Disclaimer:
Everything you recognise from Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling (aka The Goddess – a real one)
Everything you recognise from The Princess Diaries belongs to Meg Cabot
I own nothing :o)

Author's Note:
OK, so for a little fun, I'm gonna give 20 House Points and a bag of Oliver-flavoured Bertie Bott's to the first person to correctly tell me why Ron decided to boycott the Halloween Ball. Now, I want his REAL reason, not that pathetic excuse he dribbled out to cover his tracks. Here's a hint: last Monday. Enter by review or e-mail :o) Let's see how well you've all been reading this and how much of a R/Hr shipper you really are!

Oh, and I would like to make the following advertorial announcement: The Princess Diaries: Third Time Lucky, aka Princess in Love in the US/Canada, totally, completely, absolutely, undoubtedly, supremely, almightyly (etc) ROX. I am not even kidding. ;o) Apprently it doesn't get published for a while (it actually says first published 2002 in it, and according to amazon.com, it's coming out in April, which is all so weird) but I got my hot little hands on a copy, and it's JOY! Go find it! Cheers :o)

empirical: originating in or based on observation or experience empirical data / relying on experience or observation alone often without due regard for system and theory / capable of being verified or disproved by observation or experiment
libidinous: having or marked by lustful desires (::mock innocence:: Now, what would that have to do with Ron's argument? ;o)


