Author: The*Spangled*Pandemonium

Title: In the Hands of the Gods

Chapter Title: Yea, A Sick Cloud Upon the Soul

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Hermione:

This was beginning to get annoying.

I was sitting with Dumbledore in his office, impatiently waiting for Draco Malfoy to barge in with his father in tow. Knowing Lucius' adverse power in the school, I counted on him to break up this unfortunate partnering.

"Sorry about this, Professor." I muttered, looking down at his oak desk embarrassedly. "I expected Malfoy to be here by now."

"It's alright, Hermione." The Headmaster said lightly as he stroked the bright red and gold plumage of Fawkes the Phoenix. "It happens to the best of us."

Tch. "Best" was not a word I'd imagine to be related with that tiresome Slytherin. A thought had been stewing in my mind ever since that vexing talk with Malfoy, and it basically refused to go away.

 "May I ask a question, Sir?"

"Go on."

"Why did you put Malfoy and I together though you know that we really dislike one another?"

Our Headmaster didn't seem very sadistic. Why this burst of cruelty all of a sudden?

"Though you do not know it, Draco's grades are as good as your own." Dumbledore smiled amusedly. "It was simply the fact that both of your past test scores were just about equal that made us put the two of you as partners. Professor Snape seemed to oppose the pairing the most…"

I sneered inwardly. That whiny little aristocrat actually gets the same grades as me? The thought was laughable. I wondered spitefully how many strings he had to pull to get those marks.

Just then, I heard a timorous tap on the door. It wasn't the indignant rapping I expected, so I began to get worried. Whoever was knocking on that door was obviously not an angry parent.

In came my "equal," clutching a wad of parchment crumpled up in his long fingers. His usually pale cheeks were tinged with pink There was rage, and maybe a hint of humiliation in those silver eyes of his.

Obviously, his beloved daddy had decided not to come.

"Father…" Draco spat from clenched teeth, "is at a—meeting—right now. He wasn't available."

He didn't bother to sit down; he just sort of planted himself there, looking darkly at Dumbledore and I.

I pressed my lips together in exasperation. Damn him. I counted on him to do one thing. Just one thing, and he couldn't even do that right!

"Well, Professor—" I said, clearing my throat and flicking an irritated glance at Draco. "Here's the problem: Malfoy and I…don't want to be partners. You see—"

"—We're quite unsuitable…" Draco continued smoothly, ignoring the fact that it's rude to interrupt, "I personally, do not like the pairing. I mean, a Slytherin and a Gryffindor! It's outrageous!"

"Mr. Weasley and Ms. Parkinson, some very close acquaintances of yours, are both partners." Dumbledore pointed out sagaciously, "They do not seem to be complaining,"

Not to you. But Harry and I are getting tired of Ron's incessant whining.

"You see, Sir—" I explained, before I was interrupted once more.

"—I think that it would be better for the both of us to be placed with different people." Draco said in a persuasive, inveigled tone, "If I may say so, Professor, I think that my—poor history—with Granger leaves something to be desired."

"Well then, Draco, I'm glad you suggested it. Now would be a perfect time to abandon all past differences." Dumbledore shot back smartly. "How could you ever make peace if you're always apart?"

"But Sir!" I protested weakly.

"It's going to be good for you two," He said with a note of finality, "I'm going to be quite anxious to see the finished project. Off with you both now. I do believe the other pairs are in the library." He smiled, and I could see the faint traces of mischievousness in that ancient face.

Dumbledore then buried himself in random papers on his desk, carefully shutting us out of his frame of interest.

So what else could I do? I stomped past the stone gargoyle, leaving Draco to scurry after me. Let him catch up.

I shoved open the library's entrance and stalked towards the "History of Magic" area. Since Greece was one of the oldest and most interesting civilizations, I was quite sure there would be worthy information in that section.

I scanned the cedar shelves with my eyes and I was starting to calm down from that disastrous talk. The library was a sanctuary to me, and everything about it (the clean papery smell, the tranquil mood and the quiet hum of people talking) made me feel better. Now Malfoy had invaded it, tainting its serenity. As if my thoughts had called him over, Draco suddenly appeared from behind the rows of books. 

"Granger, what are we going to do now?" He said contemptuously, as if the very act of him talking to me was disgusting.

"I don't know, Malfoy, ask your father, he'll really fix everything for you." I scoffed, my voice dripping with ill-concealed sarcasm. "Meanwhile, I'm going to research."

