Disclaimer: I can't believe there's one for every fic n chapter… I don't own them…
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Creatress: Hey all!! Usually, I have Sev and Mione or another close Slytherin guy – Gryfindor gal couple similar to them, but today, it's me, my muses, and Eileen.
Eileen: Omg, I'm in an SSHG…
Dev: You know, there's no fun short form for your name.
Eileen: There isn't one for Creatress either.
Angie: I know, eh… It sucks.
Creatress: Okay, let's move onto the fic
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Creatress: Let me explain the title to the readers. Readers! "Charlie and Viola" is an allusion to the movie "Monster-in-Law," starring Jennifer Lopez. Jennifer Lopez plays Charlie, who has a really bitchy mother-in-law, Viola –
Eileen: Did you just call me a bitchy mother-in-law?
Creatress:…No…
Charlie and Viola
Chapter 1 – Hermione
Hermione looked a little longingly at her queen-sized bed as she passed it on the way to her bed. It looked so comfy and inviting with royal blue and white sheets and pillows, and she was so tired. Grumbling a little, she took a sip of the mineral water she had gone down to the kitchen to get. It was late – 11:57pm, but she couldn't sleep. She trudged to the desk, glancing briefly at the mirror as she passed it. Her hair hung freely about her shoulders and down her back, and she was wearing a dark blue tank top and baby blue pajama kapris. She was dressed for bed, but…
She flopped down in the large, chair behind her big, oak desk. It was near midnight in early July, she was home for the next few weeks, no school, and she'd just gone out with some old muggle girlfriends (and had a drink at the restaurant – the girls looked older than their seventeen years) – she should sleep. But she couldn't. Because of the book in front of her.
In the past year, by some stroke of luck, Harry had ended up with the potions text of some unknown genius…
Hermione flipped the cover open and flicked the pages to the right, absent-mindedly until she reached the end cover. She looked at the bottom and centre of the cover, and gently ran her fingers over "the Half-Blood Prince," and wondered for the billionth time why Eileen Prince, a Slytherin, would announce in her book that she was half-blooded.
In any case… The year had passed uneventfully, save for the exception of Snape having to become a full-time spy by the end of the year and had been transferred to the DADA position ("Well, if he's going to leave in a year anyways…" Dumbledore had figured.). Yep, uneventful year… After Harry used the Prince's book to pass with flying colours in Slughorn's class, he'd passed it off to Hermione, who, now that the year was over, felt free to look through it and figure out the Prince's secrets. (Like how she knew when not to obey the instructions, why she would do something in one case, and something completely different in a similar potion… Hermione felt that there must've been a set of laws she must have been following.)
Hermione felt a sense of fatigue wash over her. Gods, she wished she could sleep, but she couldn't let herself, at least not until she thought about the particular change Eileen had made to this page for a while. She caught sight of her right hand then. It had a Buddhist sign on it, and she had only gotten it at the mall because of a conversation she and her friends had had about it earlier that night.
It was supposed to be a spiritual and psychological mystery – Buddhists monks believed that concentrating on it and focusing your mind on something would make whatever your mind was concreting on real. There had been documentations done by Buddhists that say it works, and others, non-Buddhists, who'd also apparently successfully created something with their minds. Sylvia Brown had once said something about it and Big Foot – that he wasn't really real and was only real now because the collective mind power of the people who thought and think about him make him a physical being.
"Do you believe in all this, Mi?" Sarah had asked as Hermione sat down on the stool to get the symbol painted onto her hand. Her parents and all of her muggle friends called Hermione "Mi," pronounced, of course, like the word "My," ever since she could remember. When she was young, she'd disliked her name – Hermione couldn't really remember why – and had preferred people to call her Mi. Ever since going to Hogwarts however, she hadn't bothered getting people to call her that.
