Like I may have said before, I'm not really satisfied with what I have now. There are gaps I can't help but grimace at whenever I look back at previous chapters, and the early chapters make me cringe. I'm not sure how long it'll take me to rewrite "Everything I Know," but once I finish all my college stuff this January, I'll have all the time in the world to write, and you have no idea how much I'm looking forward to it. :)
The plot will change quite a bit (sorry!), so you'll probably have to read from the beginning again. But at least it'll be better, and at least I'll be updating regularly, right? (Err... right?) Oh well. Anyway, I'm sorry I've been so bad about updating and just communicating-- and I'll be replying to reviews that need to be replied to soon! Any updates will be posted on this LJ, and previews of chapters and other random things. Right now I've got the beginning of the new Chapter 1 under the cut below. Not quite sure how that whole Ron/bodysuit conversation made its way into the story, though...
Anyway, good luck on mid-terms for those who have them, and if I don't post something on ff.net by Christmas, happy holidays!
The Academic Tournament
The first day of school; September 24
It was well into night by the time Hermione Granger made her way to compartment number 47 of the Hogwarts Express. By then the evening lights had already been lit, with the train windows sitting faceless in their frames, squares of black save for the color her passing figure provided: a frowning face framed by chestnut-colored hair, a set of black robes over the uniform Hogwarts grey, the golden glint of a Head Girl badge.
The lateness of the hour, however, went unnoticed by the seventh year girl, who was busy rifling through the thick pile of parchment paper she held in her arms. The window at the end of the carriage caught her biting her lip, the next the deepening of her frown, detailing her preoccupation with the fact that Hufflepuff prefect Ernest Dobbs’s schedule card was nowhere to be seen. The brunette shuffled through the papers again, all without breaking the brisk rhythm of her steps.
Here was the Head Guidelines and Regulations scroll Professor McGonagall gave her and Ravenclaw Terry Boot… then their introductory speech to the prefects… and finally the schedule cards, ordered by house, year, and gender… and… and Ernest Dobbs was still missing.
After a third search for the Hufflepuff, she lowered the parchment in capitulation, shifting the papers to rest at the crook of her arm. She scowled. She knew she should have double-checked before leaving the prefects' compartment at the head of the train! Now she and Terry would have to postpone assigning prefect patrol hours until they found Ernest's schedule. Hermione grimaced in displeasure. That put them one day behind their intended --well, her-- intended Head plans for the term.
Calculating the shift in plans this one slip would cause her calendar of events, Hermione sighed and glanced upwards, looking to see how far she had left to go. No. 40, the gilded number on the top corner of the compartment before her signaled. Seven more compartments to go. She relaxed her strides, and as she did so, the previously indecipherable noises that filtered through the compartment doors separated, clearing out into glass-muted, but nevertheless distinct and individual voices. From compartment 44 Hermione heard the gasping laugh that could be nobody’s but Luna Lovegood's, and the panicked ribbits of web-footed Trevor Longbottom. Shrieks and headlines from Witches Weekly trickled from the partially closed door of compartment 44, with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil seriously conducting their yearly evaluation of the school’s male population amidst the shrieking. And then, from No. 47, came two voices Hermione knew all too well.
"I think Mum's going to knit us bodysuits or something for Christmas."
"You saw her; she practically emptied out Knit Knacks in Diagon Alley today."
"I was wondering about all that yarn. But still--bodysuits?"
"Fred and I were discussing it in Kings Cross. Even dress robes don't take up that much yarn. Plus, bodysuits were in style or something twenty years ago. We’ve got all these pictures of Mum and Dad and their dotty friends wearing them in old photograph albums. Maybe Mum’s trying to bring back the trend. Merlin knows. Oh, hey, can you chuck me a chocolate frog? They’re right by your elbow."
"Yeah, here you go."
"Thanks, mate. Can you--" the sound of chewing, then a swallow "--imagine us at Christmas, though, Harry? Neville will be tottering around with his pots of plants, and we will be standing in the Common Room, dressed in maroon-colored bodysuits with the first letters of our names knit onto our chests. My sleeves will be too short, and Ginny's too long, because Mum gets our arm lengths mixed up each year. We'll all probably have hoods too."
"I seriously doubt that," a new voice cut in, and the two boys looked up to meet Hermione"s smiling face in the compartment doorway, her hand still resting on the frame.
"Hermione!" Ron grinned.
"Hey Hermione." Harry wore a grin that matched Ron's. "How was the prefects’ introductory meeting?"
"It was all right," Hermione replied, dropping into the seat beside Harry. She carefully set her scrolls, papers, and duties by the door, glancing to check that they stayed put, before relaxing and leaning back into the bench. "Oh, and just so you know, Ron," she informed, "your mother is teaching Ginny and I how to knit over the holidays. You are not getting bodysuits." She rolled her eyes. "Honestly, I have no idea how you come up with stuff like that."
...Yeah, and that's really all I have written right now. :) Now go find yourself some Firescape because they are THE SEX.