Alley. She was trying to make last minute purchases for the Ministry’s Halloween Ball. Briefly, she considered stopping by Flourish and Blotts to see if they had any books on avian eradication.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a nuisance of another kind.
“Hermione!”
“Hello, Lavender.” Hermione tried to twist her face into a semblance of a smile, but she only managed to look nauseated. “How are you?”
“I’m well.” Her eyes flicked up to the trees and gasped. “Look at the ravens! They’re very prophetic, you know.”
Hermione tried not to roll her eyes as Lavender went into Professor Trelawney mode.
“Now, let’s see… how many are there?” She watched as Lavender counted silently. “Eleven!” Tapping her lips, Lavender began to recite:
“One for bad news,
Two for mirth.
Three is a wedding,
Four is a birth.
Five is for riches,
Six is a thief.
Seven, a journey,
Eight is for grief.
Nine is a secret,
Ten is for sorrow.
Eleven is for love,
Twelve - joy for tomorrow.”
Eyes widening, Lavender clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh, Hermione, eleven is for love! I bet you’re going to find your true love at the Ball tomorrow.”
Finally, Hermione saw an out. “Speaking of the Ball, I should probably go. I have a few errands to take care of before tomorrow night.”
“Oh, well if you need any help… I mean, one wants to look her very best when she’s going to meet her true love.”
Hermione smiled politely. “I’ll manage.”
What a load of rubbish.
The night of the Ball arrived and Hermione was quite pleased with her appearance. She looked understatedly elegant in a simple black frock, her make-up a little darker than usual. After a failed attempt of fixing her hair in an up-do, she ended up with it loose yet, uncharacteristically tamed, curls.
Making her way to the refreshment table, she felt the burn of someone’s gaze. Glancing around the room surreptitiously, Hermione found herself looking into a pair of mercurial eyes. The eyes in question were giving her quite a once over; she hoped she wasn’t blushing.
Malfoy swaggered over to greet her. Once a childhood pest, he was now someone with whom she frequently worked and occasionally flirted.
“Granger, I see you clean up nice.” He eyed her appreciatively.
Taking in his impeccably tailored dress robes, she said, “As do you.”
“You’ve been ignoring me.”
“How can I ignore you when you’re standing right in front of me?”
“I sent you a correspondence to which you never replied. That’s extremely rude.”
Her curls bounced on her shoulders as she shook her head. “I never received an owl from you.”
“Actually, I sent something more symbolic. I thought you‘d appreciate that.”
“You? You sent the ravens?” Wait a minute? What did he mean ‘symbolic?’ Lavender’s words came back to her. Eleven is for love. “Do you love me?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.
Raising his brows in shock and amusement, Draco began to chuckle. “Why, Granger, we haven’t even danced together yet. Isn’t a little too soon to bring up love?”
Oh, she had done it now. Never again would she listen to Lavender. Sputtering, she asked, “Well then, what’s so symbolic about a raven? I thought they were omens of death.”
“In some cultures, perhaps. Maybe you should look it up in a book. Or maybe you should have just read my letter. Anyway, enough of that, I want to hear more about this love thing.”
Before she could respond, he pulled her onto the dance floor, holding her body much closer than appropriate for a co-worker. He placed his hand low, barely above the swell of her bottom; his thumb stroked maddeningly at the base of her spine.
Hermione fought hard to bring her concentration back to the matter at hand instead of his hand. “Why did you send eleven ravens?”
He looked confused. “I didn’t. I only sent one.”
“One for bad news,” she said to herself before turning back to him. “Why would you do that?”
“What are you on about?”
Hermione explained about the birds that had been following her and the subsequent meeting with Lavender. Then, she recited the raven prophecy.
Draco laughed, the deep sound rumbling through his chest and making her weak in the knees. “I can’t believe you’d take anything that bint says seriously. Although, I will concede her ramblings may have worked in my favor this time.”
Frowning, she asked, “What do you mean?”
“I did not send a raven for bad news. I sent it because they represent transformation, healing, and wisdom. I thought that was symbolic of how our attitudes have changed toward one another in the last few years.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip, then inquired, “So, what did your message say?”
The room was dark, but she thought he might have been blushing.
“It was a note asking if you’d be my date tonight.”
Hermione’s heart fluttered as she looked up at him shyly. “Does the invitation still stand?”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“I’d love to be your date, Draco.”
His chest puffed out a little and his grip tightened as he pulled her in closer. Leaning down, he placed his mouth against her ear causing her to tremble when he spoke. “You realize that the raven I sent makes twelve, don’t you?”
Twelve - joy for tomorrow.
Dragging his lips over her cheek, his mouth met hers for a kiss that was both soft and exciting. It made her tingle all over.
Tonight had been unexpectedly wonderful and tomorrow was looking pretty good, too.
Maybe there was something to this prophecy business after all.
The End.
Notes: There is a lot of lore regarding ravens, both as symbols of death and darkness as well as representatives of healing and protection. One could probably write dozens of stories based on the different themes. I went the fluffy route.
The information I used is courtesy of druidry.org, including the raven prophecy.
“The Raven,” of course, is a poem by Edgar Allan Poe.