A/N: Hey, peoples! I've recently noticed that Hermione-Draco pairings don't
work, so I'm trying a Harry-Hermione one instead.
I'm new to fanfiction (started reading this year) and haven't read many Harry-Hermione stories, so please forgive me if my plot is cliché-ish. (is there such a word?)
Furthermore, I don't particularly like writing, just here to boost my skills and fill up my spare time, so forgive me if I take forever to update. Please also forgive me if my story's crap, as I haven't had much writing experience.
Lastly, please, please PLEASE review, even if its flame. I want to know how I can improve.
Thanks!
Mysticrystal faerie
PROLOGUE
Scratch, scritch, scratch, scritch. Harry Potter sat at a large, wooden desk, hastily scribbling down notes for the History of Magic essay he was writing. Though he had one night to finish the 8 foot long essay, his mind was clearly elsewhere. There was one day left until he returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the thought of it brought back torrents of fresh memories. Harry, halfway through a sentence, suddenly pushed back his chair and sighed. It had been a long, hard summer.
After Luna Lovegood had shown him the way to visit the echoes of the dead, Harry had gone daily, pushing back the veil and calling for Sirius. And day after day, the echo of Sirius had appeared. Not the whole of Sirius, but enough. Together, they had conversed, Harry talking about everything he could, asking for advice, seeking comfort on the shattered relationship between himself and Cho. Sirius, on his part, had responded with paternal warmth and affection.
Until, The Day. Oh, God, it hurt him to think about it. Harry had arrived as usual at the department of mysteries, and headed toward the archway, where he drew back the veil to call for Sirius. But Sirius did not appear. Instead, a hand appeared out of nowhere and pulled him in, on into the gloomy darkness.
*Flashback* It was dark. Vaguely he could make out a ring of people, the echoes of all those servants of the dark lord who had died in Azkaban. Some of them looked familiar. They were muttering, some muttering incantations which would have prevented him from escape, had the echoes been able to handle wands, others muttering senseless phrases which filled Harry with soul- chilling terror. There was a mist forming, a magical, grey-white mist, shrouding the entire area in its mysterious depths. Suddenly, the mist started changing colour. Blue! Red! Green! Orange! Purple! Yellow! Black! The colours all swirled together, transforming back into the grey white mist. And out of that mist rose a single, robed, figure. Voldemort, again.
Frantically, Harry racked through his brain, trying to find the charm that would best block what he knew was coming. Although no charm was strong enough to block death, there were certain charms which could be used to lessen the effect of a spell. Fixing the weakening spell in his head, Harry repeated the phrase over and over in his head.
Now, the echoes around him, sensing what he was doing, attempted to distract. Their mutterings grew louder, and the mist around Voldemort began to produce a faint glow, illuminating the robed figure in its midst. Harry closed his eyes. The volume of the mutterings around him increased, nearly overwhelming him. With a superhuman effort, Harry wrenched his mind back onto his incantation, uttering it out loud, louder, louder, until the noise around him was crescendoing to an almost unbearable degree. Forcing his eyes open, Harry looked up.
"Avada Kadavra!"
A jet of red light flew from the end of his wand before the flash of green struck him, full on the chest. For a heartbeat in eternity, he fell, watching the damp, tiled floor loom closer, ever closer. Then, everything went black.
He had woken later to find himself in a strange new room. He had later found out that this was the Granger's house. How he ended up there he did not know, neither did he care. He was just glad to have escaped the endless falling, falling.
"Harry! Harry!"
A knock on the door brought Harry Potter back to his senses. Picking up his quill, he pretended to be scribbling furiously on his parchment. The anxious face of Hermione Granger peeked in at him.
"Hello Harry. Since you didn't seem to have much of your homework done, I decided to come up and edit it for you. I've finished all mine, you know, and since I have nothing to do, I decided to... What's the matter, Harry? You look terrible."
"Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm just. um. ah. mmm. stressed about the amount of homework I haven't finished yet. Yeah!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and gave him a doubtful look, but decided not to question any further. Harry had no choice then but to continue on his essay, whilst Hermione scribbled furiously on the Astronomy essay he had handed her.
Scritch, scratch, scritch, scratch.
An hour later, a very tired, dejected and dizzy Harry looked up from his piece of parchment. He had written, maybe. 4 feet worth of parchment? Beside him, Hermione worked away, scribbling notes in red ink and circling practically all the words. It never ceased to amaze Harry how much effort Hermione put into all her work.
"Here, Harry, your essay's ok, but just re-write it with all the grammatical corrections I've made and all the alternative phrases I've substituted the words in your absolutely appalling vocabulary for."
Harry smiled to himself. Of late, Hermione had been full of criticism, and hardly did a day pass without her saying something about "your hair, Harry!" or "be a bit more careful, you nearly knocked my new lampshade off the lamp" or something of the sort. She also seemed to be more stressed than usual lately. Even so, Harry wasn't worried about it. It's probably just beginning 6th year. Furthermore, he was used to treatment worse than this, which came from living with the Dursleys.
Sighing, Harry took back his essay, whilst Hermione proceeded to edit another of the essays on the pile upon his desk.
10 essays later.
"Thanks, 'Mione, but I think I can manage on my own now."
"Harry." Emerald green eyes rose to meet toffee-brown ones. "I just want to say."
"Tell me tomorrow, on the train, please, 'Mione, I've got work to finish today."
"Harry?"
"Tomorrow."
"I just want to say."
"Tomorrow."
"OK then, Harry. Good night, and have fun with all your assignments!" Hermione smiled sarcastically, then turned on her heel and flounced out of the room.
"Good night, 'Mione." A slight smile touched Harry's lips. Yes, it would be a very good night, wouldn't it?
