Chapter II~
Silver Pools and Reflections
A/N: Everyone, I'm really sorry about the weird punctuation marks in the first two chapters, but I went through and checked for them this time. If you see them, just tell me and I'll try to fix it. Keep reviewing, please, if you want to, and if you like my writing check out my other story, A Struggle Between Souls (it's about Malfoy and Hermione meeting in ancient Rome). And I'll say it again: I really do love suggestions! ^_^
The blinding emerald green of the hills caused Hermione to put her sunglasses back on as she stepped out of the coach. When Ginny started to follow her, Hermione turned and held out a hand. "No, stop," she whispered. "We don't want to Malfoy to know who I am, do we? And he'll definitely guess if he sees me with you three." Ginny nodded and pulled herself back inside the coach.
Hermione slung the purse back over her shoulder and was again amazed by the beauty of the landscape. The house, which was also beautiful, was constructed of something dark red and woven into a four-floor mansion, with various balconies jutting out of the sides and foreign greenery surrounding it. Hermione could hear the bubbling of a fountain from somewhere.
Walking up the driveway, she joined the group surrounding Dumbledore and McGonagall, taking care to hide herself from Malfoy and his crowd of Slytherins, who had just disembarked from three different coaches.
"Students!" cried Dumbledore. "Welcome to Shaelune!"
A roar of applause went up, and Dumbledore bowed jokingly. McGonagall stepped to the front. "You will all be roomed with your partners-" she stopped abruptly at the eruption of groans and gasps from the students. "No, no," she amended. "The two rooms of each suite are separated by a bathroom- it will be locked until after the ball, so you won't find out who your partner is," she added. "If you so choose, you will not have to see anything of your partner apart from studying and investigating your enchantment." Relieved sighs could be heard, and Dumbledore began to speak again.
"The ball will begin at exactly seven-fifteen tonight, in the main ballroom. An extra five minutes will be allowed for latecomers wishing to make a dramatic entrance, but after that, the doors will be locked." He paused.
A fourth-year Hufflepuff's hand went up. "Professor Dumbledore?" she asked, her voice squeaking. "Why are you locking the doors? What if we are late?"
Dumbledore's smile faded. "There are other guests at Shaelune than we," he said finally. "There are some who would not take into account the nature of our excursion, or the protective spells we have put over each of you." ("What?" whispered a Ravenclaw behind Hermione. "Oh, didn't you know?" said her friend. "The coaches were enchanted too!") He was looking straight at Harry when he said this, and others glanced in his direction as well.
McGonagall spoke. "But be that as it may," she said, "we hope the ball will still be enjoyable. Messengers will visit each room of each suite in turn to give you the only clue you have for finding your partner." She gave a rare smile. "Good luck!"
The students shouted happily and ran towards the inn.
Later, in her room, which was furnished in a mysterious dark turquoise, Hermione sat in front of the vanity. Ginny was behind her, doing something to her hair; Hermione didn't ask, her friend didn't tell. As she finished and closed The Faun vs. Centaur Conflict, Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror. Ginny had applied her makeup already, but it was subtle enough (excepting the eyes, which were dramatically enhanced with shimmering black kohl) that you couldn't really tell she was wearing any.
Her eyes had always been her favorite feature; she'd never seen anyone else with a pair like them. They were a light, but still deep gold-brown, tinted (strangely) with red, just enough to make them seem the color of cinnamon, contrasting with her nicely (she thought so, at least) shaped lips. And her hair, which Ginny was currently brushing the underside of, had graduated (even without her friend's help ) from a headful of frizzy curls whose color had been a boring mix of blond, red and brown to a more defined, auburn hue. She had even had the audacity to wonder why it seemed as though none of the Hogwarts boys had noticed her yet.
Yes, Ginny had said there were some who liked her. Probably Neville, thought Hermione dryly. She couldn't imagine anyone like Harry (brave and adventurous) or even Malfoy (cold and unattainable) liking her. It was almost amusing: mousy, bookish little Hermione Granger, going out with one of the most popular, handsome boys in school.
She was jolted out of her thoughts by Ginny's satisfied voice. "There! All done," she exclaimed happily, holding up a hand mirror so Hermione could see what she had done.
