Altair let the breeze wash over him, watching the ripples scatter across the lake like fish scales, feeling a contentment he couldn't quite put into words.
Under normal circumstances, out of the golden trio, Harry would have been the strongest in actual combat, especially once Dumbledore's Army came into being. Hermione, for all her brilliance, had never quite matched him when it came to fighting.
But now, with Altair in the picture, everything was different.
Say what you like, but at the very least, Hermione could thrash Harry without much trouble.
Especially since Altair's spells didn't exist anywhere in this world to begin with, which meant nobody had ever seen them before, and that alone gave whoever used them a serious element of surprise.
Just as he was thinking this, Hermione came and sat down beside him, rubbing at her wrist, which had gone a little sore, and complained with an excited edge in her voice:
"It's just so difficult. I still can't cast it cleanly. Even when I'm fully prepared, my success rate is only about one in three. If it were an actual fight, or if I had to rush it, I could easily fail."
"Then you'll just have to keep practicing. Spells aren't like reading a book, they take repetition, and real practical drilling on top of that. That's the only way to truly master one."
Altair reached out and wiped the sweat from Hermione's forehead.
Her breathing caught slightly, though she didn't say anything about it.
"I think next year you should try signing up for Professor Flitwick's dueling club. It should help you a great deal. And keep drilling Transfiguration too. It matters far more in a fight than you'd think."
"Once you get to the level of a head of house, or a headmaster, most duels come down to Transfiguration more than anything else."
Hearing this, Hermione nodded thoughtfully.
"I understand. From now on, besides reading, I'll set aside time to practice spellwork too!"
Hermione clenched her fist and gave a little gesture of determination.
Altair let out a soft laugh, laced his fingers behind his head, and lay back on the grass.
Hermione copied him, lying down as well. Neither of them said anything for a while, and besides the sound of the wind, it almost felt like they could hear each other breathing, which only made Hermione's heart beat faster.
They stayed like that a while longer, until the sun began sinking toward the horizon.
The wind off the lake had turned cold. Altair sat up and glanced over at Hermione, only to find she had fallen asleep.
Nearly two hours of practicing the Light Shield Charm, and even with the earring restoring her mental energy, the exhaustion, both mental and emotional, still caught up with her in the end.
Looking at her curled up asleep, Altair reached out and gave her cheek a little pinch.
"Mm."
Hermione stirred, stretching like she was waking from a nap, and the moment she opened her eyes and saw Altair watching her, her face went red and she sat bolt upright.
"I was a bit tired. I must have dozed off without realizing."
Hermione muttered, sounding a little embarrassed, then added with a touch of a pout:
"Still, that's much better than a certain someone falling asleep while reading."
"Yes, yes, you're right. We should head back. Once the sun goes down it'll get cold out here."
Altair said this as he stood up, glancing toward the Quidditch pitch. The friendly match had ended long ago, and there was hardly anyone left around it now.
There were, however, quite a few upper-year couples scattered along the Black Lake, which made two young students like Altair and Hermione stand out a fair bit.
"Mm, now that you mention it, I really am starting to feel the cold. For dinner tonight I want a bowl of cream of mushroom soup with a puff pastry crust. Back home, whenever it got cold in winter, Mum used to make it for me."
Hermione stood, drew her wand, and cast a quick cleaning charm on herself and Altair, brushing away the grass and dust from their clothes, before the two of them headed back toward the castle.
They had barely stepped inside when they spotted Harry and Ron, who had just finished their detention and were coming out of Filch's office, both of them filthy and looking thoroughly worn down.
After a bit of questioning, Hermione learned that Snape had assigned the two of them to scrub out the prefects' bathroom and the vegetable cellar, keeping them at it all afternoon, and once it was done, Snape had topped it off with a round of sarcastic scolding before finally letting them go, leaving them battered both in body and spirit.
Starving and exhausted, the two exchanged a few words with Hermione and a quick greeting to Altair before hurrying off toward the Great Hall to eat.
"It has to be Snape. He's getting back at us because we ruined his plan yesterday. Just wait, I'm going to find a way to stop him."
As they parted ways, Altair overheard Harry still going on to Ron about the odds that Snape was after the Philosopher's Stone. Between the fresh grievance and the old one, this round of detention had only sent Harry's suspicions of Snape climbing even higher.
"Poor Harry."
Altair shook his head.
Hermione assumed he meant the detention Harry and Ron had gotten, and gave a small huff.
"They deserve it. The two of them have already cost Gryffindor two hundred points between them. If it weren't for them, our house wouldn't even be in the negatives."
Hermione had already earned back the fifty points she'd lost, so she said this with a fair bit of confidence.
"Come on, let's go eat too. Let's see if we really get that soup you mentioned."
At dinner, Altair spotted Dumbledore at the staff table, though he had no way of knowing whether the man had simply returned on his own after finishing whatever business he'd been away on, or whether Snape and the others had called him back because of something strange happening in the castle.