Chapter One: Uninvited Guests
The leaves flew in an ominous circle around Hogwart's, the winds of the fall spinning and spinning the delicate foliage. It was Harry's birthday again - the first day of school.
Everything was as it had been for the past 5 years. Hermione sat next to Harry, with Ron across from them. A few first years had joined Gryffindor, sitting nearest to Dumbledore and the rest of the elite faculty. The tables, the Great Hall, the houses, everything was the same on the whole.
"Alright," Harry began, his longish brown hair had been cut closer to his head over the summer, his bangs no longer hiding the proud scar, the "Z" that everyone delighted in touching. Hermione watched the two friends work a new spell they'd learned in sixth year transfigurations. They had an apple sitting between them, and two wands aimed at it.
"Mutare fructus magnus!" Ron yelled, swishing, then flicking his wand. The apple then floated up for a second, and with a burst of light, a watermelon was suddenly suspended in its place. It was marvelous for a second, until gravity kicked in. The melon came crashing down on the table, splattering thick sugary liquid everywhere. Hermione sighed.
"You couldn't have picked a smaller fruit?" Ron blushed.
"Putting magnus at the end makes it larger, dummy," Harry said, wiping his glasses.
Draco looked up as large catastrophe heard over at the Gryffindor table.
"What in bloody hell was that?" He heard a kid ask.
"No doubt it's that damned Potter," he replied, mercilessly stabbing his meal with a fork. He was taller now, the ghostly blonde hair accented his slight tan he'd accumulated during his summer trip with his father to the muggle island of Barbados. They'd created a typhoon - something the people in Barbados weren't prepared for. It had been wonderous. Dinner was dismissed, and the upperclassmen (5th, 6th and 7th years) were allowed to do whatever for the next three hours until bed. Draco knew what he would do.
***************************
Hermione sat in her bed, the silken maroon and gold sheets lining her queen size. Finally nabbing a spot as prefect did have its benefits. She'd beaten that bitch Beverly Took out for the spot in her fifth year. Her thin, slender fingers slid across the thin pages of the Potions book, her nails shining like glass.
She was seventeen now, her hair had finally begun to reason with her, straightening out occasionally, and she was quite taller than she had been when she'd first began attending the school. She sighed as the words on the page swirled and blended. They mixed together in a cacophony of tan and black, the spells and ingredients becoming a mass of blurry magic. She was tired.
Her head popped up from its languid gaze as the door flew to her room flew open in a burst of fury. A tall figure entered, two men behind her carrying large boxes as she walked forward, her light brown hair floating behind her. Hermione stepped up, a bit furious that her prefect suite was being interrupted. She stood, and left her room.
The girl who had come in was dress in a Gryffindor uniform, obviously, but she didn't have the pure demeanor most of the Gryffindor students possessed. She looked as if she belonged in Slytherin. Her hair was a bit of a honey brown, with red streaks running through it. It reached down to the middle of her shoulder blades. Her eye makeup was a little heavy, black eyeliner, dark browns and more blacks. Her skin was slightly pale, and her lips were uncolored, covered only by a thin layer of gloss. This stranger looked up to see Hermione, and smiled.
"Hey," she began, tossing off her robe. She made a quick gesture, and the guys carrying her suitcases set them down. She opened up what looked to be a carrying case for an animal that a muggle would use. This newcomer opened it, removing a pure white cat. She kissed it. "I'm sorry for just barging in on your studying. I missed the train, so I had to have my dad drive me, and then I had to have this meeting with Dumbledore, and get sorted and all this bullshit. I haven't eaten since like, 2. What's your name?" Hermione sighed, she hoped this girl shut up occasionally.
"Hermione Granger. Why did they put you in this room?"
"Last one left for sixth years." Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry if I seemed flustered when I got in. I really won't be a bother."
"You are...." She asked, bowing her head, looking at this girl.
"My name's Lisette Bronwyn," She replied. As her mouth released the vowels, Hermione could barely make out a small silver ball in her mouth.
"You peirced your tongue?!" She almost shouted.
"Yes....sh. I think its against the rules."
"It's terrible for your teeth." Lisette laughed, and began to change. Hermione was even more shocked as Lisette removed her shirt, and revealed a tattoo. It was a star, and inside of it was the name "Angeline." The star looked beautiful, and seemed as if it were moving, the name seemed to shine.
"Who's Angeline?" She asked.
"Angeline was my mother. She died four years ago," Lisette answered, sliding on a pair of boy-cut briefs and a baggy flannel shirt that buttoned.
"Are you muggle-born?" Hermione asked. This girl had a very unwitch-like feel to her.
"Quarter muggle, yes. My grandfather, mum's side. Any more questions?"
"No," she replied, smiling politely. "I'll see you in the morning."
***************************************
Draco stood in his room, which overlooked the pond from one of Slytherin's rooms. It had cost his father a pretty penny for this room with a view, but it got him the things he wanted. He looked over at his bed, to see the random Ravenclaw student asleep, her hair in a matted fury on the pillows. He'd managed to finagle his way into getting a king size, but Snape liked him.
