1) Looks that wayOriginally Posted by B.B. Rain
2) Actually, since talking to Saber, he was gradually settling into the idea - but it's a question of how much last year's derailment screwed with that.
3) Um . . .
4) Probably not.
1) Looks that way
2) Actually, since talking to Saber, he was gradually settling into the idea - but it's a question of how much last year's derailment screwed with that.
3) Um . . .
4) Probably not.
At the moment there has been a few major changes, as the fact that the resurrection of Voldielocks isn't public, Fudge isn't the ministry of magic anymore, Voldemort had suffered the first "Fuck you", Snape is a double traitor, playing at two bands to screw over both...
Anyway, nice beggining, Kieran. I almost missed an exam because I just had to read this XDDD
Spoiler:
As of yet they are minor changes. They CAN become major, but...
I am okay with this.
Excellent story. Subscribed and waiting for more.
Some considerations for your writing however...
You are very fond of starting a POV section by summing up the current state of events. I could guess this is an artefact of the writing process you are likely employing (writing from memory, and therefore starting your writing by making sure you remember where you are in the story by writing it down as a short introspective), though of course, I cannot be sure. However, I know that while it is an extremely minor issue, I do find that it breaks flow, and partially harms my own suspension of disbelief. I am probably more aware of this since I just archive binged from somewhere in "Chamber", to the end of "Tournament", and is thus more aware that you do this a lot. It is also much less of an issue when reading it in the episodic format you release your fan fiction in, but it is quite obvious when it is read like a book (from end to end).
Again, this is very minor, and mostly an issue in text structure, since plot, characterization and technical quality are of very high quality, but if you think it is a valid point, you might want to consider it when next you write.
Hope that helps.
And Shirou still hasn't had his talk with Kiritsugu yet. >_> Well, the only way he'd have a higher chance of surviving was if Ilya was there too, and Iri might take it out on her, thinking that it was some kind of love-drug. She still might.
If this was some sort of reverse Hikaru Genji project, though, congratulations, grownups. You did it.
Hey, I just thought of a reason to potentially lower the death flags: If Ilya dies, there's no way in hell Kiritsugu will let Shirou remain in the country. That would be proof that they aren't as alright as they think they are.
Honestly, I'd never noticed before. Not in that sense, anyway - I'm aware I occasionally do it, mainly as a chance to show other perspectives on the same event, and differentiate their thought processes. I know I also tend to do it at the beginning, mainly because I assume that some people have just come across this series, and have no idea what's going on. Hadn't realised it had become that big a constant, though. I'll try to tone it down.
OK, guys - I have no plans to kill Ilya off. I'm not saying that things aren't known for diverging on me, or that I don't plan to make this hard on them, but I'm a romantic as well as a cynic, you know. I support true love, I just don't necessarily believe in it for me.
Thank god.
Illya constitutes a good 20% of the reason why I'm so attached to these fics. I can rest a lot easier knowing that she'll survive!.
Heh, for me I don't really care if the Trinity doesn't include very major divergences from Harry Potter cannon. This is mainly due to the fact I haven't really read Harry Potter past the Half Blood Prince. I first read the books many, many years ago so beyond the basic events and a general idea of who the characters are, I have no idea what's going to happen. I didn't even know the two original characters in the Trinity when I started reading these fics. Somehow I was pulled into a crossover barely knowing a thing about the two stories being crossed, and became addicted to the fan fiction based on what was presented.
Last edited by FlameStrike; June 1st, 2011 at 12:23 AM.
Go check out some awesome fan fiction!
http://forums.nrvnqsr.com/forumdisplay.php/5-Fanfics
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.ph.../FateStayNight
Because the remaining ten percent is worth dieing for.
Fortissimo EXA//Akkord:Bsusvier, Magi locked in a deadly battle royal. Sounds familiar right? Familiar and AWESOME.
http://forums.nrvnqsr.com/showthread...eo-Walkthrough
I would hug you if I could.
E-HUG instead!
My Fanfics. Read 'em. Or not.McJon01: We all know that the real reason Archer would lose to Rider is because the events of his own Holy Grail War left him with a particular weakness toward "older sister" types.
