I'm actually doing it. I'm writing Harry Potter fanfiction. HOLD ME!
*ahem* Thank you all for coming! And now, the preliminaries:
I want to be very clear, this is AU (that's Alternate Universe, kiddies) which means that the characters are going to be OOC (aka Out of Character). If you are expecting hardcore, strictly cannon portrayals where it practically oozes JK's brilliance….You won't find that here. Have no fear; there shall be brilliance, but of a humble variety.
But seriously now – it's Dramoine. We're already breaking the rules aren't we?
While we are at it, the story is un-Beta'd and is still a WIP (psssst – that means Work In Progress), so I'm not sure what dark and dangerous path this will lead. If you don't enjoy your stay, don't set my baby forest ablaze with your flames, capisce?
I'm borrowing my Harpy characterizations/concepts from Gena Showalters' (schmexy) Lords of the Underworld series.
And to add to the final list of sins/disclaimers/information: I live in the United States, so I won't purposely murder the proper 'English', I promise. Mucho respect for all your nifty colloquialisms! I will refrain from all attempts at awkward 'Blimeys' and 'Bloodys' that we North Americans tend to get carried away with.
Formal Disclaimer: Gena and JK own their characters/ideas, I just smooshed their faces together and said 'now kiss.'
*Author's Note adjourned.*
Chapter One – The Ravens
Hermoine flexed her fingers, brushing against her wand tucked safely in her thigh holster. Crouched low, she glanced right and met the laser focused jade green eyes of her best friend. Hand signaling that she was moving forward; he gave a quick, single nod of understanding and moved to cover her flank.
Her swift movements in the dark didn't make a sound as she watched the cave's entrance. They had been scouting the area for weeks based on the rumor that some desperate Death Eaters were attempting to gather resources.
Turns out the unfortunate rumors were true. Her brown eyes narrowed as she watched the group of cloaked figures furtively gathering. A slow simmering rage built within her and she clenched her teeth in an effort to get herself under control. Ever since the war, her brilliant mind with thoughts of anger and violence, whispering to her to punish those that had wronged her over something as silly as birthrights.
It was a primal need annihilate the beings that dared to leave evidence of their hatred forever carved into her skin.
She took another calming breath. In, out. Slow and steady.
She knew that if she didn't attempt to appease those sinister whispers, it would manifest itself into something horrible and the Hermoine everyone knew would cease to exist. She had to find a safe, constructive outlet for this almost instinctive drive. When she became an Auror, it shocked everyone. She didn't return to complete her final year and instead followed Harry and Ron to complete the rigorous training.
The demands on her mind and body that being an Auror provided seemed to keep her demons at bay and as usual, she excelled. Hermoine and Harry, along with the other two members of their unit, were an unstoppable team. Their skills legendary and only called upon for the most dangerous cases.
The Daily Prophet even gave them a name for their more public exploits, The Ravens. Which she had to genuinely appreciate when one considered that a group of raven's is called a 'murder.' Sensational journalism at its blood thirsty finest. They had stopped reporting on her non-existent love life and instead focused on their success rate.
How could she honestly be a healer, professor, or heaven forbid, a desk worker in the Ministry when she knew her explosive potential? It was much too dangerous.
Especially since lately, the feelings had increased exponentially. Sinking its lethal claws into her brain and haunting her dreams, making her push herself even harder during her waking hours. It was a vicious cycle that she had to constantly be aware of and control.
She told no one, there was so much to do in the aftermath of the war that she was able to slip through the cracks as they focused on rebuilding and apprehending the leftovers of Voldemort's minions. She wasn't always successful though, sometimes she was a little too brutal in her duels and her obvious lack of remorse afterwards sometimes set off red flags with her team mates.
That's when Harry would give her his penetrating looks of concern and she would give him a small smile of false assurance. And bless Harry, he never pushed.
A small shuffling noise to her left snapped her back to attention. Tensing to attack, she saw the familiar blazing red hair barely covered by a black skull-cap.
She hissed in frustration, Ron could never learn the art of being quiet. While he was fantastic at strategy and frontline offensive tactics, he was absolutely horrible at stealth. Harry used to joke that Ron could manage to make noise in a sound proof room.
It was funny because it was true. Ron failed that exercise beautifully. Three times.
His partner however, was gracefully moving through the trees with nary a sound. His black clad body's covert movements making her think of a Panther slinking through the rainforest.
He came up to her side, brushing his fingertips against her knee to announce his presence and await her instructions. While they were all equals in rank, they readily acknowledged each individuals particular strengths and utilized them. There were no power plays in the Ravens, they were far beyond that.
He edged closer, still silent as an owl's wings until she could feel his even measure breaths against her ear.
"Ready, Hermoine?" His low whisper roughened baritone enveloped her.
Sparing a glance at the cave and not seeing anything major amiss, she took a moment to study the fourth member of their group. His aristocratic facial features a stark outline against the velvet night, the white blond of his hair tucked under the same skull-cap they all wore. His physical presence was strong, masculine, and calmly assured. It never failed to ease that insidious mental presence, if only for a little while, giving her a brief moment of peace.
Which was the biggest shock of all, considering the source.
She watched and waited as the last figure crept into the cave, no spark of magic lit the night and she detected no wards. It was time.
"Go Draco."
He nodded, hand signaling to Ron as they both went for the entrance of the cave. Harry replacing him at her side, patiently waiting for the foul creatures to be flushed out of their den.
It was easy, they had done it plenty of times that they could probably be successful without their wands. Probably be back home in time for a warm dinner and comfy bed.
A brilliant light flashed, and for a moment, night was day. Then deafening booms rocked the ground beneath them, forcing them to lay flat on the ground. Eyes and ears were momentarily useless against the sensory onslaught.
That's when all Hell broke loose.
You are intrigued, no? Until next time!