07/26/2019 06:04 PM  Fallen Star / Pardon My Poetry Interlude HJ / 273956 Fallen star Crimson lips that worshipped your name, a soft moan, an eager prayer set out amid the winds calling to you. Can you hear it still? Can you hear me still? Your face a masterpiece that demands only adoration from the black night that bore you, to lure us in, to lure me in - and oh, I am at your mercy. My words are a poem written in stardust and scattered to the heavens once read by you. Your eyes sparkling from out of the briny deep, churn and roil with broken onyx to carve, slice and destroy with one blink – and I bleed so beautifully for you. Do you yearn for a zenith of galaxies? Then let me adorn you with clusters of moons and suns that orbit and collide and are born and flicker into nothingness, they exist for only a single glance from you – as I do. And I, the insatiable comet, your fallen star, shooting across the skies like a stone dancing upon the waters, hoping for a single moment alone with you. For a glorious beat of my heart, the ripples of my dying star shimmered at your feet, a fleeting ballet for you alone. For in that singularity, I lived as a solitary blazing trail that sparked and glittered when I caught your eye, then disappeared beneath the blackness. Lost, shattered into powder that blew away as if I’d never been at all, when you turned away from me. 0 Comments

05/09/2019 06:22 PM  ABANDONED STARTER SERIES: For My Moony - A Starter from Long Ago I miss you dearly to this day.  ____________ “Every man’s memory is his private literature.” – Aldous Huxley Deep in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic, on the lowest level, the ninth floor below the main Atrium, down the darkened oak corridor and firmly ensconced behind some of the most impenetrable magic of the Wizarding World was the Department of Mysteries.  Hermione was standing next to George Weasley, one of the newest employees in the DOM in his new office, her arms crossed, hip pressed lazily against the think hewn wooden table that was his ‘testing zone’ as he affectionately labeled it, where they were both looking at a large wooden box set squarely in the middle of the table.  “We’re ready to do a trial test.” Hermione nodded, her expression solemn, she had been in on the very beginning of the conceptual idea for the experiment, and as such she had been pulled in as one of the chief advisors on overseeing the entire project.   Project “M” was a radical idea bounced around between George, Hermione, Harry and Gilbert Wimple, the new head of the DOM over a year ago.  It had started in a frustrated conversation between Harry, Hermione and George about his inability to pursue and accurately prosecute some wizards because they had simply ‘removed’ their memories; thereby making it nearly impossible to put them in prison for a crime they simply, staunchly and truthfully had no memory of committing.  It was rather ingenious, because without the proof or a witness or the evidence of the bottled memory strain they were unable to convict.  Harry had offhandedly mentioned something about wishing he could just go into a Pensive and not only see the memory within, but be able to also interact within it.  Instead of simply walking amid a three dimensional recollection, what if you were able to interact within it?  What if you were able to speak to the participants?  Converse; learn more about the events surrounding the crime or incident that was taking place?  George smiled and said, “What if you could?”  He announced he’d been working on something similar, but not quite as complex for his expanded ‘Dream Line’ romance section for the store.  Interactive dreams.  Why not make the memories interactive too? They’d all sat and looked at each other for long, silent moments.  George and Harry had looked at Hermione in question.  She was the one they came to, to solidify or shoot down ideas.  Hermione had looked at the two men and shook her head in amazement.  She couldn’t see one reason not to.   “What if we could?” had been her softly spoken but very enunciated reply. They took the idea to Gilbert or Gil, as he was referred to for vetting.  Gil was a softly spoken but commanding man.  He entered a room and it was as though all eyes were drawn to him against their will.  He was an average looking man, average height, average brown hair, average build – but when he spoke, you listened and when he wanted something, he got it.  Some people called it being charismatic, Hermione said he had some kind of enchantment about him, but no matter – he was powerful and respected and a brilliant strategist.  And when he green-lighted a project it had long-standing merit to it. George, Hermione and Harry had presented the idea to Gil and George had found himself the newest member of the Ministry of Magic.  The joke shop had been placed in the care of Ron and Angelina and George had been on this project since. Hours and days and months of trials and failures and sometimes dangerous tests in memories that no one wanted to go through had finally lead them to today.   Project “M” was officially active.   The final testing phases had begun and once these were completed “M” was set to go ‘live’ within the month. Hermione had had her misgivings about sending in Aurors or Unspeakables into dangerous memories, there were reasons after all that they had been removed from people’s minds, she’d argued.  But now George had what he’d called a ‘foolproof’ way to test the project.  He’d been practically bouncing off the walls to get Hermione down to his office to show her. “Alright, Georgie,” Hermione announced, “You’ve got your desired captive audience.  Show me how we’re going to do this safely and without altering the original memory.”   George waved his hand dismissively.  “Everything reverts the moment you leave as if you were never there.  Because, well… you were never there.”   “How long can you stay in safely?”   George shrugged in reply. “Technically, you can stay as long as you like.  The memory will eventually lose some of its strength near the end, but if you’re engaging the participants, there’s no reason to think you would be pulled out before you wanted to leave. For dangerous situations there is a fail-safe word that acts like a verbal Portkey and pulls you out immediately.  Everything is recorded on the Port-O-Ear,” George pointed to a tiny flesh-colored earbud that was placed in the ‘M.O.’ or Memory Operator to record what was being said for analysis, and to add to testimony or evidence if necessary. Hermione let out a long breath and flashed George a genuinely awed smile.  “You’re brilliant, Weasley.  I have to hand it to you.”  “You’re just now figuring this out?”  George grinned toothily at her and chucked her chin lightly. Hermione laughed and nodded her chin at the box. “What’s in the box?” George’s smile faded a bit, but he turned the front to face her and to her surprise she read the name etched in simple script across the front and just above the latch:  Remus J Lupin.  Her own eyes widened as they read the name, an inscrutable expression flitting across her face before she reached out and pulled the chest to her.  One long finger ran along the etched name as she stared at it and then up at George.  “Explain,” was all she said.  George had learned over the years since Hermione had been in the Ministry and had been in charge of her own department, that when she was in ‘work-mode’ you didn’t question or tease, you obeyed.  Right now was one of those moments.  Her tone left no room for doubt. “We’re not sure how it began.  Not really anyway, but it looks like Remus had been taking out moments, fragments, bits and pieces of his life and storing those memories for years.  Since his school years, up until just before his death.”  George’s voice dropped several octaves and Hermione’s eyes shot to his.  After nearly ten years he was still deeply affected by the loss of his brother and any mention of the day of his death always left him and everyone around him a bit winded and teary-eyed.  