(A/N-Word to anyone reading this! I have little to say)
An hour and a half had passed and Malfoy had still not opened his door. Although disheartened by his hostile attitude, Hermione delighted in her new quarters. Instead of the squalid, cramped chamber she had pictured, the bedroom was spacious and the study area, voluminous. She spread out her belongings and lit a fire in the small common room.
Hermione knew it would be too risky for her to contact Diana from the common room. Malfoy might not be one for bonding around the hearth, but there was the chance that he might seize the moment to explore his new quarters as well. Hermione sighed and opened a book she had purchased in Knockturn Alley. It was a guide to demonology and summoning spells.
She absently brew herself a cup of strong tea and pulled her hair away from her face. Hermione opened the musty old book and immediately wished she hadn't. Dust flew out and she found herself choking.
The door opened suddenly as she gulped her tea to keep from suffocating. Malfoy regarded her undignified position coldly. "I better not have to use the Heimlich, Granger," he warned. "I'll break your ribs, Potter will accuse my of attacking you, my father will accuse Potter of purposely choking you to trap me, I'll get expelled and be disowned."
"You've already put too much thought into this," pointed out Hermione, now composed and peering out her book.
"What's this?" He picked up the book. "Guider aux d(mons," he pronounced in his obviously perfect French. "So the mudblood knows her Romance languages."
"And the virgin isn't the uncultured swine I believed him to be," returned Hermione. "Now will you give me back my book?"
"I don't think so. This looks interesting." He leafed through the book.
"Give it back!"
"Interesting." He opened to a picture of a Fy'ral Demon. Quickly rendering medieval French into English, he read: "The Fy'ral demon can paralyze prey with mucus shot out of a nasal cavity." He shook his head. "Must be a bitch when one gets the flu, eh?"
"Malfoy, quit acting like a two year old. Give me my book," fumed Hermione. Calm.calm.I've already burned one chair today.
"You know," drawled Malfoy. "This doesn't look like a proper school book for an impressionable young.lady."
"Give it back, ferret boy!" she threatened, reaching for her wand. "Or I"ll-"
"You'll what," he interrupted suddenly. "Hex me? Believe me, Granger. If the professors see this book, you'll get more than detention with Snape. They'll call in the Ministry."
"There is nothing illicit about this book!"
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I'm not a moron. You bought this book in Knockturn Alley, didn't you? This book isn't even in the Hogwarts library. The only other known copy is." he stopped short.
"Where?" questioned Hermione, using his lapse of conscious to grab her book.
"My father's study."
"So that's how the troll got here first year," quipped Hermione. Malfoy gave her a cool look.
"Pity it couldn't carry out it's mission," he snapped. He retreated into his room without so much as a "Goodnight."
Hermione didn't mind her sudden solitude, but rather decided he wouldn't venture out of his room again that night. She waited until midnight and just glanced at the fire. "You might as well show yourself," she declared to the lurking goddess. "I know you're there."
The mist gathered out of the fireplace and the shape of Diana formed into the dark room. As her figure began to corporeal, Hermione reflected once more on her mistress.
It was difficult not to believe any word that came out of Diana's mouth. She was as beautiful as the moon itself and shone with greater magnitude than any star in the sky. Her teeth were alabaster, her dress was midnight, her hair blacker than the Stygian darkness. And darkness was what she was famous for.
Over time, poets had given her the title of "the protectress of dewy youth" everywhere. It was a fortunate nickname, Hermione realized as she recalled some of the legends about the mistress. Vengeful and jealous, Diana's idea of "protecting" one of her girls was often granting them a quick death, slain by one of her silver arrows.
"How do you fare this evening, dear child?" purred the goddess. "The girls send their love."
The girls. Adrastea, Chrysothemis, Medea, Deidamia, Hilaria.all of the girls who had urged Hermione to sign over her soul and join them for eternity.