Hermione had glanced up at her old friend. "Not sure," she said, truthfully. Then she had grinned. "But the way I figure – I would get anything in the world if I put my mind to it." Hence, the symbol just seemed to fit with her and her immense sense of ambition. Speaking of ambition…
"C'mon, Eileen…" Hermione muttered, flipping back to the page she had been looking at. Awhile, her eyes began to droop and she finally closed the book. Turning the lamplight off, she walked to her bed and flopped into it, pulling her blanket around her. As much as she loved Hogwarts, it felt so good to be home… Catching sight of the outline of the book in the dark room, she started thinking about Eileen Prince again.
Absent-mindedly cracking her fingers – an unhealthy habit, she knew, but she was on vacation – she thought about how mysterious and enigmatic the woman was. Her tips and tricks had helped Harry immensely the previous year and he'd ended up with an O… Eileen Prince's own sixth year mark for potions had been EE. Favouritism on Slughorn's part? Maybe… But… Hermione knew that it was pretty assumptive to, well, assume, that the book was Eileen's, because there may've been other Princes at Hogwarts, but she didn't find any articles about them… Besides, she wasn't being as assumptive as everybody else who knew about the book, who were all convinced that the Prince was a guy for no apparent reason.
Hermione suddenly yawned, and she closed her eyes, Eileen Prince still on her mind.
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When Hermione woke up, she didn't open her eyes. She could feel the morning sunshine against her face … and it burned… Her parents were visiting Toronto, Canada, and the house was entirely empty except for herself… So she shouldn't hear anything, but there was this really slight, but echoey sound of … flapping… Hermione inwardly cringed. 'Echoey?' Was that a word? … No, no, definitely not … Oww, it hurt to think… What did she have again last night? Damn flapping – where the hell was it coming from?!
Deciding that she would have to open her eyes and see the cause before being able to stop it, Hermione sat up against the headboard and willed her eyes open. Her vision was severely blurred, but right away, she knew something wasn't right. Her bed was right across the room from her desk and that should've been the first thing she saw, but there was something blocking it… Wait, it was a someone… A tall brunette with blue denim bellbottoms and a dark purple fitted blouse was standing with her back to her.
A sharp pain shot through Hermione's head and she groaned, shutting her eyes. When she opened them again, she saw that the woman had turned around and was scrutinizing her. Hermione blinked and stiffened, running her eyes over the woman. The woman had black hair, cut in layers that came to her shoulders, pale skin, and large dark eyes. Hermione didn't know why, but she didn't feel afraid… On the contrary, Hermione thought she looked familiar…
The woman's expression relaxed at this point, and she gave Hermione a small smile. And who she was struck the younger brunette then.
Hermione blinked and her eyes widened. "Eileen?!"
End of Chapter 1
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A/N
Creatress: DUH DUH DUH!!!! Cliffhanger ending!!! Chapter 2 will have:
- Hermione's reaction to waking up to Eileen Prince
- Eileen tells Hermione how and why she must have gotten there in the first place
- Dumblez and McGonagall stop by the house
- Dumblez and McGonagall speculate the problem with the paintings in Dumbledore's room.
Here's a short preview!!!
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Charlie and Viola
Chapter 2 – Eileen
Hermione blinked and her eyes widened. "Eileen?!"
Eileen Prince's smile widened a little in amusement. She glanced at the open potions text on the desk before turning back to Hermione. "Mi."
Hermione was almost sputtering – but she never did that, so she simply gaped at the woman before her. "Eileen Prince?!" she elaborated.
Eileen's elegantly shaped eye-brows scrunched together as she studied Hermione, a little amused. "How many Eileens do you know?"
At this point, the flabbergasted Gryffindor seemed to regain her composure, and she fixed the older woman with an expression of someone's who'd just accepted a challenge. "Eileen is a common name," Hermione stated. "The world is full of them."
Eileen's eye-brows rose a little. She didn't know exactly how she felt about Hermione's sudden change in attitude. "Right, then," she said. "Eileen Prince."