He took another drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the open window before looking at the thing. It was smaller than a pen cap now. He flicked it away, then got up and turned to the bed. He'd resolved himself into this pattern.
A foot slammed violently into the mattress, tossing the unconcious girl who lay in it around a bit. She lifted her hair up, the black tresses sliding off her back.
"Draco, what the fu-"
"You gotta go."
"Excuse me?" She asked, sitting up and looking at him. She held the black bedsheets to her chest.
"I'm done with you. You can go now. C'mon, get out." He said, tossing her a crumpled Ravenclaw uniform. She sat up boltright, and angrily got dressed. He smiled watching her, and waited for her to say something as he sat in his dark green chair.
"See you at breakfast," he replied, smirking, scantily clad in a pair of boxers.
"Fuck you."
She shut the door, and he leaned his head back. He'd lost count. He'd started the mass fornication near the end of his fourth year. He'd been....fifteen? His father knew, but he didn't care. All his father cared about was having no mudblood heirs. So Draco attempting most of the time to keep within the pureblood pool. But he'd run out, to his knowledge.
"Busy night, Draco?" He heard, and he turned around.
"Holy shit!" He yelled, nearly falling out of his chair.
"Nice language. It's comforting to know you don't kiss your mother with that mouth," Lucius said, stepping away from the wall. Draco stood up, nearly his father's height now, and broadening his physique.
"How long have you been there?" He asked. The thought of his father watching him get laid made him sick to his stomach.
"From the line about how she was the most beautiful girl you'd seen in all your six years here, and if she'd like some pureblood in her." Draco held back his gag.
"Father-"
"Since she has none!" He said, and Draco received a swift cane to the face. Lucius' hand grasped his son's jaw.
"I work too hard, Draco, too hard and too long trying to make sure our family keeps our face - and our influence. I can't have my son mercilessly slaughtering my hard work because he needed a quick fuck!"
"Father-"
"If you screw this up for any of us, for your mother, or your brothers, I will disown you and send you into the muggle world."
"I understand."
"Draco Malfoy, spells and incantations do not go over well outside of our world."
"Yes, sir," he said, the blood beginning to slide gently from the wound that his father's cobra had given him.
"You mother sends her regards." He said, and vanished.
"Shit," Draco said, his hand slowly ascending to his head, and it came away, drenched in crimson, "father knows best my ass."
The leaves flew in an ominous circle around Hogwart's, the winds of the fall spinning and spinning the delicate foliage. It was Harry's birthday again - the first day of school.
Everything was as it had been for the past 5 years. Hermione sat next to Harry, with Ron across from them. A few first years had joined Gryffindor, sitting nearest to Dumbledore and the rest of the elite faculty. The tables, the Great Hall, the houses, everything was the same on the whole.
"Alright," Harry began, his longish brown hair had been cut closer to his head over the summer, his bangs no longer hiding the proud scar, the "Z" that everyone delighted in touching. Hermione watched the two friends work a new spell they'd learned in sixth year transfigurations. They had an apple sitting between them, and two wands aimed at it.
"Mutare fructus magnus!" Ron yelled, swishing, then flicking his wand. The apple then floated up for a second, and with a burst of light, a watermelon was suddenly suspended in its place. It was marvelous for a second, until gravity kicked in. The melon came crashing down on the table, splattering thick sugary liquid everywhere. Hermione sighed.
"You couldn't have picked a smaller fruit?" Ron blushed.
"Putting magnus at the end makes it larger, dummy," Harry said, wiping his glasses.
Draco looked up as large catastrophe heard over at the Gryffindor table.
"What in bloody hell was that?" He heard a kid ask.
"No doubt it's that damned Potter," he replied, mercilessly stabbing his meal with a fork. He was taller now, the ghostly blonde hair accented his slight tan he'd accumulated during his summer trip with his father to the muggle island of Barbados. They'd created a typhoon - something the people in Barbados weren't prepared for. It had been wonderous. Dinner was dismissed, and the upperclassmen (5th, 6th and 7th years) were allowed to do whatever for the next three hours until bed. Draco knew what he would do.
***************************
Hermione sat in her bed, the silken maroon and gold sheets lining her queen size. Finally nabbing a spot as prefect did have its benefits. She'd beaten that bitch Beverly Took out for the spot in her fifth year. Her thin, slender fingers slid across the thin pages of the Potions book, her nails shining like glass.
She was seventeen now, her hair had finally begun to reason with her, straightening out occasionally, and she was quite taller than she had been when she'd first began attending the school. She sighed as the words on the page swirled and blended. They mixed together in a cacophony of tan and black, the spells and ingredients becoming a mass of blurry magic. She was tired.