This was no exception. Hermione reached out a hand to squeeze his arm consolingly and he nodded, coughed and scratched his eye but continued.  “His life is laid out before us.  It looks like he may have had some memory loss when he transformed, so he took out moments to remember, little things, simple times, happy times, across the board, really.”   George flipped up the latch and pulled the box open and there before Hermione were hundreds of memories in tiny vials, swirling a beautiful iridescent golden color, neatly labeled via month, year and event.  They were all written in the same familiar cursive and Hermione’s heart lurched in her chest.  Her hand fluttered over her mouth and she closed her eyes to compose herself.  Finally she was able to look closely at the chest, picking up a few stopped vials and reading them.  They said things like, Solace or Peaceful or Humorous or Spring Day.  Along with darker themed labels that she would rather not think to view. All these memories, pieces of Remus’ life were here exposed, to be seen and interacted with by any one of the team members under George’s care. Hermione frowned, she felt a sudden, fierce need to protect these memories, precious facets of Remus’ life and keep them private.  “Aw now, Hermione.  I know what you’re thinking,” George interrupted her thoughts.  “I’ve already spoken to Teddy about this and he’s okay with us looking at them.  He only asked that if we’re able to do this successfully that he can one day visit with his father and have a conversation with him.”   Hermione’s eyes slid closed briefly as she nodded, swallowing hard. When she spoke her voice was shaky, but she agreed, “Of course.  How did you even know about these?”  She was running fingers over the tiny jars, Majesty had stood out and she picked up the vial, its memories within twinkling and winking at her.  Her eyes flicked up to George once more. “Teddy said he had a bunch of things of his father’s that he didn’t know what to do with.  He hadn’t looked at many of the memories, just a few…” George’s voice trailed off, “too much to deal with, you know?”   Hermione set the vial down carefully and took George’s hand and squeezed it. “Yes, I know.   Who do you have planned to do this?”  She was back inspecting the labels, trying to be discreet as she let George scrub a palm across his eyes. “I was thinking I would. Just because I know, knew him.  And I didn’t want to be, er, disrespectful in having someone else see his life.”  Hermione’s eyes were locked on George’s, her brows furrowed in contemplation.  Letting George go should be the natural culmination.  He’d put a year of his life into this work, but Hermione also worried that it might be a bit too close to home for him as well.  “I would be honored, George if you would let me do it?  At least with Remus’ memories, at least at first?”  The implication hung heavy in the air between them.  George wasn’t ready for something like this. It didn’t matter if it was Remus. It was everything that swirled around him.  Around Remus’ death.  Around Fred’s death. Remus, Tonks, Lavender even Bellatrix, Snape, they were all tied together, forever linked to the one person that he loved more dearly than anyone in the world.  And it mattered to him.  George knew what she was doing and he forced a far more cheerful smile than either felt and agreed. Hermione and George decided that she should steer clear of anything that sounded remotely dark and finally decided upon the bottle that had caught her attention at first: Majesty.    The process was complicated and the potion added to the memory strain had to be brewed and ready to pour into the Pensive at precisely one minute before the memory was added.  Hermione added the Port-O-Ear to record the event and with a quick, nervous smile at George poured a drop of the memory in and dunked her head into the Pensive. --- * --- The process was much the same; the swirling, falling sensation seemed heightened as she plunged into Remus Lupin’s memory.  The year marker had been 1986, Remus would have been twenty-six, just one year younger than she was presently.  It hadn’t really occurred to her until she landed in an unceremonious lump upon a sandy beach that she was going to be meeting a young Remus.  Logically she knew it, but now as Hermione pulled herself upright, brushing off sand from her bottom and jeans as she gazed around at her surroundings, did the reality hit her.   Her breath caught when her gaze fell upon a staggeringly tall tower set right at the base of a massive cliff, the foamy waves of the sea crashing against its stone foundation.  Hermione forgot for just a moment that she was in a memory when the waves licked at her feet and soaked her shoes and the cuffs of her jeans in icy water.  She squealed, jumped back and turned to face the ocean and what had to be the most glorious sunset she’d ever seen.    Every nerve ending tingled as she feasted upon the grey clouds, backlit from within the setting sun’s pink, gold and rose colors.  It was magnificent. She wrapped her arms around her and turned to take in the beauty of the moment, a broad smile lighting her face as she nodded in wordless agreement.  This was truly majesty at its finest display. She’d not even heard him approach, not even been contemplating how or where to find him, but she turned her head and there he was, a solitary figure along the beach, a well-worn, but think wool jumper pulled tightly closed and approaching her as if he’d just materialized out of the fog rolling in from the ocean.   Hermione swallowed in a nervous gulp of air, pulled her own jumper a bit more snugly around her middle and smiled at the man as he stopped before her.   Her voice was quiet amid the crashing of the waves, but it was warm and welcoming, as was her smile.  “Hello,” she said nearly forgetting that this Remus had no idea who she was, wouldn’t meet her for years and even then never knowing her as an adult, but the urge to fling her arms around him and hug that kind man she’d known so long ago remained strong inside.  Instead she turned her eyes back out to sea and drank in the giant sun as it began its decent into the ocean.  “One of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen.”  Hermione slid a sideways glance at the taller man standing beside her, “Wouldn’t you agree?  Simply breathtaking.” So there she stood, sharing a sunset with an old friend and yet, she was about to meet Remus Lupin it would seem, for the very first time on equal ground and quite honestly, Hermione Granger couldn't have been happier about it.   0 Comments

05/09/2019 06:18 PM  ABANDONED STARTER SERIES: THE DOCTOR / A REPLY FROM LONG AGO: Hermione expelled a long, slow breath as she pushed back from the table, her brow furrowed and her eyes fixed as she rose and began to circle the small table slowly, her gaze never wavering as she scanned the symbols inscribed across the top of The Book.  She stopped after coming full circle and leaned forward, settling her palms on either side of it, turning her head this way and that, trying to see beyond the slight haze of what looked to be the last shield separating her from getting the clear view she so desperately craved.   Hermione leaned in as close as possible, her frown deepening as she felt the ward beneath her start to buzz in warning at her close proximity.  It didn’t faze her in the slightest, all her concentration was focused on a certain set of symbols that looked - - familiar…  If she could just get a better view!  Hermione was close, so close to figuring out what the first block of runes meant.  If she could, she’d have her nose pressed up against the shield trying to peer in, but she knew better, Merlin only knew what would happen if she touched it, even for a moment.  Hermione had been granted unfettered access to the artifact just yesterday, but had just in the last couple of hours been able to untangle the thick, complex wards surrounding it enough to get a closer look.  The final wards would have to be broken down in a series of spells and release wards she knew.  And, as was her guess, the answer to unlocking them was written clear as day on the book itself.  