He was so damn mean. And dark. And complicated. And Bad. The kind of man that her parents had warned her about. The kind of man that Harry and Ron could never be or become, no matter how hard they tried or how much they desired to be .
She was so straight-laced. It was what was expected of her. A bookworm. The smartest girl of her class. The nerd. She hated it all. But it was what everyone expected of her. She was the conscious of the group. The clever one. The savior. Oh how she hated her role. The role she had been cast into since birth. She was the good girl, she did what was expected of her-no matter how her soul cried in protest. Yet, she had gone along, silently hating the path she followed, but seemingly helpless to resist the path that her feet had alighted upon.
He was “The Git”. How he hated the role he seemed to have cast upon him. No matter how hard he had tried, the image had stuck. He cursed Fate every night as he looked in the mirror during his ablutions. Where had he gone wrong? What was his short coming? He was not truly ugly, surely?
Yet he had followed, seemingly helplessly the path before him and before he had known it, become embroiled in darkness.
At the cross roads of their respective lives, they each chose a different path. One toward the dark, one toward the light. Each eventually converging, even though neither desired the results. Even though each fought against the pre-ordained outcome of the crucible of their lives.
But the wheel of fortune is a cold and uncaring thing. Existing only to fulfill its mission. The souls that it affected were ultimately helpless against its outcome. It existed only to do its job. To spin, to turn, and to bring together the souls that were meant to be as a result of its random spinning, turned by the hand of fate.
If the wheel had had a soul it would have smirked at the resistance the creatures offered to its result. It was futile-the resistance. For the result was, after all pre-ordained.
And so Fate, gazed upon Her work in amusement. The tangled web She had woven for them a certainty. The ways that her loved ones fought against Her Will amused her. The battles against Her a source of amusement for the ages.
Hermione Granger and Severus Snape.
The thread of Her tapestry never ceased to surprise Her. She smiled a benign looking smile. A deceptive looking smile. It had fooled all of the Gods but Zeus, that smile. Glancing to her side, the God of Gods gazed upon her, then down to the tapestry she was weaving. He paused for a moment then nodded, ever so slightly at the object before turning and walking away.
It was all that She needed.
Their road was set in silk. It would be hard. It would be painful. But it would be, provided that they over came the one obstacle that The One, Zeus, was obliged to throw in the path of her weaving.
Many had been the object of her design. Many had fulfilled her desire, many had not. She had cast her lot. She had weaved her want. The free will of her subjects would determine the course now. All she could do was sit and watch. Sit and wait. Observe and interfere to a certain extent.
She had only gotten away with it a few times before.
Before her enemies had interfered. Before the Queen had had her way.
Would her darlings have a chance?
Would they over come what was certainly awaiting them?
Would the threads she wove hold?
Or would they unravel in the face of adversity?
It was not for the first time that she bowed and prayed to the God that had just left her. It was not for the first time that she made her way to the chamber of Eros with a prayer on her lips.