The Goddess Diaries - Part Eight

Wednesday Night

No wonder my Mum was so mad about Darla Prattellez's article! When Nick and I walked down to the school gates to get to the limo after my Flying review session this afternoon, there were reporters all over the place. I am not even kidding. It was just like I was a murderer, or a celebrity, or something.
According to Hagrid, who walked down with us on his way to the Three Broomsticks, reporters had been arriving all day. They'd been trying to interview all the kids who go to Hogwarts, asking if they know me (for once, being unpopular pays off: I can't imagine they were able to find anybody could actually remember who I was – at least, not with my new non-triangular hair). Hagrid says Professor Dumbledore finally had to tell them to leave, because Hogwarts is private property and the reporters were trespassing all over the place.
I have to say, I sort of know how Princess Diana felt. I mean, when Nick and Hagrid and I got to the gate, the reporters started trying to swarm all over, waving Quick-Quotes Quills at us and yelling stuff like, Hermione, how about a smile? and, Hermione, what's it like to wake up one morning as a Muggle-born witch and go to bed the next night a divine goddess worth over three hundred million Galleons?
I was kind of scared. Even if I'd wanted to, I couldn't have answered their questions, I didn't know which reporter to talk to. Plus I was practically rendered blind by all the flashbulbs going off in front of my face. I had no idea there were this many journalist in the Wizarding community. Isn't there just one Wizarding newspaper?
Anyway, then Nick went into action. You should have seen it. First, he told me not to say anything. Then he put his arm around me. He told Hagrid to put his arm around my other side. Then, and I suppose having Hagrid there helped, we ducked our heads and barrelled through all the cameras and Quick-Quotes Quills and the people attached to them, until the next thing I knew, Nick was pushing into the back seat of the car, and jumping in after me.
Hello! I guess all that training in the Israeli army paid off (I overheard Nick telling Lee Jordan that where he learnt how to cope with an attack of up to 10 bad guys single headedly. The two of them were having a very disturbing conversation before lunch, about magical crowd control methods and the like).
Anyway, as soon as Nick slammed the back door shut, he said, and the guy behind the wheel hit the accelerator, and we were off. Then I noticed Mum sitting in front of me, in the seat that faces the back of the limo. And while we're pulling away, brakes squealing, flashbulbs going off, photographers jumping onto the windshield to try and get a better shot, my Mum goes, all casual, So. How was your day, Hermione?
Honestly!
I decided to ignore my Mum. Instead, I turned around in my seat to wave goodbye to Hagrid. Only Hagrid had been swallowed up in a sea of Quick-Quotes Quills! He wouldn't talk to them, though. He just kept waving his hands and wading through the crowd to try and get away from them and closer to his tankard (or six) of mulled mead.
I felt sorry for poor Hagrid. True, he is probably once again risking the lives of the entire Hogwarts student body with his enjoyment of the company of dangerous magical beasts, but he really is a nice guy, and doesn't deserve to be harassed by the media.
So then I asked my Mum where I was going to go to school now.
My Mum looked at me like I was nuts. You said you wanted to say at Hogwarts! she kind of yelled.
I said, Well, yes, but that was before Darla Prattellez outed me.
Then Mum wanted to know what outing was, so I explained to her that outing is when somebody reveals your sexual orientation on national TV, or in the newspaper, or some other large public forum. Only in this case, I explained, instead of my sexual orientation, my divine status had been revealed.
So then my Mum said I couldn't go to a new school just because I'd been outed as a goddess. She said I have to stay at Hogwarts, and Nick will go to classes with me and protect me from reporters. I told her I that can handle reporters by myself, thank you very much. I got Skeeter, didn't I? But Mum scoffed and said that was just a lucky break, and if I could handle them then why was I outed?
So then I said is Nick going to go with me everywhere I go? Like how about if I just wanted to walk down to Hogsmeade with Ginny? I mean, if Ginny and I were still friends. Which certainly is never going to happen now.
And my Mum said, Nick would go with you.
So basically, I am never going to go anywhere alone again.
This made me kind of mad. I sat in the back seat with the red from a traffic light flashing down my face (we were in London by now) and I said, OK, well, that's it. I don't want to be a goddess anymore. You can take back you one hundred Galleons a day and send Grandmamma back to Greece. I quit.
And my Mum said, in this tired voice, You can't quit, Hermione. The article today closed the deal. Tomorrow your face will be in every magical newspaper in the United Kingdom – maybe even the world. Everyone will know that you are Goddess Hermione of Mount Olympus. And you cannot quite being who you are.
I guess it wasn't a very goddessy thing to do, but I cried all the way to the Ritz. Nick gave me his handkerchief, which I thought was very nice of him.
My Dad apparently thinks Grandmamma is the person who tipped off Darla Prattellez.
But I can't believe Grandmamma would so something like that – you know, give the Prophet the inside scoop on me. Especially when I'm so far behind in my goddess lessons. You know? It's almost garanteed that now I'm going to start acting like a goddess – I mean, really acting like one – but Grandmamma hasn't even got to all the important stuff yet, like how to argue knowledgeably with virulent anti-deitists like Ginny. So far all Grandmamma has taught me is how to sit, how to dress, how to use a fish fork, how to address senior members of the holy household staff, how to say thank you so much and no, I don't care for that in seven languages and how to talk to an oracle without making them explode due to the greatness of the wisdom I have to offer (uh, yeah).
What good is any of THAT going to do to me?
I don't think I've ever mentioned this, but it's really hard to write with my new fake fingernails. They're kind of cool though, they have an Ink Repelling Charm on them and now I don't have blue fingertips like I usually do, from all the writing that I do.
Anyway.
The more I think about it now, the more I wonder whether or not Grandmamma really is the one who tipped off Darla Prattellez.
Really.
I mean, when I got to my goddess lesson today, I was still crying, and Grandmamma was totally unsympathetic about it. She was all, And these tears are because and when I told her, she just raised her painted on eyebrows – she plucks hers all out and draws new ones on everyday, which kind of defeats the purpose, if you ask me, but whatever – and went, C'est la vie.
That's life? That's life?
Only in life, I don't think a lot of girls get their face plastered across the front page of the Prophet, unless they've won the Annual Grand Prize Galleon Draw, or escaped from Azkaban, or something. I didn't do anything except get born.
I don't think that's life at all. I think that sucks, is what I think.
The Grandmamma started talking about how she's been fielding floo calls and owls all day from representatives of the media, and how all these people want to interview me, and she said I ought to have a press conference and that she's already talked to the Ritz people about it, and they'd set aside this special room with a podium and a pitcher of iced pumpkin juice and some potted palms and stuff.
I couldn't believe it! I was like, Grandmamma! I don't want to hold a press conference! Circe! Like I really want everyone knowing my business!
And Grandmamma said, all prissy, Well, if you don't try to accommodate the media, they're just going to try and get the story any way they can, which means they'll keep showing up at your school.
Then Grandmamma wanted to know where my sense of heavenly duty was. She said it would greatly promote faith in and tourism to Mount Olympus if I would just be interviewed on WWN.
I really want to do what's best for Mount Olympus. I really do. But I also have to do what's best for Hermione Granger. And going on WWN would definitely not be good for me.
But Grandmamma seems really gung-ho about the whole promoting Mount Olympus thing. So I sort of started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, my Dad is right. Maybe Grandmamma did talk to Darla Prattellez.
But would Grandmamma do something like that?
Well. Yeah.

