To Dance on the Stars

To Dance on the Stars

by Raye Johnsen

*****

    'Harry Potter' and all associated parties are copyright J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Warner Bros. Entertainment, and all associated parties.

    'St. Seiya' is copyright Sunrise Studios, DiC Entertainment, and all associated parties.

    I have no rights to these properties and make no claim to any. This fanfiction is not for profit and for entertainment only.

*****

Part Four

When I read about the evils of drinking, I gave up reading.

     -- Henny Youngman

    Dionysus leaned against the ivory pillar and surveyed His Great Hall.

    A few nymphs and satyrs hovered around the remains of the buffet table, scavenging some of the dishes that still held some food. There was more wine spilt on the floor than remained in the punchbowl, and far more food ground into the marble tiles than on the table. Against one wall, a giant screen played karaoke tracks to itself while a group of nymphs and satyrs squabbled over the microphone. That didn't stop more nymphs and satyrs dancing to it. There was some kind of drinking game going on in the corner, that seemed to involve lots of sqealing from the nyphs involved. Most of the furniture had been tipped over, but that didn't seem to interfere with the activities of the couples using it.

    Dionysus surveyed the latter stages of one great party, and found that it was good.

    A pair of pale arms encircled Him, their owner pressing up against His back, and a throatily feminine voice murmured, "Hey there, handsome - why are You out here?"

    He smiled and turned around within Her arms, His own going to encircle Her. "Waiting for You," He replied easily, reaching out to tug gently at one of Her black ringlets. "It's never any fun without My girl."

    Ariadne blushed at the compliment, which made Dionysus obscurely proud, and stood up on tiptoe to kiss Him.

    Several pleasant minutes later, Dionysus leaned back. "Wow," He breathed. Over two thousand years, and it kept getting better.

    "Yes," Ariadne muttered from where She leant against His chest, catching Her own breath. Stepping back, She took His hand and led Him out of the hall, onto one of the balconies that rimmed one side of the room.

    Dionysus looked out over the rail as Ariadne pulled the curtain across the entry shut and sealed the small balcony against eavesdroppers. He felt the whisper of Her power, similar-to-but-not-quite His own, flavoured with Her mortal birth, strengthened by Their love, empowered by Her ascension, as it spun a cocoon of security around Them.

    He turned to Her as She turned to Him, catching Her in an embrace that was inspired as much by the insecurity that had been creeping up on Him as by her presence.

    She waited until his arms loosened a little, and then said, softly, "So, Love - what's really wrong?"

    "I'm worried for Athena."

    "Yes, I know. So am I."

    Dionysus looked down at his lover. "You are?"

    Ariadne made a moue of cheerful exasperation. "Yes, of course I am. Athena and I are friends, after all." At Dionysus' startled expression, she smiled and explained, "She is the Goddess of Wisdom, I'm the Goddess of Pleasure. Our areas tend to overlap - especially in the philosophical aspects. It makes sense - wisdom - for Us to get along, and there's no pleasure in cat-fighting. And, for all You and She like to badmouth each other, You don't really fight, and You do support each other. She does acknowledge that sometimes the wisest thing to do is throw a party."

    Dionysus looked over the balcony again. His palace was built on a crag over a ravine, facing Olympus proper, and from the balcony, one could see the palaces of various other Gods. His eyes unerringly found a particular palace, one that had been dark for fifteen years. Lights could be seen flickering in a room or two of the support living quarters - but the great library both Dionysus and Ariadne knew was there was dark, and no sound came (not that there was ever very much noise from that particular palace, compared to, say, the loud modern music that poured from Dionysus' place, but still, on quiet nights, one could often hear the soft strains of a classical guitar, or a string quartet). Ariadne followed his gaze, and her hand found his.

    "Why would Hades warn Us of this so-called impostor?" Dionysus asked. "He hates Athena as much as I claim to."

    "What does He get out of it?" Ariadne countered. "What would happen if We believed Him?"

    "We would deny this girl - Hermione, I think her name was? - entry to Olympus." Dionysus answered Her. "Therefore, Hades wishes to deny Hermione entry to Olympus."

    "But *why* would Hades not want this girl to enter Olympus?" Ariadne wondered.

    "No - she wouldn't need to enter *Olympus* - only Athena's palace," Dionysus mused. "What's in Athena's palace that none of Us have in Ours?"

    "Athena's Library!" Ariadne replied. "Apollo has a greater library on music and medicine, but Athena collects books on *everything*!"

    "So, the question is, what is in Athena's Library that Hades would deny this girl?" Dionysus asked Himself.

    "Obviously, Hades has something brewing on Earth - and this girl can stop it. If she has access to Athena's Library," Ariadne answered Him.

    "But do We *want* to stop whatever Hades is brewing on Earth?"

    "Do We want to miss the expression on Hades' face when whatever-it-is He's doing blows up in His face?" Ariadne countered.

    Dionysus blinked, and turned around to His lover, an impish grin stretching across His face, matching the one on Ariadne's. "Of course," He said slowly, "just giving her access won't defeat Hades."

    "No," Ariadne agreed. "She clearly has to do something *with* what she finds there."

