Disclaimer: I do not own anything of this trash, I just distort their personalities and waive their character to my liking. What . . . . what.
APOLOGY: I'm sorry, but I've made one of the characters in this story American. I apologize profusely, but you know the saying, "Write like you know" and I know America, not Ireland, Afghanistan, or England. Geez, I don't even know Mexico or Canada! So, I repeat that I am sorry for making my personal character American, and I express the fact that I do NOT want an American in the true HP series, because as many Brits have argued it (and I agree) it would probably ruin the story.
I'd love to say that JKR is a goddess, but frankly, she's not. But we can hope, right?
PostScript: I couldn't think of a title, so bear with me! It's a horrible title.
Ecstatically, the fifth-year students danced to their hearts' content while those who were not dancing sauntered around tables and chatted with their close friends. Many bold girls made relations with other boys whom they had never met before, but Harry Potter and his two best friends sat at their own little circular table, enjoying the lively music and leisurely drinking fruity punch.
Hermione Granger, a brown-eyed girl with the weirdest, most feathery hair ever known to man, was scanning the dancing mass of teenagers when she saw a girl she had never seen before, dancing with a boy who seemed to not believe his luck. Curiosity killed the cat, and Hermione Granger was no different. Leaning inquisitively out of her white chair, the pale Brit stretched until she was able to see the girl's face. She held the position for several moments, seeing the contours of the strange girl's face, wishing she knew more about her, but knowing she had not the courage to approach the strange one. Sighing invertedly, Hermione was never know for her impeccable balance, and what was expected happened, however no one noticed other than Harry and Ron, who kindly assisted her from the cold stone floor.
"Are you all right, Hermione?" asked Harry, slightly cocking his head to one side. "What were you leaning out of your chair for?"
"Who cares?" laughed Ron. "That was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life! Did you see her, sprawled on the floor like a lost duck? It was HILARIOUS." Hermione shot Ron the most venomous, malevolent glances that one would have thought possible from a bookworm. Severely, she spoke with a great air about her to regain some of her pride.
"There's a new girl over there. At least I think she's new because I've never seen her before. I wonder what house she's in." Without paying any attention to the boys' searching and confused faces, Hermione furtively pointed out the girl who was now immersed in an intense conversation with Professor Dumbledore.
_____________________
"Good evening, Albus," crooned the girl, whose eyebrows made her look angry all the time, until she smiled. A row of white teeth almost glowed beneath her pale pink lips. Her cheeks rounded near her eyes as the skin was pushed up in a warming smile. Her hair was brown, but streaked with amber and gold. Light blue robes hung lusciously from her surprisingly strong shoulder.
"You had better start calling me Professor Dumbledore, Desiree, if you wish to maintain your cover."
"Never, Albus. I am by at least 320 years your elder. Would you like to begin calling me ma'am?" The two laughed and fell into a friendly conversation. Desiree, the girl, looked so much younger than 415, but she was. She had been frozen in the age of 15 for reasons only she can explain and others like her. That, however, is another conversation.
"Are you planning on attending classes until Christmas?" asked the Headmaster, his British accent blending with his hippy half-moon glasses.
"Why should I? I am much more powerful than everyone one at this school combined. I would find myself teaching the teachers and blasting students left and right, Albus. However, it would also be quite confusing once Christmas arrived and I immediately became someone, or rather, something different. Don't you agree, Albus?" Her strong American accent blended well with her style and look, with the new millenium sheer design.
"I understand completely. However, there is the question of your eating and sleeping arrangements."
"I have my bottle, and the house-elves suit me fine for company. I shall eat in the kitchen. Never-the-less, this is a ball, Albus. At which you dance. Would you mind?"
"As much as I appreciate the offer, Desiree, I am afraid that I shall decline. It would look much too awkward to the students. Enjoy yourself, m'dear."
"I will see you in a few hours, my friend." Militarily, she executed an about-face and walked to a circular table to sit for a moment. Immediately, several boys, attracted by her appearance, fought over a chair next to her. Revolted, she stood again and silkily walked away.
_______________________
"Look," whispered Harry to Ron and Hermione. "She's coming this way. Ha, I feel so bad for her, look at all those losers following her around." Still a few tables away, Draco Malfoy joined the growing crowd of suitors behind Desiree. While passing the table occupied by the three friends, she made eye contact with Harry and smiled beautifully, her brown eyes flashing with some strange inert fire.
After turning down quite a few offers, and having glanced several times at Harry, only to find him staring back, Desiree finally succumbed and agreed to dance with one of the persistant boys. It was a fast dance, and she pushed him two feet from her and she danced in front of him, while he simply stared. Harry watched as if in a trance. Her hips swayed to the beat and her dancing was sensuous. He, however, was not the only one to notice.
"I'll be right back . . . ." Ron trailed off as he stood up, mesmerized by her body. Cautiously, he approached her on the dance floor, stepping in front of the other boy. "Will you dance with me?" he asked almost shyly. His eyebrows raised and his ears turned a slight pink. Smiling frustratedly, she gingerly pulled him further into the mass of dancers.
