Thank you to GracefulLioness for her wonderful help with this story.

Here is the link to the original story: European_folktales/German_folktale_

When I read it, I was immediately drawn to write the fluffiest of fluff. I hope you enjoy it!


A chilling wind crawled across the autumn landscape, shaking the brightly-coloured leaves on the slowly-baring trees. It was certainly a beautiful sight. Perhaps that was why the Granger family had packed up all their belongings and moved to the English countryside. Hermione didn't really know. She was only eight years old, after all.

What she did know was that one day during this past summer, her parents told her they were taking a year to live somewhere else. The whole family packed up their house in London and arrived out in this rural community just in time to celebrate her most recent birthday. Hermione had been immediately enrolled in a local school, despite her protests to be homeschooled.

"My darling, you know your father and I are far too busy to homeschool you," her mum would always reply.

Hermione soon concluded that children were the same everywhere: the children here treated her much the same as the children in her old school. She still ate lunch alone and still had to endure the jeers of her classmates in the school yard.

And just as before, she turned to the two things she could rely on: books and her own imagination.

When the other children in her class chased each other in the school yard, laughing and screaming, Hermione sat on the steps, a book in her lap.

When she walked home after the final bell rang, she allowed her mind to wander to the fantastical places she had read about. After a while, she reached beyond her books to create her own stories. The lush hills surrounding her home became the setting for her fantasies, and she, the heroine. Within weeks of her arrival, her trek to and from school became her favorite part of the day – a respite from the bullies in her classroom.

By the time mid-November rolled around, there was just enough of a chill in the air that Hermione shivered as she skipped down the school steps past her other classmates. She hugged her jumper to herself. It wasn't quite cold enough to be biting, but just enough that she wondered if her mum would make her a cup of hot cocoa tonight before bed.

Thoughts of chocolate dancing in her mind, she began to walk along her usual path home. Today, the sky seemed extra blue, and she lifted her face to bask in the late-afternoon sunlight. The warmth of the rays soaked into her skin; she grinned, taking a deep breath.

The normal path she took home was paved in asphalt dulled by aging. As she walked, her mary jane school shoes made scuffling sounds. Sometimes when she walked along this road, she would imagine it was a mighty river; sometimes, she imagined she was traversing the Milky Way Galaxy.

But now? For some reason, she just couldn't think of anything in particular. Hermione kicked a small stone and sighed. Why wouldn't her imagination carry her away today? Without her afternoon daydreams, her life in the countryside was nothing but lonely and this path became straightforward and boring.

Looking up, she noted the leaves blowing in the wind overhead. Maple, Oak, and Ash, they all floated about, headed in the same direction rather quickly. They danced about as they made their way over the path and into the forest to her left.

To Hermione, it seemed as though the leaves were being propelled by some kind of force… some kind of magic. Her mouth hung open in wonder as a larger gust of wind carried even more rust and scarlet coloured leaves away.

A little voice in that same wind seemed to whisper to Hermione, "Follow us!"

Did the wind just… did it speak to her? Her imagination had never spoken to her before.

Hermione shivered, though that could have been the chill.

To her left, she saw a little path in the woods, covered in leaves, the afternoon sun filtering through the thick trees above. Though she didn't quite know how, the air seemed sweeter there… thick with something wonderful.

She took a step closer.

Some children would take one look at an unknown path and run in the other direction. Some children might be afraid to break routine.

Hermione Granger was not some children. She eyed the nearby path in the woods with a twinkle in her eye. Surely, some adventure would await her imagination there.

Taking one last sweeping glance around, she hopped off the main road and ducked under a branch at the edge of the forest.

From the moment she stepped under the canopy, the world fell oddly silent. The sounds of other children walking home from school in the distanced faded away, as did the whizzing of far-away cars. When she moved her foot forward onto the leaf-strewn path, she expected to hear the familiar crunch of nature beneath the soles of her shoes.

Nothing. She tried again.

Though she saw the plants, sticks, and dirt move and break under her shoes, not a single sound made its way to her ears.

How very odd. This was not like any forest she had ever been in. Were forests in this area of the country all so strange? She would have to look it up in her atlas later. Hermione moved forward, away from the familiar and into the unknown. A little thrill shot up her spine as she began to inch down a little hill.