Electronic-Hugs! My favorites! Sadly...IRUN is actually E-hugging, um- I can't tell.
...
Nevermind, becasuse E-HUGS!
Wow, nice criticism. A lot of fics could probably use this sort of detailed advice.
Kieran, I think it's sort of nice to see Voldemort has managed to at least surprise the protagonists in some way. For most of the story, the HP populace just doesn't have the common sense or outside knowledge to outdo the heroes, so there is not as great of a sense of crisis. Though I think it says more about the HP characters and Wizards in HP in general than anything else...
The above was especially true in the first fic, but not so much in the second fic. They pulled off everything without a hitch in the Prisoner though, so it was an interesting turn to see them completely out played right after. I'm much more interested in the process and character interaction then seeing the plot develop though.
Go check out some awesome fan fiction!
http://forums.nrvnqsr.com/forumdisplay.php/5-Fanfics
http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.ph.../FateStayNight
Because the remaining ten percent is worth dieing for.
Fortissimo EXA//Akkord:Bsusvier, Magi locked in a deadly battle royal. Sounds familiar right? Familiar and AWESOME.
http://forums.nrvnqsr.com/showthread...eo-Walkthrough
DISCLAIMER: Lunar Legend Tsukihime, Fate/Stay Night, and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of Kinoko Nasu and Type-Moon, along with anyone who's happened to license them, like Geneon or Funimation. Harry Potter and all related characters and concepts are the creation and property of J.K. Rowling, along with her publishers and Warner Bros., as regards the movie material.
This is a not-for-profit, just-for-fun project.
Writer's Note: Certain dialogue sequences in this story are lifted from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, but I trust in the intelligence of my readers (and the availability of the books) to recognise them when they see them.
Chapter 2 - Intimate Matters
July 17 - 31, 1995
I’m Tom Marvolo Riddle, known to the world at large as Lord Voldemort, the most powerful and dangerous Dark Lord in the last ten centuries. After nearly fifteen years, I have just successfully resurrected myself from the dead in such a way that none of my enemies, nor anyone else, have a reason to even suspect my continued existence, save for perhaps my most devoted followers. I am ideally positioned to pursue any goals I desire without fear of interference. So the question is . . . What now? Where do I go from here?
The question had been on Galen’s mind from the end of the Triwizard Tournament, ever since they’d first realised that Voldemort had managed to obtain the final ingredient necessary for the resurrection ritual - from themselves, no less! Unfortunately, with almost limitless possibilities available, it was virtually impossible to guess where Riddle would begin his campaign.
Start from where he began last time, then. Upon resurrection and his failure to kill Harry Potter, Voldemort went into hiding for a year. He had multiple reasons for this. First, because Harry had done something he hadn’t expected in triggering the priori incantatem effect, and he didn’t know what it was or how to counter it. Second, because the longer he stayed out of sight, the more people would relax - the Ministry spent an entire year denying his existence, and by the time they acknowledged it, his position was far superior, because he’d spent that year gathering his forces and building inroads for his conquest. And third, because he’d decided not to move against Harry again until he’d heard the prophecy, requiring him to spend a ridiculous amount of effort to get his hands on it without overtly seeming to do so.
Plans with multiple objectives, he’d learned to expect from Riddle - and Galen had been given a painful lesson to not expect ridiculously elaborate ones where a simple one would be more effective - and that assumptions were dangerous. Lacking a Horcrux in his head that would let him view Riddle’s thoughts and perceptions, however, he had to proceed by using them.
Start with the question, “what does Riddle want?” He wants power, immortality, to be feared and worshipped. Ever since he was a boy, he’s wanted to believe himself special, above the rest of the world. It’s probably why he bought into the prophecy in the first place - it proved his importance, being marked by Fate itself as having his own specific nemesis. What better sign of his greatness, that his downfall was foretold by the coming of a singular being, rather than any common witch or wizard? No, he believed in the prophecy for that, at least, even if he had no faith in Divination itself. Dumbledore, on the other hand, was an idiot. Why a man with reportedly no faith in Divination would believe an obvious faker who suddenly spouted out a genuine-sounding prophecy at the tail end of a job interview, I don’t know - but you’d expect him to be a little sceptical, eh?