"Right." Hermione shifted a bit and looked away, a little uncomfortably. This was too weird… Something was wrong… Really, really wrong… She didn't feel afraid, but something was so wrong, nothing had ever been further from right. She turned back to her after a second. "Aren't you supposed to be… Dead? Or… something?"
Eileen nodded, her smile still gracing her features. "Yes, I'm dead." The way she answered made it seem like Hermione had asked if the sky was blue.
"Oh!" Hermione's face lit up, but there was a sense of wry sarcasm behind it. Because of the raging headache she was having, she was feeling a little… moody. "You're not here," she said.
"Aren't I?" Eileen asked.
Hermione heard the sarcasm, but chose to ignore it. "You are just a figment of my imagination," she stated. "Brought on by whatever that drink it was I had and too many long hours staring at your book." At this point, she fixed Eileen with a serious look. "I'm going back to sleep. When I wake, I'm not going to be able to see you anymore. That saddens me a little because I'd really like to ask you what the hell you were thinking, but…" Hermione's voice trailed off and she looked away and blinked, before turning back to Eileen. "My head hurts." The expression of slightly amused inertia didn't leave Eileen's face as Hermione lay back down and pulled the sheets over her head.
"Don't be a child," Eileen said, exasperation lining her voice.
Hermione didn't answer for a second. "It's my psychological state – I'll be a child if I want to. In any case, I'm not being a child – I'm being a teenager with a severely aching head."
Eileen's eyebrows scrunched together again as she stared at the lump in the bed. This was not how she expected Hermione Granger to react to waking up to a ghost in her room. The Slytherin frowned – she didn't know why the younger woman was acting this way, but whatever it was had to go. Eileen wasn't very much of a patient person. She sighed.
"For what it's worth," Hermione suddenly heard Eileen say. "This isn't my book."
Hermione blinked under the sheets. "So you wouldn't understand what your relative was thinking when he or she wrote all that stuff down," Hermione stated, not bothering to come out from under the sheets. She closed her eyes. "Of course, you wouldn't. Why would you? I don't know, and you're a piece of non-matter; a creation of my mind. Why would you know what I wouldn't know?" She paused. "Of course, I'm very disappointed with my mind. Why would I think that you aren't the Half-Blood Prince without any good reason to do so? And why the hell would I imagine a pureblooded Slytherin in jeans and a blouse instead of robes? Once again, I blame that drink."
There was a silence for a second. Then, Hermione felt something bounce off her head. She blinked and shot out of the blankets to see a small vial filled with gray liquid.
"Medication," Eileen stated. "Your headache isn't letting you think straight – the drink wasn't the only thing that caused it; you used a lot of mind power last night to bring back this ghost of me, and now you're talking like an idiot because your head hurts."
Hermione looked up at her. "I don't usually take potions from strangers."
"I'm not a stranger – I'm a ghost."
Hermione eyed her warily.
"Trust me, it works faster than Advil."
Hermione stared, a little suspiciously. "I don't think so… If it isn't weird enough to wake up to a… ghost… of someone I thought who wrote in a book, many, many years ago…" She stopped, realizing that the sentence was jumbled and didn't sound right. Instead of trying to fix it, she scrutinized Eileen. "How would you know about Advil?"
Eileen shrugged. "The same way I know about Tylenol," she stated, sarcastically. She nodded at the vial. "Drink it."
Hermione stared at her. "No," she stated.
Eileen shrugged again. "Your call," she said, casually leaning back against the desk. "You should know it's not common for ghosts to be brought back to earth." She paused, dramatically. "Dumbledore and McGonagall are coming over to explain what's happening."
Hermione blinked at these words. "I should get dressed," she said, suddenly. "And get some Tylenol." She started getting out of bed.
"Great," Eileen said, a little too cheerfully. "I'll stay here and …" Her voice trailed off before she caught sight of the old potions text. "… take a closer look through this book."
