Black Hermione Granger Mga Nobela at Kwento

Her smile widened, sharp as a blade. “Yes,” she said smoothly, her voice now heavy with authority. “You are looking at the oldest daughter of the Lycan King.” She leaned back in her chair, her beauty now edged with danger. Her smirk deepened, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement as she dropped the final stone into the silence. “Olinda Black.”

Pay attention to the guests' movements. "Danny, I think they're up to something. Just look at the woman's face, which is the leader." Albert whispered. The black witch was at the very front with her long curly hair. Bellatrix Jane. "You know her?" Albert asked again. "Bellatrix, one of the famous poison gatherers of the black witch nation. She can kill people even with just one drop of her poison." Danny's wolf growled as Bellatrix approached the wall and touched it with her fingertips.

Some thing was about to happen; she could sense it. Beside her, her loyal companion, a majestic black wolf named Luna, her grandmother, exhibited a restlessness of her own. The fur on her back stood on end, her keen eyes scanning the surroundings with an intensity matching Emily's own unease. Luna Malfoy had always been attuned to Emily's emotions, and now her wolf instincts seemed to amplify the growing strangeness in the air.

As she had said, she was completely changed. Hailey always wears bright colors, from pink to yellow to green and stuff like that, but now, all she wore was black, not like she was trying out the mysterious girl or bad girl kind of black, but an "I'm mourning something” type of black. She had a blue eyeliner drawn around her eyelids; the lower and upper parts, but she still remain gorgeous. It was so graphic to look at, like a two goodie shoe turning into a dark person overnight.

I turned to follow their gaze, and my eyes widened when I saw her - a striking figure in a black gown that exquisitely accentuated her curves. Her hair was styled in loose curls, cascading effortlessly down her shoulders, and her piercing eyes captivated everyone in the room. She was wearing a black mask, lending an air of mystery to her appearance. I found myself staring at her, trying to remember where I had seen her before. Marion, my assistant, walked closer to me and whispered, "Ma'am, that's Leah." I scoffed in disbelief. "Leah? That can't be... After she was framed, she never left her house."

I love messing with anyone's patience and that's what I'm good at. I am now walking with a smile plastered on my face and it turned into a serious one when I reached the living room where my father and the alpha that my father is insisting me to marry, talking and laughing as if they were friends for years now. No one would've thought that their packs were actually each other's enemy. Pathetic. "Oh, here she is. Craige, meet my daughter, Hermione," my father immediately introduced me politely but I never let my face show any emotions. He was looking at me as if telling me to not do anything stupid. Well, what I'm going to do isn't stupid at all.

Hermione The time has finally come when I'm going to see where my mother has grown up, the excitement that I'm feeling is so unreal and I can't wait to learn more about her and see the other witches, so far Jamilla and Gloria are the only that I have know and I don't consider Gloria one, when she has to have a sacrifice in other for her to have power.

And she relayed how I’d been born, but didn’t stop there. “Her eyes used to be black, but they changed to that purple hue after she turned five. And her hair and skin turned white before entering puberty. But that’s all, my lord. She’s never showed any need or skill out of place. Believe me, the only thing she shares with the immortals is her looks, and I swear on my life she’s not a spy.

“Girl, you look damn hot! Are you sure you’re that witch girl from Harry Potter and not a slutty version of Scarlet Witch?” “Her name is Miss Hermione Granger,” I told Trish, rolling my eyes. “Plus I’m not a redhead. Can’t be Scarlet Witch even if I want to unless you got a wig stashed somewhere for me to wear.” “Don’t think I’m a nerd but even I know that before she became Scarlet Witch, she was Wanda Maximoff and she was a brunette just like you,” teased Trish with a wink. “Anyway, what do you think?” She did a little twirl then looked at me over her shoulder, her brows wiggled as a mischievous smile formed on her red lips.

It was a rather gory outcome. Axel Snickered in my mind reminding me of our last plaything. She was a Vampire. Her physical appearance had barely registered on my consciousness, overshadowed as it was by the weight of our negotiations and the gravity of our discussions. I recalled only one distinguishing feature, her raven-black hair, which cascaded down her back like a waterfall of night. Beyond that, her beauty was a vague, impressionistic notion, a fleeting glimpse of elegance and poise that had left no lasting impression on my mind.