Disclaimer: I do not own Harry potter nor The beauty and the Beast. They belong to J.K. Rowling and Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve respectfully, and no profit is made from this work of art.
As always, enjoy.
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Beauty is Beast
Chapter One
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Beauxbatons Academy of Magic Pyrenees, France
September 27th, 1746
There was a particular scene in Dante's Inferno that kept the young woman agreeable. It was the raging lake of fire that truly terrified her to no end, though her imagination beseeched her. Was it the bedridden storm, or the agonizing cries of lost souls searching for a way out, she could not say; however, she did not imagine it to be quite like this: With a wooden board pressing dangerously into her back, a tower of books atop of her head, shoes that pinched her feet, and the abhorring, dreadful woman keeping watch of them in the background, she was not submissive to the impression of exploitation. She knew not of the true horror that it was. It was not the justice of the cruelty itself, but the injustice that they were being subjected to it. The girls of Beauxbatons, the House of Rouerie and Cossu in question, were amid a very important lesson, one of which none of them have been able to grasp. With every tender touch of their feet, fluid movement of their arms, their books fell and landed on the polished floor of the Dining Chamber. The girl's anguished cries as their practiced minds and clever remarks echoed in the hall as they scrambled to right themselves.
All except one, of course.
Hermione Jean epitomized the very idea of patience, though her mind raced with impenetrable need to confine to such a small stature. Her back was killing her, her legs ached with exhaustion, and her chest rose sharply with shortened breaths, but she did not dare take more than necessary in fear that her lungs would collapse. Each one could very well be her last. All in the hopes of perfecting one's poise and balance whilst walking, she supposed. But, be damned! Ballroom dancing was not an easy feat to perfect; even as someone as scholarly as her was having an admirable hard time walking in a straight line, though she kept her composure to a minimum. Dodging the commands of the magick that followed did not make any easier. She could not say the same for her fellow girls, who resigned to cheating and bickering as they walked as a form of relief. By any means, it certainly was.
"The Heavens, ladies!" cried their teacher. "Eyes to the Heavens!"
When Madam Hooch exclaimed this, a breathtakingly dry gasp spread through the room. The Madam was an older woman with short, greying hair and with the sort of nose that looked pixie-ish to be considered anything remotely human. Her penchant for rules and lectures had earned her quite the reputation that none of them would dare utter the phrases lest their tongue would be pulled out and sliced from their mouths. Madam would see to it that they did.
It certainly did not help that there was a grand remodeling going on amid their lesson. Their Madam's constant cries for perfection did not help, either.
"The Heavens cannot be anywhere but the sky!" the beloved matriarch of their misery sung. "Heads up, back straight!"
This ought to have been enough incentive for the young women to forge ahead; however, if one were to listen past the judgmental praise of her words, they would learn that it is not all as it appeared.
The circle in which they have been thrown in, or perhaps earned through penchant, was raging. Hermione could almost feel the gallant lake of fire scorching her very skin, the heat to which burned like a thousand flames.
Because of such torment, or lack thereof, their concentration wavered and one by one they all stumbled and fell. All but a selected few were saved from such embarrassment.
"Oh…not again." whimpered one poor girl as she desperately tried to adjust herself. Her beautiful tresses in disarray, as well as their costumed light blue dress. They all appeared in such condition, a result of what seemed like hours of practice. "What are we to do? We cannot be expected to master this art in such a short amount of time. What of our suitors? What of our practices?"
Murmurs of desperation weaved between the girls.
"We must keep practicing," said another, disdainfully unresolved. They all stood, once again moving in one fluid form. With a wave, their books righted themselves and they flew into formation. Their movements would be breathtaking if only they could learn how not to oppose one another with their lurid retellings. Months of preparation and no improvement has been made whatsoever. Their Madam was growing increasingly concerned about their lack of discipline. If only they yielded such a thing.
"I cannot seem to keep these commendable books on my head!" cried another as she desperately attempted to adjust the fallen volumes. As the others, she managed to take several steps forward without fault before faltering like a demure animal. When she stood back up, she resolved to say, "Must we carry such impossible vessels upon our heads? It is giving me such a sharp pain in my back! Such ridicule must be frowned upon somewhere?"
As she said this, several of them knocked into her awaiting form, causing their books to tumble in their wake. They all fell into one tremendous heap. All of them groaned in unison until the managed to pick themselves up once more.
"Why on earth did you stop moving?" cried one girl.