    "So helping her in wouldn't be interference in another god's affairs. Really."

    "Nope," Ariadne agreed. "So We wouldn't *really* be opposing anyone at all."

    "And if she turns up on her own..."

    "It's only fair to give her directions. And transport, if she's tired. Perhaps a place to stay for a little while. Only kindness, after all."

    "And I *am* the God of Orgies. I *always* have an open door. Not *my* fault who turns up, is it?"

    They both grinned at each other, and Ariadne suddenly threw Herself up into Dionysus' arms. "Oh, I *do* love You," She breathed, kissing Him.

    Dionysus was too busy kissing back to reply, but His body's response spoke most emphatically for Him.

*****

Anyone can do any amount of work provided it isn't the work he is supposed to be doing at the moment.

     -- Robert Benchley

    Professor Binns was lecturing something about the various Being Summits that had been held during the fifteenth century under Madame Clagg. Ron Weasley was not paying attention. He was busily cribbing from a copy of 'Bulfinch's Complete Mythology' Hermione had lent him. It was a lot more interesting, and it might not be too much of an exaggeration to suggest he learnt more in that one morning than he had in all the History lessons he'd attended all year.

    He learnt the Greek creation myth, and how Athena was born ("Ignore that," Hermione told him, "Athena was the daughter of Metis, the goddess of prudence," but Ron decided he liked Bulfinch's version better), about Pandora and Prometheus and Arachne ("Why didn't you just let her die?" he asked Hermione plaintively. Hermione snorted and said, "Because she wasn't *bad*, just a bitch." "So nice to see you've always been like this," Harry commented).

    He also learnt that the swan in the stars was the swan that pulled Athena's chariot ("So I'm, like, your guide." "More like, you go where she tells you, but you go first." "Harry...." "Am I wrong?" "Well, no, but it's not nice to say it like that.") and that the Hydra and Pegasus had been created from the blood spilt when Perseus, Athena's champion, had killed Medusa the Gorgon, whom Athena had created ("That was a bit messy, wasn't it?" "At least I cleaned up after myself, which is more than *you* two can say about your dorm room.").

    At lunch, he was still reading. "This is fascinating. This Diana lady is *vicious*."

    Hermione sighed. "Her name is *Artemis*, and only if you annoy her, Ron. Don't worry, you'll probably never meet her."

    "I mean, yeah, walking in on a girl in the bathtub, she's allowed to be annoyed, you should've heard Ginny go off when we were kids. But *killing* a guy?"

    "Okay, Ron, tip for the future: don't walk in on Artemis," Harry sighed.

    "I don't know it'll help," Hermione said resignedly. "Even if we make it to Olympus, that's not the only thing that pings Her off. She can't stand Me, and I can't stand Her, and I can just *see* Her making up an excuse to come after Ron with an arrow simply because he's my Knight."

    "Divine politics?" Harry asked.

    Hermione shook her head. "Divine sibling rivalry," she replied. "I'm the daughter of Zeus' first wife, Who died. Very conveniently, I admit, but She *did* die. Then He married Hera to consolidate His hold on the throne, but She and I always got along fairly well - She's the only mother Athena had. Artemis and Apollo are the children of one of Zeus' mistresses, and he didn't try to shield Letona from Hera's anger, and that's a story in itself. So, not only am I the legitimate one, after We all grew up, if Zeus ever had to pick between Me or Them, He picked Me. Artemis and Apollo hate My guts, and not just because I kicked Artemis' butt in our last game of Monopoly."

    Harry blinked. "It sounds like something out of 'Coronation Street'."

    "Man, this Niobe was a *twit*."

    "Ron, eat your lunch. I cannot believe I just said that."

*****

You can go a long way with a smile. You can go a lot farther with a smile and a gun.

             -- Al Capone

    Lucius Malfoy sat in the small room set aside for those whom had been summoned to attend on Lord Voldemort but he did not yet wish to receive. He glanced around the cold stone of the deserted castle the Dark Lord had taken over.

    He was not sure what to expect. He had, as ordered, sent the owl to Draco, but his son had not yet responded. /It has been less than a day, though,/ Lucius reassured himself. /There has hardly been time for Draco to pen a reply, much less for it to get here./

    He remained unreassured.

    Wormtail Pettigrew scurried out of the Dark Lord's hall. Malfoy maintained a posture of studied indifference as the rat animagus almost ran out of the room. Internally, he shivered.

    It had taken a lot of grovelling - and more than one session of Cruciatus - before the Dark Lord had forgiven him his repudiation. The Dark Lord had forgiven him eventually - he too had been Slytherin, so he understood the notion of self-preservation - but Malfoy was all too aware that he was no longer the indispensable servant he had been. The Dark Lord did not trust him to follow him to the end.

    It was galling to acknowledge that a Gryffindor and a madwoman ranked higher in the Dark Lord's estimation than *he* did.

    There was a flutter of wings, and an owl dropped a letter on his lap. Malfoy drew in a deep breath of relief as he recognised the handwriting on the envelope. Ripping it open, he read:

Dear Father,

    I hope that this letter finds you and Mother in the same health that it leaves me. I trust that the Dark Lord is holding you both in safety.

