A/N: No, I haven't abondaned this fic, I am just updating challenged and
with the fact I got a parrot.well simple way to put I don't have much time
on my hands. Anyway, I've finally gotten this chapter out, and I love all
my reviewers!
YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST ^.^
Discalimer: *sigh* nope still aint mine, all that plotting and scheming with the dustmites hasn't paid off.
~*Chapter 4*~
Awkard Situations
Hermione sat holding the book her back leaned against the bookshelf. Her finger tentatively skimmed at the pages edge, who did this belong to? Was it wrong to read this so nonchalantly, it could have been a diary.oh well. Turning the page Hermione continued to read, apparently the story ended here, the rest of this page was like a journal. What was the point of that earlier tale? Returning her attention to the fragile pages the words flowed:
The blood surrounds me, it laps at my feet like a crimson tide. It fills the air as I write, weaving patterns like smoke and flowing like the fog. What have I participated it in? They deem it a cleansing, I call it a massacre. I could do nothing, I watched in helpless anguish as they fell, should I have said a word in disagreement I would have joined the fallen.
They're raucous laughter lifts to the rafters where I hid. I cannot celebrate such horrors and on the very same land where they murder. Remorse is unknown to them, pity a myth like Atlanta, guilt as forgotten as their mothers, but their false pride rides high. The name they have choosen for themselves curls around the essence for their being they truly are: I Mangiatori di Morte, the Death Eaters. I can sense their approach, probably my good 'friend' come to taunt about my weakness and drag me down to have my fills.
I have once again an opportunity to fill in the pages of this journal; within the cover of dark I let my thoughts flow forth. . .
Hermione snapped the book shut. The quiet rustle of robes could be heard behind her, probably another student searching for a book, but she wasn't gonna let anyone see this. Waiting for the intruder to make their way down the bookshelf Hermione sighed. Another headache was approaching fast, the massive weight on her temples confirmed it. Quickly rising to her feet she walked out of the library, book hidden under the crook of her arm. Sending a charming smile to the librarian she stepped out onto the granite corridors of Hogwarts; at least technically she did.
With an alarmed cry Hermione felt her feet give way from underneath her, black material entangled between them, this just wasn't her day . not even twenty minuets and again she'd managed to fall hard on backside again. Preparing to apologize, although it wasn't entirely her fault. After all it was that person's fault, they weren't moving, how was she supposed to know? Looking up from her elegantly sprawled position on the floor
Hermione bit her tongue, oh gods.not again!
There, in a heap of black robes lay a very displeased and startled Professor Snape. Truth be told he looked like a fish out of water, she suspected he hadn't laid on the floor for a number of years. Suppressing a smile that threatened to spill across her face and undoubtedly dig her grave deeper Hermione tried to apologize.
"Professor, I'm sorry. I wasn't."
If looks could kill Hermione was sure she'd be a pool of blue steaming goo. Why blue? She didn't know herself.
"I'm quite aware that you weren't watching where you were going, don't waste your breath. Another five points off for sheer stupidity, I hope it doesn't turn into a trend, Miss Granger."
Trying to untie the vise his robes had created Snape felt less than charitable at the Moment, that goddamned Granger girl! She was managing to rake on his nerves even out of class.
"Her and her bloody questions." He mumbled.
"Excuse me sir?" How did he think he was? Sure, he was her professor, yea he could take away all her house point, but to have the nerve to insult not only her intelligence but to call her stupid in her face! Hermione fixed a glare at her professor, that slimey git. Snape wasn't in the least perturbed by her gaze, "Miss Granger, please refrain from making any comments, mind your place." With that he rose leaving her on the floor, mouth agape and fuming. Pursing her lips Hermione collected what was left of her dignity and continued to the Gryffindor tower, cursing Snape to all seven hells.
That man was absolutely horrid! Her earlier thoughts about him brought a blush to her cheeks but she sent them away as she recalled his scathing words. She determinedly marched on swallowed by her thoughts and oblivious to all. The paintings on the wall that waved and chatted among themselves, the elaborate tapestries that adorned the cold stone walls, their threads weaving designs of the four houses and of journeys long past. Not even the twisted iron creations that held the torches in their thin grasp or the large windows which viewed out into the spanning vista below.