"Madam will be furious if we cannot accomplish what she has set for us to do."
A cadenza of forlorn laments coursed like a living pule throughout the room. The patron of such debauchery was a girl that went by the name of Winnie. Short for Winifred. Though, she preferred not to go by either one. She insisted like a cure that the Madam only made them practice etiquette as to prematurely damage their bodies before they could marry and give birth to many children. It was an abominable dream, even though she was one of the few who did not see marriage and children as the privilege as it was. She was quite the romantic, however. Always going on about finding a wizard that would suit her. Though, no one has yet been able to claim the beast that she was. Thus, the atrocious petticoats and layers of wire that formed their fashion. She was not a contender to it, either. She was just as loathing towards the boards that strapped their backs as the rest of them were.
Another girl in line was quick to offer her resentments. The lesson was not going as planned for any of them, and with each pressing minute, they found it harder to keep the books atop their heads and their backs aligned and parallel to the wall. They railed together once more. In tow, they managed to walk several kilometers before an unmistakable step was made, causing the girl at the end to bump into the girl in front of her. It was a master domino effect. Books fell and groans pulsed throughout the room. One of them seemed to have forgotten the number one rule, and that was no wands shall be permitted outside of class. It was strangely unladylike to do so, even in this time.
"I say," whispered one girl, sitting up and looking at her friend with anxiousness," put that away before Madam sees it."
"I do not see a problem."
"Do you wish to get caught?"
"What if she decides this time to keep it?" another chimed in courageously.
"Or, worse?"
A collective gasp brought on a new age of terror. Madam Hooch was known to be punishing, but never in their wildest dreams did they believe she had the heart to destroy what made them unique.
"She is not going to break it."
The girls knew not to trust that blatant lie.
One girl in particular was having a damn of a time keeping her wits at an arm's length. Even she, as impeccable as she was with emotions, could not contain her anger when she reached into her petticoat, grabbed for her wand, and unlaced the board strapped to her back. Another had done so, pointing to the books as if their teacher would not notice the trick. The idea was to keep the illusion that she was walking and the books would stay without the slightest of care. The remaining girls looked at her with admiration, and some with disgust.
"I have had enough of this!" Ginerva Weasley shrieked. She was a girl of short-temper, and someone that Hermione found great patronage given if she could keep her mouth shut. She learnt quickly, though once thought feeble, she was quite the catch. With hair that held such fire, eyes such declaration and withdrawal to the regular demands of their world, Ginny was charming. "How can we be expected to walk in formation when our end girl has two left feet?"
"I beg your pardon?" the girl who had caused them to trip over themselves. "It is a condition." She hissed. "You would do very well to remember that, Ginerva."
"As is idiocy," the red-haired girl said with venom in her voice, unfazed that she used her given name despite knowledge of how much she hates it. "But, you do not see me parading around and making a spectacle of that, now do you?" Hermione looked at her from afar, practicing the lesson that had been given to them quietly. She was very much inclined to practice by herself, even if the board did cause her some discomfort. As a few of the older girls, they did not pay much to the conversation, or the girls in question as they bickered.
"It is not my fault that the books will not stay!"
"Nothing ever is your fault is it, Nymphadora?"
A kind of sizzling noise came from her. As they looked on with interest, her hair began to change, along with her temperament. Once a nice shade of light brown was now the exact hue of a blooming petal during the first caress of spring. Nymphadora was a Metamorphmagus, a liberty she took in the most inconvenient of times. Drawing such conclusions, Hermione looked at her with wonder, having seen her in all sorts of personas, but none like the one she represented as such.
"Do not call me Nymphadora." she said in a low hiss, the sound carrying deathly around the room.
"Oh, do forgive me!" Ginny giggled mischievously. "Maybe if you could keep yourself from falling after a couple of steps, maybe I would be inclined to remember what ghastly name you have procured for yourself."
Nymphadora emitted a scandalous sound under her breath, picked up her stack of books without a word, and proceeded to walk as if her words had not bothered her. She was indeed determined to prove her wrong.
They watched on with competitive silence. Each of the girls long forgotten their tasks, and were now speculating the outcome of the display that moved before them. When she first took the step, a great part of Hermione knew that she would falter. She was simply not equipped to walk as graciously as Madam Hooch would like, and would ultimately make a fool of herself even at the end of every turn. Even at the age that she met her, the girl could not tell one foot from the other, much less wave a wand in the intricate manner that maigck needed to manifest. She doubted that she held that potential, even now. Holding a breath of her own, Hermione watched. It was only then when she began to walk across the hall, one terribly nervous foot in front of the other, that she realized that perhaps she was far more capable of walking with ease.