Was the prophecy ultimately important in this instance? Galen wasn’t sure. Riddle had no reason to think that Neville could beat him - none at all, if Snape was the traitor they assumed he was. Snape’s particular brand of vitriol would no doubt paint Neville as he was in first year, barely above a Squib. And without any direct confrontations, Riddle would have no impetus to question the presentation. He might even be insulted that such an obvious oaf was intended to be his doom. Granted, he might still want to know, based on his love of knowing secrets he could blackmail people with, or his ego - but Galen just couldn’t see the massive amount of effort devoted to it that there had been before. There just wasn’t enough reason for it.
He’ll wait until he has control of the Ministry, and can observe it at his leisure - or until he suffers a major enough setback that he decides the information the prophecy contains is too vital to ignore.
Galen wondered if they could somehow arrange such a situation. Pushing Voldemort into expending time and energy on such a task would be using a resource he couldn’t employ elsewhere, and lacking a kid with a connection to his brain, Riddle would ultimately find that he’d have to go and get the damned thing himself - which would be a pretty neat setup for an ambush . . .Still, that was a plan for the future. What would Riddle’s own plans be right now?
Lying low still makes sense as a strategy. The Ministry’s had fifteen years to build up its strength, and his power base has eroded. The longer he can keep them in the dark about his return, the more time he has to correct that imbalance. When he officially returns, he’ll want to make a big, dramatic statement to strike fear into the heart of witches and wizards everywhere - and being slapped around by Ministry Aurors would kind of put a kink in that. So, stay quiet for now, gather allies, build influence. Allies meaning the werewolves, the giants, the Dementors, the goblins, the vampires . . .
The Dementors, they couldn’t do anything about. Hell, Galen still couldn’t really defend himself from them, never mind control them! Shirou had mentioned that his dad had the giants handled, and the actions of LAPIS over the last two years would hopefully have some effect in mitigating the werewolves’ involvement. And from what he’d read, vampires as a group wouldn’t be an issue - their dependency on their native Romanian soil made international travel an issue. That’s not to say one or two might not be involved, but as a group, it was unlikely. From the hints he’d been able to glean from the Black library, that restriction applied to even turned vampires. Something in their nature demanded contact with the soil of Romania, so even bringing one over to create an army was a losing proposition - the converts would quickly burn out without that support.
And that’s even overlooking the fact that nothing that’s alive trusts them, since they’re all food, as far as a vamp’s concerned, as well as all the other vampiric weaknesses. It’s why they’re so damned expensive to hire. Inferi are the better option - fewer logistical problems, and much cheaper to use, too. And we know he did, fifteen years ago.
Insofar as denying him allies went, then, Galen could think of nothing offhand that they could do at their level which wasn’t already being done. That left the second part of Riddle’s likely plans, which was expanding his influence within the Ministry. It was what he’d done last time, and it had certainly worked well - by the time he’d actively moved against the Ministry, he had full control within hours. Key people in key positions, most of the rank and file too terrified to resist . . . It was no wonder, really, that the whole thing had collapsed like a house of cards. And there was no reason not to expect him - or it - to do it again.
It might be a little harder this time, without Lucius. He was the money man, the Minister’s trusted friend and top adviser - and now he’s a fugitive. On the other hand, with Fudge being forced to step down, who’s to say his replacement won’t be an even better puppet? With the top man as one of theirs, trickling down to manipulate the other departments of the Ministry would be easy . . . And then by the time Riddle reveals himself, he’ll already have been running the government, in effect, for months, or even years!
It was a scary thought, and not one he wanted to come to pass. But how to slow him down? Which candidate was the likely puppet - or was there more than one?
Iris-san might be able to find out - she’s got the status and connections. And Kiritsugu-san is the investigator, but we can’t make their interest too obvious without tipping our own hand . . . Failing that, who would we want to see as Minister? Scrimgeour was about as useless as Fudge. Amelia Bones died because Voldemort was concerned about her being too capable - but that was when the Ministry knew it was in a war situation. She’s not likely to run at this juncture. Failing that, the only government employee I know enough to trust would be Arthur Weasley - like he’d ever run at all - or someone outside that, like Mrs. Longbottom.