Hermione trudged down to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water before going back upstairs and into a washroom. She opened the cabinet and grabbed a bottle of Tylenol. She suddenly noticed that she was moving with a sense of calmness… She'd just woken up to a woman, who was apparently a ghost, who'd been brought back to earth. This didn't have to be the truth – the woman could be a normal woman, a witch, a banshee for all Hermione knew, but the young Muggleborn wasn't reacting… She didn't know why, but she trusted Eileen not to hurt her. … Possibly because Hermione still heavily believed that the Slytherin in her room was in her mind …
Popping out two tablets, Hermione threw them into the glass of water and let it sit for a few seconds before picking up the glass, swirling it, bracing herself and taking a gulp. She cringed at the bitterness and was almost sick, but stopped herself from throwing up. She quickly grabbed her toothbrush and started brushing away the taste out of her mouth. She then washed her face, and patted it dry with a towel. She reached for the nearly – empty glass of Tylenol/water solution and stopped. She stared at the little bit left at the bottom of the glass. Staring incredulously at it, she walked into her own room, ignoring Eileen Prince, who did likewise, and picked up the vial that had been thrown at her. She held the two containers together and stared at them incredulously.
"Better than Advil," Eileen suddenly spoke from the desk without turning around.
Hermione chose not to comment on that. "I'm going to shower and get dressed," she said instead. Barely registering Eileen nodding, she grabbed an emerald green summer dress out of her closet, her towel and bathrobe and shot to the bathroom.
It was when she was in the shower, standing under a spray of cold water that she fully woke up. "Oh my God," she breathed, all of her senses rushing back. Finishing her shower, and getting dressed quickly, she jogged to back to her room, wondering if what had happened had been some weird dream. When she got there, Eileen was still sitting at her desk. Hermione stared at her. "What happened?" she asked.
Eileen glanced up at her. "I was wondering when you would ask that," she stated. "So, I suppose you're back to your senses?"
"What are you? How did you get into my house?" Hermione asked, stepping into the room.
"Obviously not," Eileen answered her own question, dryly. "Instead of asking me, wouldn't you first like to look it up and try to figure it out for yourself?"
Hermione blinked, thrown off guard. "What are you and what are you talking about?!" she demanded, growing … a little scared, actually. A conversation that she'd had with Minerva McGonagall flashed through her head.
A few weeks ago…
"It was very noble of you to have waited until sixth year was over, Ms. Granger," McGonagall had said, turning the Prince's book over in her hands. "And Mr. Potter has no problem with you simply taking it from his person?"
Hermione shook her head. "He figures he doesn't need it anymore." McGonagall raised her eye-brows and peered inquiringly at Hermione over her glasses and Hermione simply shrugged. "He doesn't always think things through."
McGonagall sighed, a little tiredly. "I know," she muttered. She stared at the Prince's book. "I've run tests over it and there doesn't seem to be anything dark about it… I mean, besides the obvious spells and whatnot."
Hermione exhaled the breath she'd been holding.
McGonagall, however, didn't mirror her feelings. "However," she said. "I believe that you should still be careful. I'm still quite wary about giving you this." She paused and looked at Hermione. "I don't really want another Ginevra Weasley/Tom Riddle situation."
Hermione slumped a little. She should have seen this coming… "For what it's worth… I can't seem to make any anagrams out of 'half,' 'blood,' and 'prince.'" She paused. "Well, anything that makes sense anyways…" She looked at McGonagall and gave the deputy headmistress her best 'I'm a nice, noble, kind, caring Gryffindor' expression. "Please, Professor, I promise I'll be careful."
McGonagall sighed and relented.