I pulled out a tome from the bookshelf, and poked my nose into it, determined to ignore him.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I spun around only to see Draco's face up close and personal. His eyes were a frost nova as he glared down at me and his voice was equally cold. "You are not leaving me out of this project." He hissed. "I have never been the one to dump my workload on someone else if I can handle it. I demand an equivalent hand in this."

Being a Gryffindor, I was no coward. I stared straight into his frozen orbs, with perfect scorn shining from my gaze. "I see no problem with that, but if someone who fancied himself a better diplomat didn't get cornered by Dumbledore, we'd both be out of this by now."

"I'm warning you Granger, do not piss me off!" He yelled, "You could have spoken up if you wanted!"

"Oh, so now it's my fault, is it?" I shouted. I was unable to stop myself, the words were simply pouring out of my mouth. "Even if I did speak up, you would have just interrupted again!"

"I didn't interrupt you! I was just continuing what you—"

"—Continuing like this you mean?! Well, Mr. Malfoy, that isn't called continuing, it's called interrupting, as in 'breaking the continuity of'! If that word isn't in your vocabulary, make it! "

We both went on like that, spitting words at each other until a burning scent flooded into our noses.

"Fire! Someone set fire to the books! Madam Pince!" It wasn't until we heard Neville screaming until we comprehended that something bigger than our fight was happening.

We ran towards the end of the bookshelves and found out that the shelf to our right was the one was ablaze. Frantically, I pointed grabbed my wand and pointed it towards the flames. I muttered a spell under my breath, and water poured onto the blazing wood. I flicked my eyes to person next to me; Draco was going the same.

When it died down, all that was left of that bookshelf was a charred chunk of nothing.

"Who…who did this?!" Madame Pince roared at all of us, the shocked observers who had just witnessed the attack of her holy ground. "Who?!"

Slowly, and guiltily, each of the students flicked their eyes on Draco and I.

"Hermione?" She said painfully, "Did you do this?" It had taken Madame Pince six years to trust me. And I had just shattered that trust now.

"No, ma'am!" I said vehemently. I didn't! How could I have? I didn't even have my wand drawn out that time.

"Draco? How about you?"

Same answer.

She grabbed Colin Creevey's collar. The poor boy had just been visiting Harry, and now look what he was sucked into. "Who do you think did this?" She said sharply into his ear.

"Them…" Colin stuttered apologetically, his puppy-dog eyes flicking on to me.

"Why do you think that?"

"Because they were fighting very loudly, ma'am." He whispered.

She let go of him, and Colin melted back into the crowd, shivering.

"How about you?" She jabbed her bony finger towards Terry Boot.

"I think it was them… They were quarreling quite viciously back there. You never know, they might've pulled out their wands." Terry shrugged.

"Out…of…my…LIBRARY!" She bellowed crazily at Draco and I, and pointed towards the door. "You can be sure that you'll receive detentions and fifty house points from each of you!"

We slunk out of the room, with out tails between our legs. Many pairs of eyes followed us as I walked away… I think I saw Ron and Pansy next to each other, their faces contorted into expressions of disbelief.

The door slammed behind us.

"How'd that happen?" Malfoy asked, running his hands quizzically through his blonde hair.

"Look, I'm sorry Draco." I mumbled miserably, and walked away.

~*~*~

I breathed a sigh of relief as I took a fleeting step off Olympus and into emptiness.

Ever since I was a child, I have adored the feeling of flying. My father, the Greek god Hermes, gave me my first pair of flying sandals when I was only five years old…and though centuries have past, I have never gotten tired of feeling the wind rustle my hair as I glide down to earth.

I gripped my winged silver rod tightly in one hand, and the elegantly wrapped box in my other. This package was supposed to be delivered by father, but he had no qualms about letting me give it instead. I was the youngest of his children, but personally… I think I'm more mature than any of the others.

You see, getting drunk and chasing demi-gods isn't exactly my idea of being a good deity.

I flew swiftly to the wood nymph Idalia, shoved the package at her, and left as quickly as I came.

Another reason I love running father's errands is because I can meet with mortals… They seem so different form the people from Olympus… so much more interesting than all the Gods up there. It's fascinating to see how they age over time and what strange theories they make up about us. Occasionally, I render myself invisible, just so I can listen to them talk philosophy.

Up in Olympus, the only gods I can relate to are Apollo and Athena, but they're always too busy to talk to me, a goddess of no importance.

Sometimes I wish I were born human…

I looked down at all the little people below me, so wrapped up in their existence that they fail to see the beauty of their lives, and the importance of time. They don't see that life is one of the greatest things they'll ever have… Most of them just waste their existence doing jobs that they don't enjoy, marrying people they don't love, and going to taverns just to get intoxicated…

I stiffened suddenly as I remembered that young man I saw at that run-down tavern last night. What was his name again? Damian…that was it… Maybe I should go check on him; he probably has to deal with that killer hangover all that mead would have caused.