She just had to decipher it.  She snorted, sure thing…no problem.   The book had been discovered while Hogwarts was being rebuilt after the Great War.  A portion of the Slytherin dungeons had collapsed and while repairs were being made a previously undiscovered antechamber of the Chamber of Secrets was unearthed.   Its discovery however, was immediately silenced due to the curious artifact found in the antechamber: A Book.     Technically it had only been revealed to be a book in the last couple of weeks, since there had been literally a shield of some of the most powerful defensive and protection curses Bill Weasley and his team of counter-curse specialist had ever seen.   Hermione had been called in once the initial “outer shell” of wards and curses had been lifted.  Her expertise was required to decode the intricate and ancient symbols etched across what appeared to be every available square inch of outside of “The Book” as it was being referred to.  Needless to say her interest had been piqued once she’d gotten wind about a tome being uncovered with a set of runes on it that neither Bill nor anyone of his specialist could decipher.  And they were no slouches.  Bill’s team was very well versed in Runes.  They only called in the “Big Guns” as Bill liked to call her nowadays, after he’d heard her call Harry such, referring to a Muggle comment she’d once made when she herself called in Harry to help with defensive spells on a project she and Bill had been working on together.  So, Hermione had been dubbed codename:  Big Guns.   And, in all honesty, they did need her.  Since she’d first gotten a glimpse of the book, nearly two weeks ago, on the third day, when the last out defensive wards were disabled, she could see immediately it was etched with a series of symbols she’d possibly never encountered before.  Hermione was salivating to get her hands on it and be able to turn the blasted thing over to see what was etched on the bottom.   Hermione shivered tugging her jumper tighter around herself and glanced around the huge antechamber.  They’d as yet been unable to remove the artifact from the school, or even from the chamber itself. Every time someone tried to take it out they were thrown none-too-gently clear across the room.  It had an aversion to even being moved… They’d tried everything they could think of to get it out and nothing was working; not apparating it, not flooing it (installing the portable fireplace was a feat in and of itself), not portkeying it… nothing.   So here it remained.   “If you get your nose hexed off don’t expect me to fix it for you.”  Hermione didn’t even blink at Harry’s snarky comment.  He came up beside her, crossing his arms, his wand held casually in his right hand as he gazed first at The Book, then up at Hermione.  “How goes it?”   She shook her head.  “Slow.” Hermione heaved a tired sigh and straightened up, twisting her neck and groaning in relief as it popped and cracked.    Harry frowned.  “Mione, for Merlin’s sake, when was the last time you were out of here for a break?”   Hermione shrugged, “Monday?  I don’t recall,” she said vaguely, turning to another larger table beside The Book’s table that was piled with various tomes, many spread open and settled one atop another, stacks teetering precariously. She went over and ran her fingers across one page of one particularly large book and frowned.  “And before you try and tell me to leave, forget it.  You and I both know there’s something with this Book.  Something,” she paused, “big.”   Harry was busy circling the table The Book was settled on, much as she had just minutes before.  “I know,” was his flat reply. “How did you manage to move it?”   Hermione had settled at the reference table and was busily scribbling notes into a journal; she didn’t even look up as she spoke, flipping through pages and pages of the research she’d already begun to compile on The Book.  “I didn’t.  I transfigured the stone pedestal it was on into a table so it was easier for me to study it.  Went through several styles of tables before it stayed with this one.”   Harry looked up at her, “What do you mean several styles?”   “Apparently it didn’t like the tables I conjured.  Kept morphing them slightly, so I just decided I’d try something simple, practical.”   “It looks like one of the library tables upstairs.” Harry frowned, “Don’t you think?”   Hermione nodded absently. “It is.  It seems to like the Hogwarts library tables.  Not surprising really,” she commented offhandedly, “it probably originally was in the library.”   Harry fixed her with an incredulous look.  “Are you trying to tell me you think this book,” he jabbed his thumb at it and the ward around The Book crackled ominously, “was in the Hogwarts library?  Where students had access to it?”   “Possibly.  We know Voldemort stole many artifacts he thought would be important or useful to him and hid them throughout the school.  The ones that he had a fond attachment to were the ones he used as his Horcruxes, as we well know.”   “Hermione,” Harry’s voice became laced with an uncertain edge, “are you suggesting that we may have missed a Horcrux?” The implications of that literally made Harry’s stomach do uneasy summersaults and he shivered, his eyes landing on The Book once more, were now narrowed an wary.   Hermione looked up from her journal and slid it closed as she stood to walk over and stand beside Harry.  She saw Harry’s complexion pale and rested her hand on his forearm comfortingly. “Harry,” she began, but he when he didn’t turn to face her, she squeezed his arm gently, “Harry, look at me.  I don’t think this is a Horcrux.  However, we don’t know what it is.  It’s here in Voldemort’s chamber, so one must assume he was the one who placed all the wards around it to keep it guarded.  But, we don’t know what it was being guarded against.” Hermione crossed her arms and stared at The Book, her brow furrowing in thought, “Or even if Voldemort was the one who placed it here.  We’re just basing that on conjecture since it was discovered down here.  But…” Hermione paused, “this place has been so thoroughly checked so many times that it’s surprising it wasn’t discovered earlier.”   Harry tore his eyes from The Book and met Hermione’s.  “I suppose.”  His tone was even, but he already had that expression that Hermione knew all too well.  He was in ‘protect friends and loved ones mode’ and that meant he was going to do what he believed to be the best for everyone no matter what anyone else thought.  “But, I’m not sure what you mean by, ‘we don’t know what it was being guarded against.’”   At his mulish expression Hermione sighed and pulled away.  “Oh, Harry.”  She sounded exasperated.  “Think outside the box here for a moment, will you?   What if this book was not a source of great evil, but a source of great good?  One that Voldemort didn’t want to let get in the hands of anyone that it may cause him harm?  Or, what if it’s got some kind of power that he wanted access to and no one else?  We just don’t know enough about it yet to decide its fate.  Just, just have a bit of an open mind.”   Harry’s incredulous expression softened a bit and he snorted.  “Only you, Hermione, would defend the honor of a book.”  His lips turned up at one end for a brief moment and he nodded when she groaned again.  “Okay, okay” he said letting his grin grow as she rolled her eyes.  “I’ll think about it.”  He turned back to The Book then.  “It does make sense when you put it that way,” he conceded and nodded.  “It’s something I could see him doing…” Harry shook his head as if to shake off a chill and Hermione could see him visibly relaxing by degrees as he began to process the idea that The Book wasn’t necessarily a Horcrux.  Harry sighed, “I just imagine it being something full of misery and suffering.  It just feels that way.”   Hermione nodded, “It’s powerful, that’s for sure.  And,” she huffed, “uncooperative.”   Harry’s brows rose curiously, “Uncooperative?”  His grin was back and grew broad as Hermione looked up at him.  “It looks to me, Miss Granger, that you may have come across the one book in the entire world that doesn’t like you.”   “Pish-posh!” Hermione retorted waving a hand, stopping mid step, turning and practically running back to the table The Book was on, her eyes growing wide.   Harry’s wand was up and raised in an instant.  “What?!” he asked warily.  “What’s happened?”   Hermione was leaning in and grumbling under her breath, “Come on you little prat,” she muttered, “let me see!”  She gasped and Harry ground out again demanding to know what was wrong.  Hermione’s head shot up and she pointed at The Book, “There!” she exclaimed excitedly.  “That’s it! Harry!” she turned to look at him and back to The Book again, her eyes growing wider as the pieces began to fit into place. “That was IT!”   “WHAT was it?” Harry asked patiently, his eyes locked on The Book.   “Misery!”  Hermione beamed at him.  She spun around and made a beeline toward a darkened corner of the chamber.  Harry turned to follow her and his eyes widened as they fixed on her running toward, his gaze rising as he asked disbelievingly,  “What in the bloody blazes…” Harry took a few steps after Hermione, his expression becoming a mixture of amusement and shock,  “What are those?”  He was staring at three soaring bookshelves sitting in the middle of the darkened chamber.  They were freestanding and looked as if they’d been plucked straight from the library upstairs.   Hermione was up on a ladder, pulling herself along the edge of a shelf searching for a book, grabbing the edge and sliding along impatiently.  “Just some research books...” she said offhandedly.   “Just some…” Harry’s eyes grew even wider when he started looking at the spines and reading some of the titles.  “Merlin’s Balls, are these from the Restricted Section?”   “Ah-ha!” Hermione declared triumphantly, sliding a book off one shelf and climbing down, nearly loosing her footing as she did so.  Harry was there in a flash to grasp her arm and steady her; she smiled as she hopped down the last two rungs and rushed past him back toward The Book.  “It is the Restricted Section.”   Harry sputtered as he gaped at the shelves for a moment longer before turning back to her, goggling in shock at her back of her head. “It is the Restricted Section?”   “Yes. So?”  Her tone was a bit defensive and her words tossed over her shoulder as she walked, her nose already buried in the thick book as she flipped through the yellowed pages one after the other, scanning each quickly as she went; practically bouncing with anticipation.   “Yo – you brought the Restricted Section down here?”   “Well, yes.  It’s not as if anyone else is using it presently, Harry.”   Hermione’s tone danced around annoyance, though it was laced with enough frankness that Harry simply pursed his lips and scowled.  It took him a minute to shake it off while he stared at her before he chuckled in grudging admiration.  “Only you, Hermione…only you.”   Hermione sniffed; snatched up her research journal and flipped the pages open, set it down in front of The Book, not bothering to look up as she spoke. “Like I said, Harry:  Think outside the box.”  She was looking back and forth between the library book and her journal when she stood suddenly, staring at her journal and then moving to peer over The Book once more, before declaring in a triumphant whisper, “That’s it!”   She sat down just as suddenly as she’d stood and leaned back against the chair craning her neck up to stare at Harry, he couldn’t quite place the expression on her face.  “What?” he asked impatiently.   “I think I just figured it out…”   Harry goggled at her in surprise.  “You’ve figured it out?  Figured what out?”   Hermione had already turned back to the table, her head buried in her notes, she’d been spreading them onto the table, her quill busily copying down the symbols and flipping through pages of notes she’d been gathering for the past few weeks, she nodded absentmindedly and waved her hand, “Shush, Harry…I’m concentrating.”  He pursed his lips, folded his arms and grunted some non-committal response.   Hermione shot him a small, genuine smile and turned back, muttering quietly under her breath as she copied her symbols meticulously and Harry’s lips twitched despite himself.  She just looked so young, it reminded him of all those years sitting next to her in the library and watching her work quietly, diligently, just as she was right now.  He’d just moved to sit next to her when there was an ominous sounding crackle in the room.  Hermione and Harry’s heads both shot over to The Book simultaneously and they both shot up from their chairs, stumbling backwards.  The dull hazy shield that had been surrounding The Book was now glowing; Hermione reflected it was more of a glowing pulse actually.   That’s when they noticed the sound.  A low, dull thumping hum that was in sync with the pulsing light emanating from within the shield of The Book.  It almost sounded like a heartbeat.  Hermione moved toward The Book instantly and Harry grabbed her arm yanking her back and behind him in one swift motion.   “Harry!” she hissed, eyes locked on The Book, “Let go of me this instant!”    “Mione,” Harry’s tone was low, ignoring her completely, “what did you do?”   Hermione was trying to get out from behind Harry and he was having none of it.  “I didn’t do anything! Oh, for heaven’s sakes, Harry!  Let me go!”   “What happened?  What changed?”   Hermione shook her head, “Nothing! I was ju- Oh.  Ohhh. ” Hermione bit her bottom lip, her face flushing hotly.  She yanked harder out of Harry’s grip and spun around, snatching up her journal and reading it over and cursed under her breath, she spun back toward The Book. “You little, clever, buggar you…” she hissed.  “You cheeky thing…” She waggled her finger and took a step toward The Book, ignoring the pang of worry that went through her as she passed through the pulsing light to get a first, really clear look at The Book.   “HERMIONE!” Harry yelled at her – “NO! Don’t g- ” his words faded the moment she passed through the pulse of light. She turned around to look at him, her brows knitted together – she took a step back toward him, but the ward pulsed and tossed her backwards, her hip and bum hitting the edge of the thick wooden table with a hard thud.  She bounced off if it and winced, rubbing her bottom as a shot of real panic overtook her.  She knew better than to raise her wand – that never had good results.  And on the inside of the ward it could be even more dangerous.   Instead, she began chanting a spell to disable the ward, but to no avail.  She could see Harry prowling around the outside, the ward was pulsing at a solid, steady beat now, growing and gaining in speed as it grew in size.  What had been just the size of a large serving tray was now nearly the size of the entire room.   Harry raised his wand and Hermione screamed from inside – fruitless she could see, she began waving her hands and then at the first sign of trouble the ward crackled and hummed and she watched Harry get bodily tossed from the inner chamber.   She was alone.   Moments passed and the thrumming of the ward begun to hum and pulse and beat as if the sound of a heartbeat – or something else, she’d never heard before.   Hermione spun around and stood, afraid to raise her wand,  eyes transfixed – as before her the room began to grow brighter and there, right in front of her materialized a…   Bright blue police box. 0 Comments