Looking up once more, she found herself surrounded by more warm hues than she could name. Very few of these trees were barren yet, so it was almost as though she were walking beneath a great, colourful quilt. The blanket of branches stretched above her as far as she could see, with only tiny gaps here or there, the splash of blue just beyond them contrasting the canopy.

Was this forest magical? It gave her goosebumps just being here. It was as though she had stepped out of the world she knew and into somewhere secret.

Somewhere special.

Hermione jumped as sound reached her ears once more. Though her world had been silent only for a brief time, the trickling of water nearby sounded out of place. Making her way down a little further, she found a stream winding its way across the forest floor toward some unknown destination.

Looking up once more, she saw she was standing directly under a patch of blue sky. Two leaves danced across this gap, flying in the same direction as the stream.

"Follow us!" the wind seemed to say.

And so she did.

Hermione walked along the edge of the stream for some time as the sun sank lower and lower in the sky. Though she could not see it beginning to set, the light in the forest seemed to grow dimmer every few minutes, her shadow elongating. Less light also meant less heat; that much Hermione knew. As a smart girl, perhaps she should have thought of retreating home. She should have thought about the cold that would soon seep past her jumper and about the pangs of hunger that would soon set in if she was not home in time for dinner. Besides, it would be dark soon, and she hardly knew her way at night, let alone in the daytime.

None of these thoughts occurred to Hermione, though. She was single-minded as she trekked forward. She continued to follow the stream with curious delight, as though she were drawn to whatever was waiting for her along its path. Something was waiting for her. She just knew it.

As an orange glow began to illuminate the forest, she was met by another sound, quite different from the soft murmuring of the stream. This sound was loud and shrill, and it pierced the air like a needle popping a balloon.

A laugh.

It wasn't a hearty guffaw or a light giggle, but a child's laugh.

Hermione's mind immediately filled with questions. Who was laughing? Was it another student from her school? What was so funny, out here in the middle of the forest?

She had to see who was laughing. This suddenly became more important than anything else; it was more important than finding her way home or losing herself in any manner of imaginary story. Hermione just knew that if she didn't find the source of this laugh that it would eat away at her.

Quick as a rabbit, Hermione crept forward along the stream until she came across a small clearing. There, in the gaps between the trees, she saw him: a boy, clearly no older than herself. His head was thrown back and his eyes were closed; from his mouth came the loveliest of laughs: pure and joyful. From this close, his laugh almost sounded like bells ringing.

She tiptoed closer, keeping low to the ground.

The boy had shockingly-blonde hair. It glowed in the sunset. She could see he was a handsome boy, though she didn't really know what that meant. His features were quite pointy, but when he laughed, his cheeks rounded with little dimples forming on either side of his mouth. He almost looked like a little elf, though she was sure that couldn't be.

Elves only existed in books, and she was certain she hadn't stumbled into one of those.

Hermione squinted, trying to see what he was laughing at. It didn't take long to find out.

At the boy's feet sat a frog. It didn't appear to be in pain (that had been her first fear), but it did appear… oh that was odd.

It was blue.

Hermione had to stifle a giggle, herself. A blue frog? No wonder the boy couldn't stop laughing. It was a rather silly sight.

Hermione watched as the boy wiped tears of mirth from his eyes, straightened up, and looked around. She flattened herself against a tree as his gaze passed by. Peering around again, she saw that he was now fixated on something in a tree… a squirrel, perhaps?

Yes, it seemed to be a squirrel. Hermione caught sight of its bushy tail and little brown body hanging onto the tree trunk. The boy seemed to be staring at it quite intently.

He stared for quite some time, and it seemed the squirrel sensed it was being watched, because it did not move an inch as the boy continued looking. What this boy playing at? What was he trying to accomplish by–?

Hermione gasped.

The squirrel had turned green!

The boy burst into another fit of laughter. "Yes!" he cheered, stamping the ground in celebration.

Hermione had so many questions, she was fit to burst. But more than that, what had the boy done to the squirrel? And how?