I swooped down on to the earth and landed in an alleyway near the inn, because I didn't want to make a big fuss by suddenly popping up from thin air. After straightening my pale blue dress and flattening down my hair, I strode to the middle of the street, conveniently making my rod disappear.

Most people can tell that I'm immortal by my appearance, so they often look, but rarely touch. For the others…Lets just say you have to be able to dodge magic very well if you want to kidnap me.

I shoved open the door to the inn, and promptly received an accommodating smile from the owner.

"Hello. Have you seen Damian, the mortal…umm…young man, I dropped here last night?" I said, not very smoothly.

"If you'll just follow me…" The innkeeper, a short, balding man in a toga, motioned for me to trail behind him as he walked up the creaky wooden stairs. "I believe that your consort has just woken up, ma'am. He seemed to be very—"

I tripped over the last step when he said 'consort.'

"Oh! Him! He's not my…consort," I mumbled, blushing furiously, "He was a severely inebriated man I found passed out on the street."

The owner raised his eyebrow, at me, and contained a smirk. Obviously, he did not believe me.

When we reached a certain room, he knocked twice and opened the door to lead me in.

Damian was sitting on the bed, munching on a piece of bread. The sunlight danced in from the window and glimmered in that pale blonde hair of his. Those steel gray eyes that had been bleary before now gave me a piercing look. He would have been quite attractive by human standards, if it weren't the fact that he was glaring at me with such disdain.

"Damian, this is the…" the innkeeper turned to me questioningly and I shook my head, "…woman that brought you in yesterday." And with that, he left the room, closing the door with a thud.

"Hello," I said, smiling lightly, "I'm Hermia."

It looked like this Damian was one who didn't see me as an immortal… that was a fresh new change. So few can actually talk to me without stuttering or giving me that sappy look of awe. One could say that his contempt for me made me even more eager to talk to him.

"Are you feeling better?" I asked, "I would think you'd have an awful headache after all that drinking you did last night…"

Why did I even help him last night, you ask? Well, I believe that the gods of Olympus are supposed to help mortals, not just control them. I've made it a habit to help the humans after every message I deliver is given... It gave me a feeling of satisfaction, knowing that I aided someone in need. Usually, a mortal was so glad to receive help from a god, but this man…

"Look, I don't need anyone's help!" He hissed at me, catching me by surprise.  "I can take care of myself!" This guy had so much spite it was actually interesting to watch.

"You were nicer when you were drunk, Damian." I said mildly, walking over and sitting in a wooden chair by the bed.

"What do I owe you, woman?" He said sneeringly, "Do you want money now?"

Me? An immortal! Getting money from an angry human? That was so funny I actually laughed out loud. "No, I don't need your drachmas… I really just wanted to help you."

He stared at me suspiciously for a moment.

"Who are you? You look different from the rest of them."

"The rest of who?" I inquired, looking down at my winged sandals and wondering how dense this guy was to miss them.

"Women."

"Oh," I said shortly. I already knew the story. A girl burned this guy, and now he believes no one will love him. Its been done so many times in the past, it wasn't even interesting to see the outcome anymore… Right then and there, I lost interest. "Well, Damian, I have to go now… I still need to see if I have anything else to deliver." I looked significantly down at my sandals, and then stood up.

"Wait!" I heard a call behind me. "You're a goddess!"

I turned around, smiled, and walked through the door.

~*~*~

I awoke at 2:35 in my Gryffindor bedroom. As I was lying there, staring into the shadows, the vision of the immortal Hermia smiling at Damian came back to me. The dream had the same characters as the one I had yesterday… That had never happened to me before. I shifted my position on the mattress and closed my eyes. I'd have to think about it later… The next day would bring a certain Quidditch game Harry wanted to see, and I needed sleep.

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Author's Note: Thank you for all your kind words about this story. When I read them, they make me more confident about everything I write, and I really appreciate that. *hands everyone Draco clones*

Hermes is the God of eloquence, thieves, liars, luck and the lyre. He is the son of Zeus and Maia (daughter of a Titan). His Roman counterpart is Mercury. He usually carries a winged rod called a Caduceus, and is often depicted as wearing winged-sandals and a wide-brimmed winged helmet.

I decided not to let Hermione wear the hat, because it's a bit too obvious, though she has her own winged staff that she carries when she's up in the air.

I love reviews, and I'd be grateful if you'd send me some! Thanks!