Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. Brianne and her family are creations of my own though.
Authors Note: I had a prologue up before, but it was dreadfully boring, and you don't need it to understand. Anyways, as only one person has read the prologue (that I know of), ill probably keep it a secret anyways. The prologue told about why Brianne's mother left, (she's not a bad person!) Well, hope you all like the story! PLEEEEEZE review for me!
Behind the Bookcase
DONG! DONG! DONG!
"Ohhhhhh…," moaned a large lump from under silk covers, "Why must we start the day so early?"
The bell rang again. "Come on servants, get you're lazy arses out of bed!" came the gruff voice of a woman.
Clumsily untangling from the covers came a short girl, about eleven years of age with beautiful golden wavy hair that stopped mid-back. Rubbing her brown golden specked eyes, she walked over to the other side of her richly decorated room, and pulled back her curtains. Light immediately swarmed through the room, bouncing off all the vibrant pictures hanging on the walls. She hated those pictures. They were pictures of men she didn't know, all dressed up in extravagant clothing, wearing crowns. She supposed they must've been passed kings of England, but she wasn't sure. She hated history, and she never paid any attention when her governess Ms. Leary lectured her on how important knowing the past of her country was. Brianne still felt that history was pointless, as was science, math, French, and English. Well actually, English wasn't sooo bad. But she did think knowing sentence structure was pointless. When her governess tried (with no progress) to help her understand it, she only replied:
"I really doubt weather my boss for the London Post is really going to ever fire me if I don't know weather the subject goes after the verb or vice-versa."
She loved seeing the annoyed expression on her governess's faces. She'd had three in the past year alone, and it was only May. She'd had dozens of them in her life time, each one resigning because of her, 'in cooperation, and 'cheek'. She laughed at that, but her father found the matter not at all amusing. He barely ever spoke to her, but when he did, it was only if there was a serious matter, and even then, he acted as though she were not physically there, for he never once looked her in the eye.
"COME ON YOU ALL! GET UP!" came the woman's voice once again. Brianne grabbed her slippers and robe and hurried down the stairs.
"Good morning darlin," said the woman who'd shouted earlier. She was a round woman, quite tall. Her hair was tied up in a tight bun, and her clothes were grey and a bit tattered.
"Breakfast time. Now get yerself down there 'fore yer father has a right fit," she said.
"Oh Loretta, why must I get up so early? I'm not a servant!" cried Brianne.
"Father," replied Loretta, knowing she need not say anymore.
Brianne scowled at that. Her father was always angry whenever she or her stepbrothers and stepsister were late for a meal. She ran down the stairs, and almost breaking her leg tripping over her cat Bronzer, she ran down to the smaller dining room where the family ate when there was no company. Even being the smallest of the three dining rooms it was very large, with a long oval table, with eight big chairs that looked like thrones.
"Oh Brianne ma cherie, why are you not properly dressed? It iz not polite to be in zos clothes around small boiz," said her stepmother, speaking with her classy French accent.
"Sorry Francine, but I woke up to late to change."
Francine gave her a look, "Eizer call me Madame, or nozing at all."
"Sorry, Madame," said Brianne, the last word dripping in sarcasm.
A door suddenly opened near Raya's (her step-sister's) chair, and in walked Gil Hunter, billionaire of England.
He gave Brianne a sharp disapproving look at her garmets, and then sat down. He avoided talking to her as much as he could. She never really understood why, but she knew that it did have something to do with her mother. He never spoke of her, and when she asked him once, he had told her it was getting late and she 'best be off to bed', even though it had only been 7 o'clock. She had never seen a picture of her mother before. The only thing she knew was her name. Margaret. Margaret Stilson Hunter. She'd learned it from one of the servants a long time ago. The only thing they can tell her though is that she just up and left one day. No one knows why though. They all say that she is the spitting image of her though. She was suddenly startled out of her thoughts when a hand tapped her on the shoulder.
"Pass the jam please Brianne," squeaked her five year old step-brother Michael.
"Sure," she said dreamily.
After Breakfast, she ran back up to her room in the attic. She knew her father put her up there so that she'd be as far away from him and his family as possible, and she supposed he only furnished her room with lovely things to keep her distracted from roaming the rest of the house and disturbing them.
She thumped down on her bed and began stroking her kitten Bronzer.
"Hello Bronzie, mummies back," she cooed. She'd found him only a yesterday out in the garden, and she just couldn't let him go hungry, so she convinced the head of housekeeping, Loretta, that she would train him to only go to the bathroom outside, and would eat in her room. Reluctantly, Loretta had agreed.
"Well, what do you want to do to day? Go chase mice in the garden, scare the gardener's dog again? Or maybe- hey, what are you doing?" she was stopped short by Bronzer's sudden strange behavior. He was sniffing fervently around her bookshelf, knocking books off the bottom shelf with his tail.
Brianne slowly got off the bed and walked over to him, but his attention never swayed from the bookshelf. She'd read a few books from them, but most were boring, so she'd never paid much attention to them.
She went over to the spot that Bronzer was now sniffing, and ran her hands around it, not quite sure what she was looking for. There was something there. She didn't know what, but there was something. It was almost as though something inside of her was reassuring her, pushing her forward. She felt up along the side of the bookcase until her fingers stopped at a small knot in the side of the oak. She gently put her finger inside, and then jumped back. Something was happening.
me: Sorry to stop here! But hopefully the next chap will be up by tomorrow!