04/04/2019 07:20 PM  Draco & Hermione - Typical Day At The Office “Will you stop complaining, Malfoy?” Hermione hissed.  She was exhausted, hungry, dust and dirt covered and now she’d just gotten a rather sharp rock in her boot, and it hurt.  They’d been traveling downward for some time now within the hidden passageway of a nearly completely jungle swallowed Mayan temple.  The rough-hewn stone walls were crumbly and Hermione more than once thought they would collapse around them.  She still thought they easily could and was peeved Malfoy would not stop talking – and doing so loudly for that matter – since the moment they were enveloped in the cool, darkness of the enclosure. Didn’t he know that sound could affect a collapse?  She sighed and stopped, leaning against a large protrusion in the wall to remove her boot and the offending rock within.  She turned the bright tip of her wand into the boot to make sure she’d gotten it all out and immediately Malfoy had brightened the tip of his wand and was glancing from side to side into the inky blackness beyond their light.  It was as if the light simply existed in the immediate surround of the two, completely erased beyond them into nothingness.  Malfoy was jumpy and grumbling under his breath and Hermione was relieved to have him quiet, relatively at least, for the moment.  Finally, she stood up and took a good look at Draco.  His usual pristine black attire was a fine shade of gray now.  She’d tried to tell him one does not wear black on an expedition…. But it wasn’t his state of dress, hers was no better, it was the look in his eyes.  Hermione held her wand up to examine him and he instantly swatted the wand away.  “Didn’t anyone teach you it’s impolite to shove a wand in someone’s face, Granger?”  The grin that had begun to grow blossomed wider.  “What’s the matter, Malfoy?  Not…” she paused, unable to keep the chuckle out of her voice, “afraid of the dark, are we?” He blanched, even in the gloom of the space the immediate following flush of his cheeks made her cover her mouth to hold in the burst of laughter.  She didn’t want to be the one responsible for their demise by flattening.  If anyone, that’d be Malfoy’s dubious distinction.   He regained his composure immediately, but Hermione leaned back against the wall, her face full of mirth.  “Hit the nail on the head did, I? Don’t worry, you’re secret is saf-” She pushed off the wall and immediately shrieked from surprise as the wall gave way and she fell backward, downward and landed hard on her backside.  The breath was knocked out of her, but she was already scrambling up to reach him… Malfoy would not do well alone in a place like this.  The man had zero experience in dangerous caves, tombs, what have you.  “MALFOY!” She heard a sound from behind and spun around; wand raised, at the ready, the hum of energy buzzing in the room seemed so loud it was as though it had enveloped her completely. She lit her wand brightly spinning in a circle, revealing a large round room with a single shaft of sunlight beaming down upon a golden pedestal.  There, haloed in a honeyed stream of light amplified all the more with dust particles dancing through it, each lit as though they were flecks of gold fluttering down upon it, was a stone object raised high upon the dais and as her eyes tracked movement, they followed the path down the narrow column to one Seamus Finnigan standing beside it. Hermione got her bearings within seconds and shook her head bemusedly. “Holy hell…” she muttered.  “McGonnagal always said I had the best dumb luck of anyone she’d ever met…” Hermione turned to Seamus, wand still raised, ignoring her painful backside and took a step toward him.  “Fancy meeting you here, Seamus… because you’re just the man I’ve been looking for.  Though, don’t tell Malfoy. It will break his over-inflated ego and tiny, little heart.”  She flashed a rueful smile.  “Now, step away from the..”  Hermione paused and shot a quick glance up at the object, her extensive knowledge of just about anything  and everything ancient or legendary magical artifacts left her surprisingly blank, “…whatever that is and I’ll take it.”  She chanced a quick glance over her shoulder and of course, the wall was solid again and no Malfoy to be seen.  Naturally.  It looked like it was just she and Finnigan.   He’d turned his head for one second, just one and the girl manages to find a hidden passage in the middle of meters of nothing but rock, dust and darkness and is gone.   Malfoy had smashed into the wall within a second of seeing her vanish trying to pull her back but had met head first with cold, very hard stone.  He’d heard her cry out his name and then nothing.  The cool darkness that had been encroaching around them was now nearly overpowering and he had no idea how far he was to the end of this passage, only that it was meters back toward the hot jungle above.  Frankly, neither seemed an appealing destination.  “Bloody f'ucking Merlin’s balls!” he growled, pounding upon the stone and wincing as his knuckles came away blood-stained and now throbbing.   He ran a shaky hand through his hair, running scenarios through his mind.  None of them were particularly good outcomes for Granger and quite a few were bleak for him too.   He could try to get that wall opened again, but he had a feeling blasting through it would do no good and no spell he could think of would transport him to where she was, even so, he’d tried a good many with no success. Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned to stalk off into the darkness, wand held high, his solo light all he had to keep him sane and calm as he fought off the prickle of danger and dread nagging at the nape of his neck.  He needed to get help.  He needed to find Granger.   This was all Potter’s fault.   “Go along with Hermione, he said….She’s the expert here, he said!”  Draco trudged along the endless corridor as he fumed, one hand balled into a fist, the other swinging his wand around checking each dark pocket for unseen monsters waiting to pounce.  “She knows what she’s doing, this is her field of expertise! You’ll learn from her, he said!  F'ucking Potter! That's the very last time I listen to that wanker, ever!”  Down deep Malfoy hoped that wasn’t true.  And more so, he fought the worry that Granger wouldn’t be able to handle whatever she’d gone and bumbled her way into without him and that he’d be able to find her in time….Potter would make him disappear and no one would think twice to look for him, he was sure, if he returned without Precious Granger.  He couldn’t help the feeling that she was in far more trouble than he was and that he needed to rescue the klutzy girl as fast as he could.  What had been a recon and recover mission had now turned into a risky rescue mission. “When I find you, Granger…” 0 Comments

12/28/2012 04:27 PM  Bits and Pieces of My Soul Some writings I've written to people over the years.  They're gone, but the words remain - so read if you like and peek into the musings of my soul: ______ Cissa to her Lucius:  And so she stole upon him in the quite of the night and whispered her hope unto his ear, "Come grow old with me, my love. The best, I promise, is yet to be." With a kiss to lips parted in sleep, as gentle as the breeze itself, she sealed her wish.  And as if a vision she appeared, did she depart the same to leave him in wonder..was this real or just a dream? ____________ To you - I will seek the solace of your arms then, when I waver.  I think I should need your strength - for even now, your nearness affects me so.  *though her heartbeats skipped and fluttered around her belly like a thousand petals falling from a tulip tree - her voice was calm and sure when she spoke.  Her gaze, though her cheeks flushed at the intimate caress of his warm palm, did not leave his - could not bear to be pulled away. Indeed it was as if she were polarized to him - drawn in like that of a wayward star losing its battle with the stronger sun, being drawn inexorably ever inward until she exploded into him in a dazzling display of might meeting might.   He was so close she could drink in the scent of him,  and it made her pulse quiver.  The pad of his thumb, calloused sent tiny goosebumps flaring up and down her neck and the shiver was impossible to hide.  She was disinclined to hide the reactions he caused in her.  Even if she were, his sun shone too brightly, the pull was too great and she had no reserve to fight it.  - Her smile was shaky, but her eyes were dilated and dark with intent when she spoke - breathy and thick, like honey*  My words have you longing for more?  Oh how you romance me with just a line, and many verses, have me lost in your sonnets.  *Dark eyes searched his* Then map your quest, my Romeo.  Find your paths and begin your journey, begin our adventure.  I await the discovery with a wanton zeal. ____________________ The words that inspiration wrought  - *She stared back at him, the last thing she had thought he would do was rise and put distance between them.  It almost felt like a slap and she recoiled slightly at the action.  Pushing back into the cushions, blinking back stubbornly the idea of tears, she turned her cheek away, eyes and face cast down.  That had been a hard thing to say.  How do you share with someone such raw heartbreak and torment?  How do you share it with someone, no less, that you find yourself longing to crawl into?  Needing with a depth she had far ago put past her as being possible again.   Hermione had resigned herself to never finding a connection like that again.  To living a series of empty moments with men who never sparked in her the desire to be -what they wanted- or to inspire in her - to try to be more than she was. -  She'd begun to entertain the fantasy that Fate had finally cast a favorable eye on her one last time.   How cruel a mistress she was.  Showing her flashes of what she wanted, needed - and then yanking it away, like a precious drink of lifesaving water to a dying man. -  So she wanted to feel him.  Feel his touch, see a smile and know which one it was, and what it was reserved for - share knowing looks.  Perhaps it was just a fantasy, this idea of him.  A smoky shadow that haunted her soul, knowing exactly what she needed to hear, but not being able to actually fulfill the words he'd pulled from the darkest hidden corners of her heart.  She was a foolish, foolish slip of a girl.   She rose herself then,  turning away so he did not see the tear slip down her cheek before she brushed it aside, like so many others that had fallen long before he stirred her heart awake from the dull, monotonous slumber it had been in.   She was long used to tears filled with forgotten hopes, with barely spoken, gauzy wishes that were so fragile she dare not even put word to them.  It struck her mute momentarily, the shock that rolled over her and the ball of emotions that welled in her throat, constricting it so tightly she could not speak  - until she took a long, fortifying breath.  When she did, her voice was tremulous, full of raspy, raw hurt and something else, something that surprised her - anger.*    Why are you the only one who is allowed to be selfish?  I am not a porcelain doll!  I am a woman. I have flesh and bone like yours.  *she closed the distance between them swiftly, her eyes, shining fire-bright into his*  What course do you have to say what is better for me, than myself?  *her hands, despite herself, fashioned into fists and settled on her hips* You.. you have lit a fire inside me that I believed dulled and died long ago.  And yet you tell me I deserve better? What is better?  Some sallow, simpering man with an empty head and milky, gray, lifeless words that do nothing to ignite my passions?  Is that what is best for me?   *she stepped right up to him, her voice quaking*  You are correct in saying you're a cruel man.  Tormenting me with .. *one hand gestured the length of him* with all that you are and then deny me?   I share with you a piece of my life and you turn tales to run from me?   *her hands were back firmly on her hips* What are your feelings?  No intention of what?   *she paced like the lioness she was, proud in front of her mate - fearless to face him now that her passions had stirred other flames within*   I find no torment, *she flung the words out, spinning around and casting a nearly petulant glance his way*  in being with you, except in that you  leave me the moment I bare a piece of myself to you.  *she froze, stopping in her tracks, her back to him, shoulders ramrod straight* If you are going to trust me - you will have to take a leap of faith that I will also trust you.  *her voice was low and just as hushed as his*   After all, is that not what I have done since the moment we spoke?  And so we are very clear, I long ago let you in.  *she turned slowly, shoulders still stiff, eyes already shuttered and guarded*  I suppose the question is;  Will you let - me - in? (And yet..even though I said all this to you - you still left.) ___________________________ I had a dream last night - a haunting Vision of your eyes dancing before mine, Sparked with unrestrained desire, dark Like the bluest skies just before dusk - And I willingly dove into the sea therein. And your voice, like a siren lulling me To follow where're you sang. Helpless to stray from any path that did Not lead to you. And your touch. Oh, your Sweet touch - like fire and silk, caresses That left me keening, thirsty, craving for Just one graze of your lips upon my hand, Or my cheek - Heaven's angels would be Envious for anything more -   But I say, let them covet me.  For when You speak, it's as though the angels themselves Are singing.  And one touch from your hand I take flight amid the cadre of stars.  And one Smile from you and I catch glimmers of Untold cities of gold faultless and shining from Within your eyes.   Meet me tonight?  Give me patois and hope And a feast for my dreams?  --------------------- How do you know, my dearest, -----  - I think I shall not call you Romeo any longer, for theirs was a story fraught with tragedy, misunderstandings and truly unrequited love.  *her palm opened flat over his heart, feeling the steady beats, staring at him with understanding and acknowledgment written in the soft curve of her lips and in the expression of her eyes*  Our story is only in the very first pages.  It is new and fresh and unblemished.  *her hand slid down into his* However,  - we - have our individual stories that already color our characters.  Make up the fabric of who we are.  I will not shy away from this man standing before me - nor any of the facets of what make you, who you have become.  *her fingers slip between his and she squeezes them*  I am not so easily shaken, you see.  Not so easily thrown by mistakes in the past.  You can, my love take a chance on trusting who you see before you.  Someone with scars of her own.  Someone with pains that occasionally still sting, like a phantom injury - but a woman, who knows how to face forward, when what is behind them - is just that. ___________ 'It doesn't matter what we fought about...' Hermione set her own cup down and sighed inwardly and closed her eyes for a moment, letting the now definitely guarded tone he'd spoken in wash over her.  It had been such a long time since she'd -wanted- any type of relationship like this.  In truth she'd resigned herself to being without a companion that inspired her and ignited her within.  Mentally he stimulated her and physically she itched to touch him, mark him, taste him.  - And he seemed to want to hold that connection at bay - so, she clung to their spiritual connection.  He was going to have to be truthful with her if this would ever work.  Divided they would fall.  Untied - she was sure they could withstand anything.  Hermione also knew he was unused to having a woman who could stand by his side and who he wanted there.  She too had grown accustomed to living her life without the guidance of a shared partner.  Though she'd had it before, it had seemed like a faded picture on yellowed paper now.  She'd grown complacent  in her life and her career.  Love the family and friends she surrounded herself with.  And then this man comes along and like a tidal wave she was swept up and away, carefree in her abandon of what being with him would entail.  To her - it was simple.  You wanted to be together - so.. Be together.  But, she never had to uphold to the standards that these old-wizarding-blood families did... A hand on her knee jarred her from her thoughts and she started at the intimate touch - eyes opening with a pop and turning to face him- unsure how to tell him he should be open with her.. she could handle it.*   Everything matters.  Your friendships matter.  YOU matter.  *Hermione forced a smile, hoping it seemed genuine, her own hand sliding over his upon her knee*  Right here with you is where I want to be.   But *her voice faltered*  I want you to know...  *she squeezed his hand gently*  to understand and realize that you can tell me -anything-.    I know I don't deserve your trust yet, but you -can- trust me.   Just as I am trusting you.  Every day we move forward we put a few more bricks upon the foundation of us, my love.  They -must- be rooted in trust and honesty.  Do not try to spare my feelings in hopes of keeping me happy.  For I am -already- happy, and prefer to walk with my vision clear, rather than placated with rose-colored glasses.    _____________________ 0 Comments

