Black Hermione Granger Novels & Stories

“Don’t speak ill of the goddess, Valeria. Do you want to be stricken with madness?” “I agree with her.” My eyes narrowed as I peered at the figure in front of me through the darkness. She had blonde hair was clad in a black attire. I couldn’t make out the color of her eyes, but I could bet they were black. Sniffing the air quietly, I realized she wasn’t a werewolf. This woman was a griffin—a werewolf’s greatest enemy. “Get out of my path, thief.” I growled at her, hoping my aura would frighten her, but she remained calm. Weird.

My eyes flutter shut momentarily, before opening again. Suddenly, I feel a presence approaching me and my head snaps up. "Bellatrix," I hear a familiar voice whisper. I turn around and my breath catches in my throat. Standing in front of me is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Her long black hair flows freely down her back, framing her face perfectly. She wears a simple white dress, with golden sleeves. Her skin is so pale she looks almost ethereal, and the light reflects beautifully on her perfect skin, enhancing the light hues of green on her cheeks and lips.

His fingers, once unassuming, now twitched with anticipation, eager to grasp the dark powers that lay just beyond his reach. Helen, too, bore the marks of her otherworldly existence. Her long, raven-black hair cascaded like an inky waterfall down her back, framing a face that seemed to defy the laws of time. Her delicate features held an ethereal allure, an enchantment that whispered of forgotten secrets and forbidden knowledge. And those emerald eyes, so captivating and mesmerizing, were the windows to a soul steeped in darkness.

she spat bitterly and I frowned. "Excuse me?" I squeaked in surprise, not knowing why she was angry with me when I was the one who was kidnapped and even tried to run away but was caught. "Oh, don't mind her," intervened another dishevelled and exhausting looking wife. She had dark circles under her eyes, her cheeks were sunken in and her dress looked creased, "Katherine is always moody, and looking for a fight when there's really no reason for it," she glared at Katherine, "my name's Hermione, and I'm Quentin's seventh wife. It's lovely to finally talk to you and sit with you like we're doing today. You really are as beautiful as Brigitte has repeated for the past few weeks."

She rolls her eyes dramatically at the two men and steer me towards the stairs. "What was that all about?" I ask with a chuckle when we're out of earshot of them. "Ugh! Harry is just always trying to ruffle up my feathers." She hooks her arm through mine. "Do I really look like a goth, though?" Heleni is stunning if you ask me, she has dark long hair with wide, almond-shaped eyes and the cutest rosebud mouth. She's slightly muscular, but not too much, and even though she's wearing all black, it comes across more warrior than goth.

I knew her name , everyone knew, Alpha Emerald Black,but I just wanted to hear her say her name. "Fuck you, I am an Alpha too, so that stupid tone of yours doesn't work on me Alpha Rain" she spits back and my eyes widen for a split second, surprised that she was not affected by my Alpha aura. Even the guards and crowd had stepped away uncomfortably, but she held her ground and proceeded to curse me without even flinching. How she had called out my name even in a mocking tone sent shiver round my body like it was on fire. "You... are an Alpha” I stutter finally registering the fact she was the women I wanted to kill today. She was the infamous Alpha black ,my mate and I had plan to end her li

I said. They hesitated. “Alpha didn’t,” “*I did,*” I snapped. “Want to question me again?” They exchanged wary glances, then unlocked the gate and stepped aside, their obedience silent but reluctant. The door creaked open, the sound grating against the quiet. Hermoine was curled on the floor in a crumpled heap, her once-proud posture broken. Her hair was tangled, her dress wrinkled and stained from days in the filth, her face pale with frustration and bitterness. But her eyes,*her eyes still burned.*

He says. “Perfect. She will do, quite alright. Blacktooth, you have finally caught a gold mine!” Mr. Wicker grins at Blacktooth, this time I can tell the smile seem genuine. I raise my eyebrow questioningly at Blacktooth, who just gives me a sheepish smile. “Alright dear...” Mr. Wicker says to me, then he sends a look to Dris and Blacktooth. “Hermione sir. Her name is Hermione, Mr. Wicker.” Blacktooth says humbly

I barely even looked in the mirror before rushing out of our house. As I pass the windows of a dark classroom, I regret my decision to not even brush my hair—I resemble Hermione Granger in the first Harry Potter movie, with a bird's nest for hair. Mine is darker, though. I was born with the complex of a ghost and black hair to match. I'm a mess.

"I'm Neneuis, nice to finally meet you, Harriet." I stared at her offered hand with my mouth slightly open. She's the girl; she wore a black tennis skirt, cropped long-sleeve black shirt with a red tie, black manicured hands, black biker pumps with a thigh belt, her hair was black and was in a boyish cut, her filled dark eyeshadow cat eyes and black lips screamed memento mori: She's the kind of girl that stare right into your eyes and remind you that you must die.