No Hermione was oblivious to all, churning her thoughts with such fierceness that any windmill operator would have been put to shame. The very thought of him daring to speak to her like that! She'd show him, if he thought her questions were stupid then she'd just give him a dose of how stupid they really could be! Tossing her hair over her shoulder Hermione turned towards the Portrait that led to Gryffindor tower.
It was of jolly woman that leaned towards the rounder side, her satin pink gown did nothing to flatter but surprisingly suited her character remarkably well.
"Good afternoon Miss, password?" The woman smiled at Hermione.
Smiling in return Hermione answered " Peaches and raspberry cream"
Swinging aside the 'Fat Lady' as the lady portrait had been so disrespectfully named Hermione wondered who had chosen this week's password? Shrugging the thought off for later questioning she entered the common room.
It was a lavishly decorated room, with gold and crimson dominating the color scheme. Three large windows were set against the wall framed with red curtains and golden tassels, six heavily cushioned armchairs arranged in a circle on the far left of the room invited anyone to join a conversation. They're lush cushions a tempting sight for any exhausted student. The stone floor was covered in a large carpet, the Gryffindor lion emblazoned on it with a stylized stroke. Turning towards the spiraling staircase that led to the girls dormitory Hermione waved to Neville who lay on the couch, partially hidden behind the huge backrest, he didn't seem to notice her, staring at some point above the mantle, its painstakingly polished surface glancing off the sunlight that streamed through the windows.
Continueing Hermione paused. Goodness, where was she going? Quickly climbing down the stairs and entering the door that had the words 'HEAD GIRL' she whispered her password.
"Serene madness" with a quiet click she swung the door open and sighed as she fell back onto her bed. The quilt nestled around her, the softness comforting and lulling. If she had to pick one thing she loved most about being head girl she definitely choose privacy. She didn't have to hear Lavender and Pavarti gossiping about the newest guys they laid or what was the fashion of the minute. No, here she had her silence, here she could relax and be herself without the worry of a judging eye; it was like the library with a bit more freedome.
Please review! I'm going to be updating much more often now, I have time!
Discalimer: *sigh* nope still aint mine, all that plotting and scheming with the dustmites hasn't paid off.
~*Chapter 4*~
Awkard Situations
Hermione sat holding the book her back leaned against the bookshelf. Her finger tentatively skimmed at the pages edge, who did this belong to? Was it wrong to read this so nonchalantly, it could have been a diary.oh well. Turning the page Hermione continued to read, apparently the story ended here, the rest of this page was like a journal. What was the point of that earlier tale? Returning her attention to the fragile pages the words flowed:
The blood surrounds me, it laps at my feet like a crimson tide. It fills the air as I write, weaving patterns like smoke and flowing like the fog. What have I participated it in? They deem it a cleansing, I call it a massacre. I could do nothing, I watched in helpless anguish as they fell, should I have said a word in disagreement I would have joined the fallen.
They're raucous laughter lifts to the rafters where I hid. I cannot celebrate such horrors and on the very same land where they murder. Remorse is unknown to them, pity a myth like Atlanta, guilt as forgotten as their mothers, but their false pride rides high. The name they have choosen for themselves curls around the essence for their being they truly are: I Mangiatori di Morte, the Death Eaters. I can sense their approach, probably my good 'friend' come to taunt about my weakness and drag me down to have my fills.
I have once again an opportunity to fill in the pages of this journal; within the cover of dark I let my thoughts flow forth. . .
Hermione snapped the book shut. The quiet rustle of robes could be heard behind her, probably another student searching for a book, but she wasn't gonna let anyone see this. Waiting for the intruder to make their way down the bookshelf Hermione sighed. Another headache was approaching fast, the massive weight on her temples confirmed it. Quickly rising to her feet she walked out of the library, book hidden under the crook of her arm. Sending a charming smile to the librarian she stepped out onto the granite corridors of Hogwarts; at least technically she did.