Thursday 25 October 2001, Before Transfiguration

Well, this morning my face was on the covers of the Hogsmeade Herald, the Diagon Ally Gazette, and a special issue of Magic Monthly. People keep staring at me. This is NOT good.

Here's what I need to do:
1. Think of some way to get Ginny to like me again.
2. Stop being such a wimp.
3. Stop lying
and/or
Think of better lies.
4. Stop being so dramatic.
5. Start being more
A. independent.
B. self-reliant
C. mature
6. Stop thinking about Draco Malfoy.
7. Stop thinking about Ronald Weasley.
8. Learn how to fly a broomstick.
9. Achieve self-actualization.

Thursday, HoM
So I was eating lunch, sitting at our lonely end of the Gryffindor table across from Lavender and Parvati and Nick, and Parvati was telling me how in India, where her parents come from, girls wear these things called saris that are like 6 feet long pieces of silk material that you wrap around yourself and have amazing patterns on them and stuff. Parvati says that her dress robes for Saturday night are made out of sari material and they are deep aquamarine blue with gold patterning. It sounds so nice.
I wish I could wear something that sounds that nice to the Ball. But I have no one to go with, so obviously I won't be going. What is wrong with me, anyway? How come no boys like me?
So anyway, Parvati was telling us about saris, when all of a sudden, Pansy Parkinson put her golden plate down next to mine.
I am not even kidding. Pansy Parkinson.
I of course thought she was going to whip out the receipt for the custard tarted sweater's dry cleaning or start shaking pepper all over our salads, or something, but instead she just went, all breezy, You guys don't mind if we join you, do you?
Then I saw this other golden plate sliding over on my other side. It was loaded with two double cheeseburgers, pasta with meatballs and cheese, and five chicken drumsticks. When I looked up to see who could possibly be ingesting more saturated fats than Ron, I saw Draco Malfoy pulling out the chair next to mine.
I am not even kidding. Draco Malfoy.
He went, to me and sat down and started eating.
I looked at Lavender and Parvati and Lavender and Parvati looked at me, and then all three of us looked at Nick. But he was busy chatting to Fred and George about silencing charms for explosions. Which sort of defeats Gred and Forge's life purpose of making as much noise as magically possible, but whatever.
Lavender and Parvati and I looked back at Pansy and Draco.
Really attractive people. Like Pansy and Draco, don't ever go anywhere alone. They always have this sort of entourage that follows them around. Pansy's entourage consists of a bunch of other Slytherin girls, most of whom are cheerleaders, like she is. With the exception of Millicent Bulstrode, they are all really pretty, with long hair and breasts and stuff.
Draco's entourage consists of a bunch of Slytherin boys who are on the Quidditch team with him, as well as Crabbe and Goyle. They were all large and (not counting Crabbe and Goyle) handsome, and they were all eating excessive amounts of animal by-products, just like Draco.
Draco's entourage put their golden plates down besides Draco's. Pansy's entourage put their golden plates down besides Pansy's. And soon, our end of the Gryffindor table, which had been previously occupied by three geeky girls and a bodyguard, was being graced by the most beautiful people in Hogwarts – maybe even the whole of the United Kingdom.
Now, we all know Professor Dumbledore as been encouraging inter-house fraternization all year to try and raise school spirit in these Dark and dreary times, but when a bunch of attractive Slytherins come and sit down next to a group of loserish Gryffindors, you really have to start wondering about The Way The World Is Today.
I got a good look at Ginny and her eyes were bugging out. So were Harry's and Ron's and the whole of Gryffindor house. Not to mention Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw and Slytherin. And the staff. It was SO WEIRD. I heard Professor Dumbledore chuckle into his goblet. Professor MgGonagall took her glasses off and started cleaning then with her robes then put them back on and looked at us again. Professor Snape's mouth was just hanging open and he didn't seem to be bothered to close it.
Pansy said, all chatty-like, not seeming to be bothered that the whole Great Hall were staring at her – she must have either been used to it or was enjoying it – while she picked at her salad – no dressing and only water on the side. What are you up to this weekend, Mione? Are you going to the Halloween Ball?
Mione? Mione? SINCE WHEN DOES PANSY PARKINSON CALL ME MIONE???
I said, brilliantly. Let me see
Because Draco's thinking about having this thing in our common room on Saturday night, after the Ball, and all. You should come.
I said. Well, I don't –
She should totally come, Pansy said, stabbing at a cherry tomato with her fork. Shouldn't she, Draco?
Draco was shovelling pasta into his mouth. he said, with his mouth full. She should come.
It's going to be so cool, Pansy said. What we're thinking of doing to our common room is like great. We might magick in a Jacuzzi. Weren't you thinking about a Jacuzzi, Draco?
Draco said, Yeah, we're –
Lachlan, a member of Draco's entourage, and a six foot two 6th Year Chaser, interrupted. Hey, Malfoy, remember after the last Ball? When Zabini passed out on the common room floor? That was rad.
Pansy giggled. Oh, Merlin! She chugged that whole bottle of Ambrosia Vodka. Remember, Draco? She drank practically the whole thing herself – what a hog! – and then she wouldn't stop throwing up.
Major vomitage, Lachlan agreed.