"How on earth did you turn that poor squirrel green?" she emerged from behind her hiding place, her face scrunched in a scowl.

The boy jumped two feet off the ground and whipped around.

His pointy features passed through several expressions – surprise, suspicion, anxiety – before landing on what he must have thought was a cool one.

"I don't know what you're talking about." His voice came out in a drawl, as though he thought he was better than her. Hermione knew that voice. She had heard it from nearly every bully she had faced since nursery.

"Don't be daft. That squirrel over there is green. And the frog on the ground is blue. What did you do to them?"

The boy coughed. "I didn't do anything. They were already that way when I got here."

Hermione folded her arms, leaning into one hip. "I know for a fact that there are no blue frogs around here, as we're not in a rainforest. And as for a green squirrel? How could there be such a thing? Clearly, you did something. Besides, I saw you."

The boy raised his eyebrows, his pupils darting back and forth as though he were sure someone would catch them out here in the middle of the forest.

"You saw me?" he whispered, biting his lip.

"Yes, I saw you. Now explain."

Immediately, the boy's demeanor changed. Instead of the sheepish look on his face previously, a giddy sort of pride took its place.

"Well, yeah. Okay. I did change their colours."

"But how?" Hermione demanded.

Draco looked her up and down, his eyes narrowed, as if he was trying to gauge something about her. After a moment, he shrugged. "Lots of practice." His answer was vague, and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I only hope you didn't hurt them." Hermione walked over and kneeled beside the blue frog. It hopped away almost immediately.

The boy laughed, though this time the sound wasn't like bells at all. It was a single blast. "Ha! It doesn't hurt them. Just a charm. Should wear off in a few minutes."

Hermione drew back. "A charm?"

The boy's eyes grew wide. He swallowed. Stepping backward until his back was against a tree, the boy looked as though his mind was going at a million miles a minute. It seemed, at least for now, that he had lost the ability of speech.

Hermione spoke instead. "You make it sound as though you used… well, charms are a type of magic. But that can't be. That's just not possible."

Not for the first time since she had begun her journey, Hermione felt as though she might have really stumbled into a storybook.

"Besides," she continued. "You don't look like some sort of all-powerful sorcerer. Or even a sorcerer's apprentice. You're just a boy. Even if magic was real, why should you be able to perform it?"

At these words, the boy puffed up, his face filled with indignation.

"I should be able to because it is my birthright!" he proclaimed. "Don't you know who I am?"

Hermione looked to her left and then to her right. She half expected some sort of royal band to play an overture of sorts with the way he spoke. When no band appeared, she coughed.

"Erm, no. should I?"

The boy grumbled. "Well, I suppose not. You're likely a Muggle."

"I'm a what?"

"A Muggle. A non-magical person." The boy smacked his forehead. "Oh, bugger. Father'll want you Obliviated now."

"Your father will want me what?" Hermione's head spun as she watched the boy approach her. "You rude boy! I'll tell my mother and father on you and they'll call the police on you and your father for… for…" She searched for the strange word the boy had used. "Well, for whatever it is you said your father would do to me!"

"For Obliviating you? Oh, stop worrying so much."

With each step the boy took toward her, the faster her heart beat. By the time the boy reached out to grab her, it felt as though it would fall out of her chest. As the boy reached out to grab hold of her, she burst into tears.

"You awful boy! Being mean to those poor animals and claiming to do magic! And now you want to take me to your father so he can hurt me!"

These words seem to have some sort of effect on the boy, because he drew back for a moment, his hand retracting to his side. Hermione felt hot tears flowing down her cheeks as the pressure of the moment began to ebb.

The boy didn't say or do anything for several long moments, though she could still sense his presence beside her. And then, on her right shoulder, a tap.

Hermione wiped her eyes and looked. The boy's face had gone sheepish once more, and he somehow looked smaller. Not tiny or anything. Just… kinder, almost. In his hand was a white handkerchief.

"Here," he muttered, offering it up to her. Most boys her age would offer such a thing begrudgingly, but there was no trace of resentment in his voice. Instead, only remorse. "I'm sorry I made you cry."