Back to now…
Hermione scowled and glared at Eileen. If she was going down, she was taking the older woman down with her… Now if Eileen was anything like Riddle, she'd need… a mythical bird, a magic hat and one really bitchy snake. Hermione eyed Eileen and figured one of the three was already available…
"I'm like a ghost," Eileen suddenly said. She closed the book and turned in the chair to look at Hermione. "Now… Mi - "
"Why do you keep calling me that? You can't know my name, and you certainly can't know about my nickname!" Hermione exclaimed.
Eileen was unfazed. "Mi, if you want me to go on, you're going to have to do two things. Firstly, stop interrupting me – it's incredibly rude." Hermione narrowed her eyes at the older woman, but didn't interrupt. A little delighted by Hermione's ability to know when to keep her mouth shut (she'd met too many Gryffindors who just blabbed on when circumstances desperately called for silence), Eileen smiled inwardly. "Secondly, brush your hair."
Hermione's eye-brows shot up and her hand flew to her hair. "I see no connection between why you're here and my hair," she stated, flatly.
Eileen gave her another small smile. "You're going to do it anyway, Mi… Just do it while I talk."
Albeit grudgingly, Hermione stalked to her dressing table, and sat down in front of it. Eyeing her hair a little hatefully, she picked up the shiny gray and black brush and went to work. As soon as she did, Eileen started talking and Hermione absent-mindedly watched her in the mirror once in a while as she worked.
"Alright, here's what happened. This is not my book," Eileen repeated, picking up the text. She put it back down on Hermione's desk. "It's… It's my son's." She noticed Hermione's eyebrows rise in the reflection, but chose not to comment. "You thought it was mine and started thinking about me deeply last night, all the while staring at that symbol on your hand."
Hermione stopped brushing and looked at her hand. The symbol, a little faded now, seemed to look innocently back up at her. "That can't be it," she said. "People must have tried it billions of times across the world and nothing happened for them." She saw Eileen shake her head in the reflection and went back to her hair.
Eileen turned away from the mirror and stared at the floor as she started pacing. "When people die…" she started. "They basically get three options. Either go on, be dead or something, and come back after a while, a completely new person – a reincarnation, basically. Or, they may choose to stay on earth as themselves. Ghosts. The third is what I chose. It was to stay on the borderline between our world and the world of the truly dead, and watch the living until we choose to move on. Sort of like ghosts, but we can't appear to people on earth or anything like that. We just stay on the border and watch." She stopped and looked into the mirror to meet Hermione's gaze. "My child was going through a lot of trouble when I died. And I've watched him go through even more throughout his life. He's going to go through more still – but that's all life. Life hands you lemons, you have to take them. But the thing is…" Eileen's voice grew a little bitter here. "There's this one thing that's about to come up in his life that just shouldn't be."
Hermione looked at her questioningly. "How do you know something's coming? You're not…"
"I'm not a divinator, Mi," Eileen said. "I know because I've watched them plan."
A moment passed by in silence, and Hermione was growing a little uncomfortable by Eileen's intense gaze in the mirror. "Alright," she said.
Eileen turned away and started pacing again and Hermione started brushing her hair again. "I'm here because I deeply and desperately wanted to be here, and because you, unintentionally and/or unconsciously, started meditating, thinking about me, all the while focusing on that sacred symbol on your hand."
Hermione almost sighed out loud. How did she manage to get herself into these weird situations? Ever since stepping into Hogwarts, there was at least one situation in each year that wouldn't happen to any other teenager, witch or muggle. For example…
First year: She was in a washroom, minding her own business, when a troll bursts in through the door and starts to attack her.
Second year: Made a … ahem … complex … and highly illegal, not to mention … potion in a bathroom stall, where the ghost of the girl who died there fifty years ago sat throwing suggestions at her for her hair. (Oh, yeah… Also, said washroom stall also turned out to be about a meter away from where one of her best friends would be seduced by Voldemort into unintentionally causing an attempted killing spree against all Muggleborns).