    As you have requested, I have begun observing Hermione Granger. As you know, she is a particularly close associate of Potter, and has been remaining close to him recently. I would be inclined to think that she fears an attack, were she aware the Dark Lord has noticed her.

    There have been no new students or staff entering the school; however, I cannot speak for the population of Hogsmeade. I'm afraid any enquiries I would make in that direction might attract attention, as I have never made any such before. Perhaps another associate would be able to find out the information for you without the risk.

    I will continue to observe, of course.

        Respectfully,

            your son, Draco

    Malfoy smiled grimly. At last, some *good* news. Or at least the prospect of it.

    As if on cue, Bellatrix Lestrange stuck her head out of the hall. Malfoy repressed a shudder. His sister-in-law had chosen to weave a crown of preserved holly leaves into her silver and black hair that day, giving the effect of a green, spiky crown upon her head. The effect was not enhanced by the wide, bright coral-pink hoops she had looped through the holes in her pierced ears. /I am so grateful the Dark Lord ordered her to begin a regular bathing regime,/ Malfoy thought. /Poor Narcissa nearly fainted when *I* got out of Azkaban, I shudder to think how she managed to stand Bellatrix before she got her into the tub!/

    "*He* wants to see you," Bellatrix sing-songed. "*He* is asking for you, little brother, little brother who forgot him, little brother who apologised so prettily. Have good news, little brother, because *he* might have forgiven you, but *I* haven't."

    Malfoy swallowed, and entered the presence of his Lord.

*****

You can fool too many of the people too much of the time.

     -- James Thurber, New Yorker, Apr. 29, 1939 "The Owl who was God"

    Draco watched the owl that bore his reply to his father's message wing its way towards the southwest. He had laboured over that letter for hours.

    Not one lie had spilled from his quill, he had made sure of that. Not one word that he wouldn't be able to confirm under Veritaserum. And yet, reading that letter, anyone would swear he was completely loyal and sympathetic to the Dark Lord.

    /Idiots./

    But with any luck the letter would buy him time. The Dark Lord, to whom as a Malfoy he owed loyalty, wanted to kill Hermione Athena, to whom as the Hydra Knight he owed loyalty. These conflicting demands rent at his mind, until he felt as if his bones vibrated with the conflict.

    He was a Malfoy, whose blood was the purest there had ever been. He had power on both sides of his family tree. If he had been born with black hair, they would have sworn he was the spit of his mother's family, the Blacks. As it was, all his family declared him a pure Malfoy.

    He was the Hydra Knight, and he remembered hours of happy companionship with Athena and his brother and sister Knights. There were memories in his head of competitions and debate, of argument and amusements, of humour and cheerfulness.

    He was... in an impossible situation.

    Draco curled up on his bed and sighed.

    /Tomorrow. I'll deal with it all tomorrow./

******

As you journey through life take a minute every now and then to give a thought for the other fellow. He could be plotting something.

     -- Hagar the Horrible

    Hades bit His lip as He strode down the corridors of His palace.

    Athena had begun to search out Her Bronze Knights, and He did not know why.

    Athena had always had Her affectations. A circle of fifteen Knights to honour Her, that He could understand. Five created out of whim and aether, and five won through Her tests, those He also could understand. But the five Bronze Knights had been lifted to Her circle apparently by whim, and He did not understand their purpose.

    "Bronze Knights..." He muttered. "What is your secret? Why does Athena gather you close? Just ordinary humans, that's all you are. That's all you can be. Isn't that so?"

    Hades clapped His hands, and one of His servants drifted up. "I want you," He ordered, "to go talk to one of Athena's Gold Knights. Find out everything you can about Her Bronze Knights."

    He waited until it had slipped away.

    "Your Bronze Knights can be no help to You, Athena," He said to the empty room. "My Silver postulant will annihilate them. But I confess myself curious as to *why* You think they can help You."

    A shadow slipped away from Hades' hall, unnoticed.

*****

Author's Notes:

    1. Dionysus was not just the Greek god of wine, but also of it's byproducts; orgies have been mentioned, but He was also the god of debates, civil harmony and lawmakers. All peace accords and treaties, especially ones involving treaty marriages, were dedicated to Dionysus. He is the only god with whom *all* the other gods had good relations.

    There have been various representations of Dionysus and Ariadne made over the years in various forms of art. I have chosen not to adhere to any particular artist's version; instead, I've decided that they share the general Mediterranean phenotype of black hair, dark eyes and easily-tanned skin.

    I have also gone with the Greek version of the myth of Ariadne, wherein Dionysus successfully petitioned the rest of Olympus for Ariadne to be granted divinity. (In the Roman version, Ariadne remained mortal and Bacchus remained faithful to her for all of her life.)

    2. I am absolutely convinced that Ron Weasley has a brain. The problem lies in convincing the boy to *use* it.

    3. Bellatrix Lestrange *is* crazy, but from canon she is neither witless nor irrational. I see her as enjoying being unpredictable, and Voldemort permitting her eccentricities because he likes seeing people flinch away from her.