Hermione accepted the hankie and dabbed her eyes. When all her tears had gone, she sniffed and held the cloth out at arm's length. It really was a lovely handkerchief – cream and embroidered with the most delicate silver thread. In the corner were three letters: D.A.M.

"D.A.M.? Are those your initials?" she asked before folding the hankie.

"Yes," the boy replied. "Draco Abraxas Malfoy."

"That's a mouthful of a name." She grinned. "At my school, most of the boys are called Michael or Christopher."

"Oh?" The boy… Draco… looked upset at her accusation. "What's your name, then?"

"Hermione. Hermione Jean Granger."

"So you're saying 'Hermione' isn't a mouthful?"

"Well, I suppose it is. But–"

"But nothing. We've both got interesting names. And that's far better than Michael or Pansy."

"Pansy?" Hermione tilted her head.

"My friend. She hates being named after a flower."

A brief silence fell between the two of them as Hermione tried to phrase her next question in a polite way.

"So where are you from? I haven't seen you in school at all."

"I am schooled at home for right now, but I'll go off to proper school in four years."

"Are you going to learn more charms there?" Hermione joked.

"Well, yes," Draco answered, quite serious. "Charms and potions and herbology, too."

"Potions? Herbology? Do you mean chemistry and plant biology?"

Draco shook his head. "Of course not. Why would we learn those sorts of things when Hogwarts is a school for magic?"

Hermione was sure she misheard. School for magic? How absurd. But this boy… Draco… he seemed quite serious. Her brain quickly began to assemble a sort of picture. If Draco was taking this seriously… if he really meant the words he said… if he really meant what he said about a school for magic, then…

Was magic real? The kinds of magic she read about in books by C.S. Lewis or Ursula K. Le Guin? Was it possible to live in a world where objects flew or could be cursed? Where logic could be defied? It all made her head spin.

"So you're saying that there's magic in the world?"

Draco nodded.

"So that would make you a… what?"

"A wizard," Draco answered simply.

Hermione paused again. "Can all people do magic? If they try hard enough? Or study?"

At this, Draco barked a laugh. "Merlin, no. Only a few special people can do magic. Most people, like you, are Muggles. Non-magic."

Hermione frowned. Her mind was still reeling from all this information; for a moment, there had been a speck of hope that perhaps – just perhaps, she might learn to do magic, too.

But Draco was quick to dash that hope. And apparently, he was also good at reading people as well.

"Does that upset you?" he asked.

Hermione sighed. "It does, a bit. It's not exactly fun to learn that magic exists in one breath and then be told you can never do it in another."

"Well it's no matter, really," Draco said. "You'll forget it all soon enough."

Hermione moved to stand right beside him. He didn't seem to like the invasion of personal space. Nevertheless, she pressed on until her face was inches from his, her eyes boring deep into his. He trembled under her gaze.

"What do you mean, forget?" She spoke each word as if she were hammering it into him.

Draco cleared his throat. "Well, it's like I said. My father will likely Obliviate you once I tell him what's happened."

Hermione knitted her eyebrows together. "Obliviate. What does that mean?"

"It means he'll erase your memory of all of this. It'll be like it never happened."

All the air that had been in Hermione's lungs left in an instant. It was like a punch to the gut. She looked around, her heart suddenly racing, as she tried to soak in all the details around her: the purple glow on the horizon; the two leaves blowing directly overhead; the burble of the stream nearby; the concerned face of the little boy she had found.

"I don't want my memory erased!" she cried. "I don't want to forget the forest and the magic and… and you."

Draco's eyes went wide as the last word fell from her lips. He seemed to consider her for a moment, those same eyes growing bright.

"I don't want your memory erased, either."

Her heart stopped. "You don't?"

"No. I like you, Hermione. I like you way more than Pansy, anyway."

Hermione sank down onto a log, blinking. "So are you not going to take me to your father?"

Draco shook his head. "No. I don't think so, anyway. I actually have an idea."

"An idea? What?"

"Let's run away together. Just the two of us. That way you don't have to have your memory erased and we can both learn about magic." Draco spoke with confidence as he laid out his plan. "We'll find somewhere to go where my parents can't find us."