Third year: (this was Hermione's personal favourite out of the whole list) Found herself in abandoned shack, her two best friends were lying unconscious beside her. The only other four in the shack: The werewolf, the escaped convict, the Death Eater, and… well… Professor Snape (who was easily the scariest and most dangerous out of the four).
Hermione was snapped out of her reverie at this point when Eileen started talking again. "I can't make myself appear to him – he hates me." Hermione didn't want to stop her and watched quietly as Eileen continued. "A few weeks ago, I started to watch you… There's just something about you…"
"The fact that I have his book?"
Eileen stopped and smiled, a little wryly at Hermione's reflection. "Mi," she said, expression serious again as she turned to fully face the mirror.
Hermione slid around on the stool and faced her.
"I need you to save my son," Eileen stated.
Hermione blinked. "Okay…" she muttered. "For starters… What's his name?"
Eileen shook her head. "I can't tell you that."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "Why not?"
"Because."
"Because why?"
"I just can't."
Hermione stared at her. "Is he… on the dark side?"
"No."
Hermione thought for a second. "Is there something you're ashamed of?"
"No."
Hermione froze as something struck her. Then, she fixed Eileen with an enlightened gaze. "Is he a transsexual?"
Eileen blinked. "What?! No!" she exclaimed. "Why would you…?"
Hermione sighed, and looked at Eileen with the kind of expression doctors have before telling you that you have a life-threatening disease. "Your son…" she paused dramatically. "Writes like a girl."
Eileen didn't know what to say for a second. Then she snapped out of it. "What?! He does not - "
Hermione sighed again, and let her gaze wander to where the book was sitting. "His penmanship is all… loopy, swirly and curvy…"
"It is not," Eileen stated, her voice even.
Hermione looked at her. "You're in denial, Eileen." She raised her eye-brows for half a second when Eileen didn't say anything about her use of her first name. She shook her head. "Anyways… What is he in danger of?"
Eileen looked a little pained. "I can't tell you that, either."
Hermione looked at her, annoyed. "You're asking a lot of me – I have to save a man's life, without knowing who he is or what he's in danger of?"
Eileen nodded in agreement. "I realize that. But all you have to do is follow my instructions. Attack who I ask you to attack and whatnot."
"Is that all?" Hermione asked, sarcastically.
Eileen frowned in irritation but before she could reply, there were two sharp snapping sounds and Dumbledore and McGonagall suddenly appeared in the middle of the room. Hermione just sat still for a second, not knowing what to do and suddenly feeling like a child who'd gotten caught doing something bad.
McGonagall looked at her and spoke first. "Hermione Granger, you're one of the smartest students the school has ever seen. How did you manage to get yourself into this situation?"
"I have no idea. Please tell me – I'm dying to know," Hermione answered, wryly, her voice monotone. Usually, she would never have spoken to McGonagall like this – but, meh, school was over, they were in her room, and she didn't exactly ask to bring an enigmatic ghost to earth.
McGonagall didn't even seem to notice. The deputy headmistress just turned to Dumbledore, who stood smiling slightly to himself. "Well, it's good to see that nobody's hurt yet," he exclaimed.
"Shut up, Dumbledore," Eileen muttered, gracefully lowering herself onto Hermione's desk. "If I could only appear to my son directly…" She paused and shook her head before glaring at the headmaster. "Nobody's hurt yet because I have to hurt you before doing anything to Mi. Age before beauty and whatnot."
Dumbledore's smile only widened. "It's amazing what the power of the mind can do, isn't it, Ms. Granger?"
"Amazing," Hermione growled. She narrowed her eyes at Eileen, who stared evenly back at her. "Guess what I'm thinking of now?"
Dumbledore sighed, but he didn't lose the mischievous smile he had on. "Allow me to make this short and simple," he said. "Hermione – just try to help Eileen as much as you can."
Hermione looked at him, incredulously. She turned to McGonagall for some help, but the woman just shrugged, looking a little pained.
