IMPORTANT Authors' Note:
To Fanfic Readers,
Welcome to Cherish Thy Sole Hatred! This is the beginning of what we hope to be a deeply intriguing story. We love reviews of all kinds no matter what they state. Critical, Anonymous, praising, begging, even flaming reviews make us extremely cheery! Well now, onto the matter of the story. This fanfic is very PG-13, but starts off PG. There will be no worries of too little or too much fluff (Is there such thing?). We'd like to thank everyone who has contributed in either writing or proofreading this story (Thanks, friends of RVMS). Last but not least, we would like you to enjoy this very first chapter of a prospering fanfic. Remember to review once you're done (^_^)!
LOL,
Mktbug & Whillenwolf
Disclaimer:
Osama wants world peace, Heero Yuy loves us, girls hate guys, the world is flat, Legolas is our best friend, pop ups are NOT annoying, Leonardo DiCaprio is an artist, Marlyn Manson is perfectly normal, we hate chocolate, Draco loves muggles, and we own Harry Potter. (Do YOU get it yet? Just please DON'T sue us.)
Chapter One: Forgotten
A frizzy brown haired girl of seventeen walked into the busy streets of London. She turned a corner and arrived at a shabby looking pub. The girl went into the dark pub and saw the merry faces of the witches and wizards socializing with each other. This mystical place was known to the Wizarding world as the Leaky Cauldron.
Clutching a letter in her left hand, she strolled through the jolly pub and made her way forward to a red brick wall. She counted up two and across three, then tapped the brick three times with her wand.
The seemingly ordinary brick wall elegantly formed into a grand archway, revealing afore her, Diagon Alley, the place she had missed so much during her stay in the muggle world for the summer holidays.
She perkily strode into Diagon Alley, passing many familiar faces, and then hesitated as she noticed a new passer by in the crowd.
In one word, the boy was breathtaking. His eyes were a light, playful shade of Prussian blue, and they alone seemed to illuminate his subtle features. Angled into high, smooth cheekbones and a soft chin, his face had a suave pale complexion that further intensified the blue eyes. He had a lanky build, and an almost too-skinny look about him, but it wasn't his face or structure that had caught Hermione's attention. It was, quite simply, in the way he walked, with a smooth self-assurance, not noticeable enough to call arrogance. It was in the way he looked, his manner portraying a questionable elegance and a dangerous grace. It was in the very air around him. With one glance, she decided he was the sort of person that could command a room full of strangers with ease. There was a potential about him that was immeasurable and unmatched.
Hermione pulled her eyes away from the boy, only after realizing that she had been goggling. When she looked back, he had vanished into the jostling crowd of Diagon Alley. "Foolish of me, really," she thought, "staring after boys, when I have so much else to do." She couldn't help wondering where he came from, and whether or not he attended Hogwarts. With one last glance in the boy's direction, she couldn't help thinking that he reminded her of someone. "But who?" she thought, setting off down the glistening white street. The single manila letter clutched within Hermione's left hand filled her with a temptation to open and reveal all. As she arrived at Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Parlor, she scanned the shaded tables for Harry and Ron. She figured they were still buying their books, all 18 of them, for the nine separate classes they were taking in their 7th year.
Deciding to wait for them there, she sat down at one of the umbrella-shaded tables and examined the letter from Hogwarts, resisting from opening it. This would be her final year at Hogwarts, and she was hoping she would receive the honorary position of Head Girl. The unnerving thought of becoming head girl was flowing through her head. "Head Girl would definitely fit me; even my initials are the same! H.G.," she thought with confidence. Unable to bear it any longer, she tore open the letter, eagerly scanning the emerald green ink on the scroll.
Dear Miss Granger,
Welcome to another year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As always, term begins on September 1st, and the Hogwarts Express leaves from platform 9 and 3/4 at 11:00 A.M. sharp.....
Her eyes traveled to the bottom of the page, and her brow creased. Nothing. It just wasn't there. "Maybe they enclosed the notice in a separate letter," she thought, panic rising within her throat. Finally, she considered the other possibility.
"If I'm not Head Girl, who is?" she asked breathlessly, failing to think of another girl for the position.
A cold voice from behind her drawled, "Talking to yourself again, Granger? I've always known you were a bit off."
Hermione closed her eyes and sighed mentally. Draco Malfoy, the one person that she didn't need at the moment.
"Can you find absolutely nothing better to do with your time than annoy me, Malfoy? It's obvious that you have no friends, but this . . . "
"I see you've opened your letter," Draco cut her off rudely.
He finally appeared in front of her, eyeing the letter carefully. With Draco's figure afore her, Hermione noticed that something was different about his appearance, but she couldn't quite place it.
"Well, it's looks as if Miss Perfect isn't Head Girl after all." Draco's smirk, if possible, grew wider.
"You don't know that, you insufferable prat! They could have sent it in a different letter," Hermione said, snatching the manila letter from the table.
"I do, in fact, happen to know that, Miss Granger," he said with a smirk becoming a sneer.
From inside his cloak pocket, he pulled out a new glistening badge the stated "Head Boy" in bold golden letters. Hermione was speechless. In fact, she was infuriated.
"And how much did your father have to pay so that you could wear that badge?" Hermione spat contemptuously, venom dripping from her voice.
Draco's eyes went stormy, and his pupils became larger.
"How is it that a spindly little Mudblood such as yourself is allowed to get away with insulting . . . " he trailed off as he heard footsteps behind him.
"Is there a problem, Malfoy?"
Draco whirled around to find Harry and Ron staring upon him with icy glares that could penetrate steel. Harry's gaze swept over him, taking in the Head Boy badge.
"That's right, Potter. Now I'm just as famous as you. The only difference is that I earned it myself, didn't steal it off of some sniveling parents such as ones you owned . . ., " Draco cut off as Harry attempted to leap at him.
Ron grabbed the shorter boy's arms and held him back, muttering, "Let it go, Harry. Let him be." Draco only leered at Harry's futile attempts.
"I've let it go too many times," Harry growled. Harry stopped struggling and pushed Ron's arms away.
Draco faced Harry's furious gaze, unblinking, for a few moments before saying, "Good day, Potty. Weasel. Miss Granger." He gave her a small nod before striding off into the crowd. After watching him go, Harry took a seat, shaking his head, and Ron followed in suit.
"Some things never change, isn't that right?" Hermione said, winking at Ron. The tall redhead grinned back before giving her a curious look.
"How on earth has Malfoy managed Head Boy?" Ron muttered, glancing quickly at Harry.
Abruptly, Hermione remembered the mysterious, handsome boy she had seen walking down Diagon Alley, and it struck her who he reminded her of. "Malfoy," she realized with a start, "he reminded me of Draco Malfoy."
"I'll bet you a truckload of galleons that his father had something to do with it," said Harry as he clenched his fists.
"Some things never change," Hermione muttered with annoyance, sitting down side by side with Ron and Harry, on the seats underneath the umbrella shade. "But some things do," she thought wryly. She then blushed, recollecting the cryptical boy, "Some things definitely do."
©whillenwolf & mktbug, 2004
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