The song ended with a large bash and a slow song began its progress through the Great Hall, slowly picking up intimate dancers, embracing each other as if it was their last day to live. Harry and Hermione continued to watch the girl and Ron as they danced. Hermione was quite indignant, as she *was* Ron's girlfriend. Ron, however, was not quite thinking of Hermione at the moment, as his cupped hands slipped further down her back to hold her *ahem*. This did not fly well with the girl however. She shoved him away and he apologized profusely. Never-the-less, she went to go sit back down, refusing all who asked her to dance.
"Slick move there, Ron," Harry laughed as Ron dejectedly rejoined them. Hermione was in a huff and she for a moment she looked quite hurt. Noticing her, Ron smiled apologetically, explaining something had taken over in him, and asked her if she would dance. Hermione, unlike the mysterious girl, did not mind when Ron held her *ahem*. Harry, repulsed by the sight of his two best friends, went over to apologize to the girl.
___________________________
When he sat down, she looked up at him and shot daggers with her eyes. Daring him to ask her to dance so she could tell him off. Then, she realized he was the guy she had been checking out. Also, she realized he was the one who had been checking her out.
"I'm sorry about my friend. Ron is my a bit over eager sometimes. You can't blame the guy, though . . . ." Harry trailed off before he could thoroughly embarrass himself in front of the girl. She raised her eyebrows curiously amused. "Uh, I'm Harry Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you." She nodded in acknowledgement, she knew he expected her name too. But coyly, she with-held her next statement as long as possible. They simply stared into each other's eyes for a few moments.
"My name is Desiree." She said this without losing the intensity of their eye contact, but this statement caused Harry's mouth to open slightly.
"You're American?"
"That's a question?"
"Yes."
"Can you answer that question yourself?"
"Yes."
"Then do it."
Harry was at a loss for what to say, but she broke the silence and they engaged in conversation for a long time, while Ron and Hermione continued to dance throughout at least ten more songs. Finally, Harry summoned up courage.
"Would you like to dance with me?" Desiree smiled bashfully and opened her mouth to give him his answer when a magically enhanced voice boomed over the crowd that the dance was over. Harry's two best friends hurried past them, smiling exhaustedly as they rushed to privacy. Speechless, Harry watched Desiree blink despondently and turn to go to her sleeping arrangements. "Wait, Deisree." She turned, to stare inquisitvely. "What house are you in? Will I see you soon?"
"None. And no." With that distinct answer, Desiree turned and left to seek Dumbledore about where she would stay for the next four months. . . .
APOLOGY: I'm sorry, but I've made one of the characters in this story American. I apologize profusely, but you know the saying, "Write like you know" and I know America, not Ireland, Afghanistan, or England. Geez, I don't even know Mexico or Canada! So, I repeat that I am sorry for making my personal character American, and I express the fact that I do NOT want an American in the true HP series, because as many Brits have argued it (and I agree) it would probably ruin the story.
I'd love to say that JKR is a goddess, but frankly, she's not. But we can hope, right?
PostScript: I couldn't think of a title, so bear with me! It's a horrible title.
Ecstatically, the fifth-year students danced to their hearts' content while those who were not dancing sauntered around tables and chatted with their close friends. Many bold girls made relations with other boys whom they had never met before, but Harry Potter and his two best friends sat at their own little circular table, enjoying the lively music and leisurely drinking fruity punch.
Hermione Granger, a brown-eyed girl with the weirdest, most feathery hair ever known to man, was scanning the dancing mass of teenagers when she saw a girl she had never seen before, dancing with a boy who seemed to not believe his luck. Curiosity killed the cat, and Hermione Granger was no different. Leaning inquisitively out of her white chair, the pale Brit stretched until she was able to see the girl's face. She held the position for several moments, seeing the contours of the strange girl's face, wishing she knew more about her, but knowing she had not the courage to approach the strange one. Sighing invertedly, Hermione was never know for her impeccable balance, and what was expected happened, however no one noticed other than Harry and Ron, who kindly assisted her from the cold stone floor.
"Are you all right, Hermione?" asked Harry, slightly cocking his head to one side. "What were you leaning out of your chair for?"
"Who cares?" laughed Ron. "That was the funniest thing I've ever seen in my life! Did you see her, sprawled on the floor like a lost duck? It was HILARIOUS." Hermione shot Ron the most venomous, malevolent glances that one would have thought possible from a bookworm. Severely, she spoke with a great air about her to regain some of her pride.
"There's a new girl over there. At least I think she's new because I've never seen her before. I wonder what house she's in." Without paying any attention to the boys' searching and confused faces, Hermione furtively pointed out the girl who was now immersed in an intense conversation with Professor Dumbledore.
_____________________
"Good evening, Albus," crooned the girl, whose eyebrows made her look angry all the time, until she smiled. A row of white teeth almost glowed beneath her pale pink lips. Her cheeks rounded near her eyes as the skin was pushed up in a warming smile. Her hair was brown, but streaked with amber and gold. Light blue robes hung lusciously from her surprisingly strong shoulder.