That is, until she made a miscalculated step, stumbled to catch herself, and she plummeted to the floor like an angel to the depths of hell, shattering any remains of a valiant discovery.
The noise was devastating.
One by one, the books landed with a loud 'thump,' some more louder due to their weight. Nonetheless, it was quite daunting. The girls looked at her with pity and some even stopped what they were doing to help her. Others gazed upon her with the pretentious glare that would rival their Madam.
Ginerva was a nasty little sorcière.
Whom found amusement in the older girl's downfall, the youngest of the Weasley's burst out in blissful laughter, quickly alerting the attention of everyone in their parliament, even the eldest of the House.
"Vat es ze meaning of zis?" she appeared before them in a furry of their iconic baby blue. Fleur Delacour came to them like a dream out of a fairytale. It has been said that she hailed from a creature known as the Veela. Mystical within its own right, she could stare deathly into one's eyes and have them do her bidding at a simple command. Her potent ancestry gained her mockery, as well as animosity. Being a fraction of what the Law deemed normal was frowned upon. She was incredibly well off to have such alliances and friendships among Beauxbatons to merit her leniency despite the constant trouble brought on by her birth. "Ze Madam will hear!"
"We apologize, Madam Delacour." one well-off girl pleaded. "It is all Ginerva's fault! She insulted Nymphadora!"
The native beauty looked between the two girls, assessing their worthiness for fruitful redemption. Ever since stumbling upon each other during the Arrow Ceremony and being elected as each other's roommates, they have grown to despise each other with the sort of animosity Hermione has only come across in literature.
…And it was quite the imposing statement to make. This magnificent decree was set in stone. There was no doubt in her mind that their treatment of each other had been forged by the Fate's themselves, declared by the Heavenly fathers across all nationalities and religions.
Hermione executed perfect composure.
She watched with the same trepidation that drawn over all the girl's hearts as they stood witness to their fiery acts of rebellion.
Attraction like this was known to be deadly. It was only a matter of time before they collided and all hell, as she imagined vividly in her mind, was set loose. If anything, to compare to this kind of hell was considerably different to the one in the Inferno. Whatever the cause, may God have mercy on their souls.
"Must you two fight every time lessons are held?" asked Hannah Abbott, a quiet young woman with the birthright of a young flower. She has been their mediator, their voice of reason as long as she could remember. In the whispers of her mind, Hermione did not believe for one moment that anyone else was more capable, or even more qualified than Ms. Abbott.
The girl dropped all her ambitions to restore order to their small gathering.
"Yes, must you?" agreed another, the young girl by the name of Lavender Brown. She wore an expression of absolute disgust. With a fair ribbon keeping her hair at bay, the sharply tongued girl looked at the two as if she was about to disrespect both with her choices of words. She was not known to hold back her words, either. Hermione watched in solidary fear that she would berate them, and they would not be able to hold their tongues and wands either. "Can we not get through one blasted lesson without you shooting hexes and tripping each other?"
"I did not trip her!" hissed Ginerva with vehemence. "That clumsy oaf-"
Watch what you say to her, you little bête!
"I did not suggest that you did." Lavender said calmly. "I am merely bringing it up because you have done so in the past. Now, why do we apologize to one another so we can finish our lesson? I am growing tired of these boards. The quicker we master the monstrosity that is ballroom dancing, the quicker we can adjourn outside and enjoy the ray of sunshine before it dwindles away."
Ginerva seemed to take her words to consideration, though the daunting task of apologizing to Nymphadora was far more adequately from her mind; it seemed that she would not subject herself to such things, even on the rare occasion that she felt furious emotion for the expulsion of the girl's tragic misgivings. Hermione knew she would come around eventually. Time was indeed long.
"I suppose you are right, Lavender." Ginerva muttered minutes later. "But, do not think for a second that this is over you little-"
"Enough," decreed Hannah scathingly as she moved swiftly across the room. "I will not stand to see you two fight and disrespect the founding mothers of this school. Either make peace or be gone!"
Ginerva looked at Nymphadora with the most detestable expressions but said nothing. As the scene calmed, the girls recuperated and reflected upon their situation with worry.
"What do you suggest we do?"
