Author's Note: Okay…I can't exactly figure out how to make page breaks show up on fanfiction. So if I disturb the flow…humbles apologies, gentle readers.)
(Another Author's Note--Please do not judge this fiction by the contents of the chapter. This chapter is written in a different, more juvenile style than I prefer. It was also written after most of the story was underway, so the flow is a little different.
The hot, Bulgarian moon pulsed down onto Hermione's back. Of course, this made no sense because moons do not emit any heat, nor do they pulse. This was only metaphorical pulsing. And yet she felt the pulsation.
The summer vacation with Vicky had been a dream. A chance to practice the dark arts away from the prying eyes of those blasted boys. She smiled softly, recalling her first encounter with the Goddess. Diana had come at night. After assuring Hermione of her unmatched power, she began her persuasive tactics. Soon, Hermione realized the darkness that was inside her and how to channel it To embrace it, to make it useful--that was what she needed to do.
Hermione scoffed as she recalled Harry and Ron.
Harry, the blissfully ignorant hero. He never appreciated her and never realized the extent of her abilities. The killer with the o-so loveable charm! Who could resist that shaggy, moppy main of unruly black hair that fell into his eyes just so?
He looks like a deranged Muppet, thought Hermione bitterly as she kneeled over the fire she was building. He could be great--if he was not so hell-bent on good and evil, so unwilling to enter the grey zone between the two where Hermione had recently found herself.
Ron was not as wretched as Harry was doomed to be. His growing infatuation with Hermione had been more of an inconvenience than a curse.
However, Harry's growing influence over Dumbledore was a curse. Unlike Harry, Dumbledore was not afraid to enter the Twilight Zone of evil. The wizard recognized that sometimes morals must be sacrificed to do good.
"He's such a bitch," thought Hermione as she retrieved the metal from the fire. Her skin hissed as she drew the triangle on it. Drawing a shaky breath, she screamed a long, shrill animal yell.
"O Diana," she cried. "Goddess of women scorned, grant me power." She fell to the ground as the sizzling continued. "I give you my soul and heart. I surrender to you, O redeemer. You know of my plea, and if it so be your will…" The collapsing of thunder and the flash of lightening interrupted her.
As she half-collapsed, half fainted, she whispered one faint, determined vow.
"Harry's going to get his due this year."
While in England, it's the middle of the night
"Hogwarts looks like a fairyland in the winter," philosophized Harry as he lay by the window in the Gryffyndor common room.
"I know," spat Ron, who was lounging in an armchair. "All those blasted Hufflepuff's prancing about…we all know what "Hufflepuff" really means..."
"I meant that it looks like a separate reality and a special, magical place where dreams and illusions come true, Ron." Harry narrowed his eyes. "Pay attention."
"You are so right, Harry. It looks EXACTLY like a fairyland, in every aspect."
"Yes," said Harry. "You may copy my essay now, since you are such a good wench."
They sat in silence for a bit, with Harry meditating on the celestial beauty of the winter season and Ron plagiarizing the paper.
"Have you seen Hermione lately?" inquired Harry, breaking the silence.
"No, not since the 15th," said Ron absently. He looked up from his parchment. "Why?"
"The fifteenth…" Said Harry, a thought forming. "That was the night of the full moon."
"And it has been four days since then."
Suddenly, Hermione burst in. "Hello, hello," she greeted. She regarded Harry's suspicious voice and broke out into an inconspicious song. The theme from Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. "It is a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor," she began to sing. "Won't you be mine? Won't you be mine?"
"I'd love to be," said Ron passionately.
"Ew!" screamed Hermione, gazing at the would-be suitor. "I wouldn't touch you with a…thirty nine and a half foot pole!"
"That's a line from the Mr. Grinch song," said Harry, recalling the Ron Howard holiday hit from a few years ago.
"You know your pop culture oh, so well Harry dear," complimented Hermione sarcastically. "Would you like me to make you pie?"
