A/N: I have no idea why I'm writing this. Well, okay, I do. It's partly 'cause I want to see Sharon's reaction, and partly 'cause I feel like it.
WARNING: This will, in many ways, be the highly stereotypical Draco/Hermione fic. I may add in a few bits of my own, but it will be the same story as all the others for a lot. But I mean, lets face it, how many ways are there really to get Draco and Hermione together? … My point exactly.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, I wouldn't be stupid enough to post it on the Internet. No one's THAT brainless. The Norns themselves belong to mythology. The names given to them and their location (and possibly their description) belong to Lloyd Alexander, because I was too lazy to come up with my own.
Prologue
Mist and fog enveloped the cottage. Mud bubbled in the dank swamp as the crow called out into the dense air. Snakes slithered through the dirt, and one darted out of the way just in time as a rotted tree fell over onto the place he was not a second ago. The cottage lay in the center of this revolting place. It was old, and nearly crumbling, with wooden sides and a sod (HAHA…sorry) roof. At first glance, it would seem abandoned. However, if one were brave enough to walk up to the cottage and press his nose to the window, he would see that it was not at all empty.
In a sense, it was the home of only one being, but in another sense, it was the home of three. Sisters lived here, each a part of the greater being called Fate. One represented the past, another the present, and the third, future. They were the Fates, the Norns, the witches of a place called Morva in an age long passed. They sat at looms, weaving and chattering.
They could appear however they wish, but two appearances were their favorites. The first was seldom beheld by mortal man: three maids of fierce beauty, almost too much to bear, with flowing gold tresses and pale, flawless skin. The other was most often used when visitors came about, or when they grew tired of being beautiful: ugly old hags, dressed in black. The first sister, Orddu, who was eldest and represented past, wore a simple black robe, tied at the waist with a black sash. Her hair was a long tangled mess of dark hair mixed with jeweled combs and other such accessories. Her face would seem kind and inviting, but one look in her eyes told that she was sly and cunning. Orwen, who was present, also wore a black robe. She was plump, unlike her sisters, and wore as many pearl necklaces around her large neck as she could manage. Her hair was also dark and thick, but was straight, and without the many decorations that Orddu wore. She was also cunning, but held more compassion than the others. Orgoch was the most sinister of the three. It would be hard for one to describe her features, because a coarse black cloak hid almost all of her. She always seemed aggravated by something, and if something took her fancy or amused her, she would not readily show it. It was she who always made sure their guests never revealed their secrets.
And so they sat, weaving, in their hag form, when Orwen stood up from her chair. "It has happened."
"Indeed it has, Sister. I feel it also."
"I told you that the one called the Dark Lord would be destroyed, did I not, Sisters?" responded Orgoch.
Orddu nodded once to her sister in order to keep her from gloating. "He called Harry Potter has fulfilled his purpose then."
"His burden is lighter now. He grieves much, but he is happier."
"He won't stay that way," said Orgoch. "The old Dark Lord is gone, but a new evil will rise up from the ashes of these events. No mortal is safe yet, Sisters."
All was silent in the cottage for a moment, before the witches turned their attention back to their weaving. At a close look, one would have been able to see that the pattern they wove showed many different pictures of a boy with raven-colored hair, bright green eyes, and a scar near the middle of his forehead.
A/N: GYYYAHHHH!!! I can't get this thing to stop INDENTING!!!!!…Never mind…I got it. Hehehe. Well, anyway, that was…interesting. I just sort of typed. I didn't really have much of a plan for the prologue, except that Voldemort was going to die, and the fates were going to be in this. This story is what happens when you read too much fan fiction in one day.
I have no life whatsoever. I really don't. I need a job. I'm nearly broke.
Since I have no reviews (duh, it's the first chapter), I will use this space as a birthday shout-out to two of my friends:
HAPPY 16TH BIRTHDAY MEG (Apr. 8) AND SHARON (Apr. 9)!!!!!
In case anyone cares, this will take place during 7th year (HEY…I didn't realize my computer did that for numbers…cool!). It will be D/Hr and H/G. Ron gets no one. Why? Because I want him to suffer! Muahahahhaha! *Ahem* Sorry. I don't like Ron. Ron deserves to die. Maybe he will in later chapters. Right now I need him for his dense comic relief.
If you want to BETA this story, leave me a note in your review. If you want me to e-mail you when I update, leave your address in the review.
I NEED HELP WITH A TITLE. Should I keep this one? Do you have a better idea? Let me know!
R&R people!!!
~§ Aindel §~
*Borrowing Shar's language*
Adolnda ta, Errield.