08/24/2012 12:27 PM  ABANDONED STARTER SERIES: - The Dragon Current mood:  geeky Below is a starter I sent to Charlie Weasley.  Since he abandoned my ass, thought I might as well put it to good use and post it here as an okay example of my writing. Enjoy: "How soon before he gets here?"  Her voice was hushed; her tone held a hint of reverence in it, or maybe it was respect?  Either way, her partner, Bill Weasley cast a quick sideways glance at her, brow lifted quizzically before returning to follow her gaze upward.     Bill and Hermione Granger stood at the apex of a narrow river that began at the soaring base of a waterfall that fell from high, high above them.  So high in fact, that the rich coffee and cocoa hues of the rock face turned gradually darker and shifted in color and intensity until they became a mix of vibrant blues, grays and purples, continuing onward and upward far beyond their line of sight.  (https://www.flickr.com/photos/40001315@N00/5968225905/ - since it won't let me post the image) It was without a doubt one of the most spectacular places that Hermione had ever been on this earth.  The fluttering mixture of excitement and terror that had had her nearly breathless since arriving a week ago, only grew when Harry had casually mentioned two evenings before, when the entire group was seated around a firepit for dinner, that Charlie Weasley was assembling a team and en route to The Site.    Bill had grown uncharacteristically quiet after that and had only commented to Harry that that was probably a good idea, and since then had not said much more on the matter.   This was the first time Hermione dared broach the subject with Bill.  She knew her friend well enough, too well in fact, that when he got quiet like this, it was best to let him work through whatever was going on and deal with it when he was ready to speak.  She needed to get to work however, and the anxiousness was showing in her demeanor, which was why she brought up Charlie.  Hermione had no idea why they were strained around each other.  She could never quite figure it out.  Like there were pieces to a puzzle that she couldn't fit into their appropriate spots.  When Bill didn't answer she let out a long breath, turned and began the trek back to Base Camp, a few meters down river from the falls.  The ground beneath their feet was slick from the overflow of the river, the loose gravel and mossy rocks made the going slow.  If you weren't paying attention or were trying to get away too fast, you were going to end up on your bum, wet and soggy and scraped up.  She'd just moved one step too long and hit a mossy spot when she squealed and toppled over.  Strong arms were there in an instant to right her and Hermione turned, flush faced and grateful to smile at Bill.  "Thanks."    Bill waited till they'd passed the slick stones and crossed over the smallest point of the river and were out of the slippery zone before he released the firm grip on her arm.  He'd been silent and Hermione knew he was working up whatever it was he wanted to tell her before he spoke.  Finally, his grip eased and he let her go, pausing for a moment to turn and give a quick glance over his shoulder back and upward to the dark gap in the wall of rocks that Hermione and he had just been observing.  It was the Cave where it, the Beast was currently residing.   Satisfied that there was no threatening activity or movement he plunged his hands into his pockets and rolled his shoulders, "Harry said he should arrive today."  Hermione nodded, eyes forward, wincing from a scrap on her ankle that had dashed against a jagged stone when she nearly fell.  "I am," Bill paused, trying to find the right way to say this without it sounding like a big brother lording it over his kid brother.  He sighed and lifted a shoulder, "I am concerned, HJ.  This is big.  This situation we're in.  This is dangerous and if it weren't for the fact that you're the best, there's no way in hell I'd have let you come along either. Let alone have my brother here to step into a seriously life-threatening situation like the one we're in right now."  Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, turning to stare at Bill with mouth agape.  "Don't look at me like that, kiddo.  You know I respect the hell out of you and your abilities, but this is different."   "How so?"  Her cheeks had flushed in anger and surprise.  She didn't even comment on his nickname for her.  He was the only person to call her "HJ" and she disliked it immensely, but hadn't been able to stop him from using it throughout the years no matter the threatening tone or looks she'd shot him. "Bill Weasley, we have been working together for years.  I have been in life and death situations with you," she paused, shaking her head at the rush of memories that flooded her, "far too many times to count.  Which you are well aware.  How on earth can you possibly say this is any different? Having Charlie here will only aid us. For heaven's sakes, he knows how to handle creatures like this one.  It is what he does, Bill.  He is the expert in a scenario like this, not us."    Bill shook his head, his grown out hair was loose and wild about his shoulders, it haloed his face in an auburn glow, he yanked a hand from one pocket and jabbed a thumb out over his shoulder, glowering at her. "No.  He doesn't.  Not one like this.  There is a several thousand pound dragon that has been cursed sitting right there over our shoulders, probably watching us right now and debating on who it wants for a midmorning snack and who it wants for lunch."  Bill's tone was low and sharp.  "I can't break a curse with an animate, wild creature that refuses to stand still long enough for us to get close to it or better yet, try to dodge its cursed fire that's already killed four team members and countless others in the village at the base of this mountain. He can't tame a dragon that you cannot get near without the threat of being killed."  Bill's voice never rose in volume, but his eyes were flashing blue daggers at her.  "You're the genius in our little group, I'd have thought that was a no brainer!"    Hermione gaped at him, astounded. He cannot be serious? "You cannot be serious?"   "Deadly."   She shook her head in exasperation.  "That is the point, is it not?  What is the necessity in taming a dragon that you can walk right up to and pet?  Merlin!" Hermione actually flung her hands in the air.  Bill had always been the picture of professionalism and was known for never losing his cool in the face of danger.   She had not to her knowledge seen him like this, ever.  It hit her like a blow to her gut then.  Instantly, the nervous flutters that had been blowing about her belly became a full-blown roiling, churning storm of anxiety.    Bill Weasley was frightened.    Oh. This was bad.   She was smarting from the callous tone, but now recognized with sudden clarity what was going on. Bill and probably Harry as well, if Bill was so gravely concerned, must think that a good number of people wouldn't be making it out of here alive before they got this beast either killed or under control. And Bill was worried Charlie would be one of those people.    Hermione reached out a hand and rested it on Bill's arm reassuringly. He gave her a long look, eyes still flashing.  "He won't get killed, Bill.  You, Harry and I will not let that happen."  