"I say we just stop for the day." The same girl whose body laid sprawled on the immaculate floor of the hall suggested. Winnie, as flowering within her own merits sighed as the rest of them that have given up hope. "Madam Hooch cannot expect us to have mastered this technique before the end of the month. If none of us can, I suppose there will be no welcoming ceremony across the three great wizarding nations."
Several girls joined her.
"We cannot," another said with depression. "It is expected of our academy as host to perform flawlessly. How would it make us look if we cannot even execute the simple steps of our dance?"
"We forfeit any privileges to imprudence. I would rather halt all activities until such a time presented itself where we can perform without fault, than perform and make complete fools of ourselves." This polished statement was exemplary flattering. It merited even the slightest of junction of truth. To this, the girls agreed not to continue no more. Having found this freedom, they tossed all reservations aside and refused to partake in it anymore.
"Ladies!" came the voice of Madam Hooch as she raced over to where the girls stood. "What has caused this distressing halt?"
"Our inability to perform," muttered Hannah carefully. "We cannot perform these vile steps. It is too much."
"You have demonstrated time and time again the-"
"We know, Madam Hooch." said the alleviator imploringly. "But, we cannot."
One by one they scrambled to recollect their thoughts. All their books lay in a tattered pile, some boards have been removed in dire hope of alleviating the mounting discomfort brought on by standing in a presentable posture. Madam Hooch gave each and every one of them a pointed look before, she too, reached for her wand and vanquished the reprehensible boards back from whence they came. Thus, concluding their lesson.
"I think," the woman began in a hauntingly slow voice," that the lesson has long since concluded itself. I do wish to know what brought this on. For centuries, the Academy has been able to produce extraordinary witches. Why is that you cannot accomplish such a simple task as our dance?"
"Because it is too hard!" chimed the girls.
The Madam seemed to take this into consideration, and with a perfectly sensible address, she suggested something that might pacify their woes. "Why do we not join in on the last hours of sunlight before we all gather for supper?"
"Must we?" a sadden voice asked. "I do not wish to go outside. I am oh so sore!"
"I am not asking you to leap through rings, Ms. Abbott. I simply wish for us to indulge in some well-deserved sunshine. Though dwindling, I suppose a bit of a blush to our cheeks will not hurt, either."
Most of the girls seemed to agree, given the fact they spent the last three hours doing her bidding under the watchful eye of her critique. Even the Madam seemed discouraged by the mention of venturing outside.
"Do you not wish to hone your abilities?" She meant taking another lesson in art.
None of the girls wanted to be the one to refute the fact that they would rather continue their etiquette lessons than go outside and draw. Though, one was irrefutably more favorable than the other. In the end, they all agreed to go out and find solace in the fact that their etiquette lessons have reached their premature end. Perhaps with the permanent state in which it was, they would not have to perform it again for a withstanding amount of time.
"I do not wish to be subjected to such humiliating address." Hannah whispered as they came together to gossip. "I do not know what I hate more. Being outside or having to walk with stacks of books upon my head."
"I say the latter."
Hermione could not suppress the giggle that had resonated deep inside her chest. Upon hearing it, all the girls turned toward her, curious as to what she found amusing. Ever since her arrival, she had been the centre of gossip and lure. All because she came to them without cause. One day such as this one, her arrival made headwind and she has always been the peculiar foreigner. It was a tale they constantly wanted her to retell, and something she has grown to distantly wish never happened. Hermione held her breath, wondering what the girl would do.
"What is amusing?" asked Ginevra, all hostility gone. She held the curiosity that was instilled into them like a torch. The deep brown orbs of her eyes looked at her accusingly.
"I do not wish to relate," she told her simply.
"Your amusement intrigues me. Pray tell, what has gotten you so agreeable?"
Shrugging her shoulders as she assembled herself after the long lesson, Hermione looked away and said nothing. Allowing them the merits of guessing, she summoned her shawl and simply went about her business as if she could not hear what they were saying about her. Leaving the Hall and gaining entrance to Jardin à la Française, the enchanting gardens of the castle to which she found refuge time and time again, their whispers began to bother her.
Once all the girls descended from grace, Hermione collapsed on the floor. To this, she had time to reflect upon her own sentiments.
Placing a hand on her chest, she thought.
Indeed, the idea of hell was a considerable thing if one got to thinking about it. As she rubbed her sore legs, a thought occurred to her. Granted, she believed all portrayals of it in the Inferno was were all but misfortunate interpretations. The real hell was already among them. Hermione could easily agree that the circle seen today in the hall and the scornful rivalry of women and hideous nature of one's heart came close to what she knew was purgatory.
