Note: Afterlife/Underworld!AU with Norse Mythology based.
She sat upon a throne of thorns and vines, legs propped on one arm while her back was propped on the other. Her feet dangled carelessly as she watched the groups of people dwell in the domain below her.
It was dark, baring nothing but the illumination of black flames perched on top of the stone columns leading to stairs that led to her. Wisps floated above, having the faint semblance to clouds; they would be their only memories of the skies once they passed into her threshold.
Hermione didn't mind it at all; she considered it the small service she paid as the dead wandered for her enjoyment. Seeing them roam stricken with grief, loss, or confusion gave her stories that she didn't have growing up. She never had the pleasure of hearing stories from her mother, so the dead and the stories written on their faces would have to do.
One man was dragging his feet away from the other wanderers, and Hermione guessed that he died with a guilty conscious; most of the guilty ones dragged their feet.
There was a woman cradling her arms as her gaze shifted from side to side. Hermione tilted her head in thought; there were a few stories she could depict given the woman's demeanor. To be on the safe side, Hermione concluded the woman's story consisted of heartbreak.
She even spotted a child walking around on his own, and as much as the sight tugged at the heart she possessed, there was nothing she could do for the boy without her mother's permission. It was humorous thinking that a goddess such as herself still needed permission from her mother to use her gifts.
With a sigh Hermione leaned back on the throne and drummed her fingers on the arm of the throne. Boredom was beginning to settle inside her when something caught her eye.
It was a vibrant burgundy fabric, shifting on a man's hips. Hermione's eyes swept over his form, skin as rich as dark chocolate with defined muscles. He walked with a confidence that was foreign in this realm, and it intrigued Hermione.
She deduced he was a warrior; with that physique, there was no other possibility. She'd have known if he was a god like herself. The thought made her want to know more personally.
Her desires would soon be met because he was coming her way.
No one else had ever dared to step close to the stairs before, yet he walked forward as if it were normal. Hermione straightened on the throne, giving her fiercest expression once the man made contact with the first section of the stairs.
Her chin was lifted in the way her mother taught her centuries ago, and she crossed her right leg over her left knee, allowing the dark grey lace of her dress to brush up her legs.
"You're bold," Hermione said, her eyes meeting his dark brown ones. She didn't want her curiosity to show, but it was proving to be troublesome with the emotions moving through his eyes. "What is your name?"
He had the decency to bow his head before meeting her eyes again. "I am Blaise from the Zabini line," he answered.
She hummed, placing the back of her index finger under her chin. "A Zabini man," she said, recognizing that name. Zabini's had been notorious for many things over the years, yet surprisingly Hermione only heard of them through hearsay alone. His family would explain the traits he possessed before her.
"You're more beautiful than the tales we heard in the war, Hel," he commented as the corners of his lips turned up.
Him being a warrior had been correct, and the burgundy garments he sported around his waist made more sense, despite them lacking the gold garnishing she was used to seeing in the warriors who found their way to Hel. Hermione guessed that it would be because he was simply a soldier and not a ranking general among his bretheren.
"That's because you're referring to my mother," Hermione retorted smoothly. "I'm Hermione, and I've taken over for my mother in the Underworld."
"My apologies, Hermione," he replied. "I mean no disrespect."
"Clearly, given your fruitless attempts to charm your way through this conversation."
"It's only fruitless if the charm wasn't natural, Goddess."
Figuring out the deads' stories through their actions had been entertaining for some time now, but this conversation has brought her amusement that she hadn't felt in quite some time.
"It was your charm to get you killed, if that is the case," she quipped.
He shook his head, a sardonic smile gracing his features. "My untimely death came in the form of sacrifice," he explained. "It was better for me to be the distraction so my brothers could retreat and fight another day."
Hermione gave him a nod of respect. "I'm sure your death will be honored."
"Perhaps," Blaise said. "Though I can't say that roaming in the Underworld will be filled with torment now that I've met you."
One of her eyebrows arched as she smiled softly. "Flattery will get you nowhere."
"It's gotten me this far."
"It won't go any farther."
"What if I could entertain you with my journeys in the war?" Blaise suggested. "Would that be more tolerable?"
The casual look on her face turned wary and hard. "What are you wanting from this suggestion?" Hermione asked. "I find it hard to believe that you're willing to simply talk to me while you're stuck in this realm for all eternity."
"I've seen plenty of death and destruction in the land of the living, Hermione," Blaise said. "If I had to spend the rest of my conscious days recounting stories in the presence of a goddess such as yourself, I cannot think of anything better."
There wasn't much for Hermione to think about if this man was genuine. She'd get story after story to occupy her time, and she didn't care that it meant fraternizing with the human. If her mother wanted things done another way, she'd have to return to the position herself.
"Very well," Hermione said. "If your words are true, then I'll allow it." She raised a finger. "However, that means you'll attend to my every wish as you'll remain by my side until I say otherwise."
Blaise grinned wolfishly, bowing completely. "Your wish is my command."
"Good," she said, beckoning the brave man closer to her throne. "I want to hear about everything."
And Blaise obliged; as long as the warrior had stories to tell Hermione, he remained by his goddess' side telling them.
Of course, Hermione didn't have a problem with that.
A/N: Written for The Houses Competition and Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (Challenges and Assignments)
(THC) House: Gryffindor; Year/Position: Year 4 Stand-In; Category: Standard; Prompt(s): (color) burgundy, (dialogue) "Your wish is my command."
(HSWW) Assignment #1 Mythology Task 3 - write an underworld or afterlife!au
Count Your Buttons: (AU) afterlife
Sophie's Shelf: Vault 11 - (word) sacrifice
Insane House Challenge - (trait) brave
Word Count: 1,111