My Immortal
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, except for the plot, so e-mail me before you steal it. I don't own the Potterverse; I just play in it.
Prologue
"Oh, come on, Ron. If something could harm us here Professor Snape would never have sent us out," said Hermione, pulling her cloak closer to her in the cold night.
"You're always s-sticking up for him," said Ron. "He'd kill us if he had half a chance."
"Ron!" Hermione chastised. "He would not! You have no idea how much he's given up for the Order."
"And you do?"
Hermione shook her head. She heard a twig snap in the distance. Something about the forest was making her insides twist up in nervousness.
"What was that?" asked Ron in a whisper, grabbing on to her sleeve.
"It was nothing," said Hermione, more to try and quiet her growing fear than to comfort Ron.
"Let's go back, Hermione, we can get his stupid potion ingredients tomorrow morning," Ron whimpered.
"We can't. Oak leaves are only potent when picked in the dark," Hermione didn't realize that now she was now grabbing on to Ron's sleeves as well.
More snappings and noises were coming their way.
"If those oak leaves are so important to you, Hermione," Ron said, "then you stay and get them. I'm going back to the castle."
"Wait, Ron!" Hermione whispered urgently to his retreating back. There was no way she could find her way back from this deep in the forest. But he appeared not to hear her, going as fast as he could back towards his warm dormitory bed.
The snappings grew louder. And closer. Someone was definitely in the woods.
"Hello?" called Hermione, weakly. "Who's there? Do you need help?" Maybe someone was lost. A shadowed figure with pale skin stepped from behind a tree. Hermione couldn't see its face, couldn't even tell if it was male or female.
"I'm hungry," said the figure. "And I am lost. I need food."
Hermione fished in her pockets and took out a Canary Cream that she had confiscated. "Here," she said. "I have a sweet." Maybe turning the thing into a canary would give her a chance to get back to the castle, if she could find it.
"I don't need that kind of food," said the creature, rubbing its neck with its left hand. "I need you."
"What?" Hermione breathed.
The creature stepped into a beam of moonlight, which illuminated its deathly pale skin, blood-shot eyes, and long dark hair.
"So young," the creature spoke as if to itself. It sniffed. "So . . . sweet." It rubbed its neck again and Hermione saw its fingernails filed to a point. "You shouldn't be out in the forest, small one," it said. "There are reasons for such rules."
"What are you going to do to me?" Hermione asked in a steady voice that contradicted her trembling body.
"Have you ever wondered if your nightmares could come true?" the creature asked, moving closer to her.
Hermione tried to step back, but her body refused to respond to her mind's command. She felt a tear slide down her face, a wonderfully warm sensation.
"They can," said the creature. "And yours just has." He put one hand around her throat, dragging a nail down the same track as her tear. "Don't worry," it said. "You won't die."
Its hand came down to grip her arm. Its head slowly came closer to her and Hermione wondered if it was some kind of other breed of Dementor. But it didn't kiss her. Hermione felt a pressure on her neck underneath it's mouth, gentle at first, then more insistent. She felt he creature's cold breath on her neck and shivers raced through her back and shoulders.
"Hold still!" it angrily hissed, relieving the pressure for a few moments. Then she felt the pressure again, with the wet stickiness of its saliva, running down and soaking her collar.
Suddenly, she felt the pressure turn into a pop as the creature's teeth pierced her skin and vein at the same time. She saw the red pain on the back of her eyelids and cried out. Her life was being sucked out of her through her neck, replacing the warmth inside with a caustic cold. Hermione actually felt the last beat of her heart and the last breath that came out of her lungs before the cold overtook her and her body slumped to the ground.
A/N: Tell me what you thought, please! Should I continue? This was based on a challenge I found in the Under Moderation folder on WIKTT, and as soon as the challenge is no longer under moderation, I will submit this as a response. But I couldn't wait to post it. So here it is!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything, except for the plot, so e-mail me before you steal it. I don't own the Potterverse; I just play in it.
Prologue
"Oh, come on, Ron. If something could harm us here Professor Snape would never have sent us out," said Hermione, pulling her cloak closer to her in the cold night.
"You're always s-sticking up for him," said Ron. "He'd kill us if he had half a chance."
"Ron!" Hermione chastised. "He would not! You have no idea how much he's given up for the Order."
"And you do?"
Hermione shook her head. She heard a twig snap in the distance. Something about the forest was making her insides twist up in nervousness.
"What was that?" asked Ron in a whisper, grabbing on to her sleeve.
"It was nothing," said Hermione, more to try and quiet her growing fear than to comfort Ron.
"Let's go back, Hermione, we can get his stupid potion ingredients tomorrow morning," Ron whimpered.
"We can't. Oak leaves are only potent when picked in the dark," Hermione didn't realize that now she was now grabbing on to Ron's sleeves as well.
More snappings and noises were coming their way.
"If those oak leaves are so important to you, Hermione," Ron said, "then you stay and get them. I'm going back to the castle."
"Wait, Ron!" Hermione whispered urgently to his retreating back. There was no way she could find her way back from this deep in the forest. But he appeared not to hear her, going as fast as he could back towards his warm dormitory bed.
The snappings grew louder. And closer. Someone was definitely in the woods.
"Hello?" called Hermione, weakly. "Who's there? Do you need help?" Maybe someone was lost. A shadowed figure with pale skin stepped from behind a tree. Hermione couldn't see its face, couldn't even tell if it was male or female.
"I'm hungry," said the figure. "And I am lost. I need food."
Hermione fished in her pockets and took out a Canary Cream that she had confiscated. "Here," she said. "I have a sweet." Maybe turning the thing into a canary would give her a chance to get back to the castle, if she could find it.
"I don't need that kind of food," said the creature, rubbing its neck with its left hand. "I need you."
"What?" Hermione breathed.
The creature stepped into a beam of moonlight, which illuminated its deathly pale skin, blood-shot eyes, and long dark hair.
"So young," the creature spoke as if to itself. It sniffed. "So . . . sweet." It rubbed its neck again and Hermione saw its fingernails filed to a point. "You shouldn't be out in the forest, small one," it said. "There are reasons for such rules."
"What are you going to do to me?" Hermione asked in a steady voice that contradicted her trembling body.
"Have you ever wondered if your nightmares could come true?" the creature asked, moving closer to her.
Hermione tried to step back, but her body refused to respond to her mind's command. She felt a tear slide down her face, a wonderfully warm sensation.
"They can," said the creature. "And yours just has." He put one hand around her throat, dragging a nail down the same track as her tear. "Don't worry," it said. "You won't die."
Its hand came down to grip her arm. Its head slowly came closer to her and Hermione wondered if it was some kind of other breed of Dementor. But it didn't kiss her. Hermione felt a pressure on her neck underneath it's mouth, gentle at first, then more insistent. She felt he creature's cold breath on her neck and shivers raced through her back and shoulders.
"Hold still!" it angrily hissed, relieving the pressure for a few moments. Then she felt the pressure again, with the wet stickiness of its saliva, running down and soaking her collar.
Suddenly, she felt the pressure turn into a pop as the creature's teeth pierced her skin and vein at the same time. She saw the red pain on the back of her eyelids and cried out. Her life was being sucked out of her through her neck, replacing the warmth inside with a caustic cold. Hermione actually felt the last beat of her heart and the last breath that came out of her lungs before the cold overtook her and her body slumped to the ground.
A/N: Tell me what you thought, please! Should I continue? This was based on a challenge I found in the Under Moderation folder on WIKTT, and as soon as the challenge is no longer under moderation, I will submit this as a response. But I couldn't wait to post it. So here it is!