"Sure! That would be so nice of you. I'd love some fresh pie." Harry couldn't feeling surprised. Lately, Hermione had been a heartless cold bitch to anyone who tried to talk to her.
"Then make it yourself, you misogynistic bastard!" snarled Hermione. She threw a book a Harry who was fortunately blessed with the gift of ducking.
"HATE CRIME, HATE CRIME!" screamed Harry, watching the textbook slam into the wall.
"Wow, Hermione," muttered Ron. He pointed to her arm. "What in the hell is that?"
Hermione hastened to cover her burn mark. "I bumped my arm."
"With what, a branding iron?" asked Harry. "Here, let me carry you to the Hospital Wing. She'll sew you up again."
"Don't touch me," said Hermione as her face grew dark. "No man may touch she who carries the mark of the Goddess. NO ONE!"
Harry screamed as her face grew darker and darker.
"Crikey, Harry," said Ron. "Wake up!"
"Oh my Lord." Harry sat up in his bed and gazed at the tangled bed sheets. He reached for his glass of water. "Ouch!"
"What is it?" asked Ron, growing concern for his master.
"I have one awful headache. Either that or Voldemort is standing outside the door." Harry massaged his head. "Did we get drunk last night?"
Ron shrugged. "Probably."
"Maybe that's it. Ah!" He rubbed his head again. "My scar is throbbing!"
Ron giggled. "Why are you giggling?" demanded Harry. "I'm in pain, and he's snickering," complained Harry to Ron's stuffed bear, Ramekins. "What a friend."
"Throbbing, specimen of manhood… It's from a book." As Harry shot him a confused look, Ron sighed. "Don't you read?"
"If you mean smutty romance novels with suggestive covers, then no I do not read," sighed Harry, rubbing his forehead.
"Don't criticize what you don't understand," said Ron as he stood up. "Come on, let's go get some toast."
Whilst in Bulgaria…
"I ask the goddess for one simple thing," grumbled Hermione. "I could have done it without her interference and then she makes these demands on me. Who the hell does she think she is? Semen of a righteous man. If I HAD a righteous man's semen in my possestion, I wouldn't have to sell her my soul in exchange for demonic power to wreck havoc an old fancy of mine."
A righteous man…thought Hermione…with obtainable semen…"Of course," thought Hermione cleverly. "The ways of the Great One are revealing themselves to me…oh Viktor…" called Hermione.
She strolled about a quarter mile to her right where he was involved in a Quidditch match against his brothers, Mrugnabad and Bobeckeric.
"Viktor!" shrieked Hermione. "I'm calling you!"
"Hey, Viktor," called Bobeckeric. "Hagpo mich-salma ques-ce foe Hermione ka buberous." (Translation: Your crazy beaver-like bitch is calling for you.)
"Coming!" called Viktor as he landed. He gave his guest a once-over and smiled."What is up, Herm?"
She raised her eyebrows suggestively and grabbed his hand. "I thought we might go for a walk…in the woods," she purred.
Viktor gaped at her. "That sounds good," he answered weakly, comprehending her suggestion.
"Ich ta pala un woody," said Mrugnabad disgustedly. (Translation: He is so going to get some).
I cannot believe the things I am sacrificing for my mistress, sighed Hermione to herself. Smiling coquettishly, Hermione led him into the woods.
Later that night…
Hermione stood before her fire of incantations and sheepishly gazed up towards the heavens. "Goddess Diana, the situation is sticky," she recited. "I was to bring you sperm from my Vicky." She paused and thought of another line. "I had him erect and his semen would follow…" She lowered her eyes in shame and discomfort. "Alas, I was hot…So hot that I swallowed."
"Forgive me?" she asked timidly. The thunder crashed angrily. "Fine," she sighed. "I'll try again tomorrow."
A/N-The second chapter will be better. I just needed a good set up. Setting things up takes forever--I had to devote an entire chapter to the legend of the Forbidden FOrest's lumberjack. Sigh. It's in Chapter 8 or something)
now go on…push that little button…review!