She had to have her stomach pumped, Pansy said to Lavender, Parvati and me. Madam Pomfrey said if Draco hadn't flooed her when he did, she'd have died.
We all turned to look at Draco. He said, modestly, It was way uncool.
Pansy stopped giggling. It was, she said, all solemn now that Draco Malfoy had declared the incident uncool.
I didn't know what was supposed to say about that, so I just said,
Pansy said. She ate a shred of lettuce and swished some water in her mouth. Are you coming, or not.
I'm sorry, I said. I can't.
A lot of Pansy's friends, who'd been talking amongst themselves stopped talking and looked at me. Draco's friends, however, went right on eating.
You can't? Pansy said, making this very astonished face.
I said. I can't.
What do you mean, you can't?
I thought about lying. I could have said something like, Pansy, I can't go because I have to have dinner with Shiva and his many wives. I could have said I can't go because I have to open a harvest festival in Cyprus. There were all sorts of excuses I could have made up. But for one, for once in my stupid life, I went I told the truth.
I can't go, I said, Because it's against school rules to have a party like that.
Oh, dear Merlin. Why did I say that? Why, why, why? I should have lied. I totally should have lied. Because how did I sounded, saying something like that? Uh, like a total freak. Worse than a freak. A dork. A Grade-A nerd.
I don't know what compelled me to tell the truth in the first place. It wasn't even the real truth. I mean, it was a truth, but it wasn't the real reason I was saying no. I mean, it's true there is no way I was going to let myself, as a Prefect, go down to a party in the Slytherin common room when we're all supposed to be in our dormitories. Even with a bodyguard. But the reason, of course, is that I wouldn't know how to act at a party like that. I mean, I've heard about these kinds of parties. There are like whole rooms reserved for people to go and make out. We're talking major French kissing. Maybe even MORE than French kissing. Maybe even like above-the-waist touching. Maybe even below-the-waist touching. I don't know for sure, because no one I know has ever been to one of those parties. No one I know is popular enough to get invited.
Plus everybody drinks. But I don't drink, and I don't have anybody to make out with. So what would I do there?
Pansy looked at me, and then she looked at her friends, and then she burst out laughing. Loud. I mean, REALLY loud.
Well, I guess I can't really blame her.
Oh, Queen Mab, Pansy said, when she had gotten over laughing so hard that she couldn't talk. You can't be serious.
I knew right then that Pansy had just latched upon a whole new thing to torture me about. I didn't really care so much about me, but I felt bad for Lavender and Parvati, who'd managed to keep such a low profile for so long. Suddenly, because of me they were being sucked into the middle of the popular girl torture zone.
Oh, my Circe, Pansy said. Are you kidding me?
I said.
Well you're not supposed to tell them the truth, Pansy said, all snotty again.
I didn't know what she as talking about.
The teachers. Nobody tells the teachers the truth. If you get caught sneaking out, tell them you had to get something to work on an assignment. Duh.
Oh.
She meant lie. To break the rules. Pansy obviously didn't know about Harry's invisibility cloak. Sneaking out wasn't the problem. Honestly, if half the school knew what Harry, Ron and I (mainly Harry and Ron) get up to, they'd be worshipping us. Speaking of worshipping oh, forget it.
Anyway, so I said, Look, it's not like I don't appreciate being asked and all, but I really don't think I can come. Besides, I don't even drink.
OK, that was another big mistake.
Pansy looked at me as if I'd never heard of Quidditch before, or something. She went, You don't drink?
I just looked at her. The truth is, when we're in France with Grandmamma, I do drink. We drink wine with dinner every night. That's just what you do in France. You don't drink it for fun though. You drink it because it makes the goat cheese taste better.
I certainly wouldn't chug a whole bottle of it, though. Not even not a dare. Not even for Draco Malfoy.
So I just shrugged and went, No. I try to be respectful of my body, and not put a whole lot of toxins into it.
Pansy snorted at that, but beside me, Draco Malfoy swallowed a mouthful of burger and said, I can respect that.
Pansy's mouth dropped open. So, I'm sorry to say, did mine. Draco Malfoy respected something I did? Are you kidding me?
But he looked perfectly serious. More than serious. He looked at me the way he had that day in Hogsmeade, like he could see into my soul with those crystal grey eyes of his Like he already had seen into my soul
I guess Pansy didn't notice her boyfriend looking into my soul, though. Because she said, Merlin, Draco. You drink more'n anybody else in this whole school.
Draco turned his head and looked at her with those hypnotic eyes. He said, without smiling, Well, maybe I should quit, then.
Pansy started laughing. She said, Oh, right! That'll happen!
Draco didn't laugh, though. He just went on looking at her.
That's when I started to get the heebie-jeebies. Draco just kept staring Pansy. I was glad he wasn't staring at me like that: those grey eyes are no joke.
I got up real fast, and grabbed my bag. Lavender and Parvati, seeing that I was doing, did the same.
I said.
Then we booked out of there.
As we got out into the Entrance Hall, Lavender was like, What was that all about? and I said I didn't know. But one thing for sure:
For once, I'm kind of glad I'm not Pansy Parkinson.
More Thursday, Charms

