Hermione walked across the grounds; the moon was waning but it was still light enough to see. The oak stood tall and wide, looking out over the lake. It was solid and heavy and true like time itself. Soft waves lapped the tall grasses at the edge of the lake. It was incredibly cold, there had been an unexpected thaw, just long enough to mislead some naive shoots, but come night, the lake and grounds would freeze over again. It was quiet. She stood there for some time before turning to the tree. She had seen the rune before, still she had to search through many cupids, initials and scratched out hearts before she finally located the lurid little carving.