"You have nothing to lose, Hermione," Adrastea urged her. "Harry is the scum of the earth. Show him the Plutonian shores!"
As the scene unfolded before her memory, Hermione recalled the picturesque brook they had been at. The "girls" were young women who, like had exchanged their souls for an eternity with Diana and vengeance powers. Some were Muggles, some weren't. But they all now dwelled in the forests with Diana, where Hermione too would one day be called to go.
"Your name is already Greek, too," commented Hilaria. "It's meant to be."
"Report, daughter," instructed Diana, drawing Hermione out of her memory.
"I have been roomed with the most fierce Muggle-born hater in the Wizarding community," she said hoarsely. "I fear meeting you will become more difficult."
Diana's eyes glittered like two black coals. "You'll manage. Your devotion to me can surpass his desire to view your demise."
She resisted her urge to make a biting retort.
"Or is it? Perhaps you still prefer these humans over your own kind," jeered the goddess.
"What do you mean? You know how loyal I am. You've seen me with Dementia!"
"Virginia Weasley and Dementia have wands pointed to them. A hex is uttered. Who do you push out of the way?"
"Ginny!" said Hermione unconsciously. Diana snarled and whipped out her wand. "That was a bad example. Dementia isn't real!"
"But you would chose Adrastea over Virginia?"
"Without a doubt," said Hermione, uncertainly.
"Granger, what the HELL are you doing out there?" called Malfoy. "Could you summon the vampires a little softer?"
"Please! I cannot get caught! My mission is not yet complete," pleaded Hermione, hastening Diana towards the fireplace.
"Who are your devotions to, my little prophetess?" sneered Diana, pulling her gauze around her thin body. She slung her bow over her shoulder. "You sing my praises, but your harmonies are at variance."
Hermione's own eyes glittered. "I've always been a bit tone deaf."
The goddess disappeared and Hermione slipped into her room and fell into a fitful slumber.
(Short chapter, but I'll update before the week is over. Don't worry, if you are. But PLEASE review. You don't know what it means to get a review, even if it is a flame.)
An hour and a half had passed and Malfoy had still not opened his door. Although disheartened by his hostile attitude, Hermione delighted in her new quarters. Instead of the squalid, cramped chamber she had pictured, the bedroom was spacious and the study area, voluminous. She spread out her belongings and lit a fire in the small common room.
Hermione knew it would be too risky for her to contact Diana from the common room. Malfoy might not be one for bonding around the hearth, but there was the chance that he might seize the moment to explore his new quarters as well. Hermione sighed and opened a book she had purchased in Knockturn Alley. It was a guide to demonology and summoning spells.
She absently brew herself a cup of strong tea and pulled her hair away from her face. Hermione opened the musty old book and immediately wished she hadn't. Dust flew out and she found herself choking.
The door opened suddenly as she gulped her tea to keep from suffocating. Malfoy regarded her undignified position coldly. "I better not have to use the Heimlich, Granger," he warned. "I'll break your ribs, Potter will accuse my of attacking you, my father will accuse Potter of purposely choking you to trap me, I'll get expelled and be disowned."
"You've already put too much thought into this," pointed out Hermione, now composed and peering out her book.
"What's this?" He picked up the book. "Guider aux d(mons," he pronounced in his obviously perfect French. "So the mudblood knows her Romance languages."
"And the virgin isn't the uncultured swine I believed him to be," returned Hermione. "Now will you give me back my book?"
"I don't think so. This looks interesting." He leafed through the book.
"Give it back!"
"Interesting." He opened to a picture of a Fy'ral Demon. Quickly rendering medieval French into English, he read: "The Fy'ral demon can paralyze prey with mucus shot out of a nasal cavity." He shook his head. "Must be a bitch when one gets the flu, eh?"
"Malfoy, quit acting like a two year old. Give me my book," fumed Hermione. Calm.calm.I've already burned one chair today.
"You know," drawled Malfoy. "This doesn't look like a proper school book for an impressionable young.lady."
