oocl I found a very old, short intro I wrote once. I hope it's short enough... I know I've written things that people think are too long. Anyways, just rea dmy thing, pick any character--don't ask to join-- and start off.
bic; A stature of desolate aura in yet a sense permitted with contentment in that her values were of her own; taking the liberty of a sheep, emulation in a social significance, was none of which she pointed in doing. For there was nothing appealing to her of changing her own self, what she desired to do most in free will, to be accepted by the others. Harry and Ron had most thought this characteristic to be a miniscule flaw in their dear friend’s personality albeit it was abidance of regulations, which gave way for a bigger defect and attempting to perceive in perfection. Nonetheless the uniqueness of this brought upon a perfect acquaintance, despite the quarrels painted up in fury and difference of opinion. An idealistic friendship was unattainable hitherto what was had was nearly best. Furthermore ideas of following the dress code: of her uniform hardly at all décolleté, with only being so young brusque fashion had hardly hit her mind or rather fifteen yet so tenderly self-assured in her own respect: naïve in flaunt had hardly to do with it.
She hadn’t for much paid attention during so this conversation in the Great Hall between Ariquin Dawns and Emmyruth Stone—with comrades: fellow housemates. Slytherin against Gryffindor. If not for the cliché commotion so witnessed virtually day to day, if not quite often. A glance of curiosity from her own solitude of her book; a precious moment her mind lifted from words in transfer of ludicrousness breath; picking battles seemed a key importance and Hermione saw this lacked at the matter. But as she flipped a page and ever so gracefully sighed with mixed thought of comprehension of the building storyline, the other half couldn’t seem bar congregate the happens before her through slander sought and friendly exchanged blessed.
Fully regarded of her surroundings, in how this began with a simple student, doing as she thought best, performing schoolwork: obliterated by a simple question of a younger lass twisted to distraction; diversion to Hermione’s self at most, from her book. Every bit of coursework assigned, she had completed. Summer holiday essay, oh quite finished the first few says of season. Henceforth her time spent free were of her own pleasures as of now, one of her favorites, possessed by social installment: eavesdropping. Or, perhaps, hidden deep within the lust to engage with other apprentices. It all mattered with her book placed, in a motion seemingly constructed of absentmindedness, on the tabletop. She pushed herself from the bench—last minute reaching back to retrieve her faithful companion chock-full of adventure: closed with that quivered, bone adorned in opalescent flesh as a book mark. A finger, always useful when pausing for a moment to accompany other tasks while still plotting to continue reading minutes later.
But as she became nearer to the Hogwarts class her rejections of self-rendezvous with ones she didn’t know quite well stood prominent in fear. Yet her mind embittered the theme of dialogue and her nature was to comment with abandoning the heed of what horrid reaction would come. It all she could begin but with an air of superiority to her values rather than theirs. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to point out that threatening others is quite a way to disown one’s respect; just as an affront may come revenging in threat is just the same.” She paused a moment, deeming the earlier situation to all fairness. “Yet I could stand proven wrong in this—You all had been conversing congenially and—“ in a bitter, cinnamon cast of color, her eyes landed upon the Slytherin femme with her harangue submitted toward her. “You just had to come up and bring slander to nothing but a nice talk. Now, I know most of you have no idea who I am—as I don’t recognize some of you… But I had been over there,” and ever so gently, with her voice level, her gestured to her former seat. “I heard this and I just couldn’t help but put my thoughts forward.”
Heaving a sigh, in her own defeat she had realized this approach might have not been for the best. To add in all, she sat down on James’ other side, devoid of invitation. “I am sorry—if you all would forgive me. My opinions and mouth are greater than what common social sense I must have.” Laugh; at her own self, to impel comfort. Now brining herself back at level to make possible friendship had been harder. Even so she would attempt to alleviate her chances. A smile crept in a timid slip met her lips.
“I see you’ve started on an essay—“ had she made to comment this moment seemingly procrastination had changed suddenly to friendly change of subject. In facts of she had heard his age: seventeen, seventh year—or sixth if it followed her case of being born after September first—while she in fourth; assignments stood different. Not to judge, she wouldn’t dare. “That’s good… I’m Hermione, by the way—
I, ah, I think I might know some of you.”
Emmy had seemed quite familiar in her eyes. Being in the same house and year. “Emmy, you’re in my year and house—right? Well, clearly you’re in my house…” The robes evident in own association. But as informing others of her own name it could be but foolish. For she had been one of Potter’s two best friends: always together, seen with him most of the time, albeit it auditioned her lack of knowledge of other students. Cliquing with mainly the two males—aside from Lavender and Parvati—had isolated a great amount of diverse socializing.
“But I’m afraid to say I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting you all.”
A sheepish grin; she would learn.
Gender:
Points: 890
Reviews: 3