Title: Darkholes pt.1
Author: fssquiggles
Theme/Prompt: au, darkness
Disclaimer: I own nothing because I am not J.K. Rowling unfortunately.
Notes: I've decided on making a series of AUs but I'm not entirely sure how many. None of them will be connected most likely...Enjoy! :)
"We are definitely not in Surrey anymore." His voice echoes through the dark halls, rebounding and falling through chilly darkness.
Lily blinks several times and finds herself staring at a pure, limitless night sky. But it isn't the kind of sky she is familiar with. There is something unnerving about it, something completely wrong.
She pulls herself to her feet and looks at the untidy haired boy before her. Last she remembered, she had been in the hospital wing trying to ignore him (or avoid him, either one worked). "Please tell me this is some kind of prank of yours, Potter." The way this place seemed to throw her words back at her was unsettling; her whisper sounded like a scream.
He shakes his head, "I would have to be a bloody wizard to do this, Evans."
She looks around, trying to identify her surroundings. The sky looks like a dark hole (she's half afraid it would try to suck her in). Walls cascade all around her, blending into the shadows above, resembling a sort of endless corridor. They can only go forward or backward, but nowhere else.
She tries to process everything. She can't.
"Well, I reckon we should get going." He gazes at her with steady hazel eyes, with outstretched fingers.
She just stares.
He sighs and shoves his hand through his hair in that frustrating way of his. She frowns at her fluttering heart.
Rustling. Hissing. Her head snaps upwards, instinctively and painfully. Slits cut through the darkness, white and blinding. Like snake eyes.
No, they are snake eyes.
Run, mudblood, run. The world reverberates and laughter, terrible, haunting laughter, tears at her eardrums.
Her brain screams for her to run, to get the bloody hell away, but her legs won't respond. She can't make her body move. She's shouting at herself, at whatever the hell is happening.
Shouts, screams, claws raking at her face and arms. Her senses are screeching at her, ripping her to shreds.
Until everything, the sensory overload, the feeling of fear exploding from her very pores, just stops.
Everything just stops.
The world is silent, heartbreakingly so.
"Potter?" She turns on her heels, searching franticly, ignoring the physical pain. Something bites into her hands. She stares at the square frames she is clutching, the broken glass slicing her palm.
Oh my god.
She drops it.
It clatters to the floor, into the grass. Grass. She belatedly realizes that she is now standing in a cathedral, colored glass filtering emerald green light, grass sprouting through the cracks, shadows and weeds claiming the place as their own, slabs of stone laying at intervals (She shivers because it reminds her eerily of a cemetery).
For a second, she wonders if she has gone mad.
"I believe those are mine." A familiar voice calls. She can practically hear the smirk in his voice. She can practically taste the relief.
She crosses her arms, "Not when you just disappear like that, you arse. You deserve to walk around blind."
He laughs and she meets his eyes and she realizes that this is not the boy who asked her to dinner every day at fifteen and then realized he should get to know her first. This is not the boy she had hated and now fancies. This is not James.
His eyes are all wrong.
"Who are you?" She glares, afraid to be afraid.
"James Potter." The smirk is unsettling. It sends shivers down her spine.
"No, you're not. Quit lying or I'll—"
He is suddenly standing before her, barely an inch of air between them. She gasps because of his speed, because he doesn't just look like James, he feels like him. "Or you'll what?"
She shoves him away. "Or I'll kill you."
He touches her hair, pulling on a lock of stark red, "You can't bring death to the realm of Death Eaters, love." The term of endearment drips from his mouth like honey.
She takes a deep breath, reminding herself that this isn't James, goddammit. "Tell me where he is!" she demands, swatting his hand away.
He smiles, as if he can hear every thought going through her head. "How about we play a little game, darling?"
"No."
There is a flurry of noise and something cold touches her calves, breathes against her. She closes her eyes, willing herself to show no fear, to not scream.
"Since you're so clever, I propose we play a little game. You might try to find your boyfriend, poppet. He's waiting for you." He grips her chin tightly and she can't help but open her eyes.
James's hazel eyes are gone. There is nothing left but deep, bottomless pits of black.
She struggles against his grip, but he won't release her.
Instead, he leans forward, his lips (James's lips) against her ear, "The Dark Lord does not like mudbloods, no matter how pretty."
She can hear multiple voices snickering all around her. He lets her go, and she can't stop shaking.
His cold words echo violently within the cathedral-cemetery.
"I suggest you run, now."
to be continued!
a/n: well after I write a few other AUs. If you guys have any AU prompts, send it my way please. I plan on doing possibly 50 at most.
Yeah. I hope this wasn't too weird.
Reviews are making my back to school on tuesday feel much better.