"Eileen Prince is a good woman," Dumbledore was saying. "And her son is a good man. I'll admit I don't know what the problem is, but I sense it must be serious."
'No, really?' Hermione thought, wryly.
Dumbledore looked from Hermione to Eileen and then at McGonagall. "Minerva and I just hope the two of you can work well together."
"Oh, we will," Eileen suddenly spoke up. She sounded a little too cheerful. "We'll get along great." She looked at Hermione. "Won't we, Mi?"
Hermione didn't know how to respond for a second. Then, she also smiled, not caring if it looked forced. "Yeah," she said.
Dumbledore looked at the two of them again, unable to meet McGonagall's gaze. He shifted uncomfortably, feeling her gaze boring into the back of his head.
Earlier that day…
"You're just going to let her go with it? And you're not telling anybody she's back?!" McGonagall angrily demanded.
Dumbledore looked up weakly from his desk. "I told you," he offered, lamely. He shrunk back under the look he received.
"Eileen Prince?" the Fat Lady asked from one of the portraits. "I remember her…" She winced. "She can be quite…"
"Ambitious," her friend finished.
"She was quite… a handful," Dippet mused from another frame.
There was an uncomfortable silence for a second.
Then, the Fat Lady's friend spoke up again. "Somebody better get that little girl out of there."
The Fat Lady raised an eye-brow. "Who? Hermione Granger?"
Dippet nodded. "I agree. Nobody knows why Mrs. Snape has chosen Ms. Granger, of all people, for whatever this task is, but Ms. Granger is young, and kind, and she probably can't deal with Mrs. Sn – err… the stress… Perhaps you should talk the woman out of it - "
"Oh, no." Everybody in the room turned to McGonagall, who shook her head. "No," she repeated. She glared at Dumbledore. "I'd rather not have Eileen Prince's ghost hanging around here, but she's obviously here to stay. As long as she is, Hermione will be the one to be with her."
Dumbledore raised his eye-brows. "You… want Hermione to stay with her?"
"Unless you'd like to do it yourself, Albus?" McGonagall asked.
Dumbledore blinked, taken aback. "What? I - "
"I didn't think so," McGonagall interrupted.
"What?" Dippet suddenly asked. "But – why?"
Dumbledore sighed. "Eileen Prince is ambitious, hardheaded and can be quite… troublesome… if provoked," he said. "Hermione Granger is just as ambitious and hardheaded. Troublesome? That I wouldn't know about, but something's always struck me about her as…"
"Troublesome?" the Fat Lady laughed. "You don't know half of - " A scathing look from McGonagall shut her up then.
"In any case… Their meeting is surely to be a spectacle," Dumbledore mused. He looked thoughtful for a second. "I feel sorry for any man who should get caught in between them."
Back to present…
Dumbledore suddenly thought of Severus Snape, and frowned. Most people would say hiding such a thing from a man is a sin, but… Seriously… He looked at Eileen Prince and Hermione Granger, who were now warily sizing each other up. If anything, he was doing the Potions Master a favour…
End of Chapter 2
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A/N:
Creatress: Oh, me, oh, my, I gave you the entire Chapter 2. Oh, well.
Sev: WTF?!?! I don't even appear in this chapter!!
Creatress: It's the prequel.
Sev: ... ... ... ... What the - ?!?
Mione: It needs more me.
Eileen: No, honey, it needs more Witch!Me.
Sev & Mione: oO...
Creatress: ... Come again?
Eileen: Why was I dressed like a muggle?
Creatress: Well, Eileen, I figured you were alright with that stuff since you married a muggle. I don't know; it just felt right to stick you into modern clothes.
Eileen: I see...
Creatress: Two people have read parts of the next chapter, and laughed out loud. So, please keep reading and reviewing!!!
Sev: Will I be there next time?
Creatress: Yes, you and the danger you're in will make themselves known in the next chapter. (Lolz, guys, you'll love the "danger" - see if you can guess what it is!!)