(Another Author's Note--Please do not judge this fiction by the contents of the chapter. This chapter is written in a different, more juvenile style than I prefer. It was also written after most of the story was underway, so the flow is a little different.
The hot, Bulgarian moon pulsed down onto Hermione's back. Of course, this made no sense because moons do not emit any heat, nor do they pulse. This was only metaphorical pulsing. And yet she felt the pulsation.
The summer vacation with Vicky had been a dream. A chance to practice the dark arts away from the prying eyes of those blasted boys. She smiled softly, recalling her first encounter with the Goddess. Diana had come at night. After assuring Hermione of her unmatched power, she began her persuasive tactics. Soon, Hermione realized the darkness that was inside her and how to channel it To embrace it, to make it useful--that was what she needed to do.
Hermione scoffed as she recalled Harry and Ron.
Harry, the blissfully ignorant hero. He never appreciated her and never realized the extent of her abilities. The killer with the o-so loveable charm! Who could resist that shaggy, moppy main of unruly black hair that fell into his eyes just so?
He looks like a deranged Muppet, thought Hermione bitterly as she kneeled over the fire she was building. He could be great--if he was not so hell-bent on good and evil, so unwilling to enter the grey zone between the two where Hermione had recently found herself.
Ron was not as wretched as Harry was doomed to be. His growing infatuation with Hermione had been more of an inconvenience than a curse.
However, Harry's growing influence over Dumbledore was a curse. Unlike Harry, Dumbledore was not afraid to enter the Twilight Zone of evil. The wizard recognized that sometimes morals must be sacrificed to do good.
"He's such a bitch," thought Hermione as she retrieved the metal from the fire. Her skin hissed as she drew the triangle on it. Drawing a shaky breath, she screamed a long, shrill animal yell.
"O Diana," she cried. "Goddess of women scorned, grant me power." She fell to the ground as the sizzling continued. "I give you my soul and heart. I surrender to you, O redeemer. You know of my plea, and if it so be your will…" The collapsing of thunder and the flash of lightening interrupted her.
As she half-collapsed, half fainted, she whispered one faint, determined vow.
"Harry's going to get his due this year."
While in England, it's the middle of the night
"Hogwarts looks like a fairyland in the winter," philosophized Harry as he lay by the window in the Gryffyndor common room.
"I know," spat Ron, who was lounging in an armchair. "All those blasted Hufflepuff's prancing about…we all know what "Hufflepuff" really means..."
"I meant that it looks like a separate reality and a special, magical place where dreams and illusions come true, Ron." Harry narrowed his eyes. "Pay attention."
"You are so right, Harry. It looks EXACTLY like a fairyland, in every aspect."
"Yes," said Harry. "You may copy my essay now, since you are such a good wench."
They sat in silence for a bit, with Harry meditating on the celestial beauty of the winter season and Ron plagiarizing the paper.
"Have you seen Hermione lately?" inquired Harry, breaking the silence.
"No, not since the 15th," said Ron absently. He looked up from his parchment. "Why?"
"The fifteenth…" Said Harry, a thought forming. "That was the night of the full moon."
"And it has been four days since then."
Suddenly, Hermione burst in. "Hello, hello," she greeted. She regarded Harry's suspicious voice and broke out into an inconspicious song. The theme from Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. "It is a beautiful day in the neighborhood, a beautiful day for a neighbor," she began to sing. "Won't you be mine? Won't you be mine?"
"I'd love to be," said Ron passionately.
"Ew!" screamed Hermione, gazing at the would-be suitor. "I wouldn't touch you with a…thirty nine and a half foot pole!"
"That's a line from the Mr. Grinch song," said Harry, recalling the Ron Howard holiday hit from a few years ago.
"You know your pop culture oh, so well Harry dear," complimented Hermione sarcastically. "Would you like me to make you pie?"