When I walked out of Arithmancy just now, Draco was in the corridor. He was sort of leaning on the wall next to this painting of a guy in a crown who was having an afternoon siesta, looking around – Draco was looking around, that is, not the bloke in the painting. When he saw me coming, he straightened up and went,
And then he smiled. A big smile, that showed all this white teeth. His perfectly straight white teeth. I had to look away, those teeth were so perfect and blindingly white.
I said, back. I was really embarrassed, and all, since I had sort of seen him fighting with Pansy at lunch. I figured he was probably waiting for her, and that the two of them would make up, and probably French kiss all over the place, so I tried to walk on by and get the heck out of there, so I wouldn't have to watch.
But Draco walked next to me as I was heading to the Charms corridor and started talking to me. He said, I really agree with you about what you said in the Great Hall at lunch. You know, about respecting your body, and everything. I think that really, you know, a cool attitude.
I could feel my head start spinning as I was walking along. Draco Malfoy was talking to me. Harry and Ron turned round a corner and saw the two of us walking together. Ron took one look at us, stopped dead in his tracks and dropped his books. I am not even kidding. He went really red and scrambled around to pick them up, then Harry, who was staring at me too, pulled Ron into Professor Flitwick's room, which is where we are now, where Ron is still shooting me this scary look.
Anyway, while Draco was talking to me, I could feel my face starting to burn. It was sort of like I was on fire. I concentrated hard on not dropping anything, or tripping over my feet. I kind of ducked my head so my hair covered the fact that I was blushing. I said, real intelligently.
said Draco. Are you going to the Halloween Ball with anyone?
I dropped The Standard Book of Spells for the Ordinary Wizarding Level. It went skittering across the corridor. I stooped down to pick it up.
I said, by way of answering his question.
I was down on my hands and my knees, picking up of bits of parchment that had slid out of TSBoSftOWL, when I saw these knees covered in grey flannel bend. Then Draco's face was right next to mine.
he said, and handed me my favourite quill, the lilac one that Ron gave me for my birthday last month. Ron said he thought it was funny since lilac is Gilderoy Lockhart's favourite colour. I actually think it's just a really nice quill.
I said, taking the quill. Then I made the mistake of looking into his crystal eyes.
I said, real faintly, because that's how his eyes made me feel: faint. I'm not going to the Halloween Ball with anyone.
Then the bell rang.
Draco said, Well, see you. And then he left.
I am still in shock.
Draco Malfoy spoke to me. He actually spoke to me. Twice.
For the first time in like a month, I don't care that I'm flunking flying. I don't care that my parents lied to me my whole entire life and that they went and moved to another country. I don't care that I'm the heir to the throne of the heavens of Mount Olympus. I don't even care that my best friend and I aren't speaking to each other.
I think Draco Malfoy might like me.