Quick Historical Notes:
Louis XV was a monarch of the House of Bourbon who ruled as King of France and Navarre from September 1st, 1715 until his death in 1774. He succeeded his great-grandfather Louis XIV at the age of give. Until he reached maturity in 1723, his kingdom was ruled by Philippe d'Orleans, Duke of Orleans as Regent of France, whom was Louis great-uncle, as well as his first cousin twice removed patrilineally. Cardinal Fleury was his chief minister from 1726 until the Cardinal's death in 1743, at which time the young king took sole control of the kingdom.
Henry II (French: Henri II; 31 March 1519 – 10 July 1559) was a monarch of the House of Valois who ruled as King of France March 31st, 1547 until his death in 1559. The second son of Francis I, he became Dauphin of France upon the death of his elder brother Francis III, Duke of Brittany in 1536
As a child, Henry and his elder brother spent over four years in captivity in Spain as hostages in exchange for their father. Henry pursued his father's policies in matter of arts, wars and religion. He persevered in the Italian Wars against the House of Habsburg and tried to suppress the Protestant Reformation, even as the Huguenot numbers were increasing drastically in France during his reign.
The Treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis (1559), which put an end to the Italian Wars, had mixed results: France renounced its claims to territories in Italy, but gained certain other territories, including the Pale of Calais and the Three Bishoprics. France failed to change the balance of power in Europe, as Spain remained the sole dominant power, but it did benefit from the division of the holdings of its ruler, Charles V, and from the weakening of the Holy Roman Empire, which Charles also ruled.
Henry suffered an untimely death in a jousting tournament held to celebrate the Peace of Cateau-Cambrésis at the conclusion of the Eighth Italian War. The king's surgeon, Ambroise Paré, was unable to cure the infected wound inflicted by Gabriel de Montgomery, the captain of his Scottish Guard. He was succeeded in turn by three of his sons, whose ineffective reigns helped to spark the French War of Religion between Protestants and Catholics.
Magical History Notes (according to J.K. Rowling):
1741: Dilys Derwnt becomes Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
1743: Gideon Flatworthy leads the extremist anti-Muggle group, the Accionites. After being pursued by Goblin goldsmiths from whom they had stolen, the group hide in a remote cave in Pembrokeshire. Disillusioned with Flatworthy's leadership, the Accionites abandon him in the cave where, perhaps driven mad by hunger, on September 18, he would Summon an entire farm, crushing him to death beneath cattle and haystacks.
1743: The forty-ninth Wizarding Schools Potions Championship is held.
1743: The Daily Prophet begins publication
1747: Albert Boot is elected Minister for Magic to replace the recently deceased Eldritch Diggory
1749: A breach in the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy involving Vampires is contained, and safety concerns are met with new laws.
Note: I imagine that Fleur and Tonks would have a hard life given the circumstances. If it took years for the Ministry to give rights to creatures such as elves and fairies, I can't imagine what kind of scorn one would face if they were anything but… pure. Ginny will not represent the hateful person that is expected with Pureblood families. I fully intend writing her in a giving light that she deserves.
Houses of Beauxabatons:
Note: None of the information borrowed in this fic is owned by me.
Adora Rouerie was very intelligent and clever. She was into more the traditional side of things. Most of the students in this house have her traits and can be found with a book in their hand and a smile on their face. Though people in this house appreciate the traditional side of things they also like to have fun. During the day, they can be found in the courtyards reading a book. While later that night they could be the life of the party. House colors are blue and green and the house animal is the peacock.
Boden Sournois was arrogant. He was vain and scornful of "lesser" people. Meaning bloodlines. You will mostly find pure-bloods in this house, though some aren't. Though these students may seem to be the "popular" ones they aren't always the nice ones. Though there may always be a nice one in the bunch. Some great wizards have come from this house, but so has from the other houses as well. They can be found at a party, but are usually the ones pulling the pranks and causing trouble. House colors are black and red and the house animal is the raven.
Jocelin Cossu was very creative. She always inspired people and always had many great ideas. The students in this house can often be seen drawing, writing, and anything else creative in their free time. Rest assured when hanging with one of them you will be having fun, but in an original way. They are usually the ones that help set up the party, but it doesn't mean they're not there somewhere having an intimate discussion with someone. House colors are light blue and white, the house animal is a pure white cat.