"Sure! That would be so nice of you. I'd love some fresh pie." Harry couldn't feeling surprised. Lately, Hermione had been a heartless cold bitch to anyone who tried to talk to her.
"Then make it yourself, you misogynistic bastard!" snarled Hermione. She threw a book a Harry who was fortunately blessed with the gift of ducking.
"HATE CRIME, HATE CRIME!" screamed Harry, watching the textbook slam into the wall.
"Wow, Hermione," muttered Ron. He pointed to her arm. "What in the hell is that?"
Hermione hastened to cover her burn mark. "I bumped my arm."
"With what, a branding iron?" asked Harry. "Here, let me carry you to the Hospital Wing. She'll sew you up again."
"Don't touch me," said Hermione as her face grew dark. "No man may touch she who carries the mark of the Goddess. NO ONE!"
Harry screamed as her face grew darker and darker.
"Crikey, Harry," said Ron. "Wake up!"
"Oh my Lord." Harry sat up in his bed and gazed at the tangled bed sheets. He reached for his glass of water. "Ouch!"
"What is it?" asked Ron, growing concern for his master.
"I have one awful headache. Either that or Voldemort is standing outside the door." Harry massaged his head. "Did we get drunk last night?"
Ron shrugged. "Probably."
"Maybe that's it. Ah!" He rubbed his head again. "My scar is throbbing!"
Ron giggled. "Why are you giggling?" demanded Harry. "I'm in pain, and he's snickering," complained Harry to Ron's stuffed bear, Ramekins. "What a friend."
"Throbbing, specimen of manhood… It's from a book." As Harry shot him a confused look, Ron sighed. "Don't you read?"
"If you mean smutty romance novels with suggestive covers, then no I do not read," sighed Harry, rubbing his forehead.
"Don't criticize what you don't understand," said Ron as he stood up. "Come on, let's go get some toast."
Whilst in Bulgaria…
"I ask the goddess for one simple thing," grumbled Hermione. "I could have done it without her interference and then she makes these demands on me. Who the hell does she think she is? Semen of a righteous man. If I HAD a righteous man's semen in my possestion, I wouldn't have to sell her my soul in exchange for demonic power to wreck havoc an old fancy of mine."
A righteous man…thought Hermione…with obtainable semen…"Of course," thought Hermione cleverly. "The ways of the Great One are revealing themselves to me…oh Viktor…" called Hermione.
She strolled about a quarter mile to her right where he was involved in a Quidditch match against his brothers, Mrugnabad and Bobeckeric.
"Viktor!" shrieked Hermione. "I'm calling you!"
"Hey, Viktor," called Bobeckeric. "Hagpo mich-salma ques-ce foe Hermione ka buberous." (Translation: Your crazy beaver-like bitch is calling for you.)
"Coming!" called Viktor as he landed. He gave his guest a once-over and smiled."What is up, Herm?"
She raised her eyebrows suggestively and grabbed his hand. "I thought we might go for a walk…in the woods," she purred.
Viktor gaped at her. "That sounds good," he answered weakly, comprehending her suggestion.
"Ich ta pala un woody," said Mrugnabad disgustedly. (Translation: He is so going to get some).
I cannot believe the things I am sacrificing for my mistress, sighed Hermione to herself. Smiling coquettishly, Hermione led him into the woods.
Later that night…
Hermione stood before her fire of incantations and sheepishly gazed up towards the heavens. "Goddess Diana, the situation is sticky," she recited. "I was to bring you sperm from my Vicky." She paused and thought of another line. "I had him erect and his semen would follow…" She lowered her eyes in shame and discomfort. "Alas, I was hot…So hot that I swallowed."
"Forgive me?" she asked timidly. The thunder crashed angrily. "Fine," she sighed. "I'll try again tomorrow."
A/N-The second chapter will be better. I just needed a good set up. Setting things up takes forever--I had to devote an entire chapter to the legend of the Forbidden FOrest's lumberjack. Sigh. It's in Chapter 8 or something)
now go on…push that little button…review!