The worst part of it was, too many of Riddle’s inner circle were considered fine, upstanding citizens now, with plenty of influence. It wouldn’t take much to get any number of them on a ballot . . . An idea occurred to Galen, then. A pragmatic idea, that he rather thought Shirou, as Archer, and Takara as Nanaya would approve of - if they didn’t kill him for it first. But first, he’d have to ask them about it . . .
Galen paused as he turned the corner into a new neighbourhood. Though he’d been here many times before, the last time he’d come had been in the depths of winter, and he’d been more certain of his welcome. Still, he had promised - so with a sigh, he walked over to the house, and rang the bell. He almost didn’t need lycanthropic hearing to follow the thundering footsteps of an eleven-year-old girl tearing through the house in a full sprint, and supposed that if nothing else, that assured him of being at least somewhat welcome. Anticipating what was coming next, he braced himself firmly - and as the door was flung open, he was promptly tackle-hugged by nearly five flying feet of enthusiastic brunette.
“You came!” Miranda Granger cried, her voice only vaguely muffled by her head being buried in his chest, given the sheer volume of her exclamation. She proceeded to try and imitate a nutcracker, tightening her grip until the pressure of it rivalled that of a car crusher. Fortunately, he was well-used to these by now (if somewhat out of practice), and simply hugged back (more gently, of course).
“I told you I would, Mira - as long as you wanted me to,” he murmured into her hair.
“I wasn’t sure,” she said sadly. “I wasn’t sure of anything. I wasn’t a witch, and you and Hermione were fighting, and you never fight, and she wouldn’t tell me why - I thought it was because I’d asked you to kiss her . . . ”
He blinked. Had that been bothering her, all this time? Was that why she’d cut off writing to him around her birthday - because she was afraid she’d caused he and Hermione to fight, or that he might think she had?
“No, poppet, that had nothing to do with it,” Galen said simply. “Hermione and I fought because I lied to her - I didn’t tell her something that I could have, because I thought it would hurt her - but she found out anyway, and was even more hurt because I hadn’t told her. And no,” he added sharply before she could ask, “I won’t tell you what it was. It’s Hermione’s secret, get her to tell you.”
Miranda nodded. “OK. So, are we going to the movies now?”
“As soon as you tell me which one we’re going to see.”
Miranda gave him a perfect imitation of Hermione’s patented “what-an-idiot” glare. “Pocahontas, of course! We always watch Disney movies together!” She grinned. “I bought the soundtrack with my allowance, and I’ve been listening to it for months.” She tilted her head. “Hermione had the oddest reaction to one of the songs when she heard it - is that part of the secret?”
Galen blinked. “Which song?”
Miranda sang softly, “If I never knew you, if I never felt this love - ”
“Ah,” Galen said, recalling a certain dog, three years ago. Then again, perhaps it was the lyrics - he supposed there was definitely a certain truth to them where they two were concerned.
“I can think of a couple of reasons,” he admitted, “but you’d really have to ask her. I couldn’t say for sure.”
Miranda blinked. “It’s that bad between you? She used to tell you everything! Well, not quite everything,” she allowed with a sudden blush, “but near enough.”
“It’s that bad - or if not quite that bad, it’s near enough,” he imitated her.
The girl grew very quiet and thoughtful, before she finally asked, “Are you still friends?”
“I’m still your friend,” Galen said firmly. “Rain or shine, magical or mundane - it doesn’t matter to me. As long as you want me, I’ll be around. I told you that, and I meant it. Your sister’s got nothing to do with that. All right?”
“And Hermione?” she persisted. “Are you still her friend?”
“Hermione . . . Hermione decided she didn’t want me around,” he said at last. “We still go to Hogwarts, and we both still have mutual friends, so I still see her - but I try to stay out of her way as much as I can.”
Miranda’s response was to tackle-hug him again, and this time he grunted in surprise, even as she half-sobbed. “That’s . . . That’s just so sad!”
