Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
Golden Gryffindor, Silent Slytherin
By Silver Sailor Ganymede
Hermione's sanctury had always been the library, ever since she wasa small child. Sometimes, when her parents worked late, she would walk to the nearby library and engross herself in the pages of some tome or other. It was an escape from Hermione: an espace from reality, from work, from bullies, from the world. She could often be found curled up in the children's section of the library, though often with a book that was far above the average child's level.
When she went to Hogwarts that was one of the few things that didn't change. That and the fact that there were still children that bullied her for, among other things, her intellegence: and they were supposed to be similar to her: at first she had thought that that was a joke, at first she thought that she should have been a Ravenclaw: she was proved wrong later though.
When she heard the other children make snide comments about her she would often go off and hide in the library, the one place where no insults could be aimed at her and she could make herself forget. The books in Hogwarts fascinated her; their ancient spines and covers told stories of their own before the book was even opened. The shelves towered from the cold stone floor up the ceiling, seeming to Hermione like something from a fairytale castle: then of course she remembered she was in one… or so they would say.
Hermione noticed early on that she was not the only one who would seek to hide in the library, to get peace and quiet to dwell within their thoughts. There was another, a boy in her own year; surprisingly he was a Slytherin, though he was not one of Malfoys' cronies. He was… different to them: Hermione knew that, though how she couldn't tell she could. Sometimes she would see him in the library when it was otherwise empty: they knew each other well enough, even though a word had never passed between them; they didn't need to.
Even when Hermione found friends within her own House she would often return to the library. She would still see him there, the silent Slytherin: Blaise Zabini was his name, she knew that much but nothing more. Still in their silence a friendship had been formed.
One night Hermione had been up late in the library, reading by the light of a lamp and the moon intertwined, the silver and gold creating an eerie effect. He had been there too, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. They sat in silence for a while, and when she got up to leave she was more than startled when he kissed her. Perhaps a love had grown between the golden Gryffindor and the silent Slytherin, but still never a word had passed between them.