A/N: Again, please, please, PLEASE review! Thanks to all who read and review.
I'm new to fanfiction (started reading this year) and haven't read many Harry-Hermione stories, so please forgive me if my plot is cliché-ish. (is there such a word?)
Furthermore, I don't particularly like writing, just here to boost my skills and fill up my spare time, so forgive me if I take forever to update. Please also forgive me if my story's crap, as I haven't had much writing experience.
Lastly, please, please PLEASE review, even if its flame. I want to know how I can improve.
Thanks!
Mysticrystal faerie
PROLOGUE
Scratch, scritch, scratch, scritch. Harry Potter sat at a large, wooden desk, hastily scribbling down notes for the History of Magic essay he was writing. Though he had one night to finish the 8 foot long essay, his mind was clearly elsewhere. There was one day left until he returned to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the thought of it brought back torrents of fresh memories. Harry, halfway through a sentence, suddenly pushed back his chair and sighed. It had been a long, hard summer.
After Luna Lovegood had shown him the way to visit the echoes of the dead, Harry had gone daily, pushing back the veil and calling for Sirius. And day after day, the echo of Sirius had appeared. Not the whole of Sirius, but enough. Together, they had conversed, Harry talking about everything he could, asking for advice, seeking comfort on the shattered relationship between himself and Cho. Sirius, on his part, had responded with paternal warmth and affection.
Until, The Day. Oh, God, it hurt him to think about it. Harry had arrived as usual at the department of mysteries, and headed toward the archway, where he drew back the veil to call for Sirius. But Sirius did not appear. Instead, a hand appeared out of nowhere and pulled him in, on into the gloomy darkness.
*Flashback* It was dark. Vaguely he could make out a ring of people, the echoes of all those servants of the dark lord who had died in Azkaban. Some of them looked familiar. They were muttering, some muttering incantations which would have prevented him from escape, had the echoes been able to handle wands, others muttering senseless phrases which filled Harry with soul- chilling terror. There was a mist forming, a magical, grey-white mist, shrouding the entire area in its mysterious depths. Suddenly, the mist started changing colour. Blue! Red! Green! Orange! Purple! Yellow! Black! The colours all swirled together, transforming back into the grey white mist. And out of that mist rose a single, robed, figure. Voldemort, again.
Frantically, Harry racked through his brain, trying to find the charm that would best block what he knew was coming. Although no charm was strong enough to block death, there were certain charms which could be used to lessen the effect of a spell. Fixing the weakening spell in his head, Harry repeated the phrase over and over in his head.
Now, the echoes around him, sensing what he was doing, attempted to distract. Their mutterings grew louder, and the mist around Voldemort began to produce a faint glow, illuminating the robed figure in its midst. Harry closed his eyes. The volume of the mutterings around him increased, nearly overwhelming him. With a superhuman effort, Harry wrenched his mind back onto his incantation, uttering it out loud, louder, louder, until the noise around him was crescendoing to an almost unbearable degree. Forcing his eyes open, Harry looked up.
"Avada Kadavra!"
A jet of red light flew from the end of his wand before the flash of green struck him, full on the chest. For a heartbeat in eternity, he fell, watching the damp, tiled floor loom closer, ever closer. Then, everything went black.
He had woken later to find himself in a strange new room. He had later found out that this was the Granger's house. How he ended up there he did not know, neither did he care. He was just glad to have escaped the endless falling, falling.
"Harry! Harry!"
A knock on the door brought Harry Potter back to his senses. Picking up his quill, he pretended to be scribbling furiously on his parchment. The anxious face of Hermione Granger peeked in at him.
"Hello Harry. Since you didn't seem to have much of your homework done, I decided to come up and edit it for you. I've finished all mine, you know, and since I have nothing to do, I decided to... What's the matter, Harry? You look terrible."
"Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm just. um. ah. mmm. stressed about the amount of homework I haven't finished yet. Yeah!"
Hermione rolled her eyes and gave him a doubtful look, but decided not to question any further. Harry had no choice then but to continue on his essay, whilst Hermione scribbled furiously on the Astronomy essay he had handed her.
Scritch, scratch, scritch, scratch.
An hour later, a very tired, dejected and dizzy Harry looked up from his piece of parchment. He had written, maybe. 4 feet worth of parchment? Beside him, Hermione worked away, scribbling notes in red ink and circling practically all the words. It never ceased to amaze Harry how much effort Hermione put into all her work.
"Here, Harry, your essay's ok, but just re-write it with all the grammatical corrections I've made and all the alternative phrases I've substituted the words in your absolutely appalling vocabulary for."
Harry smiled to himself. Of late, Hermione had been full of criticism, and hardly did a day pass without her saying something about "your hair, Harry!" or "be a bit more careful, you nearly knocked my new lampshade off the lamp" or something of the sort. She also seemed to be more stressed than usual lately. Even so, Harry wasn't worried about it. It's probably just beginning 6th year. Furthermore, he was used to treatment worse than this, which came from living with the Dursleys.
Sighing, Harry took back his essay, whilst Hermione proceeded to edit another of the essays on the pile upon his desk.
10 essays later.
"Thanks, 'Mione, but I think I can manage on my own now."
"Harry." Emerald green eyes rose to meet toffee-brown ones. "I just want to say."
"Tell me tomorrow, on the train, please, 'Mione, I've got work to finish today."
"Harry?"
"Tomorrow."
"I just want to say."
"Tomorrow."
"OK then, Harry. Good night, and have fun with all your assignments!" Hermione smiled sarcastically, then turned on her heel and flounced out of the room.
"Good night, 'Mione." A slight smile touched Harry's lips. Yes, it would be a very good night, wouldn't it?
A/N: Again, please, please, PLEASE review! Thanks to all who read and review.