WAKE WITH THE SPARROWS — harry/hermione, professor, head girl hermione chapter three teaser
They meet again at a funeral.
Hermione is running from Old Sluggy - and he really is getting old now - Harry is, shockingly, trying to find him.
It’s as though someone has pulled these two seconds that their heels skid and their breaths falter, pulled these two infinitesimal seconds and stretched it out into an eternity that he’ll spend thinking about later.
The sun shines, the chatter carries in the wind.
It doesn’t feel right, he thinks, to feel this perverse elation on the day Professor Dumbledore is to be buried, but as the old man liked to say, Fihi ma fihi.
She looks back, and then at him, says, “Hello, Professor Potter,” and the wind carries the occasion back to him.
“I like summer light on you,” he blurts as he hastily puts out his cheroot.
Well.
At a funeral, no less.
Her blush is followed by a scowl of disapproval.
He should feel terrible about it, and he does. Mostly. But hasn’t felt wicked in such a long time - since before the prophecy, since before the war, - since he was a child - that for a moment, he feels oddly free.