Homework.
Transfiguration: ??? Can't remember!!!
CoMG: ??? Ask Lavender
Potions: ???
Flying: none
HoM: ??? I don't know!!!
Arithmancy: ???
Charms: ???

Merlin, just because a boy might like me, I completely lose my head.

I disgust myself.

Continued in Part Nine...


A/N2: (You know, I almost enjoy doing these more than the story!!) I keep forgetting to mention this, but Nick is named after Nick in Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale (one of the most amazing books I have ever read), who was like the Commander's chauffeur and bodyguard stuff (although he was also more in that than Nick is in this). Darla Pratellez is named after Darla in The Bold and The Beautiful – she's just so amusing – and I just randomly made up her last name, basing it on Fernadez or whatever from TPD. Lachlan is based on Lachlan Murdoch – what a better namesake for a Slytherin than Rupert Murdoch's spawn, hey? ;o) Another thing, have you lot noticed how much I'm enjoying making all you R/Hr fundementalists squirm over Draco? ::Voldemort-ish laughter:: Those who've read TPD obviously know what's going to happen, but everyone else is just going to have to either trust me on this one and/or calm down and wait and/or run to the bookshop and buy The Princess Diaries so you don't have to wait for me to finish! ;o)

Hellos and Thank Yous – Astria, janeway216 (I totally agree with what you said about TPD, I gave up worring about the looks my brother kept shooting at me for laughing like a manic as I read them, and yeah, I'm doing the dinner thing, it'll just be at school), zenithlen, krissy, James Bow, bdwrm, Hermione13, icestar (the Halloween Ball will be like the Cultural Diversity Dance in the book), meeker, Medea Malfoy, oooo, Calder Lynch, CloudChick, Hermione(I don't know if this is the same one as before... hehe), Megan, Athena McGuire, herm, evvy, Rummi-chan, helen, Angelina and Carlin.

rio: well, actually, I didn't make Harry that bad, did I? I mean, I'm actually using Neville for a lot of the things Borris did in TPD, but I just wanted to make it H/G not N/G... I've tried to make Harry more quiet and polite than a moron... and if you've read TPD you'll know that everyone is redeemed and gets what they deserve in the end, good and bad (I won't say anymore or I'll give it away for those who haven't read the book!). I find it really hard to write about Harry, because he's such an important and complex character in the canon, so I usually have him as a supporting role in all my fics, and I've said this before, but I reckon Harry's got enough glory and doesn't really have to worry about being a bit of a twit in my little parody ;o)

Also, ::mwah:: to Lyta Padfoot, K i w i (that was such a nice comment... I will ignore it because it's not actually true!!! ::sheepish grin::), Jennier Lupin and Jen who were the first people to r/r this but I never thanked them! OMG! How did I do that??

And last but certainly not least, a huge THANK YOU, YOU ARE SO WONDERFUL to L.uMiNafyre who stuck up for me against this really ignorant flamer. I know I thanked you already, but what you did was so nice I just had to do it again. You totally made my day :o)

::hugs::