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HauntedHermione stared at her reflection. Madame Serena Flipslip, the newest and most fashionable designer in the upper level society, had just sent over the dress. Now, Hermione called it the dress, because it was an exclusive. Serena had made it just for Hermione. The crimson velvet bodice and skirt made her well maintained form even more appealing. Her hair lay in a pile of well manicured curls, and Hermione could only sigh at the black ribbon pulled taut around her neck, holding a large garnet in the hollow of her throat.
Perfect by nature, icon of self-indulgence
Just what we all need
More lies about our world
That never was and never will be
Have I no shame, don't they see me?
I know I've got everybody fooled.
She could pin point her pain to after the war. Ron and Harry, they were both gone. He swept her up into his world of perfect wives. But what did she expect from Draco Malfoy?
I condemed her onceI condemned her once.
Yes, Even her one and only condemned her to the grave I wished those idiotic friends of hers would crawl into. She was everything that annoyed me; too outspoken for demanding souls, too caring for those who were obviously beneath her, too commonborn for pureblood.
How she showed me. She stood above the woman who killed her parents; wand extended, perfect form, her bushy hair tugged back by the wind that her power had called. How lovely her eyes; she held the tip of her wand at the throat of her prey. It caught my breath to watch her threaten life, to hold life in her hands.
Twenty-three years before the crippling of Crown Prince James III
He was fourteen and she was probably aged about the same, give or take a few years. It had been an hour since he'd met her.
He hated her already.
She scowled behind him and likely shared the sentiment as they scampered up the hillside in a desperate attempt to escape the roaring mob that seemed to be growing perpetually larger and coming ever-closer. Gabriel would have liked to say that it was all her fault he was in this situation, though it was his careless nicking ofwhat was it? A chicken that started the first old woman running, but how was he supposed to know that she'd stumble and fall and everyone else would think he'd assaulted her?
He hadn't. He'd taken the chicken, snapped its neck and run, because he hadn't eaten meat in weeks and he was starting to feel the affects on his already weak limbs.
This is what happens, he thought. This is what happens when you live like th
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More