“Sometimes it happens,” Galen murmured. “Sometimes it happens, Mira.” Particularly to me, but we won’t go there. He added, “And if we linger here much longer, we’ll miss the bus and be late for the movie.” It will be so much nicer next year, when I can drive.
That got her moving, but Galen suddenly worried that given the ending of Pocahontas, watching the movie would not improve Miranda’s mood. He made a mental note to stop for ice cream after the show.
He might not be able to save the world, but he’d do what he could to protect this piece of it from harm, damn it.
The little vixen darted across the fields with the energetic swiftness of a creature that was born to run, and the confidence of one whose belief that this was her territory was absolute. She knew every path and road, every crevice and hollow - it had been her home for all her life, and if there was very little about it she didn’t know, it almost meant that she was rarely surprised by anything that occurred in its environs. Which was why, upon approaching a tall black tower, shaped rather like a chess rook, she paused. Someone was there, at a time when no visitors came to call, and the usual inhabitants were away. Cautiously, the vixen approached the tower in a slinking fashion, her little black nose quivering as she sniffed the air, attempting to learn more about the mysterious intruder.
The wind brought her the scents of moist earth, water, manure, and sweat - along with the faintest hint of bear. Uncharacteristically for one of her kind, the musk of the deadly predator caused the vixen to relax, for this scent was familiar to her - and even welcome. She picked up her pace to a trot, yipping a greeting as she headed for it, and as she entered the grove of dirigible plum trees, the source of the scent glanced up to greet her.
“Hey, Gin,” Neville called. “Careful not to change form - if you’re not keyed in, Luna says the new wards will pitch you halfway to London by bouncing you off the Moon first . . . And I’m not really sure she was kidding.”
The vixen’s petite and graceful form flowed into that of an equally petite and graceful witch, with hair as vivid a red as her pelt, and coppery eyes as just as bright - though with annoyance rather than inquisitiveness.
“Why on earth would you think that Luna wouldn’t key me in?” Ginny Weasley demanded with a roll of her eyes. “Even if she hadn’t asked me to come in and dust periodically, I’m her best friend! Besides,” she added, “Bill was one of the team that laid the new wards - the Burrow has them, too.”
“So does the manor,” Neville admitted. “Gran was pretty impressed with their work, actually - she says some of the new layers are pretty nasty.”
“Well, Missus. Einzbern did pay for the best,” Ginny admitted. “Add that to the fact that her husband and the Aozakis have probably seen a few nasty things themselves, and we’re probably almost as safe at home now as we would be at Hogwarts.”
“Safer,” Neville corrected. “I’ve never had anybody try to kill me at home . . . Well, maybe Uncle Algie, back when he was trying to get me to demonstrate my magic . . .”
Ginny snickered. “Come on, Nev - you can take on dragons now! What’s there at Hogwarts to be afraid of?”
“Snape,” Neville replied, continuing with, “the Slytherins, O.W.L.s, Gran’s reaction to my flunking my O.W.L.s, Riddle’s next plot - not necessarily in that order, mind you.”
Ginny paused, before focussing on the inconsequential one. “You’re really worried about your O.W.L.s?”
“More about Gran’s reaction if I flunk,” Neville admitted.
“But you’ve done really well - especially in the last year!”
“Last year I had a wand that matched me, and an excuse to skip tests,” Neville pointed out. “Before that, I had the others to help me keep up.”
Ginny blinked. “What makes you think they won’t . . . Oh.”
Neville nodded. “Yeah. Galen, Hermione and Luna are the big studiers in our group. I mean, we’re not all lazy sods like your brother - sorry, Ginny.”
“Don’t be,” Ginny sighed. “He just barely scraped by last year - Mum was livid when she saw his grades. I’ve no idea how he’ll manage his O.W.L.s, as Dean will be too busy worrying about his own to carry Ron this year.”
“Which brings me to the point - it was Hermione who prodded us to study, mostly. She made the schedules, made sure we followed them - and Galen kept her from overdoing it. And now they’re barely on speaking terms, which means our usual study system is shot to hell.”