Her head popped up from its languid gaze as the door flew to her room flew open in a burst of fury. A tall figure entered, two men behind her carrying large boxes as she walked forward, her light brown hair floating behind her. Hermione stepped up, a bit furious that her prefect suite was being interrupted. She stood, and left her room.
The girl who had come in was dress in a Gryffindor uniform, obviously, but she didn't have the pure demeanor most of the Gryffindor students possessed. She looked as if she belonged in Slytherin. Her hair was a bit of a honey brown, with red streaks running through it. It reached down to the middle of her shoulder blades. Her eye makeup was a little heavy, black eyeliner, dark browns and more blacks. Her skin was slightly pale, and her lips were uncolored, covered only by a thin layer of gloss. This stranger looked up to see Hermione, and smiled.
"Hey," she began, tossing off her robe. She made a quick gesture, and the guys carrying her suitcases set them down. She opened up what looked to be a carrying case for an animal that a muggle would use. This newcomer opened it, removing a pure white cat. She kissed it. "I'm sorry for just barging in on your studying. I missed the train, so I had to have my dad drive me, and then I had to have this meeting with Dumbledore, and get sorted and all this bullshit. I haven't eaten since like, 2. What's your name?" Hermione sighed, she hoped this girl shut up occasionally.
"Hermione Granger. Why did they put you in this room?"
"Last one left for sixth years." Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry if I seemed flustered when I got in. I really won't be a bother."
"You are...." She asked, bowing her head, looking at this girl.
"My name's Lisette Bronwyn," She replied. As her mouth released the vowels, Hermione could barely make out a small silver ball in her mouth.
"You peirced your tongue?!" She almost shouted.
"Yes....sh. I think its against the rules."
"It's terrible for your teeth." Lisette laughed, and began to change. Hermione was even more shocked as Lisette removed her shirt, and revealed a tattoo. It was a star, and inside of it was the name "Angeline." The star looked beautiful, and seemed as if it were moving, the name seemed to shine.
"Who's Angeline?" She asked.
"Angeline was my mother. She died four years ago," Lisette answered, sliding on a pair of boy-cut briefs and a baggy flannel shirt that buttoned.
"Are you muggle-born?" Hermione asked. This girl had a very unwitch-like feel to her.
"Quarter muggle, yes. My grandfather, mum's side. Any more questions?"
"No," she replied, smiling politely. "I'll see you in the morning."
***************************************
Draco stood in his room, which overlooked the pond from one of Slytherin's rooms. It had cost his father a pretty penny for this room with a view, but it got him the things he wanted. He looked over at his bed, to see the random Ravenclaw student asleep, her hair in a matted fury on the pillows. He'd managed to finagle his way into getting a king size, but Snape liked him.
He took another drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the open window before looking at the thing. It was smaller than a pen cap now. He flicked it away, then got up and turned to the bed. He'd resolved himself into this pattern.
A foot slammed violently into the mattress, tossing the unconcious girl who lay in it around a bit. She lifted her hair up, the black tresses sliding off her back.
"Draco, what the fu-"
"You gotta go."
"Excuse me?" She asked, sitting up and looking at him. She held the black bedsheets to her chest.
"I'm done with you. You can go now. C'mon, get out." He said, tossing her a crumpled Ravenclaw uniform. She sat up boltright, and angrily got dressed. He smiled watching her, and waited for her to say something as he sat in his dark green chair.
"See you at breakfast," he replied, smirking, scantily clad in a pair of boxers.
"Fuck you."
She shut the door, and he leaned his head back. He'd lost count. He'd started the mass fornication near the end of his fourth year. He'd been....fifteen? His father knew, but he didn't care. All his father cared about was having no mudblood heirs. So Draco attempting most of the time to keep within the pureblood pool. But he'd run out, to his knowledge.
"Busy night, Draco?" He heard, and he turned around.
"Holy shit!" He yelled, nearly falling out of his chair.
"Nice language. It's comforting to know you don't kiss your mother with that mouth," Lucius said, stepping away from the wall. Draco stood up, nearly his father's height now, and broadening his physique.
"How long have you been there?" He asked. The thought of his father watching him get laid made him sick to his stomach.
"From the line about how she was the most beautiful girl you'd seen in all your six years here, and if she'd like some pureblood in her." Draco held back his gag.
"Father-"
"Since she has none!" He said, and Draco received a swift cane to the face. Lucius' hand grasped his son's jaw.
"I work too hard, Draco, too hard and too long trying to make sure our family keeps our face - and our influence. I can't have my son mercilessly slaughtering my hard work because he needed a quick fuck!"
"Father-"
"If you screw this up for any of us, for your mother, or your brothers, I will disown you and send you into the muggle world."
"I understand."
"Draco Malfoy, spells and incantations do not go over well outside of our world."
"Yes, sir," he said, the blood beginning to slide gently from the wound that his father's cobra had given him.
"You mother sends her regards." He said, and vanished.
"Shit," Draco said, his hand slowly ascending to his head, and it came away, drenched in crimson, "father knows best my ass."