"Give it back, ferret boy!" she threatened, reaching for her wand. "Or I"ll-"
"You'll what," he interrupted suddenly. "Hex me? Believe me, Granger. If the professors see this book, you'll get more than detention with Snape. They'll call in the Ministry."
"There is nothing illicit about this book!"
Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I'm not a moron. You bought this book in Knockturn Alley, didn't you? This book isn't even in the Hogwarts library. The only other known copy is." he stopped short.
"Where?" questioned Hermione, using his lapse of conscious to grab her book.
"My father's study."
"So that's how the troll got here first year," quipped Hermione. Malfoy gave her a cool look.
"Pity it couldn't carry out it's mission," he snapped. He retreated into his room without so much as a "Goodnight."
Hermione didn't mind her sudden solitude, but rather decided he wouldn't venture out of his room again that night. She waited until midnight and just glanced at the fire. "You might as well show yourself," she declared to the lurking goddess. "I know you're there."
The mist gathered out of the fireplace and the shape of Diana formed into the dark room. As her figure began to corporeal, Hermione reflected once more on her mistress.
It was difficult not to believe any word that came out of Diana's mouth. She was as beautiful as the moon itself and shone with greater magnitude than any star in the sky. Her teeth were alabaster, her dress was midnight, her hair blacker than the Stygian darkness. And darkness was what she was famous for.
Over time, poets had given her the title of "the protectress of dewy youth" everywhere. It was a fortunate nickname, Hermione realized as she recalled some of the legends about the mistress. Vengeful and jealous, Diana's idea of "protecting" one of her girls was often granting them a quick death, slain by one of her silver arrows.
"How do you fare this evening, dear child?" purred the goddess. "The girls send their love."
The girls. Adrastea, Chrysothemis, Medea, Deidamia, Hilaria.all of the girls who had urged Hermione to sign over her soul and join them for eternity.
"You have nothing to lose, Hermione," Adrastea urged her. "Harry is the scum of the earth. Show him the Plutonian shores!"
As the scene unfolded before her memory, Hermione recalled the picturesque brook they had been at. The "girls" were young women who, like had exchanged their souls for an eternity with Diana and vengeance powers. Some were Muggles, some weren't. But they all now dwelled in the forests with Diana, where Hermione too would one day be called to go.
"Your name is already Greek, too," commented Hilaria. "It's meant to be."
"Report, daughter," instructed Diana, drawing Hermione out of her memory.
"I have been roomed with the most fierce Muggle-born hater in the Wizarding community," she said hoarsely. "I fear meeting you will become more difficult."
Diana's eyes glittered like two black coals. "You'll manage. Your devotion to me can surpass his desire to view your demise."
She resisted her urge to make a biting retort.
"Or is it? Perhaps you still prefer these humans over your own kind," jeered the goddess.
"What do you mean? You know how loyal I am. You've seen me with Dementia!"
"Virginia Weasley and Dementia have wands pointed to them. A hex is uttered. Who do you push out of the way?"
"Ginny!" said Hermione unconsciously. Diana snarled and whipped out her wand. "That was a bad example. Dementia isn't real!"
"But you would chose Adrastea over Virginia?"
"Without a doubt," said Hermione, uncertainly.
"Granger, what the HELL are you doing out there?" called Malfoy. "Could you summon the vampires a little softer?"
"Please! I cannot get caught! My mission is not yet complete," pleaded Hermione, hastening Diana towards the fireplace.
"Who are your devotions to, my little prophetess?" sneered Diana, pulling her gauze around her thin body. She slung her bow over her shoulder. "You sing my praises, but your harmonies are at variance."
Hermione's own eyes glittered. "I've always been a bit tone deaf."
The goddess disappeared and Hermione slipped into her room and fell into a fitful slumber.
(Short chapter, but I'll update before the week is over. Don't worry, if you are. But PLEASE review. You don't know what it means to get a review, even if it is a flame.)