"You had better start calling me Professor Dumbledore, Desiree, if you wish to maintain your cover."
"Never, Albus. I am by at least 320 years your elder. Would you like to begin calling me ma'am?" The two laughed and fell into a friendly conversation. Desiree, the girl, looked so much younger than 415, but she was. She had been frozen in the age of 15 for reasons only she can explain and others like her. That, however, is another conversation.
"Are you planning on attending classes until Christmas?" asked the Headmaster, his British accent blending with his hippy half-moon glasses.
"Why should I? I am much more powerful than everyone one at this school combined. I would find myself teaching the teachers and blasting students left and right, Albus. However, it would also be quite confusing once Christmas arrived and I immediately became someone, or rather, something different. Don't you agree, Albus?" Her strong American accent blended well with her style and look, with the new millenium sheer design.
"I understand completely. However, there is the question of your eating and sleeping arrangements."
"I have my bottle, and the house-elves suit me fine for company. I shall eat in the kitchen. Never-the-less, this is a ball, Albus. At which you dance. Would you mind?"
"As much as I appreciate the offer, Desiree, I am afraid that I shall decline. It would look much too awkward to the students. Enjoy yourself, m'dear."
"I will see you in a few hours, my friend." Militarily, she executed an about-face and walked to a circular table to sit for a moment. Immediately, several boys, attracted by her appearance, fought over a chair next to her. Revolted, she stood again and silkily walked away.
_______________________
"Look," whispered Harry to Ron and Hermione. "She's coming this way. Ha, I feel so bad for her, look at all those losers following her around." Still a few tables away, Draco Malfoy joined the growing crowd of suitors behind Desiree. While passing the table occupied by the three friends, she made eye contact with Harry and smiled beautifully, her brown eyes flashing with some strange inert fire.
After turning down quite a few offers, and having glanced several times at Harry, only to find him staring back, Desiree finally succumbed and agreed to dance with one of the persistant boys. It was a fast dance, and she pushed him two feet from her and she danced in front of him, while he simply stared. Harry watched as if in a trance. Her hips swayed to the beat and her dancing was sensuous. He, however, was not the only one to notice.
"I'll be right back . . . ." Ron trailed off as he stood up, mesmerized by her body. Cautiously, he approached her on the dance floor, stepping in front of the other boy. "Will you dance with me?" he asked almost shyly. His eyebrows raised and his ears turned a slight pink. Smiling frustratedly, she gingerly pulled him further into the mass of dancers.
The song ended with a large bash and a slow song began its progress through the Great Hall, slowly picking up intimate dancers, embracing each other as if it was their last day to live. Harry and Hermione continued to watch the girl and Ron as they danced. Hermione was quite indignant, as she *was* Ron's girlfriend. Ron, however, was not quite thinking of Hermione at the moment, as his cupped hands slipped further down her back to hold her *ahem*. This did not fly well with the girl however. She shoved him away and he apologized profusely. Never-the-less, she went to go sit back down, refusing all who asked her to dance.
"Slick move there, Ron," Harry laughed as Ron dejectedly rejoined them. Hermione was in a huff and she for a moment she looked quite hurt. Noticing her, Ron smiled apologetically, explaining something had taken over in him, and asked her if she would dance. Hermione, unlike the mysterious girl, did not mind when Ron held her *ahem*. Harry, repulsed by the sight of his two best friends, went over to apologize to the girl.
___________________________
When he sat down, she looked up at him and shot daggers with her eyes. Daring him to ask her to dance so she could tell him off. Then, she realized he was the guy she had been checking out. Also, she realized he was the one who had been checking her out.
"I'm sorry about my friend. Ron is my a bit over eager sometimes. You can't blame the guy, though . . . ." Harry trailed off before he could thoroughly embarrass himself in front of the girl. She raised her eyebrows curiously amused. "Uh, I'm Harry Potter, it's a pleasure to meet you." She nodded in acknowledgement, she knew he expected her name too. But coyly, she with-held her next statement as long as possible. They simply stared into each other's eyes for a few moments.
"My name is Desiree." She said this without losing the intensity of their eye contact, but this statement caused Harry's mouth to open slightly.
"You're American?"
"That's a question?"
"Yes."
"Can you answer that question yourself?"
"Yes."
"Then do it."
Harry was at a loss for what to say, but she broke the silence and they engaged in conversation for a long time, while Ron and Hermione continued to dance throughout at least ten more songs. Finally, Harry summoned up courage.
"Would you like to dance with me?" Desiree smiled bashfully and opened her mouth to give him his answer when a magically enhanced voice boomed over the crowd that the dance was over. Harry's two best friends hurried past them, smiling exhaustedly as they rushed to privacy. Speechless, Harry watched Desiree blink despondently and turn to go to her sleeping arrangements. "Wait, Deisree." She turned, to stare inquisitvely. "What house are you in? Will I see you soon?"
"None. And no." With that distinct answer, Desiree turned and left to seek Dumbledore about where she would stay for the next four months. . . .