Restart by flax
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)
CHAPTER ONE: Drop by any time
It had been a rough couple of years, and with Voldemort defeated, Hermione Granger had all she could imagine: time off and peace. So she sat on her porch one early spring afternoon, somewhat sprawled after some hard work in her garden (without her wand). Crookshanks sprawled nearby after a full day of sniffing and racing. Then with the aid of the wand, Hermione produced a small cool drink. It sat near by on a small table. The sun felt good and she just relaxed, imagining herself to be a snake warming on a rock.
Then someone got between her and her nice setting sun. Hermione blinked up at what cloud this could be and nearly choked on her tongue as she fingered after her wand and tried to restart her brain.
However, Severus Snape, famously dead hero of the war on Voldemort, was looking more confused than she.
And then he colapsed to the ground.
Granger looked everywhere as fast as she could, the habits of war with her again. But nothing seemed wrong. Every extra sense had kicked on, and nothing seemed different. Unless she wanted to see the sky itself as malevolent, or the trees, or the new planted rose bushes - all sticks and thorns - there was nothing wrong, except a dead hero, lost fifteen years ago in the conclusive battle, was here, collapsed in her garden, today. (Fortunately for him, in the herb bed.)
Granger checked him for the basics, found him alive, levitated him into her guest room, and dispatched an owl. She was too freaked to editorialize and found it easier to not wonder if this was a good or a bad thing.
tbc...
JK Rowling owns the characters. They're only in this daydream for a profitless romp. :)
CHAPTER ONE: Drop by any time
It had been a rough couple of years, and with Voldemort defeated, Hermione Granger had all she could imagine: time off and peace. So she sat on her porch one early spring afternoon, somewhat sprawled after some hard work in her garden (without her wand). Crookshanks sprawled nearby after a full day of sniffing and racing. Then with the aid of the wand, Hermione produced a small cool drink. It sat near by on a small table. The sun felt good and she just relaxed, imagining herself to be a snake warming on a rock.
Then someone got between her and her nice setting sun. Hermione blinked up at what cloud this could be and nearly choked on her tongue as she fingered after her wand and tried to restart her brain.
However, Severus Snape, famously dead hero of the war on Voldemort, was looking more confused than she.
And then he colapsed to the ground.
Granger looked everywhere as fast as she could, the habits of war with her again. But nothing seemed wrong. Every extra sense had kicked on, and nothing seemed different. Unless she wanted to see the sky itself as malevolent, or the trees, or the new planted rose bushes - all sticks and thorns - there was nothing wrong, except a dead hero, lost fifteen years ago in the conclusive battle, was here, collapsed in her garden, today. (Fortunately for him, in the herb bed.)
Granger checked him for the basics, found him alive, levitated him into her guest room, and dispatched an owl. She was too freaked to editorialize and found it easier to not wonder if this was a good or a bad thing.
tbc...