Author's Note: "The next chapter shouldn't be very long, so I should have
it up soon." Talk about famous last words! I get down on my hands and knees
and apologise a thousand times over for the delay in getting this up.
I'm also considering changing this from a "PG-13" to a "R" rating to allow, shall we say, a little inter-novel "bonding." If you have any thoughts, positive or negative, on this, or if you are under seventeen and would just die if I changed the ratings, please let me know.
I'm feeling a teensy bit insecure as I write this because an Arthur/Molly fic I've been slaving over did not get the response I was expecting and while I don't die without reviews, if something I've written only gets one I do sort of wonder if something went wrong. I'm sure all you writers out there can relate. In my case I'm putting it down to pre-exams nerves :)
Whoa, if you ever want to find out the amount of Legolas fans out there, sort him into Slytherin! Just kidding, you guys know I love you.
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Chapter Six: But I'm a Pisces..
"GRYFFINDOR!" the sorting hat boomed.
"NOOO!" Hermione shrieked.
Only Harry and Ron noticed her cry of dismay, as the rest of the house was applauding loud enough to bring down the bewitched stars in the ceiling. Boromir bounded over to the table, his eyes lighting when he saw the now- hyperventilating Hermione there. Squashing the hapless Colin Creevey, he plopped down next to her and breathed, "Hello, gorgeous."
Harry wisely removed the knife from her clenched fist.
"Hermione," Ron whispered, "you okay?"
"I, er, think I'm going to go to the bathroom for a while - for, like, well, the rest of the evening, or week, or school year," she mumbled, leaping to her feet and rushing towards the doorway. In the process she collided with Draco Malfoy.
The room had gone quiet, awaiting the verdict of a rangy blond who had been summoned as "Eomer of Rohan." If he had realised who had bumped into him, he probably would have let her fall, if not hexed her to oblivion. However, instinctively Draco had grabbed Hermione's arms, steadying her against himself.
Hermione was not the smartest girl in the school for nothing. Leaning into him, she licked her lower lip suggestively, than said in a voice loud enough for the entire Gryffindor table to hear, "So, Draco, your room or mine?"
Harry's goblet clattered to the floor.
"I, er, bu-but I'm a Pisces!" Draco blurted out.
"Really?" Hermione purred, toying with his shirt collar. "Well, I'm a Sagittarius. We're perfectly compatible."
"Doesn't she know that fire and water signs cancel each other out?" Lavender, aghast, whispered to an ashen-faced Parvati. "No wonder she dropped out of Transfiguration."
"That's where you must get your sensitivity from," Hermione continued. Her hand had now moved up to Draco's hair.
"Sensitivity?" Ron snorted. "What sensitivity?"
"Well, I'd just like you to know, Draco," Hermione breathed, shooting a look out of the corner of her eye to make sure that Boromir was watching, "that I can be very, very sensitive too." She cupped the back of Draco's necked then pulled him in for a mouth clench that would have rivalled a suction cup.
Harry and Ron gasped with horror. Seamus Finnegan guffawed. Dean Thomas had pulled out a stopwatch and was beginning to time Draco and Hermione. Neville Longbottom looked like he was about to cry.
"SLYTHERIN!" the sorting hat yelled.
Hermione finally released Draco, the latter blushing furiously and seemingly unable to move. Steam was coming out of his ears, and Professor McGonagall's too. Taking his shoulders, Hermione turned him around and gave him a gentle push in the direction of the Slytherin table.
Pansy Parkinson shot him a black glare as he sat down. Seeing her chance, Millicent Bulstrode chose a more soothing tactic. "Oh, poor baby," she crooned. "Imagine being kissed by a mudblood. You'll have to wash your mouth out for a week now."
Draco, however, did not seem to mind Hermione's particular form of impurity.
"Eowyn Shieldmaiden," McGonagall called out, her voice shaking with barely- suppressed anger at Hermione's display of adolescent hormones. The petite blonde walked up to the front of the room, her lips clenched as she took her position on the stool.
Harry could see Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table leering at her. Draco was still in shock from Hermione's attempt to resuscitate her changes of escaping unscathed from a year in Gryffindor with Boromir. The elf was searching his hair for split ends. *Please don't let her go to Slytherin*, he thought desperately. *Please, please don't let her become one of them*.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat cried out.
Harry applauded along with the house in yellow and black. Eowyn sat down near the end of the table, declining Ernie MacMillan's offer to sit next to him with a crisp shake of her head.
With Eowyn being the last student sorted into a house, the festivities continued in full swing. Lavender and Parvati were comparing tan lines. Seamus and Dean were watching Lavender and Parvati. Legolas was still looking for split ends.
Hermione, meanwhile, was hitting on everything that moved and was wearing pants. "So, Ron," she breathed huskily. "Come here often?"
"Er, this is my house," he replied falteringly.
Refusing to give up, Hermione squared herself up against Dean. "I hear that artists have "wonderful" hands," she sighed, gazing adoringly into his eyes. "I like to see yours go to work sometime."
"Yes, I apply cocoa butter to them three times daily," Dean squealed, holding up a well-manicured hand. Seamus and Ron started to snigger.
Throughout the meal Harry noticed the little blond Hobbit from Hufflepuff kept on popping over to the Gryffindor table, asking "Do you have enough pumpkin juice?" "Would you like some of ours?" "How are you with mashed potatoes?" all the while shooting wistful looks at Frodo Baggins.
When he came over to make sure that the Gryffindor table had, well, a table, Hermione, having hit on all the males in sight, pounced on him. "Hey, sugar," she crooned, "how about you and I make good time and do the bad thing after dinner? I hear being waist high has distinct advantages."
"I am a man of the cloth," the hobbit replied stiffly and walked off.
"Jeez, baby," burped Boromir, "if ya wanted a threesome, ya shoulda just told me."
Hermione's Boromir avoidance tactic was clearly not going as planned.
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A/N: I usually respond to people's reviews at the end of this, but right now I'm just too darn tired. They will be covered in the next chapter, which will have more on the LOTR characters perspectives and reactions to Hogwarts. Hm, how about some nice sibling friction between Eomer and Eowyn and the brothers of Gondor, and exactly what is going on between Frodo and Sam?
Thanks for reading and many props to you all!
I'm also considering changing this from a "PG-13" to a "R" rating to allow, shall we say, a little inter-novel "bonding." If you have any thoughts, positive or negative, on this, or if you are under seventeen and would just die if I changed the ratings, please let me know.
I'm feeling a teensy bit insecure as I write this because an Arthur/Molly fic I've been slaving over did not get the response I was expecting and while I don't die without reviews, if something I've written only gets one I do sort of wonder if something went wrong. I'm sure all you writers out there can relate. In my case I'm putting it down to pre-exams nerves :)
Whoa, if you ever want to find out the amount of Legolas fans out there, sort him into Slytherin! Just kidding, you guys know I love you.
# # # # # # # # #
Chapter Six: But I'm a Pisces..
"GRYFFINDOR!" the sorting hat boomed.
"NOOO!" Hermione shrieked.
Only Harry and Ron noticed her cry of dismay, as the rest of the house was applauding loud enough to bring down the bewitched stars in the ceiling. Boromir bounded over to the table, his eyes lighting when he saw the now- hyperventilating Hermione there. Squashing the hapless Colin Creevey, he plopped down next to her and breathed, "Hello, gorgeous."
Harry wisely removed the knife from her clenched fist.
"Hermione," Ron whispered, "you okay?"
"I, er, think I'm going to go to the bathroom for a while - for, like, well, the rest of the evening, or week, or school year," she mumbled, leaping to her feet and rushing towards the doorway. In the process she collided with Draco Malfoy.
The room had gone quiet, awaiting the verdict of a rangy blond who had been summoned as "Eomer of Rohan." If he had realised who had bumped into him, he probably would have let her fall, if not hexed her to oblivion. However, instinctively Draco had grabbed Hermione's arms, steadying her against himself.
Hermione was not the smartest girl in the school for nothing. Leaning into him, she licked her lower lip suggestively, than said in a voice loud enough for the entire Gryffindor table to hear, "So, Draco, your room or mine?"
Harry's goblet clattered to the floor.
"I, er, bu-but I'm a Pisces!" Draco blurted out.
"Really?" Hermione purred, toying with his shirt collar. "Well, I'm a Sagittarius. We're perfectly compatible."
"Doesn't she know that fire and water signs cancel each other out?" Lavender, aghast, whispered to an ashen-faced Parvati. "No wonder she dropped out of Transfiguration."
"That's where you must get your sensitivity from," Hermione continued. Her hand had now moved up to Draco's hair.
"Sensitivity?" Ron snorted. "What sensitivity?"
"Well, I'd just like you to know, Draco," Hermione breathed, shooting a look out of the corner of her eye to make sure that Boromir was watching, "that I can be very, very sensitive too." She cupped the back of Draco's necked then pulled him in for a mouth clench that would have rivalled a suction cup.
Harry and Ron gasped with horror. Seamus Finnegan guffawed. Dean Thomas had pulled out a stopwatch and was beginning to time Draco and Hermione. Neville Longbottom looked like he was about to cry.
"SLYTHERIN!" the sorting hat yelled.
Hermione finally released Draco, the latter blushing furiously and seemingly unable to move. Steam was coming out of his ears, and Professor McGonagall's too. Taking his shoulders, Hermione turned him around and gave him a gentle push in the direction of the Slytherin table.
Pansy Parkinson shot him a black glare as he sat down. Seeing her chance, Millicent Bulstrode chose a more soothing tactic. "Oh, poor baby," she crooned. "Imagine being kissed by a mudblood. You'll have to wash your mouth out for a week now."
Draco, however, did not seem to mind Hermione's particular form of impurity.
"Eowyn Shieldmaiden," McGonagall called out, her voice shaking with barely- suppressed anger at Hermione's display of adolescent hormones. The petite blonde walked up to the front of the room, her lips clenched as she took her position on the stool.
Harry could see Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table leering at her. Draco was still in shock from Hermione's attempt to resuscitate her changes of escaping unscathed from a year in Gryffindor with Boromir. The elf was searching his hair for split ends. *Please don't let her go to Slytherin*, he thought desperately. *Please, please don't let her become one of them*.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat cried out.
Harry applauded along with the house in yellow and black. Eowyn sat down near the end of the table, declining Ernie MacMillan's offer to sit next to him with a crisp shake of her head.
With Eowyn being the last student sorted into a house, the festivities continued in full swing. Lavender and Parvati were comparing tan lines. Seamus and Dean were watching Lavender and Parvati. Legolas was still looking for split ends.
Hermione, meanwhile, was hitting on everything that moved and was wearing pants. "So, Ron," she breathed huskily. "Come here often?"
"Er, this is my house," he replied falteringly.
Refusing to give up, Hermione squared herself up against Dean. "I hear that artists have "wonderful" hands," she sighed, gazing adoringly into his eyes. "I like to see yours go to work sometime."
"Yes, I apply cocoa butter to them three times daily," Dean squealed, holding up a well-manicured hand. Seamus and Ron started to snigger.
Throughout the meal Harry noticed the little blond Hobbit from Hufflepuff kept on popping over to the Gryffindor table, asking "Do you have enough pumpkin juice?" "Would you like some of ours?" "How are you with mashed potatoes?" all the while shooting wistful looks at Frodo Baggins.
When he came over to make sure that the Gryffindor table had, well, a table, Hermione, having hit on all the males in sight, pounced on him. "Hey, sugar," she crooned, "how about you and I make good time and do the bad thing after dinner? I hear being waist high has distinct advantages."
"I am a man of the cloth," the hobbit replied stiffly and walked off.
"Jeez, baby," burped Boromir, "if ya wanted a threesome, ya shoulda just told me."
Hermione's Boromir avoidance tactic was clearly not going as planned.
# # # # # # # # #
A/N: I usually respond to people's reviews at the end of this, but right now I'm just too darn tired. They will be covered in the next chapter, which will have more on the LOTR characters perspectives and reactions to Hogwarts. Hm, how about some nice sibling friction between Eomer and Eowyn and the brothers of Gondor, and exactly what is going on between Frodo and Sam?
Thanks for reading and many props to you all!