[Disclaimer: Own nothing but Anya.]

Author's Note: Anya, of the few Hermione/Anya fanfics, introduces herself.

Lady

By Adele Elisabeth

Summary: "Her smile glitters in the darkness and oh but it's cold." (femmeslash, Anya goes back to the beginning)

Lady Anya Lolita Georgette Corso (Tavington), Countess of Glen Falloch.

Daughter of the late Earl of Glen Falloch, Lord Zebediah Archibald Evelyn Corso (Tavington).

Younger sister of disowned elder brother, Julius Michael Francis Corso (Tavington).

Daughter of the late Lady Georgette Olivia Corso.

Chain-smoking, alcoholic murderess and lover of books.

Petite ice-princess of Slytherin, aristocratic pureblood with a bitchy streak.

Bitch.

Whore.

Queen.

Anya doesn't care what people call her.

She knows what she knows.

She knows that she is just barely 5". She knows that she has brown eyes that are too large for her small, pale face. She knows that if she were any slimmer it would be unhealthy. She knows that hip-length hair (mousy brown, not auburn, not brunette, not anything but brown) is heavy and if she didn't have lightening-charms she'd probably have a perpetual headache. She knows that her half-moon glasses serve to make her large eyes unnaturally larger.

She knows that none of that matters at all to who she is.

She knows that she drinks too much.

She knows that she smokes too much.

She knows that she shouldn't touch Granger, shouldn't let the blood from her hands smear over the other girl's fair skin.

She knows that she doesn't deserve any of this, oh no.

She also knows that she doesn't give a rat's arse and they can all bugger off.

Journal,

Daddy's dead -- his own stupid fault, if you ask me. Which he didn't, which is why HE'S DEAD. If he'd listened to me, if he'd just listened, he wouldn't have gone in on his own. He would have waited like a good little trained monkey and let me cover his back because clearly Julius couldn't do it on his own.

I miss him so much.

Granger commented the other night that I'm smoking more than I used to -- well, I'm stunned by little miss know it all's grasp of the patently obvious. At least I think that's what she was talking about. I was extremely drunk at the time so I might be wrong.

I hate that she saw me like that.

Weak.

I am not weak.

I will not allow myself to be weak.

Especially not in front of her.

Would you believe the silly little bitch actually feels sorry for me? She pities me, like one of those stupid house-elves she's always going on about. News-flash, princess, I'm not one of your pet projects.

I don't know what she thinks of me. She only spoke to me that first time because I was pacing. And of course, I just had to hit on her…

Oh, come on. The girl is the epitome of 'Oh-I-don't-know-how-sexy-I-am-giggle-flutter'. I'm only sixteen, I'm not that strong!

…all right, and the fact Nica had taken into her pretty little head that Lady Anya shouldn't sleep with the help was annoying, and left me rather…frustrated.

Not that I would want to sleep with the golden girl of Gryffindor.

Or do anything else in a bed with her.

…I'm going insane.

My father is dead and I'm pondering whether or not I want to bed Hermione I'm-So-Perfect Granger.

I need serious help. I do. I'm fucked up.

Julius and I are going to see to it, however, that Daddy's murder doesn't go unpunished.

Granger's virtue is safe for now. I'm too busy.

Hmm. It would be very poetic if I killed my father's murderer with said father's gun.

Note to self, have Nica find it. Darling girl.

~ Anya Corso

Anya's a simple girl.

No, she isn't.

Blood and sex and guns and pretty girls with painted faces…

Isn't she beautiful?

Isn't she clever and sexy and all of those things?

And doesn't she just make you burn?

Her smile glitters in the darkness and oh but it's cold.

"I'm Anya."

"Hermione--"

"Granger. I know."