Ginny had left her hair loose; it had been curled into shinier, smoother, more perfect-looking waves than earlier. A barely visible pin had been tucked behind her ear, keeping the her hair behind her shoulders. "Why does it have to be behind my shoulders?" she asked Ginny, who held up her index finger and rushed to Hermione's wardrobe. She pulled out a long, red dress, with a sparkling diamond chain in place of a halter tie.
Ginny glanced at her watch. "Oh god, it's already six-thirty. Your messenger'll be here at seven, so go ahead and put on your dress and shoes." As she closed the door, she warned, "Don't mess up your hair and makeup!"
Hermione laughed and gazed at the dress. She had just finished clasping the chain, whose leftover diamonds hung seductively down her otherwise bare back, when a loud rapping came at the door. She hurriedly put on the shoes, which were silvery satin platforms, and rushed to open it. A man whose face was hidden by shadows stood at the door, holding out a scroll of parchment. "Miss... Hermione Granger?" he asked with an accent that Hermione couldn't place. "Yes, thanks," she said, taking the scroll from him and shutting the door.
As Hermione sat down on the couch, which was in front of the longer mirror, she couldn't help noticing that she did look quite different from her old self. "Change is good, I guess," she thought as she unrolled the paper.
A verse written in a very ancient-looking calligraphy was centered in the middle of the page. Before Hermione could get a chance to read it, though, a wisp of silver emerged from the scroll.
When the mist had settled, a girl who looked to be about her age, with tearstains down her cheeks and wearing an intricately embroidered Medeival-style dress, was floating in the air in front of Hermione. She didn't speak or introduce herself, just launched into a haunting, cold song that made Hermione wish she were wearing a heavy coat.
The ghost sang:
By the Matrix waits a stranger
Shrouded in the darkness there
Go and meet him, mortal Granger
For his destiny you share.
By the moonlight young turn olden
And the day turns into night;
So, beloved of the golden
Go, and seek the truest right.
The ghost smiled, but before Hermione could speak she had vanished.
Hermione looked down. The scroll bore the same verse.
"By the Matrix..." she repeated. "The matrix... the matrix..." she tried to remember her studies of the mansion.
"The Matrix is that pool under the north balcony!" she remembered, her eyes lighting up. She would go, then, and wait until the last possible moment. She didn't want to begin this project with a 'stranger' any sooner than she had to.
Silver Pools and Reflections
A/N: Everyone, I'm really sorry about the weird punctuation marks in the first two chapters, but I went through and checked for them this time. If you see them, just tell me and I'll try to fix it. Keep reviewing, please, if you want to, and if you like my writing check out my other story, A Struggle Between Souls (it's about Malfoy and Hermione meeting in ancient Rome). And I'll say it again: I really do love suggestions! ^_^
The blinding emerald green of the hills caused Hermione to put her sunglasses back on as she stepped out of the coach. When Ginny started to follow her, Hermione turned and held out a hand. "No, stop," she whispered. "We don't want to Malfoy to know who I am, do we? And he'll definitely guess if he sees me with you three." Ginny nodded and pulled herself back inside the coach.
Hermione slung the purse back over her shoulder and was again amazed by the beauty of the landscape. The house, which was also beautiful, was constructed of something dark red and woven into a four-floor mansion, with various balconies jutting out of the sides and foreign greenery surrounding it. Hermione could hear the bubbling of a fountain from somewhere.
Walking up the driveway, she joined the group surrounding Dumbledore and McGonagall, taking care to hide herself from Malfoy and his crowd of Slytherins, who had just disembarked from three different coaches.
"Students!" cried Dumbledore. "Welcome to Shaelune!"
A roar of applause went up, and Dumbledore bowed jokingly. McGonagall stepped to the front. "You will all be roomed with your partners-" she stopped abruptly at the eruption of groans and gasps from the students. "No, no," she amended. "The two rooms of each suite are separated by a bathroom- it will be locked until after the ball, so you won't find out who your partner is," she added. "If you so choose, you will not have to see anything of your partner apart from studying and investigating your enchantment." Relieved sighs could be heard, and Dumbledore began to speak again.
"The ball will begin at exactly seven-fifteen tonight, in the main ballroom. An extra five minutes will be allowed for latecomers wishing to make a dramatic entrance, but after that, the doors will be locked." He paused.
A fourth-year Hufflepuff's hand went up. "Professor Dumbledore?" she asked, her voice squeaking. "Why are you locking the doors? What if we are late?"