Now it was Ginny’s turn to nod. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t study without Hermione’s nagging (an uncharitable term, but not untrue), or that they relied on her to correct all the errors in their work, but they were used to being able to bounce ideas and work off one another as they worked, under the mundane-born’s coordinating hand. The rhythm of the back-and-forth helped them improve, because even with Occlumency to improve their memories, often one person would note an idea, concept, or detail that the others wouldn’t. And it was more relaxing to work in the company of friends - except that in the case of Hermione and the trinity, Neville wasn’t really sure that “friends” accurately described them any longer.
“She was invited to Takara’s slumber party,” Ginny said quietly. “And she accepted - I guess that means they’re going to try and patch things up.”
“But will Hermione listen to Takara as closely as she did to Galen if she’s told to slow down, or not to worry?” Neville pointed out. “Plus, he and Hermione are the only ones who manage to keep up in History of Magic - if he’s not studying with us, that means that the subject is all on her, adding more stress. And you know he won’t study with us unless she invites him.”
“It’s going to be awkward for a while,” Ginny admitted with a wistful sigh. “It always is when you have to deal with people you used to fancy.”
Neville snorted. “Are we talking about Hermione, or Galen?”
Ginny giggled. “It isn’t both?” Then she shook her head. “We’ll just have to deal with it for a while. Hopefully, they’ll sort it all out so we can get back on track to the real issue.”
“Riddle,” Neville said soberly. They’d all decided on that name, as it was easier for the wizard-born than saying “Voldemort,” and not quite as ridiculous as “You-Know-Who.” And only a few people would know who they meant in any case.
Ginny nodded again, suppressing a shiver. It was strange, after so many years, knowing that they’d be going into the year with their friends having no idea what to expect. She was used to being able to rely on their knowledge to keep herself and her friends safe - and now it no longer applied.
“Any thoughts on what’s going to happen next?” she asked. Neville’s Gran was a society person - she learned all sorts of gossip, which Neville now paid more attention to than he used to.
“Depends on who’s elected Minister,” Neville opined. “Some of them - we might as well give up now, they’re as deep in things as the Malfoys. Some of them might be OK - and some of them we just can’t be sure about.” He shook his head. “I’ve been half-tempted to ask if I can get in to see that prophecy - I ought to be able to, seeing as it’s supposedly mine, but I’m not sure how to do it without letting anyone know that I’ve done it.” He made a final movement, and said with satisfaction. “There! That’s the last one - watered, pruned, and fertilised!”
He got up and stretched, before beginning to strip off his heavy workman’s gloves. Ginny stretched herself, and said, “Well, I suppose I ought to get dusting myself - Luna should be home day after tomorrow, so this will be the last time it needs doing, too.” She smirked. “Wonder if she’ll have found a Snorkack this year?”
“We’ll find out - but I hope so, for her sake,” Neville said, his voice muffled as he lifted his apron over his head. He tossed it aside with a sigh of satisfaction “Give me a minute to clean up, Gin, and I’ll come give you a hand - Gin?”
Ginny blinked, abruptly aware that she hadn’t been, and felt her face flush in embarrassment. “Sorry - um, you look hot. Er, I’ll go have some lemonade waiting for when you come in, all right?” She turned and darted towards the house before he could answer.
Merlin, does he ever look hot - he’s got the same kind of muscles that Shirou did! How did I not notice them before - how bloody tailored were those robes?!
Neville was taller, too, Ginny realised. If she danced with him now like she had at the Yule Ball, her face would be buried in his chest. The idea made her blush again. He’d been quite the gentleman, and now he was actually starting to look . . . Well, fanciable.
I guess there’s one good thing about all this: at least if we get around to rating all the cute guys we know at Takara’s party, I’ll have a tidbit or two to share . . .
Takara drowsed for a long moment, as her still-sleepy mind struggled between consciousness and oblivion. Where exactly was she, again? Why exactly was she trying to wake up?
Sweet year-before-sixteen, her mind replied, and she hazily remembered - her birthday. As part of her present, her parents had let her have a slumber party, something she hadn’t had for years. She’d had a birthday round of mini-golf with all her friends, dinner with her family, and the girls had shown up for cake, movies and all the other things girls were supposed to do when spending the night in.