With an alarmed cry Hermione felt her feet give way from underneath her, black material entangled between them, this just wasn't her day . not even twenty minuets and again she'd managed to fall hard on backside again. Preparing to apologize, although it wasn't entirely her fault. After all it was that person's fault, they weren't moving, how was she supposed to know? Looking up from her elegantly sprawled position on the floor
Hermione bit her tongue, oh gods.not again!
There, in a heap of black robes lay a very displeased and startled Professor Snape. Truth be told he looked like a fish out of water, she suspected he hadn't laid on the floor for a number of years. Suppressing a smile that threatened to spill across her face and undoubtedly dig her grave deeper Hermione tried to apologize.
"Professor, I'm sorry. I wasn't."
If looks could kill Hermione was sure she'd be a pool of blue steaming goo. Why blue? She didn't know herself.
"I'm quite aware that you weren't watching where you were going, don't waste your breath. Another five points off for sheer stupidity, I hope it doesn't turn into a trend, Miss Granger."
Trying to untie the vise his robes had created Snape felt less than charitable at the Moment, that goddamned Granger girl! She was managing to rake on his nerves even out of class.
"Her and her bloody questions." He mumbled.
"Excuse me sir?" How did he think he was? Sure, he was her professor, yea he could take away all her house point, but to have the nerve to insult not only her intelligence but to call her stupid in her face! Hermione fixed a glare at her professor, that slimey git. Snape wasn't in the least perturbed by her gaze, "Miss Granger, please refrain from making any comments, mind your place." With that he rose leaving her on the floor, mouth agape and fuming. Pursing her lips Hermione collected what was left of her dignity and continued to the Gryffindor tower, cursing Snape to all seven hells.
That man was absolutely horrid! Her earlier thoughts about him brought a blush to her cheeks but she sent them away as she recalled his scathing words. She determinedly marched on swallowed by her thoughts and oblivious to all. The paintings on the wall that waved and chatted among themselves, the elaborate tapestries that adorned the cold stone walls, their threads weaving designs of the four houses and of journeys long past. Not even the twisted iron creations that held the torches in their thin grasp or the large windows which viewed out into the spanning vista below.
No Hermione was oblivious to all, churning her thoughts with such fierceness that any windmill operator would have been put to shame. The very thought of him daring to speak to her like that! She'd show him, if he thought her questions were stupid then she'd just give him a dose of how stupid they really could be! Tossing her hair over her shoulder Hermione turned towards the Portrait that led to Gryffindor tower.
It was of jolly woman that leaned towards the rounder side, her satin pink gown did nothing to flatter but surprisingly suited her character remarkably well.
"Good afternoon Miss, password?" The woman smiled at Hermione.
Smiling in return Hermione answered " Peaches and raspberry cream"
Swinging aside the 'Fat Lady' as the lady portrait had been so disrespectfully named Hermione wondered who had chosen this week's password? Shrugging the thought off for later questioning she entered the common room.
It was a lavishly decorated room, with gold and crimson dominating the color scheme. Three large windows were set against the wall framed with red curtains and golden tassels, six heavily cushioned armchairs arranged in a circle on the far left of the room invited anyone to join a conversation. They're lush cushions a tempting sight for any exhausted student. The stone floor was covered in a large carpet, the Gryffindor lion emblazoned on it with a stylized stroke. Turning towards the spiraling staircase that led to the girls dormitory Hermione waved to Neville who lay on the couch, partially hidden behind the huge backrest, he didn't seem to notice her, staring at some point above the mantle, its painstakingly polished surface glancing off the sunlight that streamed through the windows.
Continueing Hermione paused. Goodness, where was she going? Quickly climbing down the stairs and entering the door that had the words 'HEAD GIRL' she whispered her password.
"Serene madness" with a quiet click she swung the door open and sighed as she fell back onto her bed. The quilt nestled around her, the softness comforting and lulling. If she had to pick one thing she loved most about being head girl she definitely choose privacy. She didn't have to hear Lavender and Pavarti gossiping about the newest guys they laid or what was the fashion of the minute. No, here she had her silence, here she could relax and be herself without the worry of a judging eye; it was like the library with a bit more freedome.
Please review! I'm going to be updating much more often now, I have time!
