Starting today, I'm going to be uploading two chapters on Mondays,
Thursdays, and Fridays. Why so often? Because I have the rest of the
story finished and typed up onto the computer, and those are the days I'm
online. Why not all at once? Because it's a total of 31 chapters (though
that's not talking much; very few chapters are more than a page long) and I
know that could take some time to read or discourage other people. Sides,
I like making people wait just as much as I hate waiting.
Wait... did that last line make any sense?
The Mirror of Erised Chapter Eight By Jewel Little Bird
Fleur happily munched on the corton and crackers the house-elves had given her. She was sitting in front of a fireplace where she would not be in the way of the little creatures. She looked around the kitchen in interest, noting that it looked just like the Great Hall directly above it. Her eyes lingered on a house-elf dressed in mismatched socks and a tea cozy for a moment before she turned her attention back to her snack.
During her last class today, she had decided that she was sick of the inferior food that had been served lately, and decided to find the kitchens and make a few requests. Luckily for her, the class had Harry and his two friends (she'd learned their names were Hermione and Ron) sitting right it front.
Earlier That Day:
After the class she beckoned Harry, Ron, and Hermione forward. Ron seemd to be one of those few who were completely vulnerable to a veela, temper or no temper; Hermione had to reach over and close his mouth.
"'Arry, Ron, 'Ermione, I was wondering eef you knew someone 'oo could direct me to ze kichens? I would like to ask ze house-elves somezing."
"Yeah, sure, we know," Ron said quickly, looking pathetically eager. Fleur mentally checked if her veela power was on. It wasn't. "The entrance is in the hall with painting of food. There's one with a picture of a fruit bowl; you tickle the pear and it turned into a door handle. The painting opens right up to the kitchens."
Super-vulnerable, more like.
Hermione snorted. She seemed to like Fleur a little better after her "cross me and die" speech, but only a little. "Don't care much for the food?"
Fleur smirked at her. "I'm French. I'm used to foods zat are spiced, sautéed, and marinated in delicate wines. Ze simple fair 'ere is not appealing to me."
Present Time:
So, here she was, sitting in the kitchen and rather enjoying herself. The house-elves had happily said they'd send her requested courses to her seat at the high table and that she could come down any time for a snack.
She planned on doing so quite often.
@
End of Chapter Eight
Wait... did that last line make any sense?
The Mirror of Erised Chapter Eight By Jewel Little Bird
Fleur happily munched on the corton and crackers the house-elves had given her. She was sitting in front of a fireplace where she would not be in the way of the little creatures. She looked around the kitchen in interest, noting that it looked just like the Great Hall directly above it. Her eyes lingered on a house-elf dressed in mismatched socks and a tea cozy for a moment before she turned her attention back to her snack.
During her last class today, she had decided that she was sick of the inferior food that had been served lately, and decided to find the kitchens and make a few requests. Luckily for her, the class had Harry and his two friends (she'd learned their names were Hermione and Ron) sitting right it front.
Earlier That Day:
After the class she beckoned Harry, Ron, and Hermione forward. Ron seemd to be one of those few who were completely vulnerable to a veela, temper or no temper; Hermione had to reach over and close his mouth.
"'Arry, Ron, 'Ermione, I was wondering eef you knew someone 'oo could direct me to ze kichens? I would like to ask ze house-elves somezing."
"Yeah, sure, we know," Ron said quickly, looking pathetically eager. Fleur mentally checked if her veela power was on. It wasn't. "The entrance is in the hall with painting of food. There's one with a picture of a fruit bowl; you tickle the pear and it turned into a door handle. The painting opens right up to the kitchens."
Super-vulnerable, more like.
Hermione snorted. She seemed to like Fleur a little better after her "cross me and die" speech, but only a little. "Don't care much for the food?"
Fleur smirked at her. "I'm French. I'm used to foods zat are spiced, sautéed, and marinated in delicate wines. Ze simple fair 'ere is not appealing to me."
Present Time:
So, here she was, sitting in the kitchen and rather enjoying herself. The house-elves had happily said they'd send her requested courses to her seat at the high table and that she could come down any time for a snack.
She planned on doing so quite often.
@
End of Chapter Eight