It had been a little awkward at first, because she’d invited Hermione along with Luna and Ginny. Although they hadn’t been at all close in the last year, as far as Takara knew, Hermione still considered her a friend, so . . .The British witch had been nervous in the beginning, as though she expected to be hexed, slapped, or beaten into pudding. Not that Takara wasn’t tempted at times, given her behaviour, but she reminded herself that for the prior three years, Hermione had been one of the closest friends she’d ever had. The other girl had suffered a terrible shock, and taken it badly, but it would be a shame to let their friendship end over it - Takara had known so few growing up that she was loathe to lose any of them.
It seemed to help that Hermione was in a place, and with people, where she could talk about everything openly - and not just magic. By now, the only one in the house who was not aware of Takara’s true origins was Alex, and the toddler had his own ways of helping people relax. Baby giggles were in some ways even better than chocolate in that regard - and they’d had plenty of the latter available, too. Between that, playing with her gifts, hair-braiding, nail-painting, and the odd pillow fight, they’d certainly seemed to resume the more relaxed relationship they’d had before. She and Hermione would never be completely on the same wavelength - they were two very different people - but they were still the closest friends each other had of their own age group. It felt nice to get that back.
Takara stretched drowsily, luxuriating the pleasant feelings brought on by that memory. It left a warm feeling in her heart - no, it was over her heart . . .
Takara abruptly became aware that there was a hand on her chest that didn’t belong to her, and it was only the worry of waking the entire household to see it for themselves that kept the Japanese witch from shrieking. Instead, she let the adrenaline pumping through her system rouse her to full wakefulness, so she could find out just how bad the situation actually was.
The hand was slender, long-fingered, and delicate - seemingly a girl’s, which was verified by the two warm weights pressing into her back. The good news, then, was that no one had broken in during the night to molest her. The hand was soft, and very warm, too, radiating heat like Galen often did - and the unexpected physical contact to one of the more delicate areas of her anatomy was having an embarrassing effect, which made Takara really hope that she could extricate herself before someone found her like this.
The identity of the girl groping her was easy enough to guess, once Takara realised there was a chin resting atop her head - or at least, as “atop” as it could get, seeing as both of them were lying on their sides. Even without the smell of vanilla in her nostrils, only one of her friends was taller than she was, at the moment . . . But Takara was puzzled as to why Hermione would risk their barely-repaired friendship by doing this - surely, she had to know that it wouldn’t go over well! But then her Occlumency-boosted powers of recollection brought back the memory of the last time they’d wound up in this kind of position.
“It’s the only way I can sleep! It’s instinct, now - I don’t feel safe without my pride! . . . Because as often as I let the lioness out, I also let her in . . . I wanted her more than the rest of you probably did, and so she ran deeper in me than the owl probably did in you - and when we balanced, she was a stronger presence than the rest. So I’m more ‘catty’ than I used to be, even in my thinking . . . I told you that I’m all right as long as someone’s in the room with me - who did you think I meant? I’m a Gryffindor third-year, so I feel comfortable enough with all the other Gryffindor third-year girls, almost as much as I am at home with my family. But as far as my instincts are concerned, my real pride is the six of you. I can sleep and feel safe, knowing that my sister is beside me.”
And to have done this now, Hermione obviously didn’t feel that way any more. She wouldn’t have crawled up so close unless she wasn’t feeling safe, and was looking for reassurance, like Alex did when he was upset. However relaxed she’d been at the party, her subconscious mind was still uneasy, so regardless of the fact that to Hermione’s conscious mind, Takara was probably the source of the problem, she’d still instinctively come to the person she most associated with being safe - with being happy . . . At least, Takara hoped that was the explanation. She really didn’t want to have to explain to Hermione that she didn’t think of girls that way.
But it made sense, as she thought about it. They hadn’t exactly been close since before Christmas - and even then, since she’d been distancing herself from Galen, Takara hadn’t really been happy with Hermione. With the lioness instincts as part of her thinking, should it have truly been a surprise that she’d overreact a little when she got back some of their old familiarity? Even without the social nature of the big cat influencing her behaviour, Hermione had a tendency to throw herself into things when she got passionate - which was a poor choice of words, Takara suddenly thought, given their current position. And for that matter, it occurred to her that she was taking this awfully calmly . . .