Hermione's mind immediately flew to her own parents. What would they think, should she not come home? It was already getting dark – the sun had dipped below the horizon already. Surely, her parents would be out looking for her by now. She was supposed to have arrived at home long before the sun set each day. Were her mum and dad worried? They often worked late, so maybe… just maybe they didn't notice yet.

"I don't know. I think someone will come looking for me."

"Someone will come looking for me, too." Draco shrugged. "But I don't want to go home." He sat beside Hermione and kicked at the dirt.

"You don't want to go home? But why? You can do magic! I'm sure your home is wonderful."

Draco shot a glance her way, but quickly returned his gaze downward. Hermione looked closely and saw that his face was tinged a bit pink.

"It's not that I don't like my home. It's just… my parents want me to get engaged."

Hermione sprang back in surprise. "Engaged? How old are you?"

"I'm seven," he boasted. "Nearly seven and a half."

"But why are you getting married now?"

Draco gave another long, blasting laugh. "I'm not getting married! Don't be ridiculous."

"But you just said–"

"I said engaged. Not married. That won't happen 'til I'm at least seventeen." Draco's smile faded. He rested his chin in his hands. "This just means my parents made arrangements for me with a suitable witch."

The gears turned in Hermione's head. "So your parents picked someone out? You don't get to choose?"

Draco shook his head. He looked absolutely miserable; it was as though just thinking about marrying this girl… whoever his parents had picked, could zap all the joy out of him. Hermione could hardly imagine how he must be feeling, so she said the first thing that came to mind.

"I'm sorry."

Draco half-smiled. "'S all right."

"I wish there was something I could do."

They sat in silence for a moment. Hermione stared up at the darkening canopy of leaves. Draco picked up a stick and began to drag it in the dirt. In the silence, a little voice in the back of Hermione's head told her that she probably ought to be getting home. The moon was beginning to rise, and surely her parents were worrying…

Draco sat up abruptly, dropping his stick. "I know what you can do!" he announced, his eyes shining. He seemed to wait to be sure she was listening. "Let's run away and get married, the two of us! That way you don't have to be Obliviated and I won't have to marry Astoria!"

The words tumbled from his mouth like soda from a bottle that had been shaken too hard. When he finished speaking, he stared at Hermione, mouth molded in a grin, eyes manic.

She, on the other hand, was not so enthusiastic. "You're crazy!" she cried. "Stark-raving mad! You've gone 'round the bend! Out of your mind! Get married? Are you a nutter?" Hermione scooted backward along the log until she had reached the very edge.

Unfortunately, Draco scooted along with her. The closer he got, the faster her heart beat. When neither of them could move any more, Draco leaned forward. And then, an odd sort of thing happened.

The next time he smiled, mouth closed, dimples showing on his rounded cheeks, she felt her stomach do a strange flip-flop. When he spoke to her, it was in a whisper.

"Think about it, Hermione. If we run away together and get married, then I can teach you all about magic."

Draco stood and extended his hand to her.

Hermione rose slowly to her feet, her eyes never leaving his.

Her heart beat wildly as her gaze moved to his hand. She was sorely tempted to take it – to follow him into the moonlit night. Oh, how she longed to learn about magic. Potions and charms… It was a whole realm of knowledge of which she knew nothing! There were so many things in this world that she wanted to discover. It all sounded like a grand adventure.

She took a step toward Draco. His eyes shone in the moonlight.

And then she hesitated.

Looking back, her eyes traveled to the path where she came from. Water still burbled through the forest, and she knew that if she followed it upstream, she would find the road again. This little detour would be over. She would simply go home and try to forget the boy in the woods who told her that magic existed; she would try to be content with her mum and dad and their quiet life. Certainly, they would miss her terribly if she ran away.

From behind her, she felt Draco's body grow close again. She felt his breath tickle her ear as he leaned in and whispered.

"Forget them, Hermione. Come with me, and we'll never have to worry about things like parents again. We'll have adventures together, just you and me."

It was as though he could read her thoughts.

She turned to face him. "Never is an awfully long time."

He grinned.

"Exactly."

Hermione suddenly found herself unable to wipe her own grin from her face. She reached forward and took his hand. She gave it a squeeze, and the two took off into the night with nothing but the moon to guide them.


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