Emotion churned behind deep blue eyes when he stared at her and she knew she'd hit the bulls-eye.   He forcibly returned his hand to his pocket, spun around and began moving down the gravel path that was gradually becoming soft earth beneath their feet as they entered a thicket of woods nearing Base Camp.    The unspoken thought was obvious; there had already been too much death in his family to lose another member.   Hermione followed along behind him, her words ringing thick in the air between them.   "No one has ever seen a dragon like this one before."  Bill reminded her of something that had become obvious the moment everyone had gotten a good look at the beast as it circled over their heads that first day when they'd entered the clearing by the waterfall.   It has killed one man and two more before they'd gotten down the clearing, out of its line of sight.  The fire it shot from its mouth had blazed incandescent blue and curled like a corkscrew downward, literally chasing its victim, like a muggle heat-seeking missal. They had since discovered if you were wet and/or cold, the cursed flame had less accuracy, but not till they had lost one more team member to discover, leaving a death toll of four so far from the Ministry.   Harry Potter had arrived that same day of the deaths and had brought a team of Aurors with him to work with Bill in containing and bringing the Beast down.  It wasn't until it had nearly leveled their first base camp, too close to its roost for the beast's likings, did they spot the huge rune carved or burned into its scaled skin.  Bill and Harry had marveled at how that could have happened in the first place.  You cannot penetrate a dragon's scales - period.  Yet this one had been.  You couldn't even get close to this thing without the strongest of protective wards around your person and even then you were left feeling like you'd been zapped by lightening if its fire hit your ward.    Then there was the beast itself.  It was easily the largest dragon that either Bill or Harry had seen and they both decided that they needed Hermione there to get to work on that symbol.  Both men knew it was part of the case they were already working on once they'd seen it.    Hermione, upon arriving at Base Camp a week earlier with her small team, had only seen the dragon twice so far and both times had been awed by its size, ferocity and sheer beauty.  It was the most beautiful dragon she had ever seen.  Bill and Harry took turns with her, guarding her like she was some child.  Harry had scolded her when she'd gone to the edge of the river to take some samples of the soil and water and to document where they had been attacked.  She'd gotten a good look at the symbol carved upon its back at that encounter and confirmed to Harry and Bill what they already knew - that this was in fact, a symbol that matched in similarity to the others they'd found carved upon the victims in the mysterious deaths they'd been investigating for the past few months.   Somehow, some way this poor creature was a part of the case they were working on.  It was also the first living thing they'd come across with a symbol on it, which made her desire to examine it up close that much more important and necessary.  She and Bill had gone first thing in the morning to check out the lair and document any activity from the beast.  It was too dangerous to keep any one or two persons on a constant surveillance so there were teams that staggered throughout the day to observe.  Never at the same time, in case the Dragon became aware of any patterns and decided to strike.   This morning had been Bill and Hermione's turn.  She'd been anxiously awaiting the opportunity to get a look at the narrow cave opening and they had spent a good few minutes longer at the base of the falls than they probably should have, but they both agreed it was necessary to figure out how and if they could even get near the cave to go in.  They'd not had any idea how to get close to it without bringing the Dragon out.  Maybe Charlie would have ideas.  She was sure he would.    If anyone was needed here at this moment, it was Charlie Weasley.   And she'd be immensely glad to see him when he arrived.   Bill's comment jarred her out of her thoughts and she rolled her eyes behind his back.  "All the more reason for Charlie to be on hand.  Bill, we need his expertise."    Bill spun around on her so fast that she ran smack into his chest; he looked down at her, hands automatically gripping her arms to steady her.  "Hermione, I have never said this before.  I've never thought it before, if I'm being honest."  Bill's tone was gruff and his eyes locked on hers, steady and intense as he spoke, "But nothing we are doing here today is worth losing another life.  Do you understand?"    No she didn't understand and conversely, yes she completely understood.  Bill was afraid Charlie was going to get hurt.    But it didn't change the fact that they needed Charlie.    Hermione had opened her mouth to say just that but Bill's head had snapped up, eyes growing wide and locked on a point over her head, his fingers dug into her arms painfully as he literally jerked her forward, propelling her in front of him in one swift move.  His free hand brandishing his wand, the other at the small of her back shoving her forward, "Time to go!" was all he said and Hermione pulled her own wand out, glancing once over her shoulder and gasping at the sight.  "Go! Go!"  Bill was running full speed into the woods, Hermione and he dodging and circling behind the giant tree trunks of the towering pine trees, hopping and barely keeping upright over tree roots and thickets of slick pine needles.  The Dragon was overhead, circling lazily lower and lower.  They could hear the breaking of branches high above their heads as its claws ripped tops off the trees to get a better look at them.  They were near the Base Camp, but that would mean having to run through a clearing in the trees and they both skidded to a stop just short of  said opening.    Bill yanked her back behind a tree, they both hunkered down, out of breath and trying to be as invisible as possible from the huge beast that alighted in the space between them and Base Camp.  Hermione was terrified.   She could feel the sweat upon her body cold as the cool breeze of early morning and the woods brushed against her skin.  Her hearing was strained, neither one moved, Bill's eyes were locked on hers, he waved his wand and created a soundproof ward around them, whispering low, "Ideas?"   Hermione shook her head.  "Not a one. We can't get around that thing.  We have our wards up, but.."  Something struck her then.  Something that she'd not even considered before this second.  "can that thing touch us?  Our wards are to prevent being killed by its fire.  What about it snatching one of us bodily?"   Bill had already considered this idea; she could see it in the set of his jaw.  "Don't think that they work like that.  Might give it a little sting, but I'd wager if it wants to snatch one of us, it's going to do just that."   Hermione groaned.  "Swell."   They both peeked around the tree, Base Camp was a flurry of activity.  Obviously, they knew what was going on.  Hermione and Bill were still out there... the beast was effectively trapping them from safety.   "We can pick our way around the other side of the camp? Come in from the other end?"  Bill nodded he was thinking the same thing.  "I think that's our only option."   They both moved and froze when a bolt of blue fire wizzed by their heads.  Hermione's eyes shut and Bill had pressed himself over her to shield her as best he could.  They were in trouble.   It was then, that out of the sky they heard the unmistakable sound of a dragon's cry from high above.   Hermione's eyes popped open, she and Bill both risked a peek around the tree and she let out a whoosh of breath she'd not been aware she was holding.  A tremulous smile curled at the corner of her lips.  She glanced at Bill and uttered one word.   His name.  "Charlie.."   He was here.   0 Comments

[ This blog post is viewable to friends only ]

View All Posts