Because if I freak out, everyone wakes up, and my parents will come running - not a scene I want them to see. And I am older than fifteen, after all. Hormones aside, I can act more maturely when I want to - and have the excuse of my seeming age when I don’t.
Takara took a few deep breaths as she decided on her course of action. She had to disentangle herself from Hermione before anyone noticed, and preferably without waking the girl herself - Hermione was liable to scream, and that would bring about disaster. But it meant moving slowly and carefully, so she took a moment to relax herself beforehand - and found her current position surprisingly easy to relax in. Hermione was warm and soft, the quiet rhythm of her breathing and her heartbeat were a subtle lullaby, and even her scent was soothing, that sweet vanilla fragrance in her hair mixed with the salt smell of her skin. It was embarrassing to admit, but if the position wasn’t so mortifying, it would be very easy to fall asleep beside her.
Is this what it would be like, to spoon with a boy? Takara wondered. Despite being far older than fifteen, she was no better versed in sex or intimacy than most girls her apparent age. Would it feel different, if it was Galen with his arms around her? He and Hermione were similar - both of them had slender, compact builds, hard-packed muscle that didn’t lend itself to a wide, bulky frame. Galen was taller, with broader shoulders, but proportionately, they weren’t much different. He was just as warm as she was, a veritable furnace of body heat, but his hands were larger and his hair shorter. She would likely being lying against his collarbone, not under his chin, and his hand would be cupping her breast rather than simply resting on it. Aside from that, the only difference she could think of would be at groin level - her bum would be at the perfect position to feel . . .
OK, that’s it - I’ve got to get Hermione off me, right now.
Very aware that there were a number of people in the room with very sharp hearing, Takara moved slowly, stretching out her arm to rest it gently on Hermione’s hand. Slowly closing her fingers around it, she prepared to lift it off - and inhaled sharply as Hermione’s grip abruptly tightened in response to her own.
“You had better be asleep,” Takara hissed through her teeth, trying to ignore the sensations the gesture sent through her. Combined with her earlier thoughts, she was certain that had she worn a bra to bed, it would’ve been uncomfortably tight by now - but at least what was happening to her wouldn’t have been quite so obvious.
Takara counted slowly to thirty, giving herself a chance to calm down and confirm that Hermione, along with everyone else, was still asleep. Once that was done, she slowly peeled the girl’s hand off, and began bringing it down (or in this case, over) towards their hips - and the arm suddenly tensed. They lay there, two rigid forms, before the weight of Hermione’s head came off her own to settle atop her shoulder.
“. . . Takara?” whispered Hermione’s voice uncertainly in her ear. “Why are you holding my hand?”
“Because I wanted it off my breast,” Takara hissed back. Now it was Hermione’s turn to gasp, her fingers abruptly going cold as her cheeks warmed.
“. . . I . . . I’m . . . I didn’t mean . . .” Hermione sounded more than mortified - she sounded like she was about to cry. The British witch’s hand was snatched away from Takara as though Hermione had been burned by her touch. “Takara - ”
“Not here,” Takara whispered, rising to her feet. “Come on, let’s go - we obviously need to talk.”
Looking as though she was being led to her execution, Hermione followed.
Last edited by Kieran; June 2nd, 2011 at 10:13 PM.
Take my money, and continue funding this.
And my money as well.
Keep up the good work, sir.
[13:22] <@hero> Just get a harem, if one dies you won't feel it as much.
[19:24] <@hero> hell
[19:25] <@hero> at this rate
[19:25] <@hero> if I get an ally that doesn't leave me, betray me or be overall violent while teaching
[19:25] <@hero> I wouldn't even mind a trap >.>
And myaxemoney. All of it.
And mybowmoney too. I'm sure I can live a month without food in exchange for this
Spoiler:
It seems that the fate ofMiddle Earththis fic is in your hands, Kieran.
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