A/N: Sooooooooooo sorry, I've been super busy! Here's the next chappie----
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. It's said, I know.
"Seventy-three, seventy-four, seventy-five…" Hermione counted, trudging up the endless steps of the palace. She put a hand to her hair and grimaced. Remembering her purposeful air as she had left her room was hard when she was huffing and puffing from the sheer size of the palace. Hogwarts could fit at least three times in here! she mused. Hermione finally came to a large door. She stopped to regain her 'princess' act.
Harry and Ron were counting on her. Take it up with Jafar, indeed! Calming herself, Hermione smoothed her long bell shaped skirt and tugged at her satin, stomach bearing top. Hermione had to admit the outfit was a bit flattering for her, but after an hour spent searching her closets (she had several! Go princess!), this had been the most modest. She couldn't help admitting that the lavender color matched her coloring well or how lovely the amethyst in the tiara looked in her fly away hair. Normally Hermione was no where near a girly-girl, on the contrary, she barely had time to look in the mirror at all, but among all the elegance she felt… pretty.
Feeling more collected, she charged into Jafar's rooms ready for a battle. It was a little deflating that he wasn't there. Hermione rubbed her temples in annoyance. She didn't have time for this. Not only did she have to get the boys out of jail, she had to worry about the fact that she had no clue where Ginny was, and to top it off, she was supposed to fall in love with Ron! Hermione blushed. Not that that would be too hard, but… the whole thing was just ridiculous!
Hermione looked at the room around her. The least she could do was get to know this Jafar character. The only thing she remembered was that he was the bad guy. But what was his edge? Did he use magic? Or was he simply a very conniving muggle? The room was some sort of workshop. A large table in the middle held an overlarge hour glass and an assortment of other instruments, but she couldn't tell whether they were scientific or magical. A counter along the back wall held papers and maps, of which Hermione could not read. They were in Arabic, she decided. Beside the counter was an odd staff. It was bronze or brass, smooth and tall, and at the top was a hooded cobra, eerily realistic. Its eyes glittered and flickered red in the lamplight, mesmerizing Hermione. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand to touch it. Just as her fingertips were millimeters from its surface, two things happened. First the ruby eyes flashed, causing spots to fill hers. Second, a loud, croaky squawk shattered the quiet.
When her eyes cleared, Hermione turned and saw an old battered parrot on a crude wooden perch. He fixed one yellowed eye on her, and Hermione gulped. She fled the room quickly, pausing three flights of stairs later and leaning on the wall. Gasping, she remembered what happened with the snakes eyes, and her face took a grim tone. Jafar was a sorcerer.
"Princess?" an oily voice asked, sending shivers down Hermione's spine. She spun, straightened, and tried to look like royalty.
A tall man stood not ten feet from her (how did I not hear him? she wondered). Hermione guessed that this was Jafar. He stood regally, draped in the maroon robes and tall hat of an advisor. He appeared to be mid forties, with the sallow skin of a scholar, and a dark beard and moustache that curled in a greasy hook. He gave off the aura of a clever mind and twisted plans. He smiled patronizingly at Hermione. She brushed it off and got right to the point.
"Why did you have those boys arrested?" she accused. The patronizing look remained and Hermione was now slightly annoyed by it.
"Why, for kidnapping the princess of course!" he said as if it were obvious.
"They didn't kidnap me!" Hermione cried, "I, er-- ran away." Jafar's face turned mournful.
"Oh, I wish I would have known. I would have never…" He glanced her way. Hermione felt her heart stop.
"Never would have what?" she asked, though she desperately didn't want to hear.
"They were executed at dawn." he replied, sounding sickeningly fake.
Hermione didn't notice. She couldn't hear anything but the growing roaring in her ears. Her body felt cold, she couldn't seem to breathe properly.
"What…what did you say?" Even her lips felt numb.
"They're dead. I'm so sorry princess," he said softly, sliding a bony hand on her shoulder. Hermione's stomach would've rolled in she could feel anything. "But after all, they were only street rats." Something in Hermione snapped. She jerked out of Jafa's grip.
"How could you," she hissed. Then, putting all her pain into it, she hit him, right in that sick smile. Blinded by tears, she ran from the room, through the maze of hallways to her bedroom.
Diving onto a ridiculously huge and lavished bed, she grabbed one of the many silk pillows and poured her heart into it.
A/N: I'll update soon, but in the meantime, you may amuse yourselves by clicking the nice button next to the 'Submit Review'. XD