A/N Storytime! Gather around my children…cackles evilly
Oh and before I forget, I disclaim ownership of Harry Potter! Its all lies!
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Chapter Four: Returning
To break the uncomfortable silence, Demetrius spilt his milk on himself. "Fuck!" he cursed, wiping at the crotch of his pants. "Oh fucking hell!" he exclaimed, storming out of the room, still muttering a string of filthy, vile language that echoed in the hallways and made a lovely chorus for the new rousers.
"Pay no attention to him, swears in his sleep," Artemis said offhandly, finishing off his last Fruit-E-Bix. Hermione blushed, remembering her little 'incident' with him. Oh ho ho, if only you knew….
Clapping an arm on her shoulder, he announced, "Right, well I've got some paperwork to do, things to file…so I'll see you at lunch," and proceeded to walk out of the room. At the instant a still scowling Demetrius walked into the room, redressed in martial art garb. "We're training," he directed at her, throwing her a matching uniform, with a little more force than needed. She looked at the heavy white fabric and then at Demetrius, grey eyes clouded over. Then back at the clothing. She supposed she should get changed in her room. She walked past him, lightly brushing his arm. "It's okay," she said gently.
He stared at her, watching her hips sway as she walked to her room. It would have been about nine years since she last trained. This would be interesting.
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Hermione hit the mat full on her back. "No fair!" she called out, huffily standing up.
"What's not fair?" Demetrius drawled, crossing his arms.
"You're not fair! You know I haven't done this in ages – you can't just go and flip me as soon as I walk on the mat!"
"So I guess the Circle's gonna-"
"Oh don't give me that 'the enemies not going to wait' crap!" she said exasperatedly, hating to hear that stupid phrase.
"What does that sign say, Hera?" he said to her, pointing at a wooden plaque on the wall.
"Respect your elders," she read.
"Right, and for that bit of disobedience, you get this," he quickly knocked her legs down, making her fall on her back again. "Get used to that position,"
She glared at him, smirking down at her.
"Ready?" he asked, holding out his hands in the defence stance. She nodded. Ooh, she was going to kick his ass when she remembered how to.
He kicked at her stomach. She ducked, hearing the whoosh of his foot above. She grabbed his leg while it was still in the air, with the intent of throwing him from that point. But he twisted easily out of her grasp, even knocking her to the side. He aimed his fist at her face, she only just rolled out of his way. Being on the ground was bad.
He held her arms down as she tried to get up, and pinned the rest of her down with his knees. "What did you do wrong?" he asked.
"I got on the ground," Hermione panted, not liking him being so close. His clean pine scent was distracting and made her head go funny.
He climbed off her. "Let's try again,"
This time when he punched at her, she blocked. She blocked every single one of his punches and kicks, and was feeling pretty happy about herself when suddenly the big blue mat greeted her again.
"What did you do!" she accused, narrowing her eyes. He hadn't even broken into a sweat.
"YOU weren't watching me," he retorted.
"I damn well was! How could I miss watching your big fists looming at me!"
"You weren't watching my body language, just my hands! That's how you missed that sweep I did,"
She glowered at him. She didn't like it when others were right. This time she would win. She threw a punch at him. He easily deflected it, feinted to the left and hit her right shoulder. She hit back at his, but he deflected it again. Losing her cool, she fought with fury, throwing kicks and punches at random, relying just on her instincts. Matching her equally, they fought with no discernable winner, until Hermione collapsed with exhaustion, cheeks flushed and hair stuck to her head with sweat. He sat down beside her, breathing hard also, though not as tired as she. He leant over to talk to her. "I think we've got you back to your original standard," he said, amused.
She looked up into his face, taking up most of her view. His blonde hair flopped free, waving from their tips, partially covering his eyes. Hermione was absolutely sure she had seen him somewhere before. Grey eyes, eyes that would look colourless on anyone else, glinted as he stared back into her hazel ones.
He leant over further.
At first she wasn't quite sure what was happening, but as his eyelids slowly descended, she panicked, and quickly moved her head to the right. The effect was that his soft lips brushed the crook of her neck, and she tried to ignore the mad feeling to take him right here, right now.
He pulled back and looked at her questioningly, one eyebrow arched.
"Its…You…I don't like you that way!" she spluttered, standing up quickly and running to the relative safety of the changing rooms.
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Several exciting things happened during lunch. She sat next to Arty, and across from Chrys, who glared at her between moody stabs at her food. Two boys sat at the other end of the table, talking with the foreign chap. She was sure she used to know their names. Across from the foreign chap was Demetrius, sitting on the other side of Arty. Demetrius looked up as her gaze ran over his familiar face, trying to place him, and she quickly looked away, at the girl with long mahogany hair, sitting at the head of the table, trying to shrink into it. The way her hair swished, butterfly ornament glinting in the sunlight…déjà vu.
The first of which was George Weasley. She could tell, because Fred looked…different. He came strolled in the front door, banging it open with one hand and taking off his sunglasses with the other. "It's a bit hot out there…" he called, removing his leather jacket. His green shirt went surprisingly well with his hair. He turned around, and immediately spotted Hermione. "Blimey! Her-"
"Hera," Demetrius interjected.
George waved him away. "Yes whatever, Hera. Welcome back!"
He leaned over Arty's meal of pasta to give her a tight hug. "Well, I can't stay and chat now, but save me a seat next to you at dinner, okay?"
She grinned and waved, watching him hop back on that manly motorbike. Brm brm.
The next exciting thing did not happen until the meal was nearly finished. Hermione was quite enjoying the pasta. Sure, the sauce was a little chunky at places, the pasta slightly soggy, and it was just a little burnt, but it was filling. No one else really seemed to share her taste though and spent most of the meal pushing the little spirals around.
Finally, Demetrius threw his forks down in a clatter. "When's Mr. Chan back? No offence Chrys but your cooking sucks,"
She turned her beam of hate towards her twin brother. "Excuse me? I don't see anyone else complaining!"
The two boys sitting at the end of the table looked from Demetrius to Chrys, wondering whether to voice their opinion.
Hermione frowned. Like everyone else sitting at the table (except for the foreign boy) they reminded her of people…but who?
The others sat in uncomfortable silence. "Well do you see anyone eating the food?" Demetrius pointed out, seeing as no one would back him up.
Chrys narrowed her eyes.
"Even you're not eating your cooking!" Demetrius continued.
SLAM
Demetrius hit the wall, force jostling the paintings hanging on it. One hand clutched around his throat, he threw out the other, pinning his sister to the other wall with his recently vacated chair.
"Enough!" the girl with the butterfly ornament yelled, standing up with her hands on the table, small frame shaking.
Immediately, both released each other, and resumed their rightful places at the table.
"Sorry," Chrys whispered, looking down with shame at her plate.
"Me too," Demetrius added shortly.
Several more minutes passed in silence, with only Hermione eating. "Pass the salt please-" she paused, thinking of the foreign boy's name. "Stefan?" she guessed.
"Yes that is my name," he replied, nodding. He sent the salt to her with a flick of his index finger.
The two boys at the end of the table looked at her in surprise. "I'm Sin," the older one said. "And this is my younger brother, Smith,"
"Aw, we could tell her our real names, we can trust her and the others," Smith whined, looking to his brother for approval.
"NO! Against policy. Anyways, who knows who could be listening right now…" He hushed his brother as he opened his mouth to make more protests.
"Me, Smith and Stefan are the tech crew. The backbone of all missions," he informed her.
She nodded. At this point, some higher being decided the time was ripe for a round of introductions.
"The rest of us, and you, are field operatives," Art said. "That's Demetrius-" he gestured to the blond. "Chrysanthnum, or Chrys," he added quickly, seeing the murderous expression marring her angelic features. "And Pascal," he finished. The girl with the butterfly ornament dipped her head lower.
"Of course not all of us are here, there's-"
"J'Adore, head of Mystery and Disguise!" a voice announced. Hermione looked around for the source of the noise. There was a swishing sound and a dark skinned man, about the same age as George, with dreadlocks appeared near the hallway door, wearing a silver cape over his orange jumpsuit.
Hermione took a drink of water to cover up her laughter.
"Anyways, that's J'Adore, but there's also Patience, Morticia and Gred, who you just saw," Art continued. J'Adore pulled up a chair and sat down on it backwards, between Demetrius and Smith.
Hermione covered her hand with her mouth as she nearly spat out the water. Gred…was that what George's code name was? It was all very ridiculous. In fact, everyone's code names were. Even hers.
"Patience and Morticia are our foreign correspondents. Stefan was too, but it got too dangerous at Durmstrang, so now he's in tech. Patience is in her last year at Beaubaxton's, and Morticia at Grey's Academy. They keep an eye out for any trouble abroad, and give us a hand when we need it. Gred – he's in charge of supplies. We're all trained though, just in case,"
Hermione nodded.
Art resumed his ramblings. "We're all specialised. Demetrius, spell and curse breaking. Pascal, shields and charms. Chrys, psychology. Me, logistics and tactics. But it all gets very muddled, we help each other and often all end up in the library," He frowned, expression like Hermione's much seen one. "So really…we're not specialised,"
Demetrius snorted, absently making his utensils perform swirls in the air.
Hermione and Demetrius, report to Classroom 5 immediately a voice boomed around them.
For the second time that day, the utensils dropped with a clatter.
"Let's go," Demetrius called, already halfway down the hall and not looking back.
Hermione followed quickly, keeping up with his brisk place as he led her through the many twist through the, she assumed, huge Manor.
They arrived in front of a plain brown door, identical to all the others in the corridor and every other door in the Manor.
Before Demetrius had the chance to get close to the doorknob, it was opened…by Professor McGonagall.
Hermione gasped. Memories of five years worth of real magic crashed down on her, and she grasped the door frame for support.
Raising her head, she beamed at her Professor. Though she still couldn't remember anything that happened during her years away from The Fold, at least all her knowledge was restored.
Miss Know-it-all was back.
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A/N Okay, there was one plot hole in this chapter THAT I AM AWARE OF and it's meant to be there. Bear with me everyone, the characters and setting are still 'developing', but after next chapter, it'll probably the end of the setting development, so something will happen! Yay!
(Later) Sigh, I did so shit in my English mock, I actually FAILED part of it. This is like the first time I've failed anything. I thought that English was my second best subject! Is my story incredibly shit like my English results were? I would tell you what I got, but I live in NZ and we suffer under this idiotic system called NCEA that no one has heard of, let alone understand.