To read more: olympemaxime. Proboards dot com/thread/ 46168#ixzz 4hK2UbddE
Note: There had been another website I visited while researching the Houses of Beauxbatons. Ultimately, I decided to use the above information in this work. If you are interested, please feel free to check it out in the website below:
Beauxbatons academyx. weebly dot-com/
Note: What I found interesting was that instead of a sorting as tradition in Hogwarts, students shot an arrow and whatever color it depicted once it exploded, that was the house you belonged to.
Last, but certainly not least
The real Beauty and the Beast (which this story was the true inspiration for this work):
Petrus Gonsalvus and his wife Catherine met in 1500s France. Petrus Gonsalvus was born in 1537 on the Canary Island of Tenerife, the largest of Spain's seven Canary Islands off the coast of West Africa. He does have connections to French royalty. At a young age, Gonsalvus was treated as an uncivilized curiosity. The hairy "wild man" was captured and put into an iron cage. For food, he was given raw meat and animal feed. He was shipped to King Henry II of France as a gift for the king's coronation in 1547.
Fortunately, King Henry II did not see Gonsalvus as a freak that should be kept in a cage. The king recognized Gonsalvus' calm demeanor and decided to try an experiment. He would attempt to educate and transform him into a gentleman. The king allowed him to keep his birth name, Pedro González, but only if he used its Latin form, Petrus Gonsalvus. The boy was given clothes and cooked meals. He was taught to speak, read, and write in not just one, but three languages, receiving the education of a nobleman. The royal court was impressed and his social status rose. Yet, most still viewed him as less than human.
The real Beauty and the Beast met after Gonsalvus' mentor and protector, King Henry II, was killed in a jousting match on July 10, 1559. Gonsalvus became the property of the king's widow, Catherine de Medici, who became ruler and decided to conduct her own experiment with Gonsalvus. She wondered what would happen if her "beast" married a beautiful woman. Would they conceive little beasts? She found a wife for Gonsalvus, a young maiden also named Catherine, who was the daughter of a royal court servant.
Petrus Gonsalvus met his wife Catherine for the first time on their wedding day. The pair had seven children, with four of the seven suffering from their father's condition, hypertrichosis. This delighted the king's widow, who had succeeded in creating a "wild family."
Petrus and Catherine were married for more than 40 years, with Catherine passing in 1623 and Petrus several years prior. There is no record of his death, possibly because he was not considered a human being worthy of a Christian burial, and therefore his death was not recorded. Petrus was last mentioned in the year 1617 at the christening of his grandson, and he is believed to have passed away sometime around 1618. The family's story spread throughout the region, eventually becoming the inspiration for one of the most popular love stories in literature, and subsequently, modern cinema.
Their widely-known story is thought to have inspired Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve's 1740 French fairy tale The Beauty and the Beast. The best-known version of The Beauty and the Beast written 16 years later by Jeanne-Marie Le Prince de Beaumont, and was geared more toward young ladies than adults. The fashions in the Disney movies indicate that the time period is the mid to late 1700s, which is reflective of the time period of the fairy tale, not of the true story that inspired it.
Author's Notes: There will be no more poetic prose at the beginning of the chapters. I've come to the point where I'm done dealing with people who aren't inclined to appreciate them, and I no longer care for them. I do hope this adaptation of Beauty and the Beast isn't too disappointing, seeing as I have been researching the real story, marking corresponding historical events, and other meniscal information for the better part of the New Year, and even the months prior. I have NEVER taken greater consideration in a fic until this one.
Was it strange to write Lavender as the sensible one? Absolutely not! Especially when it came to wanting to end the lesson so they all can conclude their most hated leisure and go out and enjoy the remaining hours of the day. I think I speak for all the girls when I say that she is a lifesaver! Ginerva will doubt come to be the strong, reliant best friend of Hermione Jean (I say that because she is under the illusion that she knows not of her mother and father/family). I am pleased to say that I'm loving the direction this work is going :)
Chapter two is well underway. Despite my hectic schedule this coming week, I will try my best to have it up by next weekend.
I'm in the middle of reading The Beauty and the Beast for the first time, and there are so many elements of both depictions that make writing a Harry Potter version of it so fulfilling. This is truly a remarkable undertaking and I'm delighted to say (once again!) that I'm so excited to share this with you! Please feel free to review, if you would be so kind and tell me what you think about the story thus far.
Until next time,
-Carolare Scarletus