Dumbledore's smile faded. "There are other guests at Shaelune than we," he said finally. "There are some who would not take into account the nature of our excursion, or the protective spells we have put over each of you." ("What?" whispered a Ravenclaw behind Hermione. "Oh, didn't you know?" said her friend. "The coaches were enchanted too!") He was looking straight at Harry when he said this, and others glanced in his direction as well.
McGonagall spoke. "But be that as it may," she said, "we hope the ball will still be enjoyable. Messengers will visit each room of each suite in turn to give you the only clue you have for finding your partner." She gave a rare smile. "Good luck!"
The students shouted happily and ran towards the inn.
Later, in her room, which was furnished in a mysterious dark turquoise, Hermione sat in front of the vanity. Ginny was behind her, doing something to her hair; Hermione didn't ask, her friend didn't tell. As she finished and closed The Faun vs. Centaur Conflict, Hermione looked at her reflection in the mirror. Ginny had applied her makeup already, but it was subtle enough (excepting the eyes, which were dramatically enhanced with shimmering black kohl) that you couldn't really tell she was wearing any.
Her eyes had always been her favorite feature; she'd never seen anyone else with a pair like them. They were a light, but still deep gold-brown, tinted (strangely) with red, just enough to make them seem the color of cinnamon, contrasting with her nicely (she thought so, at least) shaped lips. And her hair, which Ginny was currently brushing the underside of, had graduated (even without her friend's help ) from a headful of frizzy curls whose color had been a boring mix of blond, red and brown to a more defined, auburn hue. She had even had the audacity to wonder why it seemed as though none of the Hogwarts boys had noticed her yet.
Yes, Ginny had said there were some who liked her. Probably Neville, thought Hermione dryly. She couldn't imagine anyone like Harry (brave and adventurous) or even Malfoy (cold and unattainable) liking her. It was almost amusing: mousy, bookish little Hermione Granger, going out with one of the most popular, handsome boys in school.
She was jolted out of her thoughts by Ginny's satisfied voice. "There! All done," she exclaimed happily, holding up a hand mirror so Hermione could see what she had done.
Ginny had left her hair loose; it had been curled into shinier, smoother, more perfect-looking waves than earlier. A barely visible pin had been tucked behind her ear, keeping the her hair behind her shoulders. "Why does it have to be behind my shoulders?" she asked Ginny, who held up her index finger and rushed to Hermione's wardrobe. She pulled out a long, red dress, with a sparkling diamond chain in place of a halter tie.
Ginny glanced at her watch. "Oh god, it's already six-thirty. Your messenger'll be here at seven, so go ahead and put on your dress and shoes." As she closed the door, she warned, "Don't mess up your hair and makeup!"
Hermione laughed and gazed at the dress. She had just finished clasping the chain, whose leftover diamonds hung seductively down her otherwise bare back, when a loud rapping came at the door. She hurriedly put on the shoes, which were silvery satin platforms, and rushed to open it. A man whose face was hidden by shadows stood at the door, holding out a scroll of parchment. "Miss... Hermione Granger?" he asked with an accent that Hermione couldn't place. "Yes, thanks," she said, taking the scroll from him and shutting the door.
As Hermione sat down on the couch, which was in front of the longer mirror, she couldn't help noticing that she did look quite different from her old self. "Change is good, I guess," she thought as she unrolled the paper.
A verse written in a very ancient-looking calligraphy was centered in the middle of the page. Before Hermione could get a chance to read it, though, a wisp of silver emerged from the scroll.
When the mist had settled, a girl who looked to be about her age, with tearstains down her cheeks and wearing an intricately embroidered Medeival-style dress, was floating in the air in front of Hermione. She didn't speak or introduce herself, just launched into a haunting, cold song that made Hermione wish she were wearing a heavy coat.
The ghost sang:
By the Matrix waits a stranger
Shrouded in the darkness there
Go and meet him, mortal Granger
For his destiny you share.
By the moonlight young turn olden
And the day turns into night;
So, beloved of the golden
Go, and seek the truest right.
The ghost smiled, but before Hermione could speak she had vanished.
Hermione looked down. The scroll bore the same verse.
"By the Matrix..." she repeated. "The matrix... the matrix..." she tried to remember her studies of the mansion.
"The Matrix is that pool under the north balcony!" she remembered, her eyes lighting up. She would go, then, and wait until the last possible moment. She didn't want